the instincts of a leader. Had he not been so perverse, he could easily have been promoted.’
‘What was the name again?’
‘Matthew Searle.’
‘I remember now,’ said Welbeck, snapping his fingers. ‘It’s all coming back to me. I used to have a slimy little snake of a man who always wished he’d joined the cavalry instead of the infantry. That’s what his cousin had done. He kept on and on about him. I’m sure that the cousin’s name was Matthew Searle — though he never mentioned a red beard.’
‘Who was this fellow?’
‘A good-for-nothing named Edwin Lock.’
‘Is he still with us?’
‘Not any more, Dan — he deserted months ago.’
‘Can you remember the precise time?’
‘Why?’
‘It may be that he joined up with his cousin.’
‘That’s very unlikely,’ said Welbeck, sceptically. ‘Edwin Lock was bone idle. He was only ever interested in whoring, drinking or doing both at the same time. Lock was a shoemaker by trade. I doubt if he’d know which end of the horse the manure came out of. Besides,’ he went on, ‘he was in a regiment of foot. Where could he get a horse from?’
‘There’s no mystery about that, Henry.’
‘Isn’t there?’
‘It was one of the many ways that Searle endeared himself to the regiment he left behind him,’ explained Daniel. ‘He didn’t merely take to his heels. He stole some of their finest horses as well.’
Inclement weather delayed the attack for day after day and the men became restive. They ate well and drank as much as they wished but they grew tired of being cooped up in the farmhouse. Edwin Lock once again acted as their spokesman. He found Searle in the kitchen.
‘It can’t go on like this, Matt,’ he complained. ‘We’re fed up.’
‘Do you think I like being holed up here?’ snarled Searle.
‘It’s a fine day at last. Why don’t we go right now?’
‘I give the orders, Edwin.’
‘Yes, that’s another thing.’
‘What is?’
‘They’ve been muttering,’ said Lock, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that nobody was within earshot. ‘They feel that you throw your weight around too much.’
‘Somebody has to be in charge.’
‘But why does that someone have to be you?’
Lock let out a yelp as he was grabbed by the throat, lifted into the air and banged against a wall. When Searle released him, his cousin slumped to the floor, rubbing his neck disconsolately.
‘Does that answer your question?’ challenged Searle.
‘It’s not what I said,’ bleated Lock. ‘I spoke up for you. I always do — and not because we’re kinfolk. You planned everything. If it wasn’t for you, we’d still be in the army, having our ears chewed off and our arses kicked. It was you that got us out of there, Matt.’
‘I’m glad that someone remembers that.’
‘You can always count on me.’
‘Who was it?’
‘Eh?’
‘Give me a name, Edwin. Who was it who thinks he ought to take over from me? Was it Hugh Davey or Gregory Pyle?’
‘It was neither of them.’
‘Who was it then?’ demanded Searle, grabbing him by the neck to pull him upright. ‘If we have a traitor in our midst, name him.’
‘He’s not really a traitor,’ said Lock, wishing that he’d never broached the subject. ‘Ianto just said that he’d have done things differently. There’s nothing more to it than that.’
‘Ianto Morgan, is it?’ said Searle. ‘I might have known it.’
‘He’s like the rest of us, Matt — itching for a woman.’
‘Then maybe it’s time I cured his itch.’
Searle marched out of the house and into the yard where the other men were sitting in a group, smoking pipes and drinking from tankards. When they saw Searle rolling up his sleeves, they tensed. Ianto Morgan was a short, thickset, bald-headed Welshman with a dark complexion. Searle confronted him.
‘So you want to replace me, do you, Ianto?’ said Searle.
‘Not me, Matt,’ replied Morgan with an ingratiating grin.
‘What about the rest of you? Do any of you think he’s a better man than I am?’ They all shook their heads in denial. ‘Then I’ll show you what happens to anyone who questions my leadership.’ He crooked a finger. ‘Get up, Ianto.’
‘Why?’ said the Welshman. ‘I’m comfortable here.’
‘Get up and fight, you bastard!’
‘Ianto didn’t mean to upset you, Matt,’ said Lock, trying to intercede and earning a clip around the ear from his cousin. ‘We’re all friends here, aren’t we?’
Searle ignored him. ‘Come on, Ianto,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to settle this once and for all.’
‘There’s nothing to settle, Matt,’ argued Morgan.
‘You’re too much of a coward, are you?’
The Welshman’s eyes flashed. ‘Very well,’ he said, starting to get up. ‘If it’s a fight you’re after, then you can have one.’
But he had no intention of slugging it out with the other man. Searle was bigger, stronger and much younger than Morgan. His fists would pummel the Welshman into submission. Morgan’s only chance lay in using a weapon. As he rose to his feet, therefore, he let one hand slip to the dagger in his belt. It was the last action of his life. Leaping forward, Searle knocked him unconscious with a vicious uppercut, caught the body as it fell, got a firm grip on Morgan’s head then twisted it hard and broke his neck. The others recoiled in horror at the awesome crack. Edwin Lock began to gibber.
Searle tossed the dead man to the ground and surveyed the ring of frightened faces, content that none of them would dare to challenge his leadership now. He adopted a reasonable tone.
‘I’m sorry it’s taken so long,’ he said, ‘but we could hardly raid the farm when we were soaked to the skin. In any case, it’s not the best way to whet our appetites for rutting with the farm wenches.’ There was uneasy laughter. ‘The long wait is over, lads. We attack at nightfall.’
‘Why wait till then?’ asked Lock.
Searle glared at him. ‘Do you have a better plan, Edwin?’
‘No, no, Matt. Forget that I spoke.’
‘The reason we wait for dark is this,’ Searle continued. ‘I’ve been to the farm three times now and watched it carefully. There are eight men working there as well as the five women. I don’t like those odds. However, four of the men don’t live at the farm. They walk home at night to the village a couple of miles away.’ He glanced at Lock. ‘Are you beginning to understand now?’
‘Yes,’ said Lock. ‘Four men won’t put up so much of a fight.’
‘I’m more interested in the five women,’ said Gregory Pyle, a sharp-featured man with a lopsided smirk.
‘There’s something else you should know,’ Searle told them. ‘The last time I was there, they drove some of the stock off to market. That means they came back with a lot of money. It’s ours for the taking, lads.’ He kicked the corpse aside. ‘Ianto won’t need his share now, will he? That means each of us will get more. How does that sound?’
‘I like it,’ said Pyle.
‘So do I,’ added Lock. ‘When do we leave, Matt?’
