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soon saw their folly and headed back. Jack judged his timing wrongly and found himself forced at sword point to dismount in the Manor’s courtyard on his return.

“Inside, damn you,” one of the constable’s men growled.

“Who’s the woman then, eh?” the constable barked across the hall at him.

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Alan. Traitor, he thought. “You are right, she’s a valuable asset,” Jack said simply, moving to seat himself in one of the chairs in the hall, forcing himself to remain at ease as he surveyed the constable. “She is Catherine de Bernay, a wealthy heiress with lands and a manor at Assingham. How she fell in with Richard, I don’t know. I had intended to trade her back to her family in return for…” Jack left the sentence unfinished. His brain hurt, he was trying to think so fast. “As you can see, she is not worth much dead, but alive and kicking…”

“Aye, she was kicking all right when your man brought her here.” The constable grinned.

Jack wondered where she was.

“You can prove your words?” the constable said.

Jack thought for a minute. “I believe I can confirm her identity to your satisfaction, yes. I was to hand over her care to Robert Fitzwarren. He has undertaken the mission to return her back to her family. So what do you intend to do, Constable? I am in your debt, as you can see,” Jack waved his arm around the hall. “I have triumphed this day even if you, unfortunately, do not have your charge anymore, and I am grateful to you. The deal still stands, I assume.”

“I’ve got men searching. He can’t be far from here, not with a good wound like that,” the constable replied bluntly.

You may be right, thought Jack, wondering where his brother was.

 

†

 

Richard stumbled on the step to the mill, his boot catching on the raised stone, an outstretched arm caught the door frame and saved him from falling, but the impact caused him to gasp in pain. His eyes cast down for a moment, he saw the telltale drops of blood on the white dusty stone and cursed. The cloth he’d wrapped round the cut had failed to stop the blood and he knew he had left a trail his pursuers could not fail to follow. Stepping over the threshold and into the reverberating mill interior he swung the wooden door shut and slid the wooden bar through the iron loops to secure it. It wouldn’t slow them for long.

The grey mill stones were still, the mechanism disengaged and the axle that went through the ceiling was stationary. Outside the paddled wheel still turned and the room still thrummed with the sound of the wooden structure being propelled by the cascading water. Richard crossed to the steep stairs and began a rapid ascent.

Then he stopped.

Above him he could hear the clear sound of voices engaged in a heated argument. Taking three more steps up he could hear the words.

“It was twenty sacks and we agreed on a price per sack,” Guy’s voice stated.

“That was when you were steward at the manor, Guy, but that’s changed hasn’t it? You’re not bringing me half the work you promised, and I’m not paying top prices for what little you do bring through my door,” John Knoll stated bluntly.

“I can take them to the Lincoln mill, and then you’ll make nothing,” Guy countered, his voice raised.

Richard peered up from the floor level, both men had their backs to him and were too concerned with each other to notice him.

“You damn will take it to Lincoln then, and see if I care. You’ll have to pay for it to be taken and then brought back and by the time you have parted with money for that you would have been as well to take what I am offering,” Knoll said, his arms folded and his eyes fixed on the fat face of Burton’s former steward.

Guy’s colour rose. “I’ll be steward again, you mark my words. And when I am, John Knoll, you’ll be looking for another mill to work in.”

Knoll laughed at that. “Guy, take what I am offering per sack or take it to Lincoln, that’s the only bargain you’ll get out of me.”

“We agreed to a rate, you can’t cheat …” Guy broke off, his eyes widening as he saw the man who had emerged from the stairs and was now standing behind Knoll. Guy shrieked.

Knoll whirled around and found Fitzwarren’s poniard levelled at his chest.

“Not in my mill, you don’t.” Knoll, with the corded arms of a wrestler and wearing a pigskin leather apron lunged, his body impacting with Richard’s wounded shoulder, the blade rattling uselessly on the wooden floor. Richard staggered back, hitting the wall behind him hard.

Guy stepped forward and trapped the blade beneath his boot, shouting in triumph. “I’ve got his knife.”

“I don’t need a knife,” Knoll growled and sank his fist into Richard’s stomach, a grin spreading across his face as his assault caused the man before him to double and gasp at the pain.

The miller pulled back his fist, clenching it tightly, aiming a blow that was meant to smash the other man’s skull against the wall behind his head. Richard, the knife from his boot now in his right hand, straightened and slashed the blade across Knoll body. The short blade scored the leather apron but went on to cut a searing red gash in the flesh of his shoulder, blood spilling from the wound to patter on the dusty floor.

The miller stared in surprise at his injured shoulder, and in that moment Richard pushed him backwards. Knoll staggered two paces back, then the back of his legs caught on Guy’s stooped body where he was straightening from picking up the fallen knife.

The miller exclaimed as he started to fall and Richard, quickly moving forward, again pushed him a second time. Knoll, his balance lost, arms flailing, fell backwards, at the very last moment a look of pure horror darkened his face as he realised what was happening. His back impacted with the flat ledge of the opening in the wall beyond which was the spinning water wheel. His weight already on the wrong side of the wall an additional shove from Richard pitched him out of the opening to land on the top of the wooden paddles of the wheel.

Knoll screamed, held out his hands for help and fought to remain at the top of the wheel. Unable to gain purchase on the slippery wood he fell down the side of the wheel into the bottom of the pond screaming as the wheel covered him in a shower of icy water.

Richard turned on Guy before Knoll had landed in the mill pond.

Guy still held in his hand the blade he had retrieved from the floor. At the sight of the man advancing upon him he dropped the knife, his hands raised defensively in front of him. “It was Knoll it wasn’t me,” wailed Guy.

Richard stooped and retrieved the fallen knife. He could already hear below him the sounds of the hammering on the closed door – it would not be long before it gave way. Richard gestured with the knife for Guy to move sideways, when the fat man was far enough away he stepped past him and pulled open the door leading to the sluice gates. Richard stepped through the door and onto the top step. “When they come up those stairs you tell them I jumped from the room onto to the wheel.”

Guy, pale, nodded.

“And remember I will be right behind you,” Richard threatened and yanked Guy back to stand in front of the door way before he pulled the door partly closed again. Guy let out a nervous groan of fear, and Richard applied the sharpened steel tip of his blade to Guy’s back, hissing in his ear, “Don’t get this wrong, Guy.”

The hammering went on below them until Richard thought they were going to give up when suddenly he heard the sound of the wooden bar splinter and break.

The heavy sound of boots on the stairs was followed by a cry from Guy, the steel in his back underlining Richard’s intention. Flinging his arms up in the air, Guy yelled, “The wheel, he escaped onto the wheel.”

The three men crowded into the opening over the wheel for a moment. “He could have got down from the top of that onto the bank over there,” one of the men said, pointing.

“It’s a hell of a jump, come on.”

Wherever Knoll was it was obvious he couldn’t be seen. A moment later all three had gone back down the stairs and were leaving the mill to round the side where the wooden wheel continued to turn.

Richard moved back into the room, the knife still in his hand, and the look he cast in Guy’s direction told him to remain quiet.

Below the window they could hear the noise of the three men rounding the side of the mill on the stone path that led to the pond and the water wheel.

“He’s under the wheel look!” One of the men shouted as he arrived.

A smiled twitched the corner of Richard’s mouth, Knoll was going to buy him some time. But he couldn’t leave Guy in the mill. Under his breath, and gesturing with the knife towards the steep steps to the sluice gates, he said, “Down those steps now.”

Guys eye’s widened, “No, no, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Get down those steps,” Richard commanded.

“No, please,” there was terror on Guy’s face, he clearly didn’t want to turn his back on Richard.

“Now, Go.” Richard pushed him towards the narrow wooden door.

“Please, don’t, I’ll not say a word!” Guy’s voice was high pitched and shrill, cutting above the thrum of the water wheel.

“Guy, now.”

Guy didn’t turn, but stepped back, the door was open behind him and his right foot stepped into the void of the stair well. Losing his balance and falling backward, he let out a horrified scream. Richard automatically extended his hand but Guy’s fingers failed to close around it and he fell, his head impacting against the stone wall to land in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the steps. The space was small, his legs were raised up the wall, his back against the other and like some untidy sack of spilled grain he had landed to sag onto the floor partly blocking the door.

Richard dropped down the steps and tried to prize the door open. Guy’s body was acting as an effective block and the door wouldn’t open enough for him to escape. Richard abandoned the door and shifted his focus instead to hefting Guy’s inert form away from it so he could open it. An arm grasped in both his hands he heaved, but Guy’s bulk remained on the floor. Suddenly above him he heard the sound of boots on the stairs as the men returned to the mill. A foot braced against the wall, his teeth clenched tight against the pain from the sword cut, he heaved on Guy’s arm, rolling the body sufficiently for him to open the door enough to get his good shoulder behind it. With the weight of his body behind the resisting wood he managed to force it open enough to allow him to slide through.

The door banged shut at the exact moment one of the men peered down the stairwell to find Guy dead at the bottom.

 

 

 

†

 

 

 

“What happened?” Jack stood with the rest of