Galland's Quest: Search for justice

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. The mask across his face slipped a little which he tried to lift 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, he would be hung 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 and 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 to this, Shadow seemed to gain extra strength as he churned the earth beneath stretching his long sleek neck even further, spurred by his masters’ voice.

Finally, they reached a clearing and reining in they stood at the top of a hill, gazing down onto the large grey manor house standing before them. ‘Home Shadow,’ he mused emotionally. Many times, he had visualised this very scene, during those dreadful days when he had wondered if he would ever leave the battlefield alive. He would never tire of it. He sighed and 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 then he wanted.

Stannard the stable lad rushed out to meet him and 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 as he rushed out of the yard and towards the large back gates of the house, taking off his black cloak, mask and grey wig as he ran.

The man smiled and bowed to his beloved master chortling to himself. ‘Boy, I’m old enough to be his father,’ he thought laughing 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 very slowly and sedately to the door after hiding his masters’ clothes in a small cupboard by the vestibule door. Charles held his hands up in an effort to slow Hastings down, as if he didn’t know already.

Within five minutes of Hastings showing the visitors into the library, Charles appeared at the top of the stairs, the evening attire on his manly body as neat as a new pin. His normally unruly long black hair tied securely under a perfect white periwig.

Charles walked into the library 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 the Stockwell’s ball and was about to climb abed following a well-earned nightcap. Will you join me gentlemen in another?’ he asked tongue in cheek, knowing full well they would not. He loved to tease these buffoons.

He eased himself down onto a nearby settle. ‘Now gentlemen if you would kindly state your business, I would hate my mother to awaken and be troubled.’ He waited patiently whilst the men gathered themselves. He knew all three, ruffians they were, each and every one of them.

‘We must apologise for this late ‘our but we believe your Grace, that 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 this house. Some intruder has gotten 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 be chasing 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 been made Lord Lieutenant of the County of Cornwall. ‘e ‘as taken an ‘ouse nearby, just this very week and 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 this house and stables. Yes, look to 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 in 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 he had returned from the army having sustained major injuries in his last campaign. Having become bored by his slow life, following his many heroic campaigns and retiring back to the country to repair his battered body, he had hated having to lead an inactive life to allow healing time for his wounds. This 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 time so looked for 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 thought to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the whole of England, if not the most eligible. It was during this enforced rest that he had looked at how his finances were coping, initially, for something to keep his ever-active mind busy. He discovered to his horror their funds were much more depleted than he ever thought possible and were seriously in need of overhauling. Delving further into the running of the large estates he had, here in Cambridgeshire and his beloved manor in Yorkshire, 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, so 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. Some of his dearest friends had been made virtual paupers. Despising injustice of any kind he resolved to see fair play to all concerned.

Discovering also gold smuggling was an important part of it was a joy, for although he would not use blackmail or extortion himself he was not averse to taking his fair share along with his compatriots to bolster his own dwindling coffers, 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, when a shout from downstairs brought him out of his chambers in a hurry.

‘Look your Grace we have caught this man red ‘anded with the very ‘orse the villain was riding.’ Shouted one of the men, grinning widely, very pleased with himself as he 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, his hands in his pocket as he fingered carefully and thoughtfully, the smooth blade. ‘That my dear man happens to be my stable lad and 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 came 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, the mare was favouring ‘er foreleg in an awkward way, soes’ I decided when she’d eaten and settled a bit I would walk ‘er around the yard. Then these ruffians set on me, just as I was checking ‘er ‘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 ‘eight 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 and 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 mare and put it in me pocket Your Grace, when 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 of this intrusion. To enter a nobleman’s house in the midst of 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 Hastings who was built of a powerful size, using it to good advantage when he wanted, although he generally 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 the mare out into the yard. Well-done Stannard, you obviously have a knack for subterfuge. You saved my hide there.’ He turned to go back upstairs and failed to witness the smile of pure pleasure that whipped across Stannard’s face, but Hastings did not and congratulated inwardly the master’s technique and the way he handled his staff, which 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.’ Turned his back and ran up the stairs taking two at a time, leaving Hastings and Stannard alone.

As Stannard followed Hastings out of the hall and into the kitchen he said quietly. ‘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 be able to 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 started to quickly dress, he was far too restless to sleep and thought that if he started to London now, he would manage a good chunk 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 a few minutes after nine pm, later that day, tired, hungry and thirsty.

Within minutes of his arrival, whilst still removing his outer garments with 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 and sipped his drink with the other. 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 my friend. Trust me, I will always be by your side come what may.’ Then he stood up and moved around the room uneasily for a while until Charles couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘What is it Willard, for goodness sake? You are like a cat on hot coals.’

‘Two things, firstly did the ball go well and did you get the ‘Mama Luke’ if so may I see it?’ He gasped almost childlike as Charles produced the dagger from the drawer of his heavy mahogany desk, where Mason had just placed it.

‘I have still never seen such a beautifully crafted article to match this. It has been in my family for so long.’ After examining it for a moment, he frowned and carried on hesitatingly, ‘I cannot believe my own brother has gambled away this precious article. My father would turn in his grave. He is so irresponsible, I cannot believe he is the Duke … anyway, sorry Charles I digress. Secondly, it is about Lord Peacher and the duel tomorrow. He was the man who held your mortgage for sometime from your father, I believe. I know you have it back but I have just gained this information through an old pal I met at the gaming club earlier this evening.’ He stopped before saying anymore, there was so much more he had found out but now was not the time to tell Charles about it, another time maybe.

Charles rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘Food for thought my friend, food for thought. Nevertheless we will have a fair fight, I hope.

Then I will deal with whatever comes of it. Get some rest; I need you to be alert and fresh. We may be playing games but I need someone sensible beside me my friend.’

‘Then I will leave you Charles so you can get some rest yourself,’ he paused ‘We must both be well rested for the morrow and hope that it brings a good solution to a problem we cannot afford to have. Leave the Prince Regent to me for I am as good a friend to him as any, fortunately he values my word. Goodnight my friend, see you on the morrow.

’ Charles smiled and bade farewell as Willard left the library.