He turns around slowly and sees his manly reflection in the mirror and is surprised to see his strong body naked. A loud knock at the door interrupts his wild thoughts. He hears the voice of the Innkeeper’s call. Quickly, he snatches the silk cover from the bed that feels cool and silky on his skin. Gingerly, he opens the door.
“Etty thought you might like some warm water,” Sack says in his bland voice.
“Warm water? Of course, thank you for being thoughtful.”
“And warm towels,” he adds, handing over a bundle of linen, white and bright. “With some face washers,” Sack says, pulling a couple of clean wash cloths from somewhere in his long pockets. “And tar soap.”
“Thank you kindly.”
Garty takes the large jug of hot water and pours it into the basin on the sideboard. I could do with a nice warm wash and lovely warm towels to add to my joyful morning, he muses.
He sings a song as he washes himself from top to toe with the huge lump of soap. As he washed himself, he feels that he should visit the garden and pick the most beautiful flowering plants and bring them to Miss Weasley in a bouquet of fragrance. He wonders which colours would suit her personality best, pink, red, white, yellow. She is probably sleeping soundly by now, after such an adventurous night that they did not wish to end. Pulling on his clothes over his nicely washed and warm body, he could not stop singing for joy. Entering the garden, he begins to pluck a daffodil when he notices the Innkeeper, Slack, walking past with a bucket of feed. Realising that he should ask permission to snap off the beautiful flowers from their beds, he stops and turns to him.
“I was wondering if I might gather a few of your beautiful blossoms to take to Miss Weasley. I will pay for them, of course,” Garty adds, feeling a hot wave sweeping over his face and neck.
Innkeeper Sack stops, holding the bucket aloft. “The Weasley’s left, having some urgent matter to attend to…” He chose his words well, and continues, “You see, the sulky is gone and their horse. They left over thirty minutes ago, in great haste! Before I brought you hot water,” he adds. He continues walking towards the chicken pen.
Garty stands still, stunned!
“In that case, I shall forego this task and do what I must do immediately,” he replies, but the Innkeeper is out of his hearing range.
He dashes inside to grab his cape and hat. Madam Etty walks past at that moment. Garty realises he does not know which way they went? He calls out to her.
“Please, can you tell me which direction the Weasley’s drove? I must catch them anon,” he says.
“Back to their town, I suppose,” she replies, startled at his question as her mind is now on kitchen and cooking. “They live in the Rose Cottage at Hills Reith,” she replies. Then she stops. Her countenance is not a happy one. Her voice becomes low and foreboding.
Garty listens intently.
“Sir, I fear for the young woman. The man was in a frightful state of mind, but they have their rights to leave when they choose to.” She stares into Garty’s face, desiring some explanation that might give her comfort, but he has none to give but the worst kind of information. She asks her question, “Do you know any other reason why they left?” She waits for Garty to reply.
“I discovered that he was drinking a little too much rum yesterday and was quite stern with his sister. I must go in haste to catch them…” Garty replies, not willing to share any more information to his host.
“I shall return when I am satisfied that Miss Weasley is not in harm’s way!”
“Wait,” she says, rushing past him and into the kitchen from whence she had come. A few moments later, she reappears with a cloth full of freshly baked scones, based with lumps of melting butter. “You must eat as you go, and I wish you well,” she says, piling the food into his arms, cloth and all.
Garty is not keen to eat at this point in time, but accepts the food nevertheless. He may feel hungry later. Now, he must get his horse saddled and head towards Hills’ Reith, a place he did notice on his map a few days ago. It is less than a day’s journey, he reckons.
Shortly after, he leapt on his well watered and fed horse, Brill, who is keen to ride as usual. Garty gently kicks his heels into his ribs and they are off at a good trot.
The sun is rising rapidly and Garty knows that he must take a short cut in order to try and meet them on the boundaries of two roads. As they gallop along, his heart races with anxiety as to what might befall his dear friend who delighted him so much that he can barely breathe thinking of their wild night together. Absorbed in his thoughts and what he might encounter when he meets her brother, he does not notice a caravan of marauders coming towards him in the distance. Before he is able to turn away, they spot him.
He recognises the sulky from Maud’s Inn at Scatt a few days ago.
The leader, with his hair flowing behind him and his face intent on finding their prey, shouts.
“That’s him!”
A shot is fired at Garty from about 50 yards.
Garty ducks and weaves on Brill, through the nearby trees in order to get away. He sees there are three men and he cannot imagine how he will survive a gun battle out here in the green hills with few thickets. He had considered trying to negotiate with them when they followed after him to the Gypsies camp, but they did not appear friendly, and now seem determined to kill him. He ducks behind his horse’s head and whispers to his beast, “Faster Brill, faster,” he says, as they gained distance on him. He hears shouts in the distance as bullets whizz right past his ears. He heads towards a small thicket, where there may be a place to hide?
Then it happens. His head strikes a branch on a tree and Garty finds himself flat on the ground. Brill has gone ahead. He shouts to his horse, “Go Brill, go on…” The horse turns back for a moment and then disappears into the nearby thicket. Garty is immediately surrounded by the three men who fired at him. He sits on the ground, winded and sore. Before he can speak, one of the men has his arm around his throat and a pistol at his head. The leader stands above, mocking him. His hair falls across his brow and his leather cape made him appear magnificent and daunting.
Garty recognises him as Black Mack, a notorious bandit who is guilty of causing many serious crimes and known for his treachery. His friends are also notorious bandits, Barley Rock, a man of massive proportions who was once a champion wrestler, chose the path of violence and thievery. The third man, thin and short, Baddy Pin, pale as a ghost, hair like straw, who was a trainee bank teller. Now he is an outlaw of notoriety, the accountant for thieves. Garty knows these three mean business, their reputation being one of brutality and unrivalled success in robbery.
Garty tries to speak, but his chin is locked like a vice by the strong hand of Barley Rock.
“Let him go!” Black Mack speaks in strong language. Barley Rock released his grip reluctantly, squeezing Garty’s jaw so much it almost snaps in two.
Garty swallows with difficulty as vague thoughts and vanishing plans about what he can do to save his own life now drift into his head and out again. Boyhood instincts, long lost in adulthood rear up inside his deepest soul. He needs to find the weak link in the fray, to see a way out of his dilemma. He remembers his pistol is loaded, but now may be used against him. He should have been more careful, quicker and watching more keenly, he chides his mistakes inside his soul. If I can wiggle a little and grab my pistol cock with my fingers, I can fire at least once and cause a scuttle. I can then run towards the trees and take a chance….
A steel boot strikes his cheek as his world morphs into blackness.
He wakes to argumentative voices in the distance. At first he thinks: they are inside my head, demons! I must be in Hell! Slowly, painfully, he opens his eyes. Everything around him appears blurry. At first his thoughts go awry as to what had just occurred, and when this happened, a few minutes ago or did it happen hours ago? He cannot determine this factor. I am in excruciating pain.
His chest is hurting so much that he can barely breathe. He stares at his chest and sees it is shirtless. His jacket and cape are gone. He sees his bare legs and his barely covered hips. They left his underwear as it is shabby and useless to thieves with its patches and holes. He feels his cold, bare feet. They took his boots, that were actually not his at all!
His head falls back in despair, and Garty emits a groan. He tries to get to his feet.
“He’s not dead!” says Barley Rock, kneeling down and punching him in the face, over and over with his iron fist. Garty swoons and falls back against the tree.
“Enough,” the voice of Black Mack is heard. Barley Rock growls as a lion standing over Garty like a champion boxer filled with emotion and strength and ready for another round.
“What do you wish to reveal Mr Garty?” Black Mack asks, also standing over Garty, causing him to try to look upwards at his raging face. His hair fell in tufts onto his leather long coat and jacket. His hat cast a deep shadow over his skin, dark and leathery from years of waiting for victims at noon. His eyes peered into Garty’s face, red blurred lines with lines of anger. Fear is creeping over him as the shadow of Black Mack’s form covers his torso. The sun is retreating and Garty wishes he had too, before this encounter happened. He tries in vain to sit up but pain causes him to feel faint and weak.
“What do you want from me?” Garty struggles to bring out the words and Black Mack steps back a pace. He sees the damage they have done to their victim. “You’ve got my clothes, my money, my pistol…what else do you want?” He stuttered the words as his pain waned and then increased to a high point, like waves inside his body. “I am dying…” he adds, tasting blood in his mouth and spitting it painfully away.
“Where is she?” Black Mack asked, leaning towards him again, in case his hearing was dulled. “Can you hear me speaking? I am Black Mack and I am King of Highwaymen here. You are in our territory!”
“Who?” Garty asked, wondering if they were seeking Joanne and her brother for a moment.
“The princess,” Black Mack said forcefully, his lips curling and spittle landing on Garty’s face. He closes his eyes and tried to shield his face but lifting his arm caused much pain.
“She is invisible!” Garty shouts the words as blood streams from his nose. “She does not exist!”
“Liar,” says Black Mack, becoming furious. “You have been on this mission for years. We know all about you,” he spat again into Garty’s bloody face.
“I have tried to find her but to no avail…” Garty’s words trailed away. It is true, he moaned inwardly.
Black Mack turned to Baddy Pin and Barley Rock.
“So, what lies have you been telling me?”
He believes me! Finally! I know the truth myself.
They step away from their leader.
“We heard that he found her and was bringing her to the King.” Baddy Pin speaks with a jittery voice.
Black Mack shakes his fiery head. “Looks like you were wrong. One hundred per cent wrong.” He heaves a sigh. He turns away from Garty to say his next words.
“We shall needs bring a message to the King’s brother, Axemanix and tell him she is no more!” He turns to Garty.
“So, is she dead or alive in your opinion?”
They stare at Garty.