Shadow on the Highway (17 page)

I did not care about farmers and their sport. ‘It’s tonight,’ I said, ‘that Lady Prescott is riding through.’

‘I know. I could have wished for a better night, one with no moon. Tonight there will be a harvest moon, enough to see my shadow on the highway.’

‘Are you sure you still want to go? Maybe there’s another way.’

‘We need some men on our side to help us drive out Grice. Ralph and his friends are the only men I trust. Besides, Lady Prescott is a brave soul,’ said Lady Katherine. ‘She risks her life for her King. If she can brave the highway at night, then so can I. Though I would not like to be in her place – not with Grice and Wentworth waiting like wolves in the dark. And now I must add to her troubles.’

I did not say anything, but wondered at her courage. Lady Prescott would be armed, or probably guarded, carrying a cargo like that. My mistress might never come back. If she failed, what then? My family would be homeless, my brother would languish in gaol, and I would be without a livelihood.

Lady Katherine took hold of my arm. Rigg was signalling that we could go back inside. Once inside the door I could smell the faint but unmistakeable tang of gunpowder. My mistress went to her room, but I lingered in the hall.

The smell bothered me. A shot had bee
n fired inside, I was certain. It was the noise that Lady Katherine heard. I followed my nose into the main chamber. In there, the scent was more metallic, hotter. It wasn’t just the smell of the wax candles or the wall sconces. I looked around for any sign of where the shot might have gone, but could see no marks anywhere on the wall.

There was a
slight damp smear on the floor. I crouched to look more closely. Directly above, on the wall were tiny dark spots. A spatter like the pattern on a bird’s egg. I picked up a candle and went closer. Blood.

Someone had been shot in here, and the mess wiped from the floor.

20.
Highway Maid

Grice and his two men passed, silhouettes in front of the window. So the blood had to be Captain Wentworth’s. I had not seen him leave. Maybe he was wounded somewhere. My head swam, but I hurried down to the kitchen, nauseous, clinging to the rope banister.

Wentworth’s horse was not there. Another dribble of dark by the back gate and the slig
ht snaking marks in the grass showed something had been dragged that way. I stood by the gate and there was just enough light for me to see that the trail went in the direction of the river. Almost without thinking I followed it, sweating under my bodice with apprehension.

Captain Wentworth was face down in the water, caught in some low ash branches overhanging the flow. I knew he was dead because his back was split open like a rose and no more blood flowed from him. He was still but for the movement of his hair in the water.

I shivered, as if I too was under that knife-cold water. Then I turned and ran, fast as I could back to Markyate Manor. On the way I passed Captain Wentworth’s horse wandering loose and aimless, reins and stirrups flapping.

Fear for Lady Katherine powered my legs. Mistress Binch had gone. My mistress was all alone. If Grice could do this, what else might he do?

When I reached the Manor I was breathless, but all seemed calm and orderly. I glanced in the library. Grice was his usual self, poring over maps of the countryside in the waning light of the window. His men lounged on Sir Simon’s chairs as if they owned them, puffing on their pipes of tobacco. Would you do that if you had shot a man? I began to wonder if I had imagined it. Grice looked over his shoulder and caught me staring. His eyes sent a chill through me.

‘Have you no work to do? Go and light the lights, make yourself useful in the kitchen.’

The kitchen was empty, there was nothing there for me now Mistress Binch had gone. Instead I took a candle and crept up the stairs to Grice’s room. I needed to know everything. I was extra careful because I could not hear the noise I made. I hoped his door did not creak as I pushed it open. I needed to see the rest of his correspondence, anything to tell me I was right, that Grice had just killed Captain Wentworth. Even though Grice pretended to be a Parliament man himself now.

The room smelt of that strange sour smell that Grice always had. His travelling trunks were open, as if he was packing to go away. A long-nosed pistol lay on the bed and I touched a forefinger to the muzzle. Was it my imagination, or was it warm? I pulled away. It made me shiver to look at it.

A litter of papers lay on the small side table. I picked through the pile, trying not to drip wax onto them. Nothing. Just bills of sale signed in Sir Simon’s hand – or was it Grice’s hand, forging the Fanshawe name? Household bills, receipts. I pulled open a drawer. An unfinished letter rested there. It was addressed to Sir Simon Fanshawe. I bent over, pressed my skirts against my knees, held the light close to see it better. I began to read.

By
the
time
you
read
this
your
son’s
fine
house
will
be
a
garrison
for
Parliament
troops
and
your
farms
un
-
tenanted
,
your
land
and
furniture
sold
.
I
served
you
and
your
Royalist
swine
faithfully
for
twenty
years
and
got
no
thanks
,
only
scorn
.
I
am
half
a
man
now
,
thanks
to
you
.
I
curse
the
family
of
Fanshawe
.
But
there
will
be
no
more
Fanshawes
.
Lady
Katherine
is
dead
.
The
Parliamentary
army
will
have
seen
to
that
.
I
told
them
to
have
their
pleasure
of
her
before
discarding
her
.
After
all
,
it
is
only
what
you
did
to
me

There the letter stopped mid-flow. I swayed on my feet. At first I could not take it in. But then I realised – Parliament troops were coming. Hadn’t Wentworth told Grice the same? I must warn Lady Katherine. With no man to protect her, the Roundheads would regard her as spoils of war. There was no time to lose – we would have to leave. Now.

I swiped up the letter and raced upstairs. Lady Katherine read it and understood immediately. ‘Lord have mercy,’ was all she said. She seemed stunned, unable to move.

‘Grice killed Wentworth,’ I said. ‘His body’s in the river.’

She did not ask how I knew, but it spurred her to action. ‘Gather my things.’ She handed me a leather holdall. ‘My pistols are –’

‘
– in the drawer downstairs. I know,’ I said. ‘We’ll have to get them on the way out.’

‘Where is Grice now?’

‘In the library. My guess is that in the end he didn’t want to share the gold with Wentworth. He did not trust him. He wants to take it all for himself and then get far away from here. His bags are packed. And Parliament troops will be here tonight, I heard Wentworth say so.’ I spoke quickly, even though I knew my speech was blurred if I rushed my words. All the time I was shoving things into the bag. ‘Quick, let’s go whilst Grice is busy. He scares me,’ I said.

‘Where?’

‘The common. Anywhere. Just out of here.’ I put my fingers to my lips to gesture to be quiet. I picked up the bag and pulled on her hand. ‘Wait! What about your husband’s clothes?’

‘Forget them. They’re in the hedge by the packhorse bridge. I was afraid someone would find them in the house.’

‘Come then, let’s take horse.’ We hurried to descend the staircase.

We were about half-way down when Grice’s dark figure appeared round the corner. He was dressed for outdoors, his cloak slung back over one shoulder to reveal sword belt and rapier glinting in the half-light.

But it was his pistol that drew my eye.

Lady Katherine stopped dead behind me.

Grice looked at my bags. ‘Back upstairs,’ Grice said. His voice was like ice.

He advanced on us with the black nose of the barrel pointing at my chest. I was frozen with fear, my legs would not move. Behind Grice the two servants moved in to flank him, hulks of men with blank business-like expressions. Pitman’s knife was already drawn, Rigg had a hand on his sword-hilt.

We found our way up the stairs backwards, unwilling to take our eyes away from the gun until Lady Katherine took courage and spoke to Grice. I could not see what she said, but it seemed to provoke Grice more.

‘Devil take Simon Fanshawe,’ Grice replied. His face glowed an unearthly red in the light streaming through the windows from the setting sun. ‘All these years I was loyal to him, looking after his wife’s brat, living in the middle of nowhere with second-rate servants. He cheated me
– told me you would be married to me one day, but at the last minute he snubbed me. Gave you and your fortune to that cowardly nephew.’

I turned to see Lady Katherine grow wide-eyed at this.

She tried to speak but he took a step nearer with the pistol, and we stumbled another hasty step up the stairs. Lady Katherine gripped my arm as if to give us both strength.

‘You never thanked me,’ Grice said to her. ‘Not once. Not for all my teaching.’

She began to apologize, but he flapped his hand to silence her.

‘Too late with your sweet words now. You Fanshawes are all the same. I saved Sir Simon’s skin so often, yet never a word of thanks. You find out who your friends really are in battle. He could have cut down the man who severed my foot, he was right there alongside. But he was too lazy a dog to even lift his blade. He saw the roundhead swing his sword but… he just watched it, watched it happen.’ The words almost choked him. ‘Do you want to know why I hate the Fanshawes?’

We stayed still. We were trapped, and we both knew it. From the corner of my eye I saw my mistress’s chest rising and falling.

Grice’s mouth trembled as he spoke. ‘He left me there. Can you believe it? After all I’d done for him, he watched me topple from my horse and left me to rot in the mud. I was screaming, but did Sir Simon help me? No. Another soldier dragged me away, bound my leg tight, got me to a barber-surgeon before I bled to death.’

Lady Katherine tried to soothe him with words I could not hear.

Grice dragged himself up another step and pushed the nose of the gun up to her chest. The barrel glowed red in the light from the window. ‘All those years, a faithful servant. But what does he do? Fires me for being unfit, as if it was my fault, as if
he
had not been there at all. But I’ll never forget. Do you know what kept me alive? The thought that I’d get even with him one day. Well, he’ll pay now.’

‘Please,’ I said, ‘It’s not my mistress’s fault, she hates him as much as you do.’

He turned his head slowly to face me. ‘So the maid is not as deaf or stupid as she looks.’

‘If you hurt her, Sir Simon will hunt you down, you know he will,’ I said. ‘And the King’s men will hang you for treason. Let her go, she’s done you no harm.’

‘The King’s Army is finished. I had a letter from my commander in Scotland, the Scots haven’t rallied to the King. His army is a small pack of useless dogs. The King will lose, be beheaded like his father, and Markyate Manor will be forfeit. So I’ve taken my share now. After all, it’s only what I’m owed. And by the time that coward Simon Fanshawe returns, if he survives at all, he will find nothing but dust and debts.’

My mistress
tried again to reason with him. ‘I’m sorry for any injustice you feel, but–’

‘Shut your mouth. Take her, men.’

The servants rushed up the stairs. A black leather-clad arm snaked around my neck, choking me. A push slammed me into the wall in front. I whipped round. We were backed against the corridor wall, the panelling pressed into my back next to the mullioned windows. I still had hold of Lady Katherine’s bag in one hand, ready to run if we got the chance. But we could go nowhere. Pitman’s knife was pressed to my lady’s ribs.

The men backed us into Lady Katherine’s chamber. I remembered the wound on Wentworth’s back,
and hoped for mercy.

‘Put her in there,’ Grice said to his servants. They took hold of Lady Katherine roughly by the arms and pushed her towards the windowless dressing chamber.

‘No!’ she cried, clawing like a wildcat with her nails to escape. She knew what they intended. That she’d not survive when the Parliament troops arrived.

Pitman and Rigg held her back whilst Grice found the key.

‘Let me go in with her,’ I said to him, but he shoved me roughly away.

‘Please,’ she begged me, ‘find Ralph, fetch –’ But then her face was gone as Grice turned the key in the lock and I was alone in her chamber with Grice and his men.

Grice turned the pistol on me in one swift movement and pulled the trigger.

But his movement gave me warning and I leapt to the side just as a cloud of smoke issued from the gun. Shock waves from the shot as it hit the wall reverberated in my bones,
along with a dread certainty. He would kill me.

From the corner of my eye I saw men’s fingers reach to grab my arm but I twisted away. Another smatter of wood exploded on the floorboards by the door. I was caught like a rat in a trap. Grice was re-loading and the men backed me towards the fireplace. When I dived I went down like a ferret, down into the priest’s hole, the leather bag bumping down with me.

There was no time to think, I scraped down the narrow stairs by feel, and shoved my way out into the library.

I ran o
ver to the desk drawer. I cursed as it stuck. I yanked it, until it suddenly slid out and clattered to the ground. I reached for the pistol case and powder and thrust them into the bag. I scrabbled frantically until I found the leather pouch full of lead shot.

I must get help, get to Ralph.

I bolted from the room just in time. There was a flash of movement and Rigg’s burly frame rounded the corner. I grabbed the door handle and almost fell down the servant’s stairs.