Read Online The Bull Slayers: Inspector Faro No 9 by Alanna Knight - Free Book Online
Authors: Alanna Knight
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same procedure as in olden times, until lately. Like a hunt in the Middle Ages.'
'What do they use? Bows and arrows?' Faro asked in amazement.
'That's right, sir. And crossbows. And everyone comes, a regular festival with a feast afterwards. A notice goes up that a wild bull will be killed on a certain day. The men - and some of the women too - come on horse and foot and then the horsemen ride off the bull that's the intended target.'
'Ride him off?'
'Yes, try and get him away from the rest of the herd. And when he stands at bay, the chief marksman, usually His Lordship or the most honoured guest, dismounts and fires the arrow. That goes on until the old bull succumbs. You can imagine that the old fellow gets wilder and wilder, in pain as he is.'
'I can imagine,' said Faro sourly.
Yarrow gave him a quick glance. 'I - see you don't approve, sir. No more than I do. I'm a town man myself but in the country these traditions are hard to break. Everyone comes along who is capable of shooting an arrow, even little bairns. The Elrigg family are born to it. Experts - Mr Hector and Mr Mark were trained from when they could first hold a bow.'
He paused and smiled proudly. 'Everyone is encouraged to take up the local sport and I'm now quite a good marksman myself, so is Dewar. But I prefer to stick to the archery field. We'll be having our annual contest - for the Golden Arrow - next week.'
'Really? With the castle in mourning?'
'Her Ladyship's decision. She said Sir Archie would have wanted everything to go on as normal. He would have wished to have the contest and not disappoint all the tenants.'
'That was very far seeing of her,' said Faro as he wondered at her motives.
'Come if you can. You'll be most welcome. The proceeds go to the Elriggs' favourite charities.'
'I doubt whether I'll be here then. With all these arrows flying about it might be a dangerous pastime for an observer.'
Yarrow frowned. 'The bull slaying was - for some. Not always fatal but like the ones used in the Spanish bullfights, they could turn very nasty. And that was when Sir Archie's grandfather decided most humanely that the beast should be finished off by rifle fire.'
'And that was what happened last week?'
'Yes. But some of them are not very good on the guns...'
He was silent, frowning before he continued: 'They thought they wounded one, but not the king bull. They were probably wrong and if His Lordship wasn't dead in the fall, and struggling to get to the road, the bull might have seen and set about him with his horns. It looked to me like that was the case -'
'What makes you think that?'
'He was gored in the back.' He shrugged away the unpleasant picture. 'And that was the end of him.'
Again he fell silent, his face bleak, his expression harsh with suffering. And Faro remembered that Yarrow had been seen many deaths and had almost lost his own life.
'Did you see anyone else in the area - who could have helped perhaps?'
Yarrow regarded him curiously. 'Not in the immediate vicinity,' he said heavily.
'But near enough?' said Faro eagerly.
He looked away. 'Hector Elrigg, Sir Archie's nephew. You - almost - met when you came to the station,' he added with a wry grimace. 'When I found Sir Archie, Hector was working at the hillfort.' He drew a deep breath. 'I shouted to him for help...'
'And ...' said Faro softly.
Yarrow gave him a glance of desperate appeal. 'Look, there is probably nothing in this at all. I just didn't care for his attitude. He was rather flippant about the whole thing. A downright refusal, sir, that's what I got from Hector Elrigg,' he added in shocked tones.
'From what you heard when you arrived earlier on, you'll realise he's a difficult sort of young devil, but I try to be fair— minded. And I'm certainly not suggesting that Hector seriously wished his uncle dead or would have tried to bring it about. Not at all.'
Wondering whether he should have revealed his true identity to Yarrow, Faro returned to the inn.
'What do they use? Bows and arrows?' Faro asked in amazement.
'That's right, sir. And crossbows. And everyone comes, a regular festival with a feast afterwards. A notice goes up that a wild bull will be killed on a certain day. The men - and some of the women too - come on horse and foot and then the horsemen ride off the bull that's the intended target.'
'Ride him off?'
'Yes, try and get him away from the rest of the herd. And when he stands at bay, the chief marksman, usually His Lordship or the most honoured guest, dismounts and fires the arrow. That goes on until the old bull succumbs. You can imagine that the old fellow gets wilder and wilder, in pain as he is.'
'I can imagine,' said Faro sourly.
Yarrow gave him a quick glance. 'I - see you don't approve, sir. No more than I do. I'm a town man myself but in the country these traditions are hard to break. Everyone comes along who is capable of shooting an arrow, even little bairns. The Elrigg family are born to it. Experts - Mr Hector and Mr Mark were trained from when they could first hold a bow.'
He paused and smiled proudly. 'Everyone is encouraged to take up the local sport and I'm now quite a good marksman myself, so is Dewar. But I prefer to stick to the archery field. We'll be having our annual contest - for the Golden Arrow - next week.'
'Really? With the castle in mourning?'
'Her Ladyship's decision. She said Sir Archie would have wanted everything to go on as normal. He would have wished to have the contest and not disappoint all the tenants.'
'That was very far seeing of her,' said Faro as he wondered at her motives.
'Come if you can. You'll be most welcome. The proceeds go to the Elriggs' favourite charities.'
'I doubt whether I'll be here then. With all these arrows flying about it might be a dangerous pastime for an observer.'
Yarrow frowned. 'The bull slaying was - for some. Not always fatal but like the ones used in the Spanish bullfights, they could turn very nasty. And that was when Sir Archie's grandfather decided most humanely that the beast should be finished off by rifle fire.'
'And that was what happened last week?'
'Yes. But some of them are not very good on the guns...'
He was silent, frowning before he continued: 'They thought they wounded one, but not the king bull. They were probably wrong and if His Lordship wasn't dead in the fall, and struggling to get to the road, the bull might have seen and set about him with his horns. It looked to me like that was the case -'
'What makes you think that?'
'He was gored in the back.' He shrugged away the unpleasant picture. 'And that was the end of him.'
Again he fell silent, his face bleak, his expression harsh with suffering. And Faro remembered that Yarrow had been seen many deaths and had almost lost his own life.
'Did you see anyone else in the area - who could have helped perhaps?'
Yarrow regarded him curiously. 'Not in the immediate vicinity,' he said heavily.
'But near enough?' said Faro eagerly.
He looked away. 'Hector Elrigg, Sir Archie's nephew. You - almost - met when you came to the station,' he added with a wry grimace. 'When I found Sir Archie, Hector was working at the hillfort.' He drew a deep breath. 'I shouted to him for help...'
'And ...' said Faro softly.
Yarrow gave him a glance of desperate appeal. 'Look, there is probably nothing in this at all. I just didn't care for his attitude. He was rather flippant about the whole thing. A downright refusal, sir, that's what I got from Hector Elrigg,' he added in shocked tones.
'From what you heard when you arrived earlier on, you'll realise he's a difficult sort of young devil, but I try to be fair— minded. And I'm certainly not suggesting that Hector seriously wished his uncle dead or would have tried to bring it about. Not at all.'
Wondering whether he should have revealed his true identity to Yarrow, Faro returned to the inn.
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