ROOK AND RAVEN: The Celtic Kingdom Trilogy Book One (26 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

              Tim tracked down the guv pretty quickly.  He knew on Tuesdays he would be at Tattersall’s with all the other swells looking at the prime horseflesh and break downs of the horse mad in London.  Tim had been here twice, once with the guv as a treat from Mrs. Jess and once (before he became respectable an all) he had picked a slow tops pocket here. But today he had no time to appreciate the horses or the crowds, no time to enjoy the experience of being at the center of the London horse trade. 

It wasn’t hard to find his target who stood front and center of the main ring with a tall, dark haired bloke who, to Tim’s street wise eyes, looked like trouble.  This was the kind of gent you’d never take a chance at picking if you had more than a pea for a brain.  He had dangerous written all over him even if he was pretending to be bored and haughty.  The other swells might fall for the act but Tim could see the way those eyes were sharp under the heavy lids and though he was pretending to be languid and indolent, Tim could see he wasn’t, not a bit.  

Tim also wasn’t deaf or blind and he had a pretty good idea who this man was and where he had spent last night.  Tweenie and Mary had been whistling and humming with happy excitement, but Tim planned to give this one a good look over himself and make his own judgment.  Women weren’t always bright about men and it was his job too to protect Mrs. Jess.  He hadn’t known Captain Powers but he had heard enough to know it would take a big man to fill those shoes. 

              He was debating how to get the guv’s attention when the dark man he took for Redsayle, with some sixth sense, turned his head and met Tim’s eyes.  Tim had already heard about those eyes, golden they were, so this had to be the Earl of Redsayle.  The Earl nudged Lord Carvell, whispered something and then both men, acting casual as could be, made their way over to Tim and walked right past him.  The guv mumbled to Tim out of the side of his mouth,

“Outside.”

              Following them to a secluded corner around one of the outbuildings David looked down at the winded Tim with a serious expression.

              “Out with it.  What has happened?”

              Tim looked sideways at the other bloke, the earl, uncertainly but the guv put a hand on his shoulder.

              “Tim you can talk in front of this gentleman.  This is my best friend the Earl of Redsayle, and an old friend of Mrs. Powers.  So, spit it out young one. It must be urgent for you to have run all this way.”

              Tim took a deep breath and did just that as best he could.  Before he knew what had happened he found himself tossed onto the back of Adlais racing neck or nothing through the city closely followed by the scary looking Earl who had a face like thunder.  Tim had to admit it was all rather exciting except for what had happened to poor Martin.  He had been terrified to see Mrs. Jess and her parasol going up against a knife. She hadn’t just poked that horrible bad man in the eye, he’d swear she’d driven that sharp end straight through to his brain pan.  He hadn’t known his mistress had it in her but she had waded into the battle like a lioness.  Mr. Mick filling that frightening man full of holes too, using a knife better than any of the cutthroat street criminals Tim had grown up with, had been mighty impressive. 

              Now they had two dead bodies in the house and the one was bleeding black, which scared Tim to his toes.  What thing walked like a man, looked like a demon, bled black and moved like he had? He had seen the strangely shaved head and tattooed lips, the black oozing out of that creepy figure and knew he was no ordinary man. As they slipped on filthy cobbles, scared the pedestrians and jumped carts he filled the guv in on the details.  The Earl had drawn alongside on the wideness of Oxford Street and heard Tim telling the guv about Murphy killing that raven too. That as much as the attack seemed to put an even more lethal look in those strange golden eyes.

              The guv didn’t say a word until he told the part about Mrs. Jess and the parasol which elicited a forceful “Damned bloody minded woman!” And Tim knew it was because the idea of the danger she had put herself in scared the guv as much as it had him.  Picturing the scene again as they rode, Tim had to admit if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Jess and Murphy even Mick might have found himself lying beside Martin.  Who knew what would have happened to the rest of them?  Would that man have killed them all? Tim couldn’t help the shiver that passed over his thin body.

              The slid to a halt at the front door, the horses nearly losing their footing in all the black and red that had seeped across the paving. Throwing themselves off their mounts the guv tossed his reigns to Tim to handle the winded Adlais, but the Earl he noticed had stopped to eye the blood on the stones yet to be washed away.  He watched him walk over to the black pool of blood and seem to
sniff
it (which turned Tim’s small stomach) and then pick up the dead raven and smile with grim satisfaction after inspecting it.  It was only then that Tim noticed the raven was much larger than the usual and had two too many eyes.  He found himself pinned by the Earl’s strange golden gaze and he shifted uneasily.  He still wasn’t sure about this intense and dangerous man, a man pretending to be something he wasn’t.

              “What is your name again boy?”

              “Tim milord,” he found his voice cracking annoyingly and flushed.

              “You did well to find us so quickly Tim.  Your mistress is fortunate to have you,” He paused and then brought himself to eye level with Tim, the light catching those gold eyes like a hawk. Then he asked the most unexpected question, “Have a sling shot Tim?”

              “No milord,” Tim answered in obvious confusion, “Had one once but Mrs.

Bird took it away,” he scuffed a shoe on the pavement and hung his head. He admitted with shame mixed with resentment, “I got in trouble fer shootin’ Mr. Hartley’s,” and here he gestured two houses down, “little fat bit of thing he calls a dog and that was that.”

              “Being a boy I would assume you would like one?” this was fast turning into the strangest conversation Tim had ever had under any circumstances.  Tim was pretty sure despite the drama of the situation he had seen that long mouth twitch, suppressing a smile, when he told him he had shot that fat little dog.  He hadn’t killed it or nothing, just shot it in the arse and it had run about squealing like a little pig.  Mr. Hartley had acted like one of his own children had been shot.

              “Yes milord I would,” he said cautiously.  The swells didn’t hand out presents without strings, usually nasty ones, attached to them.

              “I will bring you one on a single condition,” the Earl smiled and it made the hair on the back of Tim’s neck raise up.  This man was almost as strange and frightening as the priest but, Tim was beginning to sense he was a good ’un none the less.  This could be just the kind of man to watch after Mrs. Jess. 

Seemed to him only a fool would cross this lordship.

              “You will master the slingshot and any of these ravens you see, any at all, you will kill with that weapon,” Tim’s eyes went huge.  A weapon the Earl said, not a boy’s toy but a
weapon
that he was being given orders to use.  He found himself standing straight as he could, took off his hat and placed it over his heart.

              “I promise I will become the best with a slingshot wot yer ever did see your lordship.  It was with that nasty priest/man I heard Mrs. Birdie say. She said it was a spy!” Tim’s eyes were wide at the idea a bird could be a spy but after seeing that thing that looked like a man but had blood that weren’t human he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.

              “It was. You can help us protect your mistress young Tim and if you can kill those evil birds for us then you will have done a great service.  I won’t lie to you.  It may make a target of you by these evil men if they know you kill any of their spies.  Are you willing to take that chance?”

              “I owe Mrs. Jess me very life your lordship.  Anyone wot wants ter hurt her I be willing to do anything to stop.  Get me that slingshot and I’ll kill every one of them bloody birds.  I promise!”  Tim said vehemently.  

              “Then it’s a deal,” and much to Tim’s shock the Earl shook him by the hand like a real live gentleman’s agreement. “Only no more targeting anyone’s pets, including the fat one down the street,” and Tim found himself smiling for the first time today.

              “Now get some buckets of water and get this blood off the pavement. Off with you now!” and the Earl bounded up the stairs into a house in turmoil.

              Martin’s body had already been washed, redressed and was ready to be taken away.  Birdie had written a message and borrowed a groomsman from the Waterston’s house next door to deliver messages. Notes were sent to the church Martin had attended on Sundays asking the vicar to arrange for burial, and to the local undertaker.  Jessy had been gone upstairs with the satchel and to check all the windows were locked.  Mick was busy gathering and loading his own and Mr. Michael’s weapons.  He had taken down from above the fireplace in the parlor the Captain’s sword.  With reverent hands he had cleaned it and then with a silent prayer asking Michael’s blessing, belted it on. 

He had already made sure Mrs. Jess had two cleaned and loaded pistols on her with stern instructions to never be without them.  He knew she was a prime shot and planned to find her a good sticker she could carry too.  Everyone in the house right down to Tim and Tweenie would have some kind of weapon to hand.  Mary he knew always carried a knife under her skirt ever since she had been the victim of rape by her former employer. He had made sure she knew how to use it long ago. 

He didn’t know what the hell was going on but he trusted Lord Carvell to sort it out, so was relieved when he heard his familiar voice in the hall.  He wanted to know desperately what had happened at the bank today as it was clear that priest wanted what Mrs. Jess had withdrawn.  All he could hear was Mr. Michael’s dying words.

“Keep her safe Mick, her and the child.  It’s your job now my friend,” Blood had dreadfully bubbled around his best friend and master’s lips. Michael had struggled for a breath, his body shaking, his lips turning blue, “Get the crown to Sean, and the letter,” another agonizing gasp before he continued, eyes staring into the distance, “I saw, I saw,” he seemed to ramble.

“No one must know about - about the baby, just ff-family.  Promise?” pleading eyes no longer entirely seeing him had begged him, simple Mick the country boy feeling overwhelmed and so full of grief he felt the hot tears streaking the blood and mud on his face.  He had promised as he held his childhood friend, his officer, and his master in his arms.  The nearly decapitated body of the bastard who had shot him in the back lay behind them.  The mud and blood of the battlefield covered them both and the Captain’s body had eventually grown colder even than the mud they lay in.  It had been the worst day of Mick’s life.  He’d served as friend and then batman to Michael Powers.  They had been friends, despite their different stations, all their lives and the hole that opened up in his life threatened to swallow him whole.

Someone had taken Mr. Michael from him and Mrs. Jess but
no one
was going to harm a hair on the head of Mr. Michael’s widow or her child as long as he had breath in his body.  It had hurt them all, no one understanding, when Michael had begged him to keep the child a secret.  Hadn’t it been the reason he married Mrs. Jess? To give her and the babe a name? But a dying wish, especially from a man with the sight, would be held to by the Power’s family.

And now here they were with all these goings on and he began to understand Michael had somehow known and done what he must to protect his wife and her child.  It seemed whatever danger his old friend had seen was now coming to pass.

He heard another voice enter the hall he didn’t recognize but some instinct told him who it was and he felt rage fill him.  

The Earl had come back, the one he knew had abandoned Mrs. Jess and Trystan and now he walked into her home bold as brass.  He knew the man had been here last night in the wee hours and was the one who had sent all those daffodils too.  Those damned flowers were all over the house. He had no right to tell his mistress who to take to her bed, but he wished he did, and clenched his fists tight. Mick needed someone to take his fear and anger out on and he charged like a bull out of the butler’s pantry he had turned into a weapon’s room.

Most aristocratic gentlemen would have seen that big, muscular, broken nosed and battle scarred man and high tailed it out the front door.  Redsayle stood his ground. He then took the wind out of Mick’s sails by bowing his head.

“Mick O’Bannon you have my eternal gratitude.  As does the mighty Murphy,” and Mick saw in shock that the cat who bit, scratched or hissed at anyone but him or Mrs. Jess was cradled in the Earl’s arms looking content as a well fed baby.  Mick suddenly felt like his hands were too big and didn’t know what to do with them so he focused on loosening the fists he had made.

“You’ll have my gratitude Lord Redsayle if you don’t do anything else to hurt Mrs. Powers.  I think you did enough in her past. Not much we who work in this house don’t know and not a one of us that won’t defend her against anyone.  Don’t matter how high and mighty they be.  If you have plans to do her more harm you can get out of this house.  I think you best be letting us know sooner than later what your intentions are.  I fixed the trellis this morning,” he informed the earl with a certain menace.