Cauldron of Fear (33 page)

'Toby - Toby
Blaine, are you all right, lad?' Thomas Handiwell sounded close,
but Toby could see no sign of him.

'Y-yes,' he
stammered, forcing the word out with some difficulty. 'Yessir, I'm
fine.'

'Good, well
keep your head well down and don't try anything silly. Captain, can
you see anything?' There was a long pause, before captain Hart
finally replied.

'N-no,
nothing, Master Handiwell,' he called, his voice sounding very
shaky. 'Perhaps they've gone, d'you think?'

'They've not
gone yet, sorr,' Riley growled. 'I kin see a movement away to the
left, up in the treetops. There's at least one of them up there and
probably more on either side. Sean Kelly, are you awake there, ye
skillipin' liddle bog trotter, youse?'

'Would I be
after sleepin' on a fine day such as this, sergeant darlin'?'
Another Irish voice, this time from somewhere behind Toby. 'And
what would it be that ye're wantin' of me, seein' as how we seems
to have a liddle time on our hands here?'

'See those
three big elm trees, Sean?' the sergeant called softly. 'See them
over slightly to yer left? Well, that's where I'm thinkin' most of
these sneakin' English backstabbers are skulkin'. See if youse can
get yer idle arse around to the side of 'em and get yerself a clear
shot.

'I'm going to
count to twenty, slowly - and then I'm going to see if I can't
surprise that bastard up above there. The smug bastard probably
reckons we can't see him, but he's showin' a bit of leg enough fer
me to work out where his black heart oughta be.'

Everything
fell silent once again and only the slight rustling of foliage away
from the direction where Sean Kelly's voice had come indicated that
the trooper was moving to obey Riley's instruction. His lips moving
silently, Toby began to count slowly, using his fingers to guide
him through the numbers once he reached ten.

Nineteen...
twenty. Nothing.

Twenty one...
twenty and... two... twenty and...

Crack!
The loud report of Sergeant
Riley's musket discharging made Toby jump, startling him so much
that he felt himself lose momentary control of his bladder, but a
strangled cry from the treetops that the Irishman had indicated
earlier told that the shot had found its mark and the ensuing
crashing and tearing of branches testified to an even greater
accuracy than that.

'That's one
less, captain, sorr!' Riley cried triumphantly.

'Good
shooting, sergeant!' Hart exclaimed excitedly. 'Can you see any
more of them?' Almost as the question was out another report,
further away this time, followed again by a cry of pain and then
answered by three or four more reports, though this time there was
no corresponding shout to indicate that Sean Kelly had been hit by
the return fire.

'Ah shit!'

'Sergeant?'

'Those last
shots, sorr,' Riley called back. 'They were from further across
again. I don't think they hit Sean, but it means there's at least a
half dozen of the sods out there and they're spread to both sides
of the track.'

'Then they
have us fairly well pinned here, yes?'

'Well, we can
always fall back, sorr, unless they've got in behind, of course,
but as to advancin', well, it'd be a foolish move, in my opinion.
These buggers know the ground, too.'

'Captain!'
Thomas Handiwell's voice sounded strained and urgent. 'Captain
Hart, call out and tell these people you are a commissioned officer
in the service of your country!'

'Ah, Master
Handiwell, sorr,' Riley's voice came back again, 'I'd be after
thinkin' they moight well be knowin' that already, sorr. Beggin'
the captain's pardon, and yours too, yer honour, I think the best
thing we can do here is to fall back, before they do get the idea
of gettin' in behind us.'

The sudden
noise of the guns sounded frighteningly close behind her and
Harriet leapt for the nearest tree and pressed herself against it,
staring back down the overgrown track with terrified eyes.
Instinctively, her hand slid inside her shirt, her fingers closing
over the grip of the pistol, but even as they did so she knew she
could never bring herself to use it.

The first
shots, which had sent several small flocks of birds flapping and
squawking into the afternoon sky, were followed by an almost eerie
silence; high above, the disturbed birds circled indecisively, but
their indignation was no longer voluble, whilst the faint breeze
was barely enough to stir the leaves in the trees themselves.

Her heart
pounding, Harriet moved around the tree trunk until its bulk was
between her and the noise of the shooting. She knew that whoever it
was they were not aiming at her, but she knew enough about stray
musket balls to take every sensible precaution. After all, she told
herself, was it not a stray ricocheting ball that had felled her
father and caused the seemingly endless years of misery and ill
health he had suffered ever since?

'Oh, pa,' she
whispered, her lower lip trembling, 'why ever did I think I could
do this? You have always thought me such a sensible and competent
daughter, but how sensible is this now?'

More shots
rung out. One single shot, a second single shot and then a
fractured volley. Somewhere in the distance Harriet thought she
heard an anguished cry, but she could not be certain that her ears
were not simply playing tricks on her. The only thing she could be
sure of was that her potential rescuers, those on whom she depended
for her very safety in this venture, had come under attack, for she
was convinced they would not themselves start an engagement, not
knowing that she was somewhere ahead of them and alone.

She hesitated,
indecision pushing its way through the uppermost layer of
trepidation, for if Thomas and the small group of soldiers were
being attacked, there was little likelihood of them catching up
with her in the immediate future; therefore, if anything went
wrong, or the kidnappers refused to hand over Sarah once they had
been paid their ransom, Harriet's position would be perilous in the
extreme.

How could she
have been so foolish and so obstinate? It had all seemed so simple,
but here now, alone and a long way from any help, she realised that
this venture had been fraught from its very beginning. Whoever they
were dealing with - male or female - they were both cunning and
ruthless and had the confidence even to take on the state in the
form of armed soldiers.

'Cousin
Sarah,' she whispered, biting her lip, 'I'm so truly sorry, but I
cannot do this, I really cannot!'

Harriet
turned, seeking a way into the relative safety of the woods,
desperate to find a refuge where she could lie low until it was
safe to retrace her steps and, hopefully, rejoin Thomas and the
soldiers. As she did so a sudden rustling to her left made her
start backwards, but it was too late for the danger lay in a
totally different direction and, as she made to run, from behind
her the net snaked out, dropping neatly over her and dragging her
struggling and screaming to the ground.

Despite his
youth and inexperience, it did not take Toby very long at all to
work out that the young Captain Hart had almost certainly never
been under fire before and that it was the Irish sergeant, Riley,
who afforded the small party their best chance of retreating
without further injuries or loss of life.

Calling out
softly, he instructed the remaining troopers to make sure they were
reloaded and to wait upon his word, whereupon, he said, they would
fire a volley that would have their unseen assailants ducking for
cover. At the same moment Thomas Handiwell, Hart and Toby himself
were to make a run for it, back down the track.

Further
volleys would enable the soldiers themselves to retreat in orderly
fashion, he said, and Toby noted that his supposedly superior
officer said nothing to disagree with this tactic. His heart
pounding, bowels clenching and unclenching, Toby tensed
himself.

'Right-oh,
lads,' Riley's lilting brogue came at last, 'on my word, let the
bastards have it. And - fire, lads!' The muskets crackled and
roared as one and Toby found himself on his feet even before he'd
thought about it, but as he sprinted along, bent almost double,
something made him forget about his own safety for just long enough
to stop by the body of the fallen trooper, scoop up his musket and
grab the pouch from his belt that contained his powder and
shot.

For a few
seconds it seemed to Toby that everything hung suspended in
mid-air, that he was surrounded by a curious blue mist and that the
two figures of Thomas Handiwell and Captain Hart, as they went past
him, were running in slow notion, their legs seeming to float just
off the ground as they ran.

He saw Thomas
Handiwell turn his head towards him, watched the innkeeper's mouth
open and shut and knew the man was shouting to him, but he could
hear nothing save for a furious buzzing sound in his head. And then
he was moving again, the sounds of crashing branches and snapping
twigs all around him and finally he slithered into a shallow ditch,
a few feet away from where Thomas was crouching behind a broad elm
tree.

'You bloody
little fool!' Handiwell cried. 'You could have got yourself
killed!' Toby rolled over onto all fours and raised his head to
peer back in the direction from which they had come. Everything was
quiet again, but a moment later more shots rang out and he saw two
red-coated figures come hurtling towards him, only to stop short
and duck behind trees on either side of the track.

Immediately,
Toby saw, they began reloading their muskets and he understood
precisely what was intended. Without thinking he raised the
commandeered musket, checked that it was loaded and primed and
raised it to his shoulder, steadying himself on one elbow.

'Do you know
how to use that thing?' Thomas called across. Toby did not bother
to answer, but concentrated his aim in the general direction of
where the original firing had come and waiting to add his shot to
those of the soldiers, when the moment came. He did not have to
wait long.

Shots from
ahead were joined by shots from the two crouching troopers and,
letting out a slow breath, Toby fired likewise. The recoil was a
lot more powerful than he was used to from his father's musket and
the barrel of the gun leapt in his hands, so he knew his shot had
gone far too high, but the overall effect was more important than
actually finding a target and he was rewarded, seconds later, by
the sight of Riley and the other Irishman loping back past the
first two soldiers.

'Right then,
lads,' the sergeant called out, already reloading his weapon. 'Same
thing again, only this time me and Sean will duck aside into the
bushes. If anyone starts to follow, we'll pot them.'

'What about
the horses, Sergeant?' Captain Hart shouted from somewhere behind
Toby. 'We can't just abandon them - they're army property!'

'Fuck army
property,' Riley growled, just loud enough so that Toby could hear,
though probably not so loud that Hart would understand his words.
Louder, he called back.

'They'll start
to make their own way back, sure enough, sorr,' he said. 'Once
everything goes quiet I'll whistle the beggars. Master Handiwell's
horses will follow ours, more'n likely. More important you all get
back well out of range in the meantime. Leave the rest to me and
Sean. We'll be all right, don't you worry.'

And somehow,
Toby knew they would be.

The two men
quickly gathered in the net, imprisoning Harriet helplessly within
its mesh and then winding a length of rope about her middle,
pinning her arms even tighter to her sides. Realising the futility
of struggling further, she stopped and stood staring defiantly out
at them.

'My name is
Harriet Merridew,' she said as calmly as she could manage, though
she was acutely aware of the tremor of fear in her voice. 'I have
brought the ransom money as demanded, and I should like to see my
cousin.'

'Oh, you'll
see her all right, missy,' the taller man said. He looked to be
aged about thirty, while his companion, a head shorter than he,
seemed to be scarcely out of his teens.

'Then I
suggest you take me to her without further delay,' Harriet said,
trying to sound authoritative, though without much success.

'All in good
time, missy,' the older man replied. 'Artie, get a cord about those
ankles and get her over your shoulder, lad. Time's getting on and
the mistress wants her back and made ready by sunset.'

Artie, the
younger man, quickly stooped and looped a stout cord several times
about Harriet's ankles, drawing them together and knotting the ends
tightly. Then, with a strength that belied his youthful frame, he
hefted her unceremoniously up and over his right shoulder, slapped
her heavily across her upraised buttocks and began marching along
the trail in his companion's wake.

Harriet opened
her mouth to protest at such summary treatment, but quickly closed
it again, realising it would do her no good. Instead she let
herself hang limply, while her fingers, hampered by both net and
rope, began to seek the handle of her pistol.

It was the
better part of an hour before Sergeant Riley and Sean Kelly emerged
from the woods, but they did have with them all the horses,
including the dead trooper's mount, with his body tied across the
saddle.

'They weren't
interested in the horses,' Riley said to Toby, who had contrived to
ride alongside him on the remainder of the return journey. 'Come to
that, they weren't really interested in us, not once they'd
convinced us not to go any further.'

'Couldn't we
have tried to encircle them?' Toby suggested, and Riley looked
across at him and grinned.