Sharon Penman - The Queen Man

"Abel is not with me. This… this is going to be a surprise. I want him to buy a horse, and I thought if I got the prices and such beforehand, I might persuade him. It would make his deliveries so much easier…"

"It would, indeed," Aldred agreed enthusiastically. "It is lucky for you that I happened along, for I know all about horses and can help you pick out a sound one." Brushing past the Fleming, Aldred began to run his hands down the bay's forelegs. Nell looked over at Gilbert and shrugged helplessly. He was scowling, but there was nothing he could do except play the charade out. Aldred was on the other side of the horse by now, talking about the need to look out for "splints" and to make sure the horse was not "touched in the wind." Nell thought he sounded quite convincing. Just having him beside her was a comfort. She no longer felt quite so vulnerable, so exposed to the outlaw's malice and blade.

Shifting so she could survey the field, she thought all looked perfectly normal and deceptively peaceful, given what was about to happen. Having rejected the white mule, the Black Monks were pacing sedately in their direction, their cowls shadowing their faces. The disappointed vendor was trailing after them, offering to drop the mule's price. Two dogs were romping near the cart, and a fair-haired man was leading his horse toward the pond's edge. When Nell would later replay the scene in her memory, she could not recall anything that seemed amiss, out of order.

And so she was utterly unprepared for the Fleming's action. She would never know what had spooked him. He'd often shown himself to have a sixth sense, an eerie ability to scent danger in the wind, and it was clearly in play now. "I'll get back to you about this," he said abruptly and grabbed for the reins.

"Wait, we're not done talking!"

Aldred's protest was more effective than Nell's. As Gilbert swung up into the saddle, he caught the outlaw's arm and tried to pull him off. Pandemonium followed. Justin and Luke sprinted toward them. So did the mule vendor. The canvas was flung into the air as Jonas erupted from the cart. The only innocent bystander, the man watering his horse, turned to stare and the dogs began to bark. Stunned by the swiftness of it all, Nell stood frozen. Gilbert was cursing, trying to shake Aldred off as his horse skidded sideways on the muddy ground. And then there was a metallic flash in the sunlight, a choked cry from

Aldred, and as blood splattered her face and upraised hands, Nell began to scream.

Aldred slumped to the ground at her feet, and she dropped to her knees beside him, tearing off her veil. His neck was covered in blood, and she tried frantically to staunch the flow. But she was acting instinctively, for none of this seemed real to her, not the moaning youth nor the struggle now going or just a few feet away. Luke had reached them, lunging for the Fleming's reins. But Gilbert lashed out with his foot, kicking viciously at the deputy's head. Luke swerved and the boot caught him on the shoulder, with enough force to send him reeling. Jabbing his spurs into his mount's sides, Gilbert wheeled the horse toward the distant woods.

Nell could only watch helplessly. Jonas was still some distance away, but Justin was almost upon them. When he saw the Fleming send Luke sprawling, he whirled and whistled shrilly. Copper's head came up and then he loped over, reins dangling free. Nell might have marveled at that — a horse better trained than most dogs — but now she had thoughts only for Aldred, terrified that he might be bleeding to death in her lap.

To her amazement, though, he was soon trying to sit up. For all the bleeding, the wound was not life threatening; the Fleming's knife had mercifully missed any veins or arteries. Luke had gotten the wind knocked out of him. Lurching to his feet, he swore hotly and then spun around to get his own horse as Justin shot past them, Copper's flying hooves churning up a shower of mud.

"Dear God, no!" Nell cried out in horror as the realization struck her: the Fleming was going to escape. Justin was in pursuit, but Gilbert's horse had a daylight lead. As for the others, they were out of the game: Luke about to mount his stallion, Jonas on foot and fuming. The closest horse belonged to the gaping bystander. Running toward him, Jonas shoved the astonished man aside and snatched up the reins. But Nell knew it was too late. Once again Gilbert the Fleming would elude capture, free to keep on killing, even to track her down and take his vengeance for her trickery.

"He's getting away!" she screamed, her words breaking on a sob.

Holding her bloodied veil to his slashed neck, Aldred staggered to his feet. "No," he panted, "he is not. Justin told me to cut the knots on his saddle girth."

Nell stared at him, and then swung back toward the chase. Nothing seemed to have changed. Justin had cut into Gilbert's lead somewhat, but not enough. And then it happened. The bay seemed to shorten stride, and suddenly Gilbert was grabbing for

the mane, desperately trying to retain his balance as the saddle started to slip. Within moments, he'd been overtaken by the big chestnut. Kicking his feet free of the stirrups, Justin flung himself onto the other man and they crashed heavily to the ground. Aldred shouted and then began to run unsteadily toward them. Lifting up her skirts, so did Nell.

She could tell that Justin was in trouble, for he was hampered by his long monk's habit, unable to get to his weapons. They were rolling about in the mud, in what looked to be a no-holds barred battle for survival, far more savage than any alehouse brawl she'd ever seen. Breaking free, the Fleming actually smiled, the threatening, feral grin of a man with nothing left to lose. Seeing the dagger glinting in his fist, Nell would have screamed again, but her breath was gone. Justin evaded the first thrust. The second slashed through his sleeve, and the Fleming closed in.

But by then, Luke was there. Jumping from his horse before the animal had come to a full stop, he began to circle the outlaw, driving him back toward Justin. All three men were soon on the ground. But Gilbert continued to resist fiercely, with such frenzied rage and fear that they were having difficulty subduing him, for they were seeking to keep him alive and he sought only to kill. The fight did not end until Jonas galloped up on his commandeered horse. Unlike Justin and Luke, he dismounted without haste, then strode over to the struggling men and kicked the Fleming in the face. He went limp, and at long last, it was over.

~~

Aldred seemed remarkably cheerful to Nell for a man who'd almost had his throat cut. But as she watched him tag along after Jonas like a puppy eager to please, she understood why. Not only had he redeemed himself for his earlier blunder, he'd have a scar well worth boasting about, grisly proof of his heroic confrontation with the murderous Fleming. As far as she was concerned, his money would be no good back at her alehouse. She figured he'd earned himself at least a month's worth of free drinks.

Luke and Justin were still sprawled on the ground, chests heaving, gulping air as greedily as they did the ale they were sharing from Luke's leather flask. Sinking down beside them, heedless of the mud Nell gestured wordlessly and Justin passed her the flask. She knew neither would ever admit it, but both men had been shaken by that brutal, lethal melee. They'd soon be joking about it she never doubted. But not yet.

Jonas had sent someone for a rope and he was roughly binding the hands and feet of the captured bandit. Gilbert had yet to stir, and Nell wondered if he could be dead. With a savagery that surprised her, she found herself fervently hoping so. Men had been known to escape the gallows. But not even one of the Devil's brood could cheat Death. Passing the flask back to Justin, she was surprised to discover that they had drawn a large, curious audience. Off to the right, she caught a glimpse of color, the same shade of bright blue as Nora s mantle. But when she looked again, she saw nothing.