Joseph Delaney - The Spook's Mistake

'It's a job for the constable, not me,' Arkwright said with a scowl.

'Three weeks ago they beat the constable to within an inch of his life. He's only just risen from his sick bed and will do nothing now. He knows what's good for him. So help us, please. Food's scarce enough anyway, but if they carry on like that once the winter sets in proper, we'll starve for sure. They take everything they can lay their hands on. '

Arkwright shook his head and tugged his sleeve free of the woman's grasp. 'Maybe when I pass this way again, I'll see. But I'm too busy now. I've got important business that just can't wait!'

With that, he continued up the incline, the dogs racing ahead, and the old woman shuffled sadly back inside her cottage. I felt sorry for her and her village but thought it was strange that she should ask Arkwright for help. After all, it wasn't spook's business. Did she really think my master could take on an armed gang? Somebody should send a message to the High Sheriff at Caster — no doubt he'd send another constable. And what about the men of the village? Couldn't they band together and do something? I wondered.

After about an hour climbing up into the fells, we saw smoke ahead. It seemed to be coming from a hole in the ground, and I realized that the rocky bank we were crossing was the roof of the hermitage. After descending some well-worn stone steps we came to the entrance of a sizeable cave.

Arkwright made the dogs sit and wait some distance away, and then led the way into the gloom. There was a strong smell of wood smoke inside the cave and my eyes watered. But I could just make out the form of someone squatting before a fire, his head in his hands.

'And how are you, old man?' Arkwright called out. 'Still doing penance for your sins?'

The hermit made no reply but, undeterred, Arkwright sat down on his left. 'Look, I know you like to be alone so let's get this over with quickly and we'll leave you in peace. Have a look at this and tell me where she's to be found. '

He opened his bag, pulled out a crumpled rag and unfolded it on the earth floor between the hermit and the fire.

As my eyes adjusted to the poor light, I could see that Judd Atkins had a white beard and a wild mop of unruly grey hair. For almost a minute he didn't move. In fact he hardly seemed to be breathing, but at last he reached forward and picked up the witch's finger. He held it very close and turned it over a few times, seemingly rapt.

'Can you do it?' Arkwright demanded.

'Are lambs born in spring?' the hermit asked, his voice barely more than a croak. 'Do dogs howl at the moon? I've dowsed for many a long year, and when I've put my mind to it, nothing's defeated me yet. Why should that change?'

'Good man!' Arkwright cried, his voice filled with excitement.

'Yes, I'll do it for you, William,' the hermit continued. 'But you must pay a price.'

'A price? What price?' Arkwright said, astonishment in his voice. 'Your needs are few, old man. That's the life you've chosen. So what can you want from me?'

'I ask nothing for myself,' the hermit replied, his voice growing stronger with every word. 'But others are in need. Down in the village hungry people live in fear. Free them from that and you shall have what you desire. '

Arkwright spat into the fire and I saw his jaw tighten. 'You mean that lot up at Saltcombe Farm? That press gang? You expect me to sort 'em out?'

'These are lawless times. When things fall apart, someone must put them back together. Sometimes a farrier must mend a door or a carpenter shoe a horse. Who else is there, William? Who else but you?'

'How many are there?' Arkwright asked at last. 'And what do you know about them?'

'There are five in all. A sergeant, a corporal and three soldiers. They take what they want from the village without paying.'

'A press gang was taking people near Chipenden,' I said with a frown. 'They captured me and I was lucky to get away. Five of them too, so it sounds like the same lot. I don't want to meet them again. One of them's only a boy not much older than me but the sergeant's a nasty piece of work. They're armed with clubs and blades too. I don't think you'd be able to take them on, Mr Arkwright.'

Arkwright stared at me, then nodded. 'The odds are against me,' he complained, turning to the hermit again. 'There's only three and a half of us — me, two dogs and a lad who's wet behind the ears. I've a trade of my own. I'm not the constable—'

'You were a soldier once, William. And everyone knows you still like to crack heads, especially after you've been at the bottle. I'm sure you'll enjoy the experience.'

Arkwright came to his feet and looked down at the hermit, his face filled with fury. 'Just make sure it's not your head I crack, old man. I'll be back before dark. In the meantime get on with it. I've wasted enough time already! Have you got a map of the Lakelands?'

Judd Atkins shook his head, so Arkwright rummaged in his bag and pulled out a folded map. He placed it in front of the old man. 'Try that!' he snapped. 'Her lair will be there — I'm sure of it. Somewhere close to one of the southern lakes.'

That said, he left the cave and marched east at a furious pace.

We hadn't travelled far from the hermit's cave when Arkwright stopped, settled himself down on a grassy bank and opened his bag. He pulled out a bottle of red wine, drew the cork with his teeth and started to swig from it.

I stood there unhappily for a while, wondering if this was the best preparation for dealing with dangerous thugs, but the hermit had made a good point — Arkwright was always much more aggressive after a drink. He must have seen the look on my face because he scowled and gestured angrily for me to sit down.

'Take the weight off your feet, Master Ward. That, and the misery from your face!' he exclaimed.

Sensing that his mood was worsening, I obeyed immediately. The sun was sinking towards the horizon and I wondered if he intended to wait until after dark before attempting to deal with the press gang. That seemed the most sensible thing to do. Either that or go in at first light while they were still groggy with sleep. But Arkwright was an impatient man who, probably by choice, often did things the hard way.

I was right. He soon finished off the wine and we were on our way again. After about ten minutes I came up alongside him. I was curious and wanted to know if he had some sort of plan.

'Mr Arkwright. ' I began tentatively.

'Shut up!' he snarled. 'Speak when you're spoken to and not before!'

So I dropped back again. I was angry and a little hurt. I'd felt that I was starting to get along better with Arkwright but it seemed that not much had changed. The Spook sometimes silenced me, saying that questions could come later, but he never did it so aggressively and rudely. No doubt my new master's manner could be blamed on the wine.

Soon we came to a ridge and Arkwright halted, shielding his eyes against the setting sun. I could see a house below, brown smoke drifting up almost vertically from its chimney. It lay at the head of a narrow valley. No doubt it had once been a hill farm specializing in sheep, but now there were no animals to be seen.

'Well, that's it!' he said. 'Saltcombe Farm. Let's go down and get it over with. '

He strode off down the incline, making no effort to keep out of sight. Once down in the valley, he made straight for the front door, which I expected to spring open at any moment as the gang raced to attack us. When he was less than twenty paces away, he came to a halt and turned to face me, nodding down towards the two dogs.

'Hold their collars firmly and don't let them go,' he ordered. 'When I shout "Now!" release them. But not before. Understand?'