Read Online A Moorland Hanging by Michael Jecks - Free Book Online

across the moors in the dark.
    Head thrust forward, she frowned out, staring. Up ahead there was a shadowy figure. She called, saw his face turn to her, yellow-white in the gloom, and scared, and then she saw the other form spin and rise, and the two men springing from beside the path. That was when she screamed.

    Setting off from the hall, Samuel Hankyn burped gently to himself, smiling under the relaxing influence of the strong ale in his belly. He was mildly interested in what had made his master send him home so early, for it was unlike Sir William to go on without a man-at-arms, especially since he was going to meet the man who, as all in the Manor knew, he considered to be his enemy.
    Samuel noted that Ronald Taverner, his companion, still wore his vague and faintly stupid expression; he gave a quick frown of exasperation. He should not have listened when Ronald suggested they should go for a drink before making their way home. After all, he had seen often enough before how little the lad could drink.
    Strange, though, he reflected again, that his master should have decided to dismiss his men at the miner’s door and enter alone. After the row that afternoon he would have expected Sir William to take a strong force with him, rather than just Sir Ralph, his son John and two men-at-arms—himself and young Ronald. A show of strength would have been more in keeping with a man of his standing, and since all the men in the fort knew of the argument which had led to Sir Robert rushing out in a rage, there was even more reason to make a strong showing before the miners. If they even suspected that they had sown dissension in the ranks of the Beauscyr family, the miners might decide to ask for more, or even to take the knight hostage against a large ransom. It had happened before.
    For now, though, Samuel just felt grateful at having escaped. If it came to a fight, he wanted to be far away. Knights were well-enough protected, for they had mail and armor to cover them, and if that failed and they were captured, few would kill them. Keeping them prisoner against a goodly charge for release was vastly more profitable. Not so for the poor man-at-arms. He was never wealthy, so could not afford much more than the legal minimum of arms—Samuel’s sword and helmet were paid for by Sir William—and was therefore not worth the keeping. If caught, a man-at-arms was lucky if his only punishment was a knife across the throat.
    Facing the road ahead, he frowned. That was the thing that niggled at him. Sir William must know that he was riding into danger in going to the miners’ camp, so why go there unprotected? It was madness. Surely Sir William was not going to give in—that was almost incredible.
    The facts spoke for themselves nonetheless. They had ridden out from Beauscyr to Thomas Smyth’s hall at the vill in the middle of the moors, and there Sir William had ordered the men-at-arms to leave him. When Samuel looked back, he saw John and Sir Ralph leaving the knight at the door and riding off on the Chagford road. They would not have left the old knight unless he knew himself to be safe, and that meant he must have been going to accept the miner’s terms—paying money to stop damage to the estate.
    Samuel and Ronald could have gone straight back to the Manor, but the whole place still felt as if there was a storm brewing after the afternoon’s argument, and so Ronald quickly persuaded Samuel to find an inn. Both men had seen John and Sir Ralph heading northeast on the Chagford road, and guessed they were going to the Fighting Cock. It was no secret that the two often went to that tavern for their drinking and other entertainments, and Samuel and Ronald wanted to go somewhere else where they would not be under the amused and patronizing eyes of the squire, so they went off the other way, to the farmer’s hall where the Dart and the Cowsic Rivers met the road. Here, in the little valley, they were soon happily clutching pots of