Thad growled his discomfort. He was thoroughly sick of being lurched about in a wagon and doubly irked that the attack that had sent Simms and Wage scurrying out of Wishire was apparently not mysterious to the men and yet they had not told him. His brain was wracking, his bones were aching, his belly longing for a good meal—which, until he could chew again he knew he would not have—and his instincts telling him that Jamie's frequent trips on his father's behalf were somehow connected to this all.
The one-armed masked man: said to be young. Slight. Light-haired.
He sat up straight, bumping his head into chest as he did so. Pounding his fury against the side of the wagon, he attempted to shout and only succeeded in bursting into a very loud moan of agony.
Theodore peered into the wagon, his keen eyes taking in the fury of his son's countance. A brief smile slid across his face as the younger Simms snatched a page out of a ledger and scrawled, despite the ruts in the road, “WHAT IS GOING ON? TELL ME!”
Theodore read the scrawl and shook his head, “Determined, aren't you?”
A thunder of hooves was heard behind them and the wagons quickly went to the side of the road. Theodore yanked his peasant's cap over his face and he slouched along beside the oxen. The following wagon, driven by William Gage, likewise attired, lurched into a position behind him.
William gasped as the riders came into view. There were two. One was his son. The other, a brown-haired girl clinging to the saddle of a raunchy looking nag.
“JAMIE!”
Hearing his father's familiar voice, Philip reigned up so fast that the black mare practically sat down in the middle of the road. Sylvia's horse took a little longer to get stopped and she trotted back to where greetings were being enthusiastically exchanged.
As she slid off her horse, William Gage lifted an eyebrow at his son, who grinned and spoke easily, “You remember Sylvia Humphries, no doubt, Sir?”
Poor Thad, listening from his throne of piled blankets and papers could stand things no longer and heaved his bulk to the rear of the wagon, confusion and ire written all over his round and freckled face. Sylvia gave a great cry upon seeing him and rushed up to cling to his doublet.
“Oh Thad! Thad! What did that awful man do to you?? Jamie told me...”
She stopped as Thad's head went up and he locked eyes with Jamie. Remembering the splitting pain that had seared his head just moments before, he did not attempt to speak, but his eyes blazed a clear challenge.
William laid a hand on his son's arm, but Philip shook it off, never breaking eye contact with his friend. In an undertone, he said, “It's time to tell him...”
Philip stepped forward; Sylvia looked on in great concern, her fingers still wound in Thad's doublet.
“Thad, I take it no explanation has been given to you yet. You are no doubt familiar with the masked man that Thackery is after?”
Thad just looked him straight back, unmoving.
“Well...I am he.”
Thad stamped his foot, impatient to be able to speak and demand why he had been kept in the dark. It was clear that he was hurt at the apparent lack of trust that had been shown to him. Philip read this in his eyes and went on to explain as best he could that Thad had not been told only to protect him. Thad snorted and touched his jaw gingerly. Theodore suddenly inserted himself into the conversation, “Look Thad, if you must be angry at anyone, it was my idea and my stubbornness that kept you in the dark. Ph-Jamie wanted to tell you, but we wouldn't let him at my instigation.”
Philip gestured toward's Sylvia, “I accidentally had the privilege of rescuing Sylvia from some of Thackery's knaves—now it's your turn, Thad, to keep her safe. I think I should go looking for her father...”
Thad's irritation was melting and he looked down, his face swollen and bruised, at the girl clinging to his garment. His eyes twinkled suddenly and he looked back at his friend and peace was restored.
A few days later found the Simms and Gages neatly established in an insignificant little village right on the edge of Thackery jurisdiction. The people were poor and starving. They looked upon the banker's household with dim curiosity and continued their scraping for life. They would, in the next few weeks, begin to wonder if Master Simms was a good fairy or if the mysteriously appearing victuals and steel-headed tools at random huts were simply a coincidence. Either way, they gratefully ate the food and used the tools to improve the state of their fields—then hid them in hay ricks and secret caches in the small woods to avoid the detection of Thackery's men.
Meanwhile, Philip had set out on a journey to locate Hector Humphries. It wasn't an overly difficult search as he found the distraught father at the site of the destroyed Munford lodging house. Philip reminded him that he was Jamie Wage and informed him that Sylvia was with the Simms in Duffly and please to be discrete about it...
As soon as the rejoicing man passed from view, Philip turned and stared at the charred remains of the inn, somber. Behind him, he heard the clumping of hooves. Always cautious, he slipped into the tree-line and slid his hand over the mare's quivering nose in attempt to keep her silent.
The sight that met his eyes was one of great interest to him. A huge man with sky blue eyes and hair like a light-colored haystack rode into the clearing. Two men were with him—one leading a laden mule. Both men were dressed in Thackery livery.
The giant dismounted and ran a hand through his already wild hair, “Well...what happened here? I was looking forward to quenching my thirst with good Munford's ale.”
The smaller of his two attendants leaned off his horse, “Didn't you hear, m'lord? 'Good' Master Munford was harboring the Masked Man!”
“Ah? Well...I'm going to stretch my legs at anyrate. You're free to do likewise...or not.”
He moved off and the two blackguards stayed near their horses.
“The Avenger he calls himself...I wonder if he escaped the fire? Poor Munford. Perhaps he was hiding the Avenger...but then again, perhaps he wasn't.”
This bit of musing was overheard by the Avenger himself...which said Avenger quaked in his sturdy boots at the size of the man he knew he must face. The paraphernalia about the horses and the men bespoke them to be tax-collecting agents.
~~~~~~~~
The evening was beginning to fall when three men pulled their horses up, looking with various elements of surprise at the black-cloaked, masked figure before them. He was small and had only one arm. In his remaining hand, he held a brightly gleaming saber. To the side of the road, a spindly-legged black horse cropped grass unconcernedly.
The biggest of the three men merely lolled in his saddle, an almost amused expression on his face. One of the men-at-arms spurred forward, intending on killing the man in the road. His horse continued past the masked man, riderless. The second man-at-arms gritted his teeth and likewise spurred forward. His horse fell and a brief combat ensued.
The big man got off his horse as the small, black-clothed man advanced, sword at the ready. To the utter astonishment of Philip, the other simply placed his hands upon his head and went down on his knees.
He spoke, “I take it you are the Avenger. I won't ask you your real name...instead, I crave your mercy.”
Philip demanded, almost hotly, “Why? Why should I show you mercy when you of the house of Thackery show none?”
The face before him which had been fairly blank up until now, colored.
“I suppose,” Justin began, “that as a rule, Thackery's are rather unmerciful creatures. However, I will readily confess to you that I do not approve of my father or my brother's underhanded dealings. I don't expect you to believe that, but it is the truth...however, that is not why I refuse to draw on you and instead plead your mercy. It would be a sort of justice if you did kill me—but it would not be of help to my wife and child.”
Philip sucked in his breath. This must be Justin! Gloria!! The thought was agonizing. His own sister was this man's wife!
He put the point against Justin's throat. Justin crossed his eyes looking down at the shining blade, now streaked with red. He said aloud, but really to himself, “She said he was a man of honour and would not kill an unarmed man...my poor Gloria...my William. I wish...”
He raised his eyes in surprise as the point was withdrawn from his throat.
“I do wish, if you are going to kill me, that you would go ahead and get it over with.”
Philip shook his head and demanded, “I have questions to ask of you.”
Justin looked quizzical, “Might I sit more comfortably then?”
Philip said, “You may.”
Relieved, Justin simply sat down in the dust and crossed his legs. Taking his hands slowly off his head, he set them on his knees in plain view.
“Your wife?”
“Why do you want to know about my wife?”
“Your wife.”
Philip's voice took on an edge. The other man shook his head slightly, but obliged.
“Gloria, the second daughter of William Gage, the previous governor, is my wife. I was pretty taken with her the first time I saw her...and my father arraigned our marriage.”
His face suddenly glowed and his voice got tender, “She is the most beautiful, kind, sweet...in short, I love her more and more. I-I fear for her were I to be killed.”
“Why?”
Justin scowled slightly, “I still don't see what my wife has to do with you killing me or not...” but seeing the determination of the other, he continued, “If I were not alive another man, an evil man, would take her for himself, against her wishes...and no telling what he would do if she resisted him!”
“Who would that be?”
“My brother...” the voice was low and surly.
“Your child?” Philip continued the interrogation.
“A bonnie, bonnie boy!” Justin's pride was evident. He raised his hands and ignored the movement of the saber pointed at him. “He stands this high at eighteen months...he has his mother's golden hair...and I think...my laugh.”
His face saddened, “But why this interest in my little family? Do you wish to gloat at the grief you would cause? They are innocent of blood...”
Philip stepped further back, a conflict raging in his breast. Did his sister care for this man? Would it be righteous to kill him simply because he was a Thackery? Could he believe him?
Justin remained motionless, watching the slim, black-cloaked figure before him.
Philip made up his mind, the words that his sister had spoken had not passed unheeded from Justin Thackery's lips. “A man of honour...”
“Very well. I shall not slay you as you are unarmed. However, do not come again to collect taxes; but if you do, make sure to be armed.”
Justin gained his feet, a grim smile on his face.
“Thank-you, m'lord...and...you may like to have this.”
As he spoke, he loosened the rein tethering the pack horse to his saddle. Mounting easily, he rode off, leaving behind him two dead men, a dead horse, and a live horse well laden with ill-gotten gain.
To be continued....
The one-armed masked man: said to be young. Slight. Light-haired.
He sat up straight, bumping his head into chest as he did so. Pounding his fury against the side of the wagon, he attempted to shout and only succeeded in bursting into a very loud moan of agony.
Theodore peered into the wagon, his keen eyes taking in the fury of his son's countance. A brief smile slid across his face as the younger Simms snatched a page out of a ledger and scrawled, despite the ruts in the road, “WHAT IS GOING ON? TELL ME!”
Theodore read the scrawl and shook his head, “Determined, aren't you?”
A thunder of hooves was heard behind them and the wagons quickly went to the side of the road. Theodore yanked his peasant's cap over his face and he slouched along beside the oxen. The following wagon, driven by William Gage, likewise attired, lurched into a position behind him.
William gasped as the riders came into view. There were two. One was his son. The other, a brown-haired girl clinging to the saddle of a raunchy looking nag.
“JAMIE!”
Hearing his father's familiar voice, Philip reigned up so fast that the black mare practically sat down in the middle of the road. Sylvia's horse took a little longer to get stopped and she trotted back to where greetings were being enthusiastically exchanged.
As she slid off her horse, William Gage lifted an eyebrow at his son, who grinned and spoke easily, “You remember Sylvia Humphries, no doubt, Sir?”
Poor Thad, listening from his throne of piled blankets and papers could stand things no longer and heaved his bulk to the rear of the wagon, confusion and ire written all over his round and freckled face. Sylvia gave a great cry upon seeing him and rushed up to cling to his doublet.
“Oh Thad! Thad! What did that awful man do to you?? Jamie told me...”
She stopped as Thad's head went up and he locked eyes with Jamie. Remembering the splitting pain that had seared his head just moments before, he did not attempt to speak, but his eyes blazed a clear challenge.
William laid a hand on his son's arm, but Philip shook it off, never breaking eye contact with his friend. In an undertone, he said, “It's time to tell him...”
Philip stepped forward; Sylvia looked on in great concern, her fingers still wound in Thad's doublet.
“Thad, I take it no explanation has been given to you yet. You are no doubt familiar with the masked man that Thackery is after?”
Thad just looked him straight back, unmoving.
“Well...I am he.”
Thad stamped his foot, impatient to be able to speak and demand why he had been kept in the dark. It was clear that he was hurt at the apparent lack of trust that had been shown to him. Philip read this in his eyes and went on to explain as best he could that Thad had not been told only to protect him. Thad snorted and touched his jaw gingerly. Theodore suddenly inserted himself into the conversation, “Look Thad, if you must be angry at anyone, it was my idea and my stubbornness that kept you in the dark. Ph-Jamie wanted to tell you, but we wouldn't let him at my instigation.”
Philip gestured toward's Sylvia, “I accidentally had the privilege of rescuing Sylvia from some of Thackery's knaves—now it's your turn, Thad, to keep her safe. I think I should go looking for her father...”
Thad's irritation was melting and he looked down, his face swollen and bruised, at the girl clinging to his garment. His eyes twinkled suddenly and he looked back at his friend and peace was restored.
A few days later found the Simms and Gages neatly established in an insignificant little village right on the edge of Thackery jurisdiction. The people were poor and starving. They looked upon the banker's household with dim curiosity and continued their scraping for life. They would, in the next few weeks, begin to wonder if Master Simms was a good fairy or if the mysteriously appearing victuals and steel-headed tools at random huts were simply a coincidence. Either way, they gratefully ate the food and used the tools to improve the state of their fields—then hid them in hay ricks and secret caches in the small woods to avoid the detection of Thackery's men.
Meanwhile, Philip had set out on a journey to locate Hector Humphries. It wasn't an overly difficult search as he found the distraught father at the site of the destroyed Munford lodging house. Philip reminded him that he was Jamie Wage and informed him that Sylvia was with the Simms in Duffly and please to be discrete about it...
As soon as the rejoicing man passed from view, Philip turned and stared at the charred remains of the inn, somber. Behind him, he heard the clumping of hooves. Always cautious, he slipped into the tree-line and slid his hand over the mare's quivering nose in attempt to keep her silent.
The sight that met his eyes was one of great interest to him. A huge man with sky blue eyes and hair like a light-colored haystack rode into the clearing. Two men were with him—one leading a laden mule. Both men were dressed in Thackery livery.
The giant dismounted and ran a hand through his already wild hair, “Well...what happened here? I was looking forward to quenching my thirst with good Munford's ale.”
The smaller of his two attendants leaned off his horse, “Didn't you hear, m'lord? 'Good' Master Munford was harboring the Masked Man!”
“Ah? Well...I'm going to stretch my legs at anyrate. You're free to do likewise...or not.”
He moved off and the two blackguards stayed near their horses.
“The Avenger he calls himself...I wonder if he escaped the fire? Poor Munford. Perhaps he was hiding the Avenger...but then again, perhaps he wasn't.”
This bit of musing was overheard by the Avenger himself...which said Avenger quaked in his sturdy boots at the size of the man he knew he must face. The paraphernalia about the horses and the men bespoke them to be tax-collecting agents.
~~~~~~~~
The evening was beginning to fall when three men pulled their horses up, looking with various elements of surprise at the black-cloaked, masked figure before them. He was small and had only one arm. In his remaining hand, he held a brightly gleaming saber. To the side of the road, a spindly-legged black horse cropped grass unconcernedly.
The biggest of the three men merely lolled in his saddle, an almost amused expression on his face. One of the men-at-arms spurred forward, intending on killing the man in the road. His horse continued past the masked man, riderless. The second man-at-arms gritted his teeth and likewise spurred forward. His horse fell and a brief combat ensued.
The big man got off his horse as the small, black-clothed man advanced, sword at the ready. To the utter astonishment of Philip, the other simply placed his hands upon his head and went down on his knees.
He spoke, “I take it you are the Avenger. I won't ask you your real name...instead, I crave your mercy.”
Philip demanded, almost hotly, “Why? Why should I show you mercy when you of the house of Thackery show none?”
The face before him which had been fairly blank up until now, colored.
“I suppose,” Justin began, “that as a rule, Thackery's are rather unmerciful creatures. However, I will readily confess to you that I do not approve of my father or my brother's underhanded dealings. I don't expect you to believe that, but it is the truth...however, that is not why I refuse to draw on you and instead plead your mercy. It would be a sort of justice if you did kill me—but it would not be of help to my wife and child.”
Philip sucked in his breath. This must be Justin! Gloria!! The thought was agonizing. His own sister was this man's wife!
He put the point against Justin's throat. Justin crossed his eyes looking down at the shining blade, now streaked with red. He said aloud, but really to himself, “She said he was a man of honour and would not kill an unarmed man...my poor Gloria...my William. I wish...”
He raised his eyes in surprise as the point was withdrawn from his throat.
“I do wish, if you are going to kill me, that you would go ahead and get it over with.”
Philip shook his head and demanded, “I have questions to ask of you.”
Justin looked quizzical, “Might I sit more comfortably then?”
Philip said, “You may.”
Relieved, Justin simply sat down in the dust and crossed his legs. Taking his hands slowly off his head, he set them on his knees in plain view.
“Your wife?”
“Why do you want to know about my wife?”
“Your wife.”
Philip's voice took on an edge. The other man shook his head slightly, but obliged.
“Gloria, the second daughter of William Gage, the previous governor, is my wife. I was pretty taken with her the first time I saw her...and my father arraigned our marriage.”
His face suddenly glowed and his voice got tender, “She is the most beautiful, kind, sweet...in short, I love her more and more. I-I fear for her were I to be killed.”
“Why?”
Justin scowled slightly, “I still don't see what my wife has to do with you killing me or not...” but seeing the determination of the other, he continued, “If I were not alive another man, an evil man, would take her for himself, against her wishes...and no telling what he would do if she resisted him!”
“Who would that be?”
“My brother...” the voice was low and surly.
“Your child?” Philip continued the interrogation.
“A bonnie, bonnie boy!” Justin's pride was evident. He raised his hands and ignored the movement of the saber pointed at him. “He stands this high at eighteen months...he has his mother's golden hair...and I think...my laugh.”
His face saddened, “But why this interest in my little family? Do you wish to gloat at the grief you would cause? They are innocent of blood...”
Philip stepped further back, a conflict raging in his breast. Did his sister care for this man? Would it be righteous to kill him simply because he was a Thackery? Could he believe him?
Justin remained motionless, watching the slim, black-cloaked figure before him.
Philip made up his mind, the words that his sister had spoken had not passed unheeded from Justin Thackery's lips. “A man of honour...”
“Very well. I shall not slay you as you are unarmed. However, do not come again to collect taxes; but if you do, make sure to be armed.”
Justin gained his feet, a grim smile on his face.
“Thank-you, m'lord...and...you may like to have this.”
As he spoke, he loosened the rein tethering the pack horse to his saddle. Mounting easily, he rode off, leaving behind him two dead men, a dead horse, and a live horse well laden with ill-gotten gain.
To be continued....