Galland's Quest: Search for Justice

GALLANDS QUEST: SEARCH FOR JUSTICE 

By Tina Adams

      CHAPTER ONE

A shot rang out in the silence of the night. Charles Galland quickly bent double over the flanks of the horse as they flew, man and beast, through the thick forest. His mask slipped a little as the wind tore at his face and hair. He could hear the muffled thunder of galloping hoof beats chasing after him. If he were caught tonight on one of his more daring raids, they would hang him for sure. He worked alone some nights and was thankful tonight was one of them; he had already lost many men. 

The hoof beats seemed to get ever closer as he spurred his faithful horse on. Leaning forward across the animal’s neck, holding one hand on his muscular and powerful flank, he whispered, “Come, Shadow, give me your very best tonight. We cannot be bested at this hour. Let us be home before dawn.”

 In response, Shadow seemed to gain extra strength as he churned the earth beneath, stretching his long, sleek neck even further, spurred by his master's voice. Finally, reaching a clearing and reining in, they stood at the top of a hill, gazing down onto the large grey manor house below them. “Home Shadow,” he mused emotionally. Many times he had visualised this very scene. During those dreadful days, he had wondered if he would ever leave the battlefield alive. He would never tire of it. Sighing, he turned his head as the voices drew ever closer, bringing him out of his reverie. Flicking his black cloak away from his knees and kicking on, they leapt out of the clearing and slithered rather than galloped down the escarpment, skirting around the house and up behind the stables, trotting more loudly than he wanted.

Rushing to meet him, Stannard the stable lad held the reins as Charles leapt with supreme agility to the ground.  “Brush him down well, boy, and give him extra feed tonight. He deserves every crumb.” He whispered as loud as he dare. Rushing out of the yard and towards the large back gates of the house, he removed his black cloak, mask and grey wig as he ran. Behind him, Stannard smiled and bowed to his beloved master, chortling to himself. “Boy, I’m old enough to be his father.” He laughed softly with deep affection. Charles ran into the large warm kitchen, taking off his jacket, jumping on one leg, trying desperately to remove his boots as he ran into the hall.

His butler, Hastings, greeted him and held out his hands for the clothes Charles threw at him. Just as he was racing upstairs, a loud insistent knock was heard on the front door. This spurred him faster up the stairs whilst leaving the butler to walk slowly and sedately to the door after hiding his master's clothes in the vestibule cupboard. Charles held his hands up to slow Hastings down, as if he didn’t know already.  Within five minutes of Hastings showing the visitors into the library, Charles appeared, holding a glass of brandy in one hand and a golden-topped stick in the other. “Gentlemen, if I may call you that.” He spoke in an affected voice, as he looked across the room at the three men who stood still breathless from the ride. “How can I be of assistance to you on this very fine night?” Looking out of the window, he laughed. “Indeed, this very fine morning. Just been to Stockwell’s ball and was about to climb abed following a well-earned nightcap. Will you join me gentlemen in another?” asking tongue in cheek, knowing full well they would not. He loved to tease these buffoons. He knew all three, ruffians they were, each one of them. He eased himself down into his favourite chair. “Now, gentlemen, kindly state your business. I would hate my mother to awaken and be troubled.” He waited patiently whilst the men gathered themselves. “We must apologise for this late ‘our your Grace. We believe a notorious ‘ighwayman known as the Raven ‘as entered your lands from the ‘ills and come down to the ‘ouse.” They shuffled with embarrassment as his blue eyes narrowed, turning dark and hawk-like as his brows knitted together in mock anger.  He stood up so quickly that the three backed off when they saw his anger. “What did you say? A ruffian like yourselves entered my house and hidden himself somewhere inside? Hastings, Hastings.” he shouted. “Fetch my guns, call out the dogs and search the house. Some intruder has broken inside. At the very least entered the grounds of the house. Someone these men have been chasing.” He turned to look at them. “Why were you chasing this fellow and why would he enter my house? You.” He pointed to the largest man. “Tell me what is occurring this night that you should chase a poor hapless fellow?”  “Well… well, your Grace. We believe ‘im to be the ‘ighwayman. ‘e has gotten into our masters ‘ouse, stole ‘is jewel encrusted ‘Mama Luke’ dagger and threatened our master whilst ‘e lay abed, with the self same weapon at ‘is throat.” He coughed fearfully, as Charles’ brows darkened even further. “I thought highwaymen robbed coaches and such, not houses. They must surely be a thing of the past? Who would be foolish enough to try that stupid game and why? And who pray, is your master?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. 

The large one answered again. “Lord Fotherby your Grace. ‘e ‘as just become Lord Lieutenant of the County of Cornwall. ‘e ‘as taken an ‘ouse nearby, just this very week. This is the third time ‘e ‘as been burgled and is now offering a reward for the capture of this ‘ighwayman.” “Good gracious, are we now not safe in our beds? Of course, you may look around the house and stables. Yes, search my stables and see if there is anyone around who looks suspicious. Wait, whilst I get changed and I will come with you.” He rushed out the door, virtually knocking into his butler. “Ah yes, Hastings, shout my valet to come help me dress immediately! These good men wish to search the stables and outhouses for an intruder.” He winked at him. “Give them all the help you can and see the stable boys are awakened to help with this chore.” Rushing upstairs, he beckoned the butler up with him and whispered once they had reached his chambers. “Please check the stable lad has hidden Shadow in the usual place. Can’t afford any problems now. We are so close to an outcome.” “Of course, your Grace. I’ve no doubt the ‘lad’ has already done so. He knows what to do by now, but I will send a footman to check.” Charles nodded in agreement and hurriedly started to change as his valet appeared to help. “Let’s see they find no-one, eh Hastings?” he laughed quietly, holding his finger over his own mouth in an attempt to quieten his own adrenaline rush. Hastings hid a smile before walking back down the stairs.

Oh, how he loved the thrill of the chase and the excitement of the many cunning activities he, Duke of Mixloe, had undertaken since returning from the army. Having sustained major injuries following his many heroic campaigns, he had been forced to retire, allowing time for his battered body to heal. But he had hated his inactive life. It had nearly driven him mad, and he craved no needed action. Joining his many compatriots in with the London ‘ton’ had helped for a while, but he’d become terribly bored within a very short space of time. He needed more excitement in his life. Women had come and gone at his whim and, although forever genteel with them, he always made it clear he never wanted a long-term relationship. He smiled ruefully as he thought to himself. How sad the world was becoming. If he, a shadow of the once handsome and athletic Duke of Mixloe, was now considered to be the most eligible bachelor in the whole of England. It was during this enforced rest that he had looked at how his finances were, initially, for something to keep his ever-active mind busy. He discovered to his horror their funds were far more depleted than he ever thought possible and were seriously in need of overhauling. Delving further into the running of his estate and beloved manor in Cambridgeshire, he discovered his father had taken out an unusually large mortgage, and the repayments were prohibitive. By pure chance, Charles had found that money was being extorted out of the noble landed gentry around the countryside, his father having been one of them. Therefore had made it his business to find out who and what was behind this. As yet, he was still to discover who the main instigator was, but resolved he would not stop until he did. They had made some of his dearest friends virtual paupers. Despising injustice of any kind, he resolved to see fair play to all concerned.  Also, discovering gold smuggling was an important part of it was a joy. Although he would not use blackmail or extortion himself, he was not averse to taking his fair share along with his compatriots. Helping bolster his own dwindling coffers and depriving the wrong doers of as much as possible. He stood and looked at his reflection in the mirror and thought of how he’d come to this stage. A shout from downstairs brought him out of his chambers in a hurry. “Look your Grace, we’ve caught this man red ‘anded with the very ‘orse the villain was riding.” One of the men, grinning widely very pleased with himself, held Stannard by the scruff of the neck. Charles had to think quickly as he made himself walk slowly and calmly down the grand stairway. “That, my dear man, happens to be my stable lad who has been settling my own horse down following my night at the Stockwell ball. Besides, he’s far too old to be chasing around at this time of night, or day, if it comes to that. Now Stannard, what have you to say for yourself? What exactly were you doing?” Stannard cleared his throat and, barely holding back a smile, spoke the words he’d rehearsed for many a long week since his master’s return. Never would he let his master down or get him into any kind of trouble. He would rather die himself. “Well, your Grace, I noticed when you returned from the ball, ‘e was favouring ‘is foreleg in an awkward way. Soes’ I decided when ‘e’d eaten and settled a bit I would walk ‘im around the yard. Then these ruffians set on me, just as I was checking ‘is ‘oof. I’ve never been so shocked in all me life.” “There you have it, gentlemen. I believe we have stumbled upon the truth of this night here.” He pointed to Stannard, barely able to hold the laughter bubbling in his throat. “You can hardly think he is responsible. Have you any idea of what this person may look like?” He paused. “Why it could even be me?” He laughed aloud, and they joined him. “Sorry your Grace, but ‘e would be a little smaller than you. There’s no mistaking your ‘ight sir, if you don’t mind me saying so. Why you must be at least six foot your Grace.” “Six two actually,” interjected Hastings. “The same height as his father, the Fifth Duke.” Realising he had spoken without thought, he turned to Charles. “My apologies your Grace, I did not mean to speak out of turn.” He bowed and backed behind his master.  “No worries Hastings, no offence taken, I’m sure.” He turned to the men. “Well, what have you to say now? The tallest one spoke out again. “Well, your Grace, besides the fact the bandit we seek is grey ‘aired, as is ‘e sir, we found this mask on ‘im. This sort of proves to us that ‘e’s the man.” He held up the mask and Charles laughed again. “This is my mask, you fool, the one I wore for the ball. I must have dropped it when I dismounted only a couple of hours ago. Stannard, where did you find it, it was an expensive item I should not like to lose?

“I picked it up as I was walking the lad and put it in me pocket, your Grace. Then these chaps walked up and took it out me pocket without so much as a bye your leave. Proper shocked me, so sudden like they was.” 

“Well gentlemen you have it in a nutshell. The matter is solved to my satisfaction and I need not awaken my mother, for which I’m grateful. What say you?” He gave them a dark, withering look and fell silent. They looked at each other and shrugged. Even the large man was unable to comment. “I suggest you take yourselves out of my house, for I will put up with this intrusion no longer. Go look for this scoundrel elsewhere, although he will be long gone and leave us to our beds.”

With that they had to be content, released Stannard and moved to leave the hallway. 

“I shall see your master in the morning and complain about this intrusion. To enter a nobleman’s house in the midst of the night should not be permitted, whatever the reason. This will be dealt with to my satisfaction. Thank you gentlemen and goodnight.”

With that, the men shuffled out the door, ably assisted by the powerfully built Hastings. Using it to good advantage when he wanted, he normally hid his powerful frame with his bowed shuffling gait. When they had gone, Stannard sighed with relief. “I ‘ave to say your Grace. I was proper worried, it’s the worst yet.” He drew himself up. “But never fear, I would never let you down and would rather admit to it me’self than let anything ‘appen to you, that I would.” 

“Thank you for that, Stannard, but it will never get to that, trust me. Although there will be one or two nights next week, that might be a little hairy.” He spoke almost to himself as he thought about the plans to be made and the fun to be had within the next few weeks. “Nevertheless, we must keep our wits about us. How is Shadow? I will need him later today as fit as possible.” Stannard smiled, “e will be fine, that animal never seems to tire, “e is truly amazing, a pleasure to look after your Grace. Once ‘e’s cooled down ‘e’ll have a good rub down, a couple of hour’s kip and ‘e’ll be as good as new.” Charles smiled and put his hand on Stannard’s shoulder. “Excellent. That was a brilliant idea of taking him out into the yard. Well-done Stannard, you obviously have a knack for subterfuge. You saved my hide there.” Climbing the stairs, he failed to witness the smile of pure pleasure that whipped across Stannard’s face. Hastings did not and congratulated inwardly the master’s technique and the way he handled his staff. This was why they all loved and respected him, without question. Charles turned and looked at the two men. “Give Stannard a shot of brandy. He deserves it and more.” He then ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, leaving Hastings and Stannard alone.  As Stannard followed Hastings out of the hall and into the kitchen, he whispered. “I’m sure the master meant well when ‘e said I was good at subterfuge, but … what is it?” Hastings laughed and closed the door behind them.

Back in his chambers, Charles slowly undressed, wondering whether he should bother to sleep; he had been called out for a duel two days hence and he was not sure whether he would sleep whilst his body and mind were so alert. He lay on the bed closing his eyes and thought of the past few months since his return from the far off warring shores of Europe. After an hour or so, he stood up and dressed. He was far too restless to sleep. If he started for London now, he could travel a good distance before stopping for an early lunch, sparing his horse too arduous a journey.

Charles drove his horse as hard as he dared in order to reach town at a decent hour and arrived at his London house tired, hungry, and thirsty.  Within minutes of his arrival, whilst still removing his outer garments aided by his batman, Mason, the doorknocker resounded loudly throughout the house. “Hell, Mason, who the devil could that be at this hour? I’m far too tired.” “That will be His lordship. He called earlier, twice in fact, your Grace.” “Oh very well, let him in. I need a word anyway. But I’m duelling at six a.m. Mason and I must get some rest. It’s been a long day.” Willard was ushered into the library and, following the usual greetings, was handed a brandy and invited to be seated in Charles’ favourite chair. “How can I help you, dear chap? Charles stood with his foot on the fire grate, with one hand in his pocket, as he sipped his drink. Willard was most animated and excited. “I have news of James Peacher, Duke of Nanstey.” 

“What of it, I am to fight a duel with this man on the morrow? I will tell you the details another time, but it is an unpleasant tale and at this moment I am thoroughly exhausted.” He turned and looked at Willard full on. “Will you be my second? I feel I need an ally on the morrow my friend.” He walked over and put his hand on Willard’s shoulder which was grasped warmly.

“I would be honoured.”