A Sea of Troubles by David Donachie Page B

happened to our cargo and the money it raised, sold on. Happen he was only a small part of it and if his blood would be a bonus, which I grant you, we’d be better served finding out the names of those who had the means to get our stuff ashore and profit by it.’
    ‘We ain’t got time for this,’ Jahleel insisted, as two of the gang, sent to fetch the already saddled horses began to make their way back.
    ‘They’s movin’, but dead slow,’ Cephas intoned.
    ‘So it makes no odds if they go by us,’ Franklin added. ‘We’re well mounted and can catch them easy.’
    ‘Get on those horses now – I ain’t letting him pass an’ I seem to recall what I says goes.’
    ‘No killing,’ Franklin insisted.
    Jahleel stuck his weapon in his belt and grabbed the reins of his horse. ‘Happen it might not be our choice, brother.’
    Having been in the copse all night and most of the morning, even moving around, the wildlife had almost accepted their presence and it never occurred to men who were of the sea and not of the land that it could be otherwise. But the movement of eight horses and their riders changed that and the first pigeon broke noisily from the thick-leafed branches, an act which spooked the others. Within seconds the sky above the trees was full of flapping wings and they startled the other birds, the sight of which made Pearce feel much better. He knew that the Tollands were in that copse and he had been relying on them acting before he got abreast of it, for if they did not, things would be much harder.
    If he could have heard Jahleel Tolland cursing he might have had a proper laugh; it was, of course, the fault of others not him, but he knew that very likely surprise was gone and he spurred his mount out onto the roadway without any attempt at subtlety, the rest behind him.
    Pearce had already spoken in French to give instructions that his charges should stay still, brusquely dismissing the count’s attempt to enquire as to why that should be, a question that became superfluous as the road ahead was filled across its width by eight properly mounted, grim-looking men all with pistols in their hands.
    ‘Hold, Pearce,’ Jahleel yelled, ‘it time you paid for your folly.’
    Michael, at the back, had taken out the pistols from the wooden case, that thrown to the ground, eased back and locked the hammers, before kneeing his pony to get it to move forward until he was abreast of Pearce and could hand one over, an act remarked on by Tolland.
    ‘It will be two pistols agin eight and no time I reckon to reload.’
    ‘Monsieur?’ the count demanded. ‘What is this about?’
    Pearce was brusque in the way he told the count that he had no time to explain, accompanied by the sound of Jahleel Tolland’s voice again floating through the warm morning air. ‘You can come on or flee, Pearce, it be up to you, but it will, in the end, make no odds.’
    ‘What is it you want?’
    That got a loud snort; it had to be to cover the distance that separated them. ‘Now’t much: a sound ship, a valuable cargo and, as a bonus, some of your skin, and I reckon you would do all a favour if you send off the lady and gent and allow us to have a little talk with you and your hulking mate.’
    ‘I doubt it would do any good if I told you we made not a brass farthing from the whole escapade, that I was dunned as much as were you?’
    ‘None at all,’ Jahleel shouted, ‘for we would not credit it. You’se a thieving bastard an’ that be that.’
    ‘Does the name Arthur Winston mean anything to you?’
    ‘Never heard of him,’ Jahleel spat, clearly thinking what Pearce was up to. ‘Now stop playing for time, that is if you don’t want your lady and the gent in velvet to share your fate. Get rid of them now.’
    Pearce had never thought they knew the man who called himself Arthur Winston but it was something he felt he needed confirmed; Tolland’s dismissive tone implied that he had spoken the truth. As he trotted back