Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery John Pilkington (story reading .TXT) 📖

other nodded, whereupon I rose and told him I had an errand: Leucippus had not yet been returned, and my unease was growing. Having looked about for Hawes without success, I went outside and walked to the stable, where a light showed. Hearing voices, I entered - and stopped.

Two men stood close together beside the stalls, squaring up to each other in angry fashion. One was Hawes, while the other looked familiar: a rough-clad, scowling fellow - whereupon recognition dawned. He was Combes, the man who had got the better of Thomas Peck, that night in the inn when I had stopped them fighting… the same night on which Peck had lost his life, and I had received that brutal warning. As I appeared both of them turned quickly, then fell silent.

‘Master Hawes,’ I said. ‘I expected my horse to be here by now. It grows late, does it not?’

This time Hawes did not appear to have an explanation to hand; rather, he looked anxious. Taking a step away from the other man, he summoned an apologetic look. ‘Your pardon, Master Pride – Master Belstrang, I should say. There has been a delay, and-’

‘Delay?’ It was Combes who spoke up, and harshly. ‘Double dealing, I might call it.’ He too took a pace forward, but on recognising me in turn, sword and all, he hesitated. Finally he asked: ‘Did I hear you say your horse, sir?’

‘You did,’ I replied. ‘Of what interest is it to you?’

The man paused again, then threw a belligerent look at Hawes, who refused to meet his gaze.

‘You whoreson knave!’ he spat. ‘Why, the horse wasn’t yours to sell!’ His hand shot out, to grip the hapless host by his collar. The other hand came up too, balled into a fist…

‘Enough!’ I called out, hand on sword, in an echo of that other night when I had drawn it to such purpose. ‘There’s a sergeant-at-arms in the inn, and constables nearby. Go any further, and I’ll have you arrested for affray.’

Another silence fell. Combes dropped his hand and let go of Hawes, who at once hurried towards me.

‘I pray you, sir, let me explain,’ he blurted. ‘There’s been a misunderstanding… nothing you need concern yourself about. The horse is safe and well-cared for, and-’

‘So he is – and in my possession!’

Eyes blazing, Combes advanced towards us, pointing a finger. ‘And it’s I who’ll do the explaining.’ Mastering himself with difficulty, he faced me. ‘This man offered me the horse, for ten sovereigns. I told him I had a buyer but would need to raise the money, so he said I could keep him for the present. He swore it was above board… settlement of an old debt.’ He threw another baleful look at Hawes. ‘Then, mayhap I was a fool for trusting one of Mountford’s lackeys!’

I met his eye, but observed no guile: only righteous anger. Glancing at Hawes, I saw him fumbling for words… and now I understood. Striving to keep my own temper, I took a step back, drew my rapier and levelled it – not at Combes, but at the landlord.

‘I had a notion you’d thought I was dead,’ I said. ‘That’s what Spry told you, wasn’t it - that I’d been dealt with on the river, and wasn’t coming back? And was my mount your reward, for services rendered?’ Drawing a breath, I fixed the man with my hardest look. ‘I could have you charged with horse-stealing - do you know what the penalty is?’

Silence fell. Hawes was stock-still, eyes lowered - then he jumped: a rapid sideways movement, by which he meaned to duck past me to the door. But Combes was quicker: his meaty hand shot out again to grasp the host’s arm, then he was flung to the stable floor to sprawl in the straw. Upon which I leaned forward, pointing my blade at his neck.

‘Let’s go into the inn, shall we?’ I suggested. ‘The sergeant might want to ask you a few questions – as do I.’

I turned to Combes. ‘My thanks for your assistance,’ I said, ‘and my condolences for the way you’ve been deceived. If you’ll bring my horse back here now, and see him well bestowed, I’ll pay you something for your trouble.’

The other hesitated, then let out a long breath. ‘Well then, it’s I who’ll thank you,’ he allowed. ‘For I would have purchased a stolen beast, and…’ He trailed off, frowning at Hawes who was sitting up, a sickly look on his features. ‘Like I said, it looks like I was the fool.’ Facing me, he added: ‘Your horse will be here within the hour, and you’ll see all is well with him.’

He was about to leave – yet on impulse, I stayed him.

‘What was your quarrel with Thomas Peck, the night he died?’ I asked sharply – causing him to give a start.

‘It was nothing,’ he muttered. ‘We’d taken too much drink…’

‘No, there’s more,’ I said, summoning my magistrate’s tone. ‘As a forester, he was angry at you foundry men… you are a foundryman, are you not?’

Combes was looking uncomfortable now. So with my sword still levelled, and one eye on Henry Hawes, I pressed him.

‘You left before Peck and I did,’ I said. ‘And a short time later he was dead… while someone dealt me a blow to the skull, telling me to leave Lydney. Do you know aught of that?’

No answer came. Instead, Combes allowed his gaze to shift towards the host of The Comfort – whereupon I stiffened.

‘Good God, was it you? Or was it someone known to you?’

In anger I twitched the rapier, bringing it closer to Hawes’s throat. Instinctively he flinched away - but I caught the look in his eye, and knew I had struck on something.

‘Get up,’ I snapped. ‘And walk slowly before me, back into the