The Caledonian Race: A Pulp Adventure (George Glen Series Book 2)

by Richard Bergen

  "Richard, you old rascal," I groaned. "I'm so glad you made it."

  "No time for sentimentality," Amos reminded us again of the seriousness of the situation. "We have to get out of town, and fast. I for one have no desire to be skewered by that creepy Dunter."

  He was absolutely right, so we made our way north out of the dust. At the city gate of the old Roman wall, our way was surprisingly blocked a little later. Guards with breastplates and halberds stopped us. They demanded to know where our way was leading us.

  "To Dunnottar Castle," I declared proudly. "We are future Guardsmen and carry a message for Sir John MacThomas. Let us pass!"

  The guards eyed us, then laughed harshly. "Yeah right! And I'm St. Peter, guarding the Gates of Heaven."

  These men made me angry and while I was looking for a witty reply, Amos pulled out his letter and held it under the guard's nose. When he noticed the royal seal, he immediately stopped laughing and moved aside. "Then I wish the young masters a pleasant ride." He looked down at the ground as we passed the gate.

  "By the way, there is a dodgy man in a red hood following us," I gave the guard a further hint. "Him you should check more closely!"

  Our way led us through the outskirts of the capital. There was no other city wall, as London was expanding relentlessly and had tripled its population in recent years.

  "Good to know," Richard said shortly afterwards, "the letters seem to be real door openers. Do you think our tracker will be in trouble now?"

  I turned around for a moment. "Would be too good to be true."

  Amos said, "I don't understand why those guards stopped us in the first place. So far I've always been able to enter the city freely."

  "It's just sabre-rattling," Richard explained. "These guards need to show they are important from time to time. Harassing a few youngsters like us suits them then."

  "But with the royal seal on our letters, we are untouchable," I enthused. "We should look at the map first, though, to see where we need to go at all."

  "We?" asked Richard, slightly surprised. "The test is actually for us to fend for ourselves, isn't it?"

  Amos and I looked at him. For a few moments, no one said anything. I guess everyone was trying to figure out their chances. Finally, I spoke up. "We should definitely travel together as far as Scotland. If we split up now, that sinister Dunter will pick us off one by one. With three of us, our chances are much better. Together, we might even be able to fight him."

  "But only one of us will end up as a Guardsman," Amos interjected. "Fletcher was very clear on that point."

  "Then let's make a race of the last yards," I suggested. "Let's see that map!" We came closer with the horses and put our heads together. "That's where we are now. North of London. We need to go further north, to Alconbury. We follow the Great North Road through Doncaster and Darlington to Edinburgh. Stirling, Perth and Dundee are the first cities in Scotland. Then we'll just stay together until Dundee and see where everyone ends up from there! What do you think of that?"

  Amos and Richard seemed to ponder for a while before almost simultaneously blurting out, "That's how we do it."

  Before we continued riding, I took a quick look back. Some distance away, I vaguely saw a tall person sitting on a donkey, following us at a steady pace. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. Now I recognised very clearly the boots shod with iron, the spit gleaming in the morning sun and the blood-red hood pulled deep into his face.

  We hurriedly put the spurs to our horses and dashed down the road as if the devil himself were after us. And somehow he was. The gate guards hadn't been able to stop Dunter, probably hadn't even tried. Who could blame them? No one would voluntarily stand in the way of such a figure. The fact that this big man was riding a lanky donkey instead of a magnificent stallion also added to his creepy appearance. I was not at all reassured by the fact that we were on horses that were easily three times as fast as the donkey. We had to make good miles as quickly as possible in order to put a large distance between us and our pursuer.

  We soon left the outskirts of London behind us. Here we were joined by the huge parklands that had been created in recent years by extensive forest clearance. In the afternoon, we rode through hilly terrain, past small villages, where the farmers greeted us politely with waving hats and the maids laughed and joked at the sight of us. If it hadn't been for that damned RedCap, my incredible tiredness and the fact that I could barely sit in the saddle, it could have been a nice autumn day. The old oaks and elms were full of red and yellow leaves. The wind was still blowing pleasantly in our faces and Dunnottar Castle - and thus the day of the decision - was still far away.

  "Where have you been all this time, anyway?" asked Richard of me. "Edwin and I were full of worry. Were you going to abandon me and serve your Lady rather than the King?"

  I looked at him. It was obvious to me that I was probably looking a bit foolish. Richard's acumen always surprised me. "Well ... it was like this ... well ..." I couldn't do more than stammer.

  "Oh, come on, don't bother, George! Besides, I can understand. Isabelle is a real beauty. I saw her at the ball. If she'd only smiled at me, I'd have followed her to the ends of the earth."

  "I would have," I groaned bitterly. "But she kind of didn't want me to." I swallowed hard at the thought of those emerald eyes I was never to see again. "Somebody understand the women, Rich! How did it go with Rahel? Did she offer herself to you or did you have to use all your charm to win her over?"

  "Ah, funny story. Up until the last day, I had been trying to make a point at court. I'd been turned down by almost every lady. I mean, really from almost every one! By now word had spread about my desperation, but not just mine. The little scumbag Yvain had squealed and told a lady-in-waiting about our second test - before he had succeeded himself, mind you. You can imagine how quickly the news spread that a few naïve Guardsman aspirants were making the castle unsafe in search of ladies' panties. From then on, every single lady-in-waiting or servant made a joke of first sweet-talking us and then turning us down. This was the case for everyone except Amos, who had already reported success, and you, since you were no longer present in Whitehall. It was quite frustrating, I can tell you. Finally, on the last night, a kitchen maid with an uninviting face arranged to meet me in the palace kitchen. I was, of course, braced for further humiliation but nevertheless walked resignedly to our meeting place. She would probably embarrass me in front of her friends or pull the old don't touch me game again, which I was very familiar with by now.

  But since I had been unsuccessful so far, I had no choice but to go there. I found the huge kitchen empty, after all, night had already fallen. A few candles were still burning, but apart from that, darkness reigned. As I passed a small pantry, the door opened and I was pulled inside. Then, in the complete darkness of this chamber, followed the most incredible experience I have ever had. This woman knew things, knew places, it was incredible. Half an hour later I held my trophy in my hand and was pushed back out into the corridor without having set eyes on my lover."

  "You didn't even know it was Rahel?"

  "You bet I knew. The smell of the roast chicken - you understand. Besides, the voluptuous body was unmistakable too. She was trying to do me a favour, to help me. I'm incredibly grateful to her and I bet no matter what Lady Isabelle did to you, my Rahel topped it."

  We both laughed out loud and then asked Amos about his conquest. But he remained tight-lipped. "A gentleman keeps silent and enjoys. Surely I'm not going to snub a true lady by revealing intimate details of our love life."

  We left the spoilsport to the left and concentrated on our ride again. The road became a little rougher, while the landscape around us changed. The forest became denser, the meadows more lush. Again and again we crossed wooden bridges, small streams and brooks. The road was still recognisable as such and quite passable, but all around was pure wilderness. This is what all of England had looked like in the past, deep primeval forests, only occasionally broken by the light of
the sun, impassable and mysterious.

  "Dunter RedCap will be looking for us along this road," I surmised aloud. "We have money for accommodation, but I would still consider spending the night in the open, beyond the villages. Our pursuer may only have one donkey and be slower than us, but we have to sleep sometime and I don't want to be assassinated when I'm in the land of dreams. What do you think?"

  "He needs to sleep too," Richard pointed out. "So if we keep our pace, we'll always be faster than him."

  "The only question is when and for how long he sleeps," Amos agreed. "To be honest, the guy looked like he was going to last quite a long time. I like your suggestion, George." Richard also nodded in agreement.

  We rode until nightfall without exchanging many more words. I thought of Isabelle almost constantly, trying desperately to remember the details of our being together, knowing that I had lost her. I wanted to preserve the memory of her as faithfully as possible. In between, however, my thoughts kept drifting up to the distant, inhospitable Scotland Edwin had told me about. A rugged, barren and cold landscape. I thought of Dunnottar Castle and Stephen Fletcher's unequivocal statement: 'Just one!

  As the evening dawned, we dug into the undergrowth and tried to cover the horse tracks that left the path with fir branches. We found a valley with a clearing next to which a stream was gurgling happily, well protected by dense forest. We first tended to the horses, then spread out our rough blankets, still smelling fresh of the oil and resins with which they had been impregnated, and sat down in a circle. There was nothing to eat and we refrained from having a fire so as not to give ourselves away. Richard finally took the floor. "It's crazy, this adventure, isn't it? To think that all I ever really wanted was a warm bed and a roof over my head."

  "You're not keen on becoming a Guardsman at all?" inquired Amos in wonder.

  "Well, not at any price. And always these tryouts where they want to kill us or behead us. Fun looks different."

  "You're here because you want fun?" Amos seemed slightly irritated. "Not because you want to stake your life, your honour and your sword on the King?"

  "Well, yes, I do," Rich fussed uncomfortably. "But no one can be as perfect, chivalrous and good as you."

  "I don't see myself as perfect at all. I think I have a lot to learn." Amos brushed back his flowing blond hair and lay down on his mat, gazing at the night sky with his steel-blue eyes.

  Even his last remark was again imbued with exemplary humility, I thought. Amos was truly a blameless hero in shining armour. A little more quietly, I now turned to Rich, "I can understand you, as I said, I was on the verge of staying with Isabelle too."

  Richard seemed frustrated. A worry line had crept onto his forehead. His brown eyes were fixed on the floor and he ruffled his tousled black hair. "I don't stand a chance against you two anyway. Just look, I failed at surviving the docklands. You dragged me through the door of the 'Breeze' like an old bag. At the second test Amos got a French countess, you at least got a fugitive baroness and I, thanks to my shabby ferret buff coat, just the loose cook. I'm always just walking in your shadows."

  I had an idea and took off my suede buff coat now to hand it to Richard. "At least we can swap that, Richard. I can see you made a bad catch with Wilbur as your mentor."

  "Yeah, the guy hates me, has since France. He thinks I'm a complete moron and never tires of telling the other Guardsmen." At this he had taken off his buff coat to hand it to me. He seemed to like that trade.

  I put on the rough garment. It already looked very worn, but for the ride through the inhospitable wilderness it didn't seem to me to be the worst piece of clothing, however inappropriate it might seem at court.

  "We should finally sleep," Amos suggested. There it was again, the wise voice of reason.

  "Yes, however, we should make a watch plan."

  The fear of RedCap was deep in all our bones, so Richard and Amos agreed. I managed to grab the third watch after reporting my two-day violent ride from Calais, then I was on my blanket and found my way to the land of dreams. One last time I heard Stephen Fletcher's voice. 'Just one.'

  Chapter 29

  "Your turn!"

  Amos shook my shoulder deep in the night. I had slept fitfully and had been plagued by scary dreams, so the interruption of my sleep actually suited me quite well. I rubbed my eyes sleepily and yawned profusely once more.

  "Just don't fall asleep again, George!", Amos gave me as he curled up in his blanket. "I don't want to be woken up by Dunter's iron spit in my guts."

  "Don't worry!", I yawned. "That's not going to happen."

  I rose and walked around a bit to loosen my cramped limbs. I walked over to the small stream, bent down and splashed some water on my face before taking a big gulp from my hand. The half moon reflected on the surface of the water and I could clearly see my reflection. I looked pale and exhausted. The dark blond mane was matted. The beard fuzz on my upper lip and chin was starting to grow back - a little spikier and firmer than last time. My cheeks were narrow, but not as haggard as they had once been in Longhill. But my grey-green eyes, which Isabelle had always liked so much, showed concern. I could only bear the sight for a few moments, then I hit the water with the flat of my hand to destroy the self-portrait.

  I looked around, trying to make out anything in the dark shadows of the forest, but apart from a few owls gliding silently through the branches like shadows of death, I saw nothing. Amos was now beginning to snore softly. Richard's sleeping sounds were also clearly audible.

  I carefully walked to the horses and took the saddlebags of Amos and Richard. They contained the maps and the money. I carefully put them on the ground and untied the horses. I attached the reins of Richard's horse to the saddle pommel of Amos' horse. I attached the reins of Amos' horse to the pommel of my horse's saddle. I tightened the saddle a little. Then I pulled lightly on my horse's halter to encourage him to move forward. Briefly, the stallion snorted reluctantly, but then he followed me without making any further noise. I held my breath as I passed my unsuspecting travelling companions with the three animals in tow, then led the horses up the embankment and through the undergrowth onto the road. Only when I could be sure I had stepped out of earshot of my friends did I mount up and set off north. Richard's and Amos' horses followed me easily, as if they had never done anything else. They did not seem to miss their riders. When dawn broke a little later, I went into a gallop. I had to be fast if I wanted to succeed, because there could only be one winner.

  While I was shivering in the cold morning dew, I was suddenly plagued by the most terrible remorse. What had I done? Not only had I betrayed and sold Amos and Richard, I had also left them unprotected and unattended in the forest, where Dunter might find them and murder them in their sleep. I was quite sure that RedCap could not track our camp, but I could not be certain of that. Of all the things I had done, I felt most sorry for Richard. Betraying him had indeed cost me some overcoming. On the other hand, he had emphasised several times that he had not really intended to become a Guardsman. In a way, I was doing him a favour with my underhanded approach, wasn't I? Amos, on the other hand, with his selfless chivalry, had been repugnant to me anyway. The fact that he succeeded in everything, combined with the aura of success that constantly surrounded him, had made me dislike him more and more. I knew I was wrong in my feelings, but I couldn't help it. In a way, I guess I was filled with envy. Amos was good at everything he did. He seduced the most beautiful and aloof women, he fought brilliantly against any opponent and his loyalty was exemplary. I knew I could not hold a candle to him in any respect, so I also knew I would be hopelessly outclassed against him in the Caledonian Race. In a way, what I had done had been my only chance to stand up to this great hero. At least that's what I told myself at the time. After all, I had left them their maps and their money. I had not taken their weapons either, I tried to calm my conscience. So I didn't seem to be such a bad guy.

  Without horses, it would take my friends a while to follow me. I wou
ld have to make the most of the lead I had gained. On the map I had seen that the next village on the road had to be Alconbury. I let the horses continue to gallop in order to get there quickly. Whether Dunter RedCap was ahead or behind me was also on my mind. The red-robed pursuer had already chased me in my dreams. Again and again I had seen his iron-shod boots in front of me and the archaic spear he carried over his shoulder. That devil scared the hell out of me. We had covered the tracks to our camp well, but if he had still found us, my friends might already be dead. And if that was the case, I alone was responsible for it. Shaking my head vigorously, I told myself that this was surely impossible, but the uncertainty gnawed at me.

  The morning mist wafted around the horses' hooves like a deceptive blanket as the sun appeared almost unwillingly on the horizon. I crossed an endless meadow without seeing the slightest trace of a village. The occasional screech of birds and the clatter of hooves were the only sounds I perceived. As I had nothing else to do but riding, I started thinking again and my guilty conscience soon took over. I was struggling with myself, about to turn back, apologise to my companions and hope for their forgiveness, when I caught sight of a church spire in the distance. That had to be Alconbury.

  I soon reached a cluster of simple thatched houses, of which the inn named the 'Red Lion' was the largest. In front of the public house were a few horses and a cart full of boxes. I did not see a donkey, thank God. Inside the inn I asked the landlord about a possibility of selling two horses. The man immediately became enterprising and came outside with me to inspect the mounts. He criticised the quality of the horseshoes, but soon settled on a reasonable price for the nags. With a well-filled purse, I went into the dining room and ordered something to eat. There was a decent stew and some hard bread, but my stomach was glad of the long-lost treat.

  "New in town?" a red-nosed local, who seemed to be living in this pub, asked me then. His breath reeked of booze as he sat down affably, as drunks often do, at the table with me.