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

ale and forgetting their master and his troubles.
    Now, some hours later, it was getting dark and Samuel was in a hurry to return to the Manor. He had no wish to be out when night fell, he was too well aware of the tales, and he was fearful of the response of Lady Matillida if they should arrive late. In a small fort like Beauscyr she would be certain to hear about it. Others had endured her fury: he had no wish to.
    After leaving the stableyard they turned east. It wasn’t long before Samuel saw a pair of riders before them. He felt sure that they were miners, and cursed. Even a single quart of ale made Ronald useless in a fight, and today he had consumed three. Nervously, Samuel glanced south. He remembered this area, it was close to the River Dart, and the ground was often little better than a mire. On the other side of the road there was a path north. They could follow that for a mile, and then turn east on to the Lych way. It was hardly a direct route, but better than getting involved in an unequal fight. Cursing quietly, he spurred his mount to the trail.
    Ronald seemed unaware of any change in their direction. He jogged along happily after Samuel, his face beaming. Samuel muttered bitterly. With this detour, they would be travelling a good two miles out of their way. But there was no alternative—the two riders were at the end of the lane, staring after him suspiciously. Praying that they would not follow, Samuel led on.
    This track wound along near the river at first; gradually the hills began to rise upon either side. It would have been easy to turn off to the right and make their way down to the road again, but that would have taken them close to Crockern Tor, the seat of the miners’ parliament. Anything associated with tinners was unattractive tonight, and Samuel determined to stay on the track until it met the Lych way.
    The rocks on both sides grew more plentiful, and the horses began to climb. A hillock stood before them, and when they reached its summit, another lay beyond. Soon Samuel could see the gray-green mass of a wood ahead, and he pursed his lips at the sight. It was only a short way after this, he knew, that the main track lay, and he kicked his horse again. The rest of the journey would be faster, and the sooner they were on their way the happier he would be. The sun was low in the west.
    Its glow was a rim of gold and purple above the hill to his left, and it gilded the top of the bank on his right with impossible fiery colors. Down here in the valley he felt the cold rising from the river, and there was an eerie quality to the deadened sounds of their horses’ progress as they circled the little wood.
    “Is it much farther?” he heard Ronald call. The lad’s brain was still sodden: his face had not yet lost its expression of bemused happiness.
    “Shut up, you daft bugger,” he snarled. “If it wasn’t for you we’d be most of the way back. Can’t you see where we are?” Ronald gazed at him in blank incomprehension. “Look around. We’re miles out of the way, hadn’t you realized?”
    They were at the top of the wood now, and Samuel was about to turn in disgust and make off along the Lych way, when he saw something new in Ronald’s expression. “What is it now?” he asked irritably.
    In answer, the young man-at-arms pointed a shaking finger. There, just to their left, stood a large tree, with a rock at its base. And from one branch, spinning slowly, head drooping, hanged a man.

–5–
    I t had been dark for almost an hour when Matillida Beauscyr heard the cry from the gate, then the heavy snort of a horse and a stamping of hooves in the courtyard. Peering through the open door, she saw the ostlers holding her older son’s horse while he dismounted and curtly instructed them to feed and groom the great creature. Then he made his way over to her.
    She stood quite still as he came near, one hand resting on the doorframe, and though she made no sign he knew immediately how angry