Fair Blows The Wind Part 19

They walked away, the one trying to bind up his arm, which was bleeding badly.

Mr. Digby shook his head. "Lad, you've but one choice. Be off from London within the hour. The girl was a bawd, one of those forced to pay monies to Leckenbie and his like. They will permit no interference."

"If they wish to find me, they know where I am," I replied quietly. "But what I meant to ask Emma Delahay I can ask you. What news of the Good Catherine?"

"She was sighted not long since, and should be coming up the Thames within the day."

Arriving back at the tavern, I ordered a slice or two of beef, a bit of cheese and bread with a gla.s.s of wine, and waited for Tosti Padget. He had scarcely come when another man entered. A tall man, lean and strong. He looked sharply around, then crossed to me.

"You are Chantry?" His tone was a challenge.

"I am."

"I have read your paltry tales of s.h.i.+pwreck and treasure. They are trash, and they are lies, and you yourself are a liar!"

Suddenly my initial surprise was gone. Strangely, I was cool. "And your name?"

"Tankard," he replied, "Captain Charles Tankard."

"Of course," I said, "I have been expecting you. What took you so long? Or were you afraid?"

"I? Afraid?" He was both astonished and angry. "I am Charles Tankard!"

"Indeed? If I were you I should be ashamed to speak the name. I know of you as a paid murderer, as a creature in the employ of Rafe Leckenbie ... and perhaps of others.

"They tell me also," I stood up, "that you are a swordsman. Now I have no doubt that you came here to kill me, sent by the masters for whom you run your foul errands. Is not that true?"

He was angry-coldly, furiously angry. I wanted him so. He was reputed to be dangerous, and no doubt he was. His rage would do him no good, and might make him rash.

He started to reply, but I was before him. "Please!" I interrupted. "If we must fight, let us do so! Your breath is as foul as your manners, and the sooner we have done the better!"

I gestured. "There is an inn yard close by. It will be convenient. Be hasty now, for your masters will be awaiting the report from the dog they sent to do their bidding!"

Oh, it reached him! He rushed at the door. "Come then," he said. "This is one fight I shall enjoy!"

"Briefly, perhaps," I replied.

Tosti whispered, aghast, "That man is Charles Tankard! He's killed a dozen men!"

"Then perhaps thirteen will be unlucky for him," I said.

This was what I had trained for. This was the moment I had known would come. And now, would my hours of fence be enough? Or would I die by the blade that had bled so many others?

Now was the moment.

The light in the inn yard was ill. There was night upon us, with only the stars above and some light from windows close about. But enough, enough.

The footing would be bad. There were paving blocks about, roughly squared before being set, yet an easy means of tripping a man. I must be careful.

Charles Tankard walked past me and turned, sword in hand. He was a handsome man in a dissolute way, a hardy rogue no doubt, and experienced at this sort of thing.

No matter. I had chosen the moment.

22.

The air was cool. The inn yard smelled of fresh hay and manure. There was a cart at one side loaded with several casks. A few of the people in the common room trooped out, drinks in hand, to stand as spectators.

Tankard slashed the air, whipping his blade this way and that, perhaps to overawe me. He was an inch or two taller than I, hence longer in the arm. There was no measuring of blades; we fought with what we had. At least three of those who came from the common room to watch were henchmen of Leckenbie's, a thought I knew I must keep in mind so as not to present my back to them.

Yet Tosti, too, was there, and suddenly possessed of a stout staff. "I will stand at your back," he suggested, "but have a care!"

Surprisingly, I was not nervous. Several times I had fought in actual combat, but never in such a duel as this was to be. Yet it was for skill at such moments that I had trained. Tankard knew naught of me, or little enough. My one strategy should be to lead him to believe me less than I was, hence to make him grow careless.

We crossed blades and he looked at me, sneering slightly. "What a pity! To die so young!"

"Young? I did not consider you so young, Tankard, but it is certainly a pity. Still, better the sword than the gibbet!"

He moved in, feinting a thrust. I made as if to parry, deliberately clumsy, then retreated a step as if puzzled by him. He moved in with confidence, and in an instant I knew I was facing a strong fencer with exceptional skill. His point circled and he stepped in with a quick thrust low down and for the groin. That I parried-and almost too late. He came on swiftly and I was hard put to keep his point away.

He drew back after one swift exchange, his point high. "I shall kill you," he said coolly. "It is almost too easy!"

There was little sound from those who watched. They stood about in a loose circle, stepping back occasionally to remove themselves from our way.

Then Tankard lunged suddenly. But his boot slipped on a bit of mud or some such and for a moment he was exposed. My point could easily have had his throat but I stepped back swiftly, permitting him to recover.

"You are gallant," he said, surprised.

"I am a gentleman, Captain. I will kill you, but I do not indulge in murder."

"Hah! You make me almost regret what I must do!"

"If you wish to withdraw, Captain, the choice is yours!"

He laughed. "And leave London? I'll not do it. I respect you, Chantry, but I also respect the dead!"

He came at me swiftly again, thinking to end it so, but I parried his best attacks. I was learning the true man now, studying him as Fergus MacAskill had taught me to do. His style of fence was English, with some touches picked up on the Continent, but I felt he had grown careless from easy victories. He was sure of himself, a little arrogant.

He intended to kill me, and quickly. He moved in skillfully and attempted a cla.s.sic cut at the chest, sometimes called a banderole, a flowing, slicing movement. It was a pretty move, spectacular to see. But it held a risk, for it exposed the forearm.

In a duel with anyone taught by Kory or MacAskill, it was a wrong move. My reply was instantaneous, needing no thought-a reply rehea.r.s.ed so often as to be automatic. My point pierced his arm, slicing through the tendons and driving into his chest.

He staggered back and I quickly withdrew to an on-guard position. Blood streamed from his arm and there was a darkening stain on his chest. My point had not penetrated deeply, but enough for a serious wound.

He caught himself by grasping the car wheel with his left hand. He clung there, his sword down although still gripped tightly. Blood ran down his arm and over the blade.

I lowered my point, a part of my attention on his followers. Tosti stood hard by, and ready.

"d.a.m.n it!" Tankard said, "I was a fool to try that with you!"

"A lovely move, Captain, but a foolish one. Shall we call it quits?"

"I meant to kill you."

"Of course." I wiped my blade. "Another time, perhaps?"

Turning, I started toward the inn door. A movement took my eye. It was John, the servant of the white-haired man. His eyes met mine and he smiled a little, not a friendly smile, but an acknowledging one. "I was well warned," he said quietly. "You are very good."

"Have you a message for me?" I asked, wondering at his presence.

He did not smile this time. "I came to carry the report of your death," he said.

"I will stand you a drink," I said, "for you'll have a dry welcome on your return."

"I'm obliged," he said, "but another time."

He turned away, then paused. "You fought well," he said, "but be warned. This was thought to end it. Now it will be murder. You must flee, or die."

He walked away and I went inside with Padget. It had been hot work, and the ale tasted good to a thirsty man, yet I liked none of it. My skill had been proven to me, but I had not wished it so.

My thoughts went to the Good Catherine. Had she come in? How had my venture fared?

I thought back to my victory. My blade had gone through the forearm, the force of the lunge driving it back against Tankard's body. The point had gone in, but not far. He should recover.

Alone in my room I wiped my blade yet again and dropped into a chair. In a severe test of skill, I had won, yet I liked it not. My room seemed suddenly to be an empty place-only a place to sleep and keep those few small belongings I had.

What had I accomplished since coming to London? I had lived. I had earned a few pounds, I had acquired a little knowledge. But aside from Tosti, I had no friends. Emma Delahay and Mr. Digby were merely business a.s.sociates, and neither cared for me nor had any personal interest in me. I was alone as I had ever been since my father died.

My life was empty. The warmth of a home, the love of a girl, these I had not-nor any chance of them, it seemed. Fergus had been a strong, easy-going friend, but where was he? I could go back, but to what? There was nothing for me in Ireland, nor was there here in London.

I wanted my own Irish home. I wanted that coast again, and I wanted a love. I was lonely. Now I must go out with a s.h.i.+p, accompany my venture, do my own trading. If I could return with some small wealth I would go back to my own country and find an Irish girl.

So I thought, and so I planned.

London had given me time in which to grow. It had enabled me to learn. Now there was nothing for me here any longer. Fear did not drive me, for my victory over Tankard gave me added confidence, yet why remain where there would be endless attempts to kill me? And I knew they feared me for I had written of them once, and might do so again. I was not their creature, and what next I might do they could not know. But suddenly I knew one last thing I could accomplish.

I would write a piece that would destroy Rafe Leckenbie, and then I would go.

Yet, I asked myself, why did I wish him destroyed? Was it because he had bested me in our long-ago duel? Was it because the man was my announced enemy, and had warned me that he intended to kill me?

Reason enough, I told myself, but mine was not that. The man was evil, wholly committed to evil, and although I doubted that he would achieve what he had set out to do ... he might.

So far as I knew, I alone knew his plans. So far as I was aware, I alone could stop him-or could at least make an attempt. I had the necessary information, I possessed the weapon. Oddly enough, I did not believe that it was he who had set Charles Tankard upon me. Rather I believed it was that white-haired man, the master of John. Rafe Leckenbie would wish to have the pleasure of killing me himself.

Yet I recalled the girl I had helped just a few hours past. How many such girls were brutalized, beaten and held in virtual bondage by him or those he protected?

If men of goodwill would not step forward to war against evil, then who would? The spotlight I had put upon Leckenbie had aided him, he said. Indeed, it had. Yet it must have left disquiet in many minds, some of them official. From such a man, who was safe? Where was security when thieves and outlaws could run at large, doing their will of the populace?

For a long time I lay on my back upon the bed, my hands clasped behind my head, thinking of what I might do, and how the last piece must be written.

To indict Leckenbie was not enough. I must support my claims with arguments, with facts, with names, dates, and places. I knew this sort of thing was little done, but it must be done in this case. I doubted I would have more than one chance, so all must be done at once.

Also, I must be about my business. Already I had been over long in London, my progress only adequate. Many men of my age were already captains of s.h.i.+ps, commanders of regiments, and active in political life. Charles Danvers, at eighteen, had been elected to Parliament, and many another had done as well. I had no preferment, so must make my own way. But this was a time of change, when many yeomen and less were coming to high place through their energies alone.

Mentally, I began to calculate. My little ventures had all but one returned me a small profit. The major investment was aboard the Good Catherine, now due into port. Item by item I calculated what I possessed, and it came to a tidy sum. I had succeeded in saving something in excess of twenty-five pounds, and this at a time when a hard-working playwright might earn thirty pounds in a year. And this counted nothing of my current venture on the Good Catherine.

Carefully, I studied my situation and decided what I must buy. Now I knew the sources of the stuff of trade. I knew where to buy the brightly colored cloths, the copper bells and the edged tools, and where to obtain them at the least cost.

At last I slept, restless with thoughts of all that must be done, but eager for the morrow. Awakening suddenly, with the first light, it was in my thoughts that I must no longer live so solitary, but must make friends. For if trouble came I had none to speak for me, while Rafe Leckenbie could call his friends by the dozen.

No sooner did I come on the street than Padget was there. "You are famous," he said, "the talk of London."

"I?".

"Your victory over Captain Tankard. He was a man much feared, and one with many enemies. There is much talk of your gallant conduct against him:"

"I fought to save my life."

"That may be, but you are much spoken of, and there is a man about, waiting for you."

He was a servant in livery, at a gla.s.s of ale in the common room. He came to his feet when I entered.

"I am from Sir George Clifford, the Earl of c.u.mberland," he announced. "I am asked to accompany you to him. He would speak with you."

Yet it was to no great castle that I was taken, but to a place upon the riverbank where Clifford was seeing to the outfitting of his s.h.i.+p, the Elizabeth Bonaventure. He gave me a quick glance. "You are the man who defeated Tankard?"

"I am."

"Know you aught of the sea?"

"Of small craft only. I am from the Hebrides."

"Ah? Fine sailormen those. Well, wish you to serve with me? There is word of a great armada the Spanish are sending against us."

"I know of it."

He threw me a quick glance. "What do you know?"

"That Spain is preparing more than a hundred s.h.i.+ps. Some have gathered in Cadiz, even now. Thousands of men are recruited, and more than two thousand bra.s.s cannon with much else."

"How does it come that you know all this? There has been talk, of course, but-"

"I have ventured some small sums in trade. Thus I try to be aware of what is happening at sea. I have myself been contemplating a voyage to America, and to that end have spent much time talking with sailors and fishermen along the sh.o.r.e. There are no secrets there."