Ranger's Apprentice 12: The Royal Ranger (40 page)

‘All clear both ways,’ he said. Then he jerked his thumb south. ‘Hawkshead Bay is three kilometres that way. Let’s go.’

The countryside changed once more. The green pastures and carefully tended fields gave way to coarse heathland, where scrubby bushes grew barely waist high and trees were few and far between. Will grimaced as he surveyed the land.

‘Not a lot of cover,’ he remarked.

Maddie glanced at him. ‘So we’ll see them coming,’ she pointed out.

‘I’m more concerned that they’ll see us going,’ he remarked. ‘Remember, it won’t just be us. We’ll have ten children with us. They’ll be a little hard to conceal.’

She pursed her lips. She hadn’t thought of that. She began to look from side to side, marking any places where there might be useful cover. Inland, about half a kilometre from the road, a row of low cliffs rose up from the heath. At their base, boulders were tumbled untidily. The cliffs were obviously unstable and prone to landslides from time to time. She could see several dark holes that could well mark the openings to caves. That meant it might be possible to find a useful hiding place.

In case they needed one. And she was beginning to think they might need one before too long.

The highway swung south to run close to the coastline. More cliffs here, she saw, falling away to the ocean below them. They were made mainly of clay and fell sheer to the water, looking as if they had been cut with a blade. The sea, running over a sandy bottom, was shallow and clear green.

‘Pretty,’ she said. Will followed her line of sight and grunted.

‘Not if you were a sailor,’ he said. ‘That water’s shallow for almost a kilometre out to sea. You’d need to wait for high tide to land.’

He had memorised a few landmarks from the map so he’d know when they were approaching Hawkshead Bay. Now, as they passed the final one, a small pond by an equally small copse of low trees, he called a halt.

‘We’ll leave the horses here,’ he said. ‘We’ll go ahead on foot to see what’s what.’

They left the horses concealed in the trees and made their way through the waist-high gorse to the next headland. Beyond that, according to the map, lay Hawkshead Bay.

As they came level with the edge of the cliff, Will moved his hand in a palm downward gesture. Maddie went into a crouch, then, following her mentor’s lead, she dropped to hands and knees, crawling forward through the coarse undergrowth.

If there were people in the cove, it would be asking for trouble to simply walk to the edge of the crest in full sight.

Will stopped and beckoned her forward. She crawled through the bushes, making as little noise as possible, until she was level with him. Hawkshead Bay was spread out before them.

The cliffs were lower here, around ten to fifteen metres high, and they sloped more than the knife-edged vertical cliffs they had been passing. Unlike those cliffs, which were basically clay, these were formed from rock and sand, interspersed with tufts of seagrass and bushes. At their base was a semi-circular beach of coarse sand.

The tide was running in and she could see it forming corrugated ripples in the shallow sand bottom. The water was shallow for at least a quarter of a kilometre out to sea.

In the centre of the beach, well above the high-water mark that was delineated by tangles of driftwood and seaweed, were four large tents. The canvas was weathered and grey and it was stretched over timber frames. They’d been here a while, she thought. This was a permanent camp.

There was a large fireplace ten metres away from the tents – far enough so that smoke from the fire wouldn’t be a problem – and a rough wooden table and benches set under a canvas roof supported by a timber frame. The four sides were open.

She counted two men moving about the camp site, although there could have been others concealed in the tents. Four tents would seem to indicate at least sixteen men in the camp, she thought. Then she reconsidered. The hostages would have to be kept somewhere.

As she had the thought, Will nudged her and pointed to the cliffs on the left-hand side of the bay. She peered in the direction he was indicating and made out a dark opening in the rock, at ground level. As she looked more closely, she could make out a barred timber door across the opening.

She revised her thinking. That was where the hostages were kept, she realised.

Will had told her about Ruhl’s statement – that they had taken ten prisoners. She wondered how many of them were already in the cave, and how many were on their way here with the Stealer and the Storyman.

Will leaned closer to her. ‘There’s a track leading down the cliff to the left of the cave. See it?’

Even though the nearest slaver was over a hundred metres away, and intent on bringing the dormant fire back to life, he barely breathed the words.

Maddie scanned the cliff and could make out the track. It ran down through the rocks at an angle, switchbacked several times, then ended at the beach, twenty metres from the dark opening that marked the cave. She raised a thumb to indicate that she had seen it.

‘When we get the kids out, that’s where you’ll take them. Back up to the top of the cliff,’ he told her.

She turned quickly to look at him. ‘That’s where I’ll take them? What’ll you be doing?’

He patted the smooth wood of his longbow, lying in the grass before him.

‘I’ll be making sure nobody sees you leaving.’

IN THE LATE
afternoon, the slave party finally arrived.

As Will had predicted, the captives trudged wearily along the middle of the road, their hands bound in front of them, and a heavy rope linking them together tied round their necks. There were six of them and they all looked dispirited and dejected. Ruhl and two of his men rode on small ponies, chivvying the captives along, urging them to move faster. Will recognised Ruhl and the cloaked man who had been with him when they had abducted Violet.

The Storyman was recognisable as the third of those riding. The blue cloak, wide hat and red shoes marked him out. In addition to those three, there were six other men in the party.

As the party passed close to where Will and Maddie were concealed in the long grass by the cliff’s edge, they could hear the tinkling bells on the Storyman’s shoes carrying to them on the slight breeze.

Violet and the other captives looked thoroughly cowed. Will noticed that they cringed away whenever the Storyman rode close to them. Once, he heard the blue-cloaked figure laugh as the other girl in the party, whom Will took to be Carrie Clover from Danvers Crossing, flinched away from him with a frightened cry. Will’s lips set in a tight line.

The other men in the slaving party were heavily armed with an assortment of spears, clubs and axes, and two had swords thrust through their belts. They were a hard-bitten lot, bearded and unkempt, and dressed in rough leather and wool. Each of them had a short, knotted length of rope, which they used to urge the captives on to greater speed.

‘Nine of them,’ Will whispered.

‘And at least two more in the camp,’ Maddie said.

‘And there’ll be more still in the ship’s crew when it arrives. At least another half dozen.’

Maddie chewed her lip thoughtfully. The odds were tilting a little too far in the enemy’s favour, she thought. Consequently, she was surprised by Will’s next comment.

‘The good news is, we have more than enough arrows,’ he said grimly.

Ruhl and the other two horsemen dismounted to lead the way down the cliff path. The line of prisoners followed them. It was obviously difficult going with their hands tied, and with the heavy rope linking them. If one slipped, the two on either side would be dragged down as well. They struggled awkwardly down the rough track. The other men brought up the rear. The track was too narrow to allow them to walk beside their prisoners. At least it meant they couldn’t beat the children with the knotted ropes.

Slipping, sliding and stumbling, the line of captured children finally made their awkward way to the level ground. Ruhl and the other two horsemen formed up to bar their way, preventing their moving out onto the beach and directing them along the base of the cliff towards the cave.

The two men already in the camp looked up to watch as the party made its way down the rough track. Maddie was interested to see that nobody else emerged from the tents. It would appear that the gang so far totalled eleven men. The man who had been tending the fire took a large key ring from one of the posts supporting the open-sided tent. Picking up a heavy club that was leaning against the table, he began to walk in a leisurely manner over to the cave door.

‘Get a move on, Donald!’ Ruhl shouted roughly. ‘We haven’t got all day!’

‘And welcome back to you, Master Ruhl,’ the man replied in a bad-tempered tone. Nonetheless, Maddie noted that he quickened his pace.

The new arrivals milled uncertainly by the barred gate to the cave, not sure what was to happen next. Will could see now that the rope joining them passed through metal rings on heavy boiled-leather collars, each one fastened with an individual lock. The man with the keys unlocked the barred gate. Apparently someone inside the cave made an attempt to come out because he snarled and prodded with the club into the darkness.

Satisfied that the cave’s inhabitants were settled, he then turned to the first prisoner in line and unshackled the collar, prodding the boy with his club to drive him into the cave.

Ruhl watched as the man called Donald repeated the process for the next two prisoners. Then, satisfied that things were moving smoothly, Ruhl moved to the eating enclosure, tying his horse to one of the uprights and glaring at the other man who had been in the camp and who now stood staring vacantly at his leader.

‘Bring me a drink, curse you, Thomas!’ Ruhl snarled. ‘I’ve been in the saddle all day!’

‘Not a lot of love lost between them,’ Will murmured as the man hurried to fetch Ruhl a dark jug and several tankards. Ruhl poured a large measure and drank deeply, sighing with satisfaction as he finished. The Storyman and the other rider dismounted and joined him. In the hierarchy of the gang, the three of them were obviously on the top rank. Ruhl was the undisputed leader, and the Storyman and the cloaked man were his lieutenants. The others were simply the rank and file.

Ruhl and his two cohorts relaxed and drank, laughing from time to time as they talked, while Donald and the other men shoved and cursed at the children, forcing them into the cave.

‘Must be getting crowded in there,’ Maddie ventured.

Will glanced sidelong at her.

‘Ten prisoners in all, you said,’ she continued. ‘You’d need a pretty big cave to keep them all comfortable. And most caves tend to be small.’

The last prisoner was shoved roughly into the cave, then the barred door was slammed shut behind him and locked. From their vantage point on the clifftop, they could hear the rattle of the heavy key. One of the three who had been guarding the prisoners en route to the cove gathered up the
heavy rope and leather collars. The man with the keys, Donald, returned to the central area of the camp, replacing the big key ring on the post whence he had taken it.

‘Get some food ready,’ Ruhl ordered.

Obviously Donald and the other man, Thomas, were detailed to look after the menial work around the camp site. Will filed that information away. If it came to a fight, they could be left till last. They were unlikely to be particularly aggressive or quick witted. Men like them did as they were told. They rarely thought for themselves. And, from what Will had seen of Ruhl so far, he seemed to be a man who would discourage individual thinking among his subordinates.

The camp settled into what seemed its normal routine. Around seven in the evening, the man Ruhl had called Thomas took food and water to the cave. Donald accompanied him, unlocking the barred door and making sure none of the occupants tried to escape. The tide had turned and was beginning to run in once more, creeping slowly up the beach and covering the wide expanse of rippled sand that had been exposed by the low tide.

Maddie and Will remained watching until the bearded Ranger touched her shoulder and jerked a thumb back towards the small stand of trees where they had left the horses.

‘Looks like they’ve settled in for the night. We might as well get some rest ourselves. We’ll come back before dawn and figure a way to get the kids out.’

‘Just us, against eleven men?’ Maddie asked.

Will gave her a long, grave look, then nodded. ‘Just us, against eleven men.’

They crept back to the copse of trees, although there was really no need for stealth. The slavers were all asleep in their tents and the beach was at least twenty metres lower than the ground on which they stood. They watered the horses and unsaddled them. Then they had a cold meal of dried beef, fruit and flat bread. Maddie lifted the battered old coffee pot and raised an eyebrow at Will. But he shook his head.

‘No fire,’ he said briefly. ‘They might smell the smoke. Or they might decide to have a look around the area.’

They drank water from their canteens. There was no running water in the vicinity and the small pond they had passed was slime-covered and stagnant. They rolled out their blankets. Maddie looked at Will.