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    The Pistoleer: Brentford
    The Pistoleer: Brentford
    The Pistoleer: Brentford
    Ebook387 pages15 hours

    The Pistoleer: Brentford

    By Skye Smith

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    About this ebook

    In the fifth book in The Pistoleer series, the first major Civil War battle at Edgehill (in late 1642) has just ended a tie, and the rebel army is marching north towards Warwick in parallel with the king's army. From high on the edge, Captain Daniel Vanderus watches the king's army through his spyglass, and sees them wheel south towards Banbury. With the rebel army now going the wrong way, Banbury garrison was the only force standing between the king's army and London.
    So much for his plan of going home. He had to choose between warning Warwick and warning Banbury. He turned his sure footed mare towards Banbury and urged her to run. It was a decision that would eventually make him witness to the slaughter of Brentford.

    * * * * *
    About The Author
    Skye Smith is my pen name. In 1630 one side of my Manchester ancestors fled to Massachusetts on one of the Earl of Warwick’s ships. The Pistoleer is a series of historical adventure novels set in Britain in the 1640's. I was encouraged to write them by fans of my Hoodsman series.
    This is the fifth of the series, and you should read at least the first novel 'HellBurner' before you read 'Brentford' because it sets the characters and scene for the entire series. The sequence of the books follows the timeline of the Republic of Great Britain. The chapter headings identify the dates and places.
    * * * * *
    The books so far in this series about the pistoleer, Daniel Vanderus are:
    1. Hellburner - where Daniel joins the Covenanter army in Scotland, and then the Dutch Navy at the Battle of the Downs.
    2. Slavers - where Daniel smuggles whiskey and guns, fights slavers, and ends up on a Caribbean Island.
    3. Pirates - where Daniel fights Caribbean pirates, visits Bermuda, and then rescues parliamentarians from King Charles
    4. Edgehill - where Daniel helps capture Dover Castle, fights on Babylon Hill, and then saves conscripts from the Battle of Edgehill
    5. Brentford - where Daniel escapes the seige of Banbury, survives the slaughter of Brentford, and then fights at Turnham Green
    6. Invasion - where Daniel rides with Colonel Waller, and then tries to stop Queen Henrietta's invasion fleet from landing

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSkye Smith
    Release dateDec 13, 2014
    ISBN9781927699164
    The Pistoleer: Brentford

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      Book preview

      The Pistoleer - Skye Smith

      THE PISTOLEER

      Brentford

      (Book Five of the Series)

      By Skye Smith

      Copyright (C) 2013-2014 Skye Smith

      All rights reserved including all rights of authorship.

      Cover Illustration is a part of Magdeburg Women

      by Eduard Steinbrück (1866)

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Revision 0 . . . . . ISBN: 978-1-927699-16-4

      Cover Flap

      After the Civil War Battle of Edgehill in late 1642, the rebel army marched north towards Warwick in parallel to the king's army. From high on the edge, Captain Daniel Vanderus watched the king's army through his spyglass, and saw them turn, turn south again towards Banbury. With the rebel army now going the wrong way, Banbury garrison was the only force standing between the king's army and London.

      So much for his plan of going home. He had to choose between warning Warwick and warning Banbury. He turned his sure footed mare towards Banbury and urged her to run. It was a decision that would eventually make him witness to the slaughter of Brentford.

      * * * * *

      * * * * *

      The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014

      About The Author

      Skye Smith is my pen name. In 1630 one side of my Manchester ancestors fled to Massachusetts on one of the Earl of Warwick’s ships. The Pistoleer is a series of historical adventure novels set in Britain in the 1640's. I was encouraged to write them by fans of my Hoodsman series.

      This is the fifth of the series, and you should read at least the first novel 'HellBurner' before you read 'Brentford' because it sets the characters and scene for the entire series. The sequence of the books follows the timeline of the Republic of Great Britain. The chapter headings identify the dates and places.

      * * * * *

      * * * * *

      The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014

      Prologue

      This adventure is as historically accurate as I could make it, however I have not included my endless references because the main character, Daniel Vanderus, is fictional. I have kept the descriptions and actions of the non-fictional characters as close to historical accounts as possible. In situations where there is no historical record of a non-fictional character's location or actions, I have attributed actions to them that would have been logical and in keeping with their character.

      As a rule of thumb, if the character is a parliamentarian, or has a title, or has a military rank of captain or above, then they and their families are non-fictional. Otherwise the character is fictional.

      To save the readers the confusion of this period being lived and written about under the old Julian calendar, I have used the same dates for battles as are used by popular Civil War timelines. They use old fashioned Julian dates, rather than the modern (add 10 days) Gregorian dates. I do, however, use January 1 as the start of a new year, rather than using the last week of March as would have been done under the Julian calendar. Thus January is the first month of the new year rather than the tenth month of the old year.

      Note that at the end of this book there is an Appendix which is organized like an FAQ. There you will find answers to questions such as:

      - Where can I find out more about the historical characters and events?

      - What was the significance of Brentford?

      - Why is Prince Rupert, a royal hero, portrayed as being evil?

      However, the next few paragraphs will set the scene enough to begin reading the novel.

      * * * * *

      In 1642, Parliament's reformers were being split three ways between the peace party, the war party, and the middle party. The money men behind the reformers were some of the richest lords in the kingdom including the Earl of Essex (Robert Devereaux), the Earl of Warwick (Robert Rich) and the lordly partners in Rich's powerful Providence Island Company.

      The Stuart Regime's natural allies were the English lords with Scottish blood, the Catholic lords, and the second sons of all of the nobility. In this era the first sons inherited everything while the second sons often became soldiers in hopes of winning the favours of kings and generals.

      Parliament's natural allies were the English lords who had been deposed by the Scottish Stuart regime, the lords who hated the Papist Spanish Empire, the businessmen who wished to profit from the recent misfortunes of Spain and Portugal at the hands of the Dutch, and any businessman who thought that their taxes were being wasted on lavish palaces and courtiers.

      This novel begins the day after the inconclusive Battle of Edgehill in November 1642. Edgehill was the first mega-battle of the English Civil War in which the full armies of both sides were lined up to fight. King Charles Stuart and his nephew, the German Prince Rupert, had claimed the high ground of the hill and had formed their battle lines at the base of the hill. Parliament's general, the Earl of Essex, formed his lines facing them.

      The king had the advantage in cavalry strength which included Rupert's fearsome flying army. Parliament's forces were mostly infantry or mounted infantry. The king had the advantage in artillery, however he knew that he would lose that advantage as Essex's cannons caught up with his army. The king chose to attack using his temporary offensive advantage, rather than wait and use the defensive advantage of the hill. Just before the battle began Sir Faithful Fortescue led one of Parliament's few cavalry companies across the field and changed sides.

      The king's unbeatable cavalry were massed at each end of his line, but he had none in the center of the field. Essex placed his mounted infantry at both ends to counter them, but kept what was left of his cavalry in reserve in the center. When the king's cavalry charged, the mounted infantry retreated away from the field and away from their own lines of infantry, with the king's cavalry after them in hot pursuit.

      Essex's reserve cavalry took the sudden absence of opposing cavalry as an opportunity to charge and break the king's infantry line. Meanwhile the king's cavalry broke off their chase to loot Essex's baggage train and slaughter unarmed carters and porters. This left the king's infantry unprotected, and they fought a loosing battle against overwhelming numbers while retreating up the hill.

      For questionable reasons, both sides decided to stop fighting just before the king and his headquarters would have been captured. Essex eventually marched his army north to Warwick, while the king marched his army south along the highway to London. A race of armies towards London had begun and the first step for the king was to take Banbury which controlled the roads south. Meanwhile Essex was well out of position to the north.

      Fortunately for London, King Charles Stuart ignored the advice of Rupert and took a roundabout route via Oxford and Reading to approach London along the Thames Valley from the West. This delay allowed Essex's army to reach London first, though they arrived exhausted.

      Knowing that the king was in Reading, Essex sent some of his regiments, bolstered by the London militia, to garrison the western suburbs of London as far as Windsor. The king sent his devil prince with his flying army to order the garrison at Windsor to surrender the fortress. Windsor was impregnable so the garrison refused, and in a temper Rupert attacked other towns along the Thames. These attacks included the Magdeburg style massacre of Brentford.

      The two full armies once again met to do battle at Turnham Green which is closer to Westminster than it is to Brentford. In terms of numbers it was the second largest battle of the Civil War. In terms of casualties it was one of the smaller ones. The king retreated, not out of fear of the rebel army, but because a huge, angry mob streamed out of London in hopes of taking vengeance for the Brentford massacre.

      While in retreat to Oxford, the king sent out regiments to ride towards the South Coast. His Catholic queen was the sister of the King of France, and she was on the continent raising an army to help him. If he could capture and hold a South Coast port, then his queen's invasion force could land. England was being set up for a Thirty Year's War style conflagration, and all because the king refused to share power with the elected parliaments.

      * * * * *

      * * * * *

      The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014

      Table of Contents

      Title Page

      Cover Flap

      About the Author

      Prologue

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1 - The devil's scouts on Edgehill in November 1642

      Chapter 2 - A warning for Broughton in November 1642

      Chapter 3 - A warning for Banbury in November 1642

      Chapter 4 - Treachery at Banbury in November 1642

      Chapter 5 - Home to Wellenhay in November 1642

      Chapter 6 - The Seers of the Fens in November 1642

      Chapter 7 - A Pact with Fishtoft in November 1642

      Chapter 8 - Reclaiming the Lindsey Level in November 1642

      Chapter 9 - London's woes in November 1642

      Chapter 10 - A Hero's return to London in November 1642

      Chapter 11 - Warning Hampden in London in November 1642

      Chapter 12 - To Kingston for cannons in November 1642

      Chapter 13 - Tugs and barges at Kingston in November 1642

      Chapter 14 - Barges of cannons at Brentford in November 1642

      Chapter 15 - The Devil Prince at Brentford in November 1642

      Chapter 16 - Sightseers on the Great West Road in November 1642

      Chapter 17 - Feeding the Lads at Turnham Green in November 1642

      Chapter 18 - The Battle of Turnham Green in November 1642

      Chapter 19 - The Ignoble retreat through Brentford in November 1642

      Chapter 20 - The Admiral arrives in Fullham in November 1642

      Chapter 21 - At Windsor Palace in November 1642

      Chapter 22 - The Bloody Queen's Bed in November 1642

      Chapter 23 - Securing the Thames Valley in November 1642

      Chapter 24 - Essex claims Windsor in November 1642

      Chapter 25 - Appendix FAQ

      * * * * *

      * * * * *

      The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014

      Chapter 1 - The devil's scouts on Edgehill in November 1642

      The sheep pastures on the crest of Edgehill were still smoking and smouldering in patches as Daniel urged his step-daughter's trick mare Femke along a likely looking sheep trail. It meandered almost eastward, but he hoped that further down the slope it would join a path that would take him towards Banbury. The pasture was still smouldering from this mornings wild grass fire that had swept along the top of the ridge. A grass fire that Daniel himself had lit, to thwart Prince Rupert and his flying army from making camp on this long and strategically important ridge. At the thought of the vicious 'Devil Prince' he looked nervously around to make sure that he was still alone on this slope.

      Visibility was good now that the smoke was dying down, and with the dense thickets of broom now just blackened fingers pointing accusingly at him. The all around visibility was good for him, but also bad. Good because he could see if there were others about. Bad because he could be seen. He kept on the move through the blackened grazing land to reach the eastern side of the ridge which was to the windward and therefores still green. Once out of the black land, he nudged Femke to walk down into the first gulley with tufts of green grass. The poor girl needed water and something to munch on. While Femke nosed about in the bottom of the gulley and pawed at some dried mud in hopes of finding a trickle of a spring, he took his Dutch kijker, his looker made from a tube and two spectacle lenses, up to the brow of the gully to keep watch.

      The small, solid mare did not find any water under the caked mud. It had been a long dry fall and the cold wind coming from the continent was keeping the wet southwest winds away, and with them the November rains. Femke needed water. She needed a long drink, and soon, for she had worked hard today. Twice she had carried him up and down Edgehill ridge, and one of those times they had been chased at the run by the devil's scouts. He took off his steel helmet and poured some of his own drinking water into it, so at least the mare could clear her mouth of the black dust from the scorched land they had just crossed.

      Femke's need for water decided his route to Banbury. He would keep to the bottom of this gulley in hopes of finding a place with wet mud. It was as good a choice as any, for it ran down the slope in almost the direction of Banbury, and as it dropped, it got wider and not as steep. If he remembered rightly, there was a shepherd’s village near hear. Perhaps that is where this gulley was leading him. Horton, he said aloud as the village name came to him. There must be a year round source of water at the village else why would it be there. It was likely a place where a spring surfaced, perhaps the spring that ran under the dry mud of this gulley. He pointed the looker down the slope in hopes of spying out the village. His view was blocked by a bend in the gulley further down the slope.

      Femke had finished the water in his helmet and nudged it for more. Not yet lass, he whispered to her. We'll stop again when we reach that bend.

      Following the gulley was good for him, but also bad. Good because he could not be seen from a distance, but bad because he could see no distance at all. As Femke, with her strong legs and sure hoofs, picked her way down an increasingly wide dry stream bed, Daniel yet again checked the prime of his pistols and his carbine. A village may mean villagers. Not likely, but maybe. Though if the villagers were smart, they would have moved their sheep and everything of value down into Banbury where the castle's garrison could protect them.

      There was also another other worry ... that army scouts may be using the village for shelter, and that thought begged another question, Which army? he whispered to her.

      During the battle for Kineton fough to the north of here at the western foot of the Edgehill ridge, parliament's rebel army had worn orange sashes ... the color of the Earl of Essex, who commanded it. The king's army had worn red sashes. Daniel had a sash of each color stuffed into his saddle bag. He twisted around and poked through the saddlebag to find them both and then pulled on them so they hung a bit outside the bag so that he could grab either one, even on short notice.

      The color of the sash would be the only thing that would distinguish him as being from one side or the other. His weapons and armour certainly wouldn’t. They were all foreign made, ... prizes from his time riding as a pistoleer with the Dutch militia. Both armies included men who had fought in the Dutch and the German wars, so foreign weapons and armour was common enough. His own armour was particularly filthy and caked with reddish mud. The mud made from battlefield dust wetted by battlefield blood.

      In truth, everything about him was filthy … stinking and filthy. If he found a spring in the village, he would stop to have a wash. A thorough wash would make him look more like a messenger and less like a warrior ... for a messenger he now was. He carried a message from Colonel John Hampden to the castellan of Banbury Castle. Once that message was delivered he would be quickly away eastward to Cambridge, and then home to his fens village of Wellenhay on the Great River Ouse.

      How did he ever get talked into serving as a messenger? It would just slow him down, and he couldn't really afford to be slowed down. Even now the king's army was but ten miles north Banbury. He needed to be well east of Banbury before the king's army got much further south, and certainly before that army reached Banbury. This was simple logic. If the king took Banbury, then he could garrison it. That garrison could protect his flank and rear as he moved the rest of his army south along the London highway.

      Blast Essex and his timidity, he hissed out loud. The ass, hmm, Assex. If he had kept the battle going for just one more hour, the king would have been captured, or at least be fleeing for his life. Instead bloody Charlie has an open road all the way to London, and bloody Assex will have to play catch-up. Femke thought he was talking to her and came to a stop just shy of the bend in the gulley. There was still no damp mud in the stream bed. Since she was stopped anyway, he slid out of the saddle.

      While Femke licked up another dribble of water from his helmet, Daniel walked forward to the bend and carefully took a look around it. There was a village further down the gulley, where the gulley widened into a valley. There were also horses. Three, four, he counted under his breath. Four horses. They were good riding horses and still saddled. Hung from the saddles were holstered carbines and empty sabre scabbards ... and red sashes. Fuck, he cursed and then repeated it, but more softly. They were the king's men ... likely forward scouts of the devil prince and his flying army of vultures.

      He kept scanning the village with his looker, hoping to see one of the men. He needed to know what kind of armour the men wore, before he could make plans of how to get around them. That they carried carbines and sabres told him little about the men, for after a big battle like the one at Kineton where thousands had died, anyone could be carrying any kind of weapon. Not so with armour. The armour would tell him who these men were, or rather, what they were capable of.

      He focused the looker on some movement. There they were. They must have just arrived in the village because they seemed to be making a hovel to hovel search of it. Only one of them wore metal armour. The same kind of molded steel cuirassier chest armour that Daniel wore. The other three wore boiled leather chest armour ... cheap, light, and good enough to stop wayward balls and blades, but not good enough to stop aimed ones. So one man was an officer, likely the son of some lord, and he had three of his father's retainers with him. As they were being used as scouts, then they probably hailed from some estate within ten miles of here and therefore they would well know the terrain and the villages. They all carried a pistol, though the officer carried two. Each of them was walking through the village with a pistol in one hand and a sabre in the other.

      They were covering each other while they leap frogged from hovel to hovel kicking open every door. The village seemed to be abandoned. If that was all they came to find out, then they would soon be gone. Gone to do the same in the next village, and then the next, along whatever route the devil prince was taking. Daniel could go around the village and hope he wasn't seen, or he could wait here, hidden, until they were gone. If he was going around it would be best to wait for dark and then give the village a wide berth. That thought made him wonder how big the main force of the scouting party was, and where they were? What if these men were scouting this village as a place for the main force of scouts to camp for the night?

      It was better not to wait and see. He would backtrack up the gulley, climb out of it, and go around the village to the west, on a higher trail. This valley seemed to lead down to Banbury, whereas a higher trail would lead him closer to Broughton, about two miles west of Banbury. The decision made, he began to scramble up the closest slope to have a peek over the brow of the gulley to make sure there were no other scouting parties to be seen.

      He had just begun to climb when the corner of his eye glimpsed a movement ... a brown animal was running out of a shed at this end of the village.

      He stopped climbing and focused his looker on the animal. The brown was homespun cloth. It was not an animal but a shepherd keeping low on all fours trying to escape the search of the village. Bloody hell, he was coming this way. Bloody hell, the scouts had seen him. Bloody hell they were grabbing their horses to give chase. Bloody, bloody, bloody hell, now the four mounted scouts were being led up the gulley towards Femke.

      He wished the shepherd would trip and fall, so the scouts would capture him before they got any closer. The only thing hiding he and Femke from them was the bend in the gulley. He took a quick look around. There was no where else to hide. Whatever bushes and trees had once filled this gulley, were now gone ... long ago cut, or burned, or fed to animals. As he watched, the man in homespun heard the thunder of hoofs and so stood up and began to run. Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody, bloody hell. The homespun was a skirt. The he was a she, and she was about to be overtaken by the four scouts.

      The officer was closest to her and in full chase with the point of his sabre aimed at the woman's back. At the last moment he lifted the point and instead hit the woman with the flat of the blade across the back. The woman was knocked down, or ducked down, or tripped. In any case, the officer's horse leaped over her and the officer had to work hard to slow and turn his horse. Meanwhile the woman picked herself up and began to run again.

      Up the slope lass, Daniel whispered under his breath. Up the steepest slope so they will have to dismount. Then you can outrun them. They are weighed down by armour and weapons. Up the slope, lass. Up the slope damn you. Up the slope would also keep the scouts from coming any closer to him. Stupid bitch, he muttered in disappointment and sought out his pistols to check the prime and then cock the flint dogs.

      There was nothing to cock on his third and smallest pistol, the gentleman's wheellock that he kept in the pocket of his heavy winter cloak, but there were two flints to be cocked on the largest of his pistols. His prize pistol. His double barreled dragon with the ornate silver scrolling. The larger of its barrels carried a typical dragon load of bird shot, lye, and sulfur, while the shorter barrel carried a standard pistol ball. One barrel loaded for dragon's breath, the other for killing. His other long pistol was of dueling quality, which ment that it was rifled for accuracy. To make use of the rifling, it was loaded with a close fitting, well polished ball.

      Keeping low, he slid back down to where Femke was waiting for him so he could check his carbine, and grab the red sash, the king’s sash, for his belt. Femke nudged him for more water and tried to stick her nose further out into the gulley to better smell the approaching horses. He pushed her face roughly back and was about to tell her to be still when he heard a scream. A quick glance around the bend confirmed what he expected. The scouts had her trapped, and they were not being gentle with her. The four horses had her boxed in and the men were pushing her from one saddle to another as each of them dismounted.

      She was young, hardly grown. Bloody hell. If she had been a hag, they would have beaten some information out of her and within a few minutes would be riding back down to the village. Because she was young he would now have to wait around for an hour or more while they all took turns humping her. He couldn’t afford to wait, but that would be the smart thing to do, the logical thing to do, ... wait patiently until they were finished humping her and left.

      Daniel put up with the wait and the screams only until the humping began. As he expected, the leader, the lord's son got the first turn on top of her. Two of the others held her down on her back, each with a grip on an elbow which left each a free hand to fondle her breasts. The fourth man had his britches down around his ankles and was fondling himself in preparation to be the next to have her. None of them were looking at anything but the girl. Daniel put a finger to his lips and shushed Femke and told her to 'stay', and then he walked calmly, but with purpose, towards the gang rape. He had a pistol in each hand but they were pointed down and well hidden by the smooth lines of his heavy winter wool cloak.

      The fourth man was the first man to see him and he stopped jiggling his thing and called a warning to the two holding the woman down, and they looked up and began to rise. The lordson was oblivious to anything other than his swollen cock, so he just kept pumping away at the girl. The girl, now with both hands free, was oblivious to anything other than scratching the face of the lordson.

      Long ago Daniel had learned that the best way to train a dog, was to order him to do something that he was already doing. Since then he had noticed that women do the same thing with men. The three men were looking around for where they had laid out their weapons as they straightened up. Daniel yelled, Rise and stand to attention! in his best parade marshal voice. Two of the men actually stiffened and began a salute.

      Daniel did not return the salute. Instead he raised his dragon from under his cloak, pointed it in the general direction of the heads of the three standing men and pulled the trigger. Click, spark, puff, sizzle, kapow ... and then the three heads were hidden within a cloud of yellow grey smoke ... hurtful smoke, stinging smoke, choking smoke. It had the same immediate effect on each of the standing men. Each of them dropped to their knees and screamed in agony.

      Two of them were definitely blinded by the pain of the birdshot, sulfur and lye, hitting their faces. The third not so much. He dropped to the ground and rolled over and over towards his own pistol which was laying safe on a boulder about a yard from the woman. Daniel kept tracking him with his dragon. The bugger was good. He not only kept low and rolling until he had a hand on his pistol, but then he kept rolling until he was behind the partial cover of the boulder. Only then did the man take a good look at Daniel and size up the situation.

      Drop the dragon, the man ordered as he cocked his own pistol and stood up out of the cover of the boulder so he could move closer to the stranger. Drop it else I'll shoot. His stare was one of complete confidence. The confidence of a man holding a loaded pistol while bringing it up to aim at a man with a spent one. His confidence turned to disbelief when he heard, rather than saw, the click of another flint, and then a fresh cloud of smoke coming towards him from the spent gun. After that all he could think of was the pain of the pistol ball ripping through his guts as it doubled him up with the force of it.

      Daniel ran forward and kicked the pistol out of the man's hand. It hit the ground hard and went off in another belch of smoke and noise. He stepped back from the new smoke and circled around the old smoke to on the same side of it as the women. The sound of a complaining horse caused him to turn. The lordson was butt naked from the waist down and trying to get a bare foot into the stirrup of the closest horse. At about the same time that the rapist managed to swing a bare leg over the saddle, Daniel lifted his left hand out from under his cloak.

      The killing pistol in Daniel's left hand did what it was designed to do. It put a pistol ball deep into the heart of the horse. The costly stallion slumped to his front knees and then kicked out with his hind legs before toppling over. The lordson went flying sideways ... as if catapulted out of the saddle. He hit the ground hard and then screamed in pain and fear as he squirmed to get his leg out from under the horse. The horse was strangely still except for a rasp of breath.

      The two blinded men had somehow found their pistols and were now turning their heads back and forth trying to find a target by sound alone. The girl was getting to her feet and was about to say something. Daniel tripped her legs out from under her and fell to the ground on top of her.

      Oh, so that is how it be, she grunted in a forced breath. Now you want your turn. It was a good thing that the two of them were lying flat because two pistol balls whizzed overhead, missing them by but a foot. Again there was a lot of noise and gunsmoke, during which time the woman tried to nut him with her knee.

      Behave yourself, Daniel hissed in her ear while pressing down harder on her to keep himself from being nutted. I was sent to rescue you, he lied. The lie calmed her. She stopped struggling and tried to see his face.

      Daniel looked over towards the lordson. He was testing one of his legs and trying to stand. Daniel lunged towards him on all fours, and then on twos, and then on ones as his other foot kicked the lordson in the leg he was favouring. The lad crumpled back to the ground, screaming. And he was a lad, not more than middle teens, perhaps seventeen. Daniel’s voice was a breathless groan when he told the lad, Stay down else I'll break your other leg too.

      The lad stopped moving and stared back at him with hatred. How dare you lay hands on me. I am the son of the Earl of Northampton. I demand to know your name!

      Colonel Lunsford, Daniel lied. The false name caused him to smile. He quite liked the thought of making future trouble for that vicious bastard Lunsford. At your service. And you are?

      William Compton, third son of Spencer Compton, the king's earl, the lad said, righteous proud of his unearned privileges.

      Daniel looked at the lass. Lass because she was even younger than William. You could tell that by how little thatch she had between her legs. You could also tell that she was a brunette, despite the golden streaks that the summer sun had made in the long tresses tangled around her shoulders. And who are you girl?

      Angelique, shepherdess of Hornton, she replied mimicking William’s pride.

      Well Angie, Daniel told her, stand up and pick up that sabre and if this lad even moves then hack at him with it, and keep hacking at him until he stops moving. I have to go and see to the wounded.

      He looked towards the three men that his double barreled dragon had just crippled. You two, he called to the men who were still covering their stinging eyes with their filthy hands. The blind ones. Walk towards my voice. Keep walking. Now stop. At your feet is your friend. He has a bad gut wound. All of you need clean water to wash out the sting and the corruption. There is a clean pool up this gulley about two hundred yards. If you follow the stream bed, then you can't miss it. The man with the bleeding gut can be your eyes until you have washed your own out. Now help him up and be quick about it.

      But there is no... owe, the lass began, but was hushed by Daniel's kick.

      Once the three men were on their way, stumbling up the dry stream bed, Daniel turned back to the lass and asked her, Did the lad enter you? Did he spurt his seed into you?

      NO, she replied quickly, too quickly,

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