Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. (11 page)

Then Edwardes arrived.

It was spring, toward evening, when Dick was called outside to find him standing beside a lathered bay stallion that was, he had to admit, equal to any of Alan's get. His companion's mount, too, showed speed and endurance in every line.

"Ecod, Frank, whence come you? Where do ye go in this wilderness, so far from London?" Dick's welcome was bluff, but inwardly he thought: If he's come to blackmail, I'll kill him!

"Gad, Dick, you've grown farmer indeed," Edwardes returned, but thought: So, the old sot spoke truth. This property's worth thousands. I'm a fool if I don't rook him well. "Whence come I? From Newcastle, and on the way to Sir Will Teale in Westmorland. He has a sister worth nine hundred a year."

"So, ye didn't marry the other heiress?" Dicked asked blandly, remembering the holdup. Yon shifty-eyed knave with him's built much like the second pad that night. Odds on it, the constables are on their trail and they picked here for a refuge.

"Fat," Frank shrugged wryly. "Nauseating, egad! Quite impossible —cowlike. Lud, imagine having to inflict the poor tub on one's friends. But Anne Teale—exquisite!"

The silver lace on his modishly cut coat was, Dick noted, tarnished and frayed. "So you're hot in haste for Westmorland? The old Roman Road through Bowes leads into it. I'd have ye bide and talk, but love's impatient, hey?"

"Not so I'd miss a bed and some farmerly meals with an old friend," Edwardes smiled. He turned to his companion. "Johnson, see the nags are fed and rubbed down. We stay the night."

Dick caught the man's resentful face. He's no lackey, but Frank's fellow, he opined. And this tale of Sir Will's sister; Mother'll know its truth. "Fred will care for the mounts," he said. "In, Frank, and sup." And to Johnson: "Around to the kitchen. Old Poll will feed you and find you a place to sleep."

"Your hospitality's vastly appreciated after London's dullness, I vow," cried Frank, then stiffened warily as a rider came racing up the avenue.

"It's Ram." Dick had seen his reaction.

"Captain!" Ram called in recognition and, dismounting, swept off his hat. Yet he, too, remembered the coach.

Watching, Dick saw Edwardes' eyes narrow. "Frank, I offer you Dalesview's hospitality," he reminded meaningly.

The challenge was accepted. "Dammit, why not? We've been comrades long, and now we're getting stiff of limb, there's doubtless a bottle to split to old times, eh?"

Dick's uneasiness grew when Frank's fine airs and gay tales not only charmed Will, Joan and the servants, but Hannah too.

"Eigh, he's a rare 'un," was her verdict. "He's got polish. 'Twill be good if he bides awhile for Ram's sake."

"Ram's been exposed to his polish for years," Dick pointed out. "There's no more left to rub off on him."

"He's a gentleman, and few such come this way," she retorted.

Aye, gentleman of the road! That he was in hiding, Dick was sure, for he asked that his stallion be turned out with the Dalesview herd, and also Johnson's chestnut. "I rode Star for a wager at Newcastle and he strained a fetlock," Frank elaborated. "Needs a rest before we push on to Sir Will's."

On the third day, when he and Dick returned from viewing the paddocks, Hannah said that three constables had come to her, claiming to be in pursuit of two notorious highwaymen. "I bade 'em begone," she snorted. " 'What would such rogues coom here for?' I asked 'em. 'Wi' two Marlborough officers here, such scourings wouldna dare show their snouts.' "

Edwardes' eyes were bleak as he asked if Johnson were around.

"Likely he's helping Molly wi' the churn. And I'll tak' it kindly, Captain, if ye'll warn him she's a chaste lass. I'm not wishin' to turn her away because your man's overpersuasive."

"Madam, if he so much as kisses her fingertips, I'll have his hide off," Frank promised. "But he's a good lad and most religiously bred, with a wife awaiting him in London town."

Now I must watch master and man! Dick cursed. Molly's a piece for my own picking.

That night, as he paced his room wondering how to be rid of Edwardes, the latter came in. "Saw your light and thought we might kill a bottle over old fights," he smiled. "I'cod, they're long ago . . . Ramillies, and you finding the lad, Malplaquet, and—"

"Enough! I want none of the past. Understand?"

"As you will. But a drink, Dick, a drink."

Candle in hand, Dick went down to the wine cellar. He chose two bottles of brandy, thinking: Damn his strong head! He's had me under the table many a time, but for once I'll outdrink him. I'll get him babbling till he talks blackmail, then I'll kill him!

"Rare Nantes," he explained, back in his room. "Smuggled ashore at Morecombe Bay and brought over the fells by pack train."

"You keep the fashion even in this solitude, eh? Since it's too late to make punch, I'll take water with mine."

Dick brought a water jug, noggins and poured two drinks.

Elbows on the table, Frank held his noggin over the jug. "To the King!"

"None of that! My king's in London, not over the water."

"A foreigner instead of a Stuart?"

"A legal king instead of a pretender."

"Ah, yes, one whose German whores flaunt their new English titles in the faces of our great ladies. It's not to be borne."

"Better than to have James and his French and Italian whores. Frank, I'll have no Jacobites here. Have done."

"Bah, you always were a fool. That time when I stole that wench almost out of your arms, when was it? Ah, yes, the same night I wrote those lying letters for you."

Dick's eyes slid to where his sword hung from a peg. "Damn your black soul, if ye as much as drop one word—"

"You'll slit my throat," the other nodded, amused. He dropped one hand below the table. "Still, lead's swifter than steel."

Their glances locked. Slowly Frank's hand reappeared, holding dice. "This rustic life's plaguey dull," he yawned, toying with the cubes. "Perhaps a few casts will sharpen us up a bit, eh?"

Dick wavered. But he'd been without excitement too long.

"Cast." He poured fresh drinks.

Dawn found them both snoring. The brandy was gone and Dick had lost forty guineas. That the dice were loaded, he'd known. But his loss was cheap if only Frank would now leave.

He did. Two days more and he was bidding Hannah farewell. "Madam, but that I must meet my future bride," he told her, "I could never bear the pain of quitting your gracious presence."

She colored pleasurably, though still furious at having had to give Dick money to pay his "debt of honor." "Good fortune await ye. Captain, though I mind now I heard Sir William's sister wed a year since. But maybe theer's another I've never known of."

"Doubtless. He mentioned how charming both his sisters are." He gave Dick his hand. "This meeting has left me in your debt." He nodded to Ram. "Next time we meet, lad, I'll question you on your memory of old times." He and Johnson cantered away.

"Saddle Moor," Dick ordered Ram. "You're the advance of your troop and you're pursuing a retreating foe. Don't let 'em see you, lest they ambush ye. Follow 'em to Bowes and report back which way they turned. Away now."

Ram galloped off. This was like old times, practicing for war,

with Father as general and Captain Edwardes as the "enemy"! When he made his report, Dick's oaths were bhstering. To reach Westmorland by the Roman Road, one turned left at Bowes, but Edwardes and his man had turned right.

Inquiries proved that Sir Will's only sister had married and had since died. Dick didn't care that Frank had lied, but only that he'd never return to Dalesview. But, wary now, he made a plan. "The Jacobites are stirring," he told Ram, "and I fear the captain's with 'em. If he returns, never let him out of sight. Use John and Rob and the grammar lads. We want no Stuart spies here."

Naturally, Ram hoped that Edwardes would return. Highwaymen were exciting folk, Jacobite highwaymen more so. He warned his troop, therefore, that if a certain dangerous plotter should come, he must be dogged everywhere.

He did come. Glibly he told Hannah that, alas, sweet Anne Teale was dying of a consumption. She was, he added, merely a half-sister, who'd been reared in Bristol and only lately lived with Sir Will. Hannah seemed satisfied, but Dick shook with fury.

"No more guineas from me!" he exploded when the two were alone. "You've a bed and meals, no more, whatever tricks ye try."

"The scent's overkeen and I need shelter," Frank admitted. And added softly, "You'd best give it me."

Dick, worried almost to the breaking point, felt ready to do murder. Murder? Ecod, that's it, rid the world of a rogue! For two days he brooded until a plan came, one that would make it seem like a mere accident. Threaten about Ram, hey?

He rode Alan's Pride up to the fells, near the spot where he had killed Ely. Veering, he came to a deep chasm, through which ran a stream. Many sheep and cattle had fallen to death over its sheer edges, but the approach on both sides was level and clear. Dismounting, he led Pride until the stallion's head hung over space. Then he backed, his stomach knotted. He'd risked death often, but this could be sheer suicide. But—Ram!

Cantering back a furlong, he turned Pride and broke into a hand gallop. Perfect co-ordination between man and horse was vital. The leap itself wasn't too wide, but a premature take-off or a short landing! Twenty yards . . . ten . . . now! His spurs sank in. Pride

rose, there was blackness below. The horse landed, stumbled, recovered. Bathed in sweat, Dick checked, dismounted and led the quivering mount back. Three marks showed where hoofs had landed. Pride's off-hind pastern was bleeding from where it had scraped the edge.

Back at the stables, Dick rubbed down the stallion. "You've done it once, lad, and ye can again." He fondled the twitching ears. "We'll show the bastard!"

But in the house he almost spoiled everything when he came upon Edwardes standing overdose to Joan, his careless laugh drowning her protests. Damme, he'd seduce her! he realized, his fury the greater because of his own failure with her.

He regained control. "I'm for a ride up the fells, Frank. The day's so clear ye can almost see to Ullswater. Will ye come?"

As Joan hurried away, Frank laughed lightly. "Aye, I'm always ready for a ride, day—or night." But already she was out of earshot of his pleasantry.

As they neared the chasm, Dick gave Star a critical glance. "How does your nag jump?"

"Like a deer, thank God. There've been times when . . . ! I'll back him 'gainst any horse ever foaled."

"Where was he bred?" Dick was deliberately casual.

"I bought him from a stud near Lincoln. Superb strain."

"Fifty guineas that Pride beats him at a broad jump."

"Thought your dame keeps you too short for more bets?"

"You don't know Yorkshire folk. Dicing, now, she'll rant and rave at, but wagering on horseflesh is in us all from birth." Dick pointed. "There's a hazard. Let's look at it. Fifty to twenty your Star refuses."

"Done." But when Frank had seen the gap's depth, he frowned. "Gad, not much chance if one falls."

"There are other jumps." And Dick thought: I'm being fair, but if he's fool enough to put Star at it ... !

"No." Frank turned the bay away. "Hell for leather and the Devil take the hindmost! But I want better odds. If I win, I'll remain your guest for, oh, another month. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Dick was sure that Star, bred in flat, grassy Lincolnshire, wouldn't be used to a shale take-off. But as they cantered their

mounts around to warm them, he swallowed hard, remembering how Frank had first marched beside him at Blenheim, back in '04. Damn him, why hadn't he died there in a gentlemanly way, instead of li\ing on to become a blackmailer?

But, no more time for thinking. Pride knew what must be done; Dick could feel the horse's excitement, perhaps fear. He wanted to look at Edwardes, but already the brink was close.

"Curse ye to hell, Frank!" The words burst from him as Pride took off. Then the shock of landing. He heard a crash behind, but had to keep on until he could check. Dismounting then, he looked back, hoping to see nothing. But Star was there, rolling over, with Edwardes lying near by—dead? Yet he felt relief when he saw the bay struggle up and stand, head down and trembling. Frank, hat and wig gone, a gash over one eye, rose and leaned weakly against his heaving stallion.

"Ecod, ye did it!" Dick affected heartiness as he came back. "That's a gallant brute, stap me if it ain't."

The next instant he was looking down a pistol muzzle. "You scheming bastard, I ought to kill you." Frank spoke very softly. "I would, too, if Star had broken a leg." He led the horse around slowly. There were cuts but no lameness. "That's fifty you owe me and a month's longer stay, you old toad!"

Damn him, Dick thought, he always puts me in the wrong.

A reinforcement arrived; Gaston, shabby but proud, his mission ended. "My comrade, I've a trifle saved, and I remembered your offer. If our little lad would still learn the sword, I'll be happy with a cot in any odd corner. And I offer my half pay for rations and quarters."

"Ye damned frog-eater, you're home!" Dick welcomed happily. "And let's have no talk of payment—this is Yorkshire!" He called for a stable lad to take Gaston's hack. "But I've one old comrade here already I wish was under the sod."

The Huguenot frowned when he heard who it was. "He's a dangerous Jacobite, deep in plots. Peste, perhaps he remains here because it's close to Scotland. Is one Johnson with him?"

"Aye. Frank's lackey, he says, but also his fellow roadpad, who helped rob that coach I rode in, remember?"

"So. Well, while Edwardes plots with the gentry, Johnson carries secret letters and tries to win over the peasants. In Richmond, I heard that Jacobites are already raiding country houses for arms in Northumberland and Durham."

"They'd best not raid here, even if Frank plays the traitor," Dick snorted. "But, come, meet my dame again and the rest. And mind, we must treat Frank easy, so he won't know we know his tricks."

Edwardes was surprised to see Gaston, more so to learn he was to live with Dick, but his greeting was warm enough. "With the major and us two, I vow Hertford's is finely represented."

At first Hannah reacted most unfavorably to the new permanent guest. "Him wi' his funny way o' talking," she sniffed. "I doan't like Frenchmen Papists, I doan't an' all."