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Joseph Delaney: The Spook's Mistake

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Joseph Delaney The Spook's Mistake

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As danger increases in the County, Tom is sent far north by his master to be trained by Bill Arkwright, another Spook. Arkwright lives in a haunted mill on the edge of a treacherous marsh and his training methods prove to be harsh and sometimes cruel. But he has toughened up many previous apprentices and now he must do the same for Tom and prepare him for the gravest dangers of his life. But when the Fiend sends his own daughter, the ancient powerful water witch Morwena, to destroy Tom, Arkwright makes an error of judgement and Tom finds himself facing his enemies alone. The Spook and Alice realising his danger, hasten to his aid but will even their combined strengths suffice in the face of such terrible dark power? And what is the Spook's mistake, the consequences of which might give final victory to the dark?

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I kept glancing back, sensing that someone was following me. Could it be the Fiend? Had Alice and the Spook been right all along? I quickened my pace until I was almost running. Dark clouds were racing overhead and there was less than half an hour before the sun went down.

'Snap out of it!' I told myself. 'You're just imagining the worst.'

A short stroll up the hill would bring me to the edge of the western garden and within five minutes I'd be back in the safety of my master's house. But suddenly I halted. At the end of the lane there was someone waiting in the shadows beneath the trees.

I walked a few faltering steps further and realized it was more than just one person — four tall burly men and a lad were staring in my direction. What did they want? I felt a sudden sense of danger. Why were strangers lurking so close to the Spook's house? Were they robbers?

As I got closer, I was reassured: they stayed under the cover of the bare trees rather than moving onto the path to intercept me. I wondered whether to turn and nod at them but then thought it better just to keep walking and not acknowledge them at all. As I passed beyond them, I gave a sigh of relief but then I heard something on the path behind me. It sounded like the chink of a coin falling onto stone.

I wondered if I'd a hole in my pocket and had dropped some of my change. But no sooner had I turned and looked down than a man stepped out of the trees and knelt on the path, picking something up. He looked up at me, a friendly smile on his face.

'This yours, boy?' he asked, holding a coin out towards me.

The truth was I wasn't sure but it had certainly sounded as if I'd dropped something. So I put down my sack and staff, then reached into my breeches pocket with my left hand, intending to pull out my change and count it. But suddenly I felt a coin pressed firmly into my right hand and looked down in surprise to find a silver shilling nestling in my palm. I knew there hadn't been one in my change so I shook my head.

'It's not mine,' I said with a smile.

'Well, it's yours now, boy. You've just accepted it from me. Isn't that right, lads?'

His companions stepped out of the trees and my heart sank into my boots. They were all wearing army uniforms and carried bags on their shoulders. They were armed too — even the lad. Three of them carried stout clubs and one, with a corporal's stripe, was brandishing a knife.

Dismayed, I glanced back at the man who'd handed me the coin. He was standing up now so I could see him better. His face was weather-beaten, with narrow cruel eyes; there were scars on his forehead and right cheek — he'd evidently seen more than his fair share of trouble. He also had a sergeant's stripes on his upper left arm and a cutlass at his belt. I was facing a press gang. The war was going badly and these men had been travelling the County, forcing men and boys into the army against their will to replace those killed in action.

'That's the King's shilling you've just accepted!' the man said, laughing in an unpleasant, mocking manner.

'But I didn't accept it,' I protested. 'You said it was mine and I was just checking my change—'

'No use making excuses, boy. We all saw what happened, didn't we, lads?'

'No doubt about it,' agreed the corporal as they formed a circle around me, blocking any hope of escape.

'Why's he dressed as a priest?' asked the lad, who couldn't have been more than a year older than me.

The sergeant bellowed with laughter and picked up my staff. 'He's no priest, young Toddy! Don't you know a spook's apprentice when you see one? They take your hard-earned money to keep so-called witches away. That's what they do. And there are plenty of fools daft enough to pay 'em!'

He tossed my staff to Toddy. 'Hold onto that!' he ordered. 'He won't be needing it any more and it's good for firewood if nothing else!' Next he picked up the sack and peered inside. 'Enough food here to fill our bellies tonight, lads!' he exclaimed, his face lighting up. 'Trust your canny sergeant. Right, wasn't I, lads? Catch him on the way back up the hill rather than on the way down! Well worth the wait!'

At that moment, completely surrounded, I saw no hope of escape. I knew I had escaped from worse predicaments — sometimes from the clutches of those who practised dark magic. I decided to bide my time and wait for an opportunity to get away. I waited patiently while the corporal took a short length of rope from his bag and bound my hands tightly behind my back. That done, he spun me to face west and pushed me roughly in the back to help me on my way. We began to march quickly, Toddy carrying the sack of provisions.

We walked for almost an hour, first west and then north. My guess was that they didn't know the more direct route over the fells and I was in no rush to point it out to them. No doubt we were heading for Sunderland Point: I'd be put on a boat to take me far south, where the armies were fighting. The longer this journey took, the more hope I had of escape.

And I had to escape, or my days as the Spook's apprentice were well and truly over.

CHAPTER 2

The truth of things

When it was too dark to see where we were going properly, we came to a halt in a clearing near the centre of a wood. I was ready to run for it at the first opportunity but the soldiers made me sit down, and one of them was assigned to watch me while the others gathered firewood.

Normally I'd have been hopeful that the Spook would come after me and attempt a rescue. Even in the dark, he was a good tracker, more than capable of following these men. But by the time he got back from binding that boggart, I'd have been put aboard a ship and would be far beyond help. My only real hope lay in Alice. She'd expected me back and would have been alarmed once it got dark. She could find me too — I was certain of it. But what could she do against five armed soldiers?

Soon a fire was blazing away, my staff tossed casually onto the kindling with the other wood. It was my first staff, given to me by my master, and its loss hurt me badly, as if my apprenticeship to the Spook were also going up in flames.

Helping themselves to the contents of the sack, the soldiers soon had both chickens roasting on a spit and were cutting slices of bread and toasting them over the fire. To my surprise, when the food was ready, they untied me and gave me more than I could eat. But it wasn't out of kindness.

'Eat up, boy,' the sergeant commanded. 'We want you fit and well when we hand you over. You're the tenth one we've taken in the past two weeks and probably the icing on the cake. A young, strong, healthy lad like you should earn us a good bonus!'

'He don't look very cheerful!' jeered the corporal. 'Don't he realize this is the best thing that ever happened to him? Make a man of you, it will, lad.'

'Don't look so down-in-the-mouth, boy,' the sergeant mocked, showing off to his men. 'They might not take you to fight. We're short of sailors too! Can you swim?'

I shook my head.

'Well, that's no barrier to being a Jack tar. Once overboard and in the sea, nobody lasts long. You either freeze to death or the sharks bite off your feet!'

After we'd emptied our plates they tied my hands again, and as they talked, I lay back and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep while listening to their conversation. It seemed that they were fed up with pressing for the army. They were talking about deserting.

'Last one, this is,' I heard the sergeant mutter. 'Collect our pay, then we'll disappear north o' the County and find ourselves some richer pickings. There's got to be better work than this!'

Just my luck, I told myself. One more and then they were finished. I was the very last one they intended to press into service.

'Not sure about that,' said a plaintive voice. 'Not much work anywhere. That's why my old dad signed me up to soldiering.'

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