Pepper waited to see what would happen.
From the kitchen, Hawkwood saw Roach come into view. He heard the report and saw the puff of powder smoke by the corner of the outhouse wall, and ducked just as the ball broke the surviving window pane and thrummed past his ear. He heard a plate break into pieces on the dresser behind him.
Before the shattered china hit the floor, Hawkwood's pistol was up, tracking the running man. As the man's companion let off his second shot, Hawkwood fired. The ball struck the running man in the groin, pitching him to the ground with a ragged cry. His companion's pistol ball buried itself in the wall beneath the window frame.
Pepper emerged from cover, pistol in hand and running towards the corner of the house, as Roach went down.
Hawkwood stepped back from the window, rammed the ball down the pistol barrel, placed the powder in the pan and snapped the frizzen in place. His hands were steady as he thumbed the hammer back. By the time he was done, Pepper had disappeared from view.
Hawkwood swore.
Behind him, Jess Flynn was crouched by the fireplace. From the other side of the chimney breast came the sound of somebody trying to kick in the front door.
'Jess, find out what's happening out there!' Hawkwood whispered.
In the parlour, Tom Gadd had been busy proving he could hit more than rabbits. Another of Pepper's crew lay dead, his throat pumping blood into the dirt beneath one of the apple trees. Gadd had whooped aloud as the ball from his fowling piece struck home, only to have his exclamation of triumph cut short as the dead man's companions returned fire with venomous fervour.
The window and the clock case took the brunt of the damage, but it been a close shave. Gadd recalled Hawkwood's remark about rabbits not shooting back. Crouching by the wall, the old man tapped powder into the muzzle of the fowling piece and reached into his pocket for his final round. He glanced across at Lasseur and grinned, only to lose the grin as the front door shook under a bombardment of boots. He looked up as Jess Flynn called his name from the kitchen.
'Stay where you are, Jessie!' Gadd called back. 'We're all right.'
At the sound of Jess Flynn's voice, Lasseur turned away from the rear window. As he did so, he saw Gadd's eyes widen in alarm at something behind him. Lasseur swivelled just in time to see the cutlass blade hammer the pane into a thousand shards and a pistol muzzle appear in the opening. Lasseur swung his arm up and fired in the same instant as the attacker. The room was lit by simultaneous flashes and two thunderclaps. A shriek of pain sounded outside the window and a body dropped away. 'THOMAS!'
Lasseur spun back at the sound of Jess Flynn's cry of horror.
The fowling piece had dropped from Gadd's hands. The seaman was slumped back against the wall, clutching his shoulder. The blood on his shirt looked almost black in the half- lit room. Jess Flynn was scrambling towards him on her knees.
Lasseur sprang across the room. Shouts sounded from outside. The attackers had heard Jess Flynn's cry. From the anguish in her voice they had guessed someone inside had been hurt.
'Quick!' Lasseur looped his arm under Gadd's shoulder, ignoring the wounded man's wail of agony. Between them, they half-pulled, half-carried Gadd back into the kitchen.
'Tom's hurt!' Jess Flynn cried. She opened the pantry door. The dog leapt up at her.
'Down, Rab!'
Hawkwood turned to see Jess Flynn lift the flap to the cellar and push the dog down into it. Closing the trap she reached out to support Gadd as Lasseur lifted the seaman over the table and into the pantry.
Then Lasseur yelled.
Hawkwood turned and his throat went dry at the sight of Pepper, teeth bared in anger, curving the axe blade towards the window.
Hawkwood hurled himself backwards. The heavy blade demolished what was left of the glass and a good portion of the lattice. As Hawkwood's spine hit the floor, Pepper threw the axe to one side, pulled the pistol from the holster at his chest and fired through the open window. Hawkwood rolled and felt the wind from the ball as it struck the floor by his head. Pepper let out a roar of frustration. Hawkwood brought his pistol up and fired, but he was too late, Pepper had gone.
From the parlour came the sound of a window frame being turned to matchwood and from the upper floor the breaking of glass.
And then the back door reverberated to the sound of axe blows.
Hawkwood backed away from the door and joined the others behind the table. 'How bad is he hit?'
The back door was shaking under the onslaught.
'The ball went through his shoulder,' Jess Flynn said.
Lasseur reversed the pistol in his hand. 'I'm out of powder.'
Hawkwood looked towards the powder flask he'd left by the sink. Maybe he could still retrieve it.
The wood around the door lock was splitting. Suddenly the axe head appeared in the opening, then withdrew, tearing a great chunk of wood away with it.
Maybe not.
'Me, too,' Hawkwood said. 'But they don't know that.'
Lasseur smiled.
'Stay down, Jess,' Hawkwood said.
Then, suddenly, as if time had come to a halt, it went quiet. The blows on the door ceased. There was no sound from the front of the house either, except for a faint crackling.
'I smell burning,' Lasseur said.
With a crash, the back door swung inwards.
The straw bundles were well ablaze. Three came through the doorway in quick succession, landing in a fiery cascade of sparks. One broke apart, scattering tendrils of fire in all directions. The noises in the parlour intensified as more burning straw was tossed in through the broken windows. Flames reached for the curtains and the furnishings, running up towards the roof beams in ribbons of fire. Smoke began to weave across the floor.
'Out!' Hawkwood yelled. He ran to the door and felt the breeze from the pistol ball as it thudded into the wall. A second gun cracked and he knew then that Pepper did not intend to let them leave the burning building.
Another plate tipped off the dresser and smashed behind him. In the other half of the house, the parlour was well alight and flames had begun to devour the underside of the ceiling. Plaster was splitting from the wall. The smoke was getting thicker and more acrid.
'The cellar!' Hawkwood yelled.
Lasseur pushed the table out of the way. Jess Flynn flung open the trapdoor and as the dog came out like a shaggy brown missile shot from a cannon, she grabbed a handful of fur and hung on tight. The dog yelped and tried to pull free, but with grim determination she strengthened her hold and bundled the protesting animal, claws skittering, back down into the cellar with her. Lasseur bent and scooped Tom Gadd up in his arms. The wounded man groaned as Lasseur carried him down into the darkness.
Hawkwood was about to follow Lasseur down the stairs when his eyes fell on the pail beneath the sink. He guessed it was used to carry water from the stream and as a reservoir for the sink, but he couldn't recall if he'd actually seen water in it. For a split second he hesitated as he heard Lasseur call his name. Then, the decision made, he crossed to the pail. It was half full. Grabbing it, Hawkwood retreated to the pantry. He thought he heard the sound of a shot behind him. Pepper or one of his men must have seen movement within the smoke. Eyes watering, with the heat of the flames lapping at his back, he descended the cellar steps and shut the trapdoor behind him.
'We thought Pepper had got you,' Lasseur said. He sounded angry. 'What were you doing? What's that you've got?' His expression changed when he saw what was in the pail.
Jess Flynn had lit a candle. She handed it to Lasseur, who held it over Gadd's wound. 'Keep it still,' she said.
Gently, she lifted the blood-soaked shirt off the wound and examined closely the rent the pistol ball had made in the material. She pressed the torn edges of the cloth together. Hawkwood knew from experience that she was checking to see if any of the material had travelled into the wound. If it had, there w is more risk of Gadd dying of
