Three weeks passed since the fire at the Endsleigh farm. Although nothing happened in those weeks, John Endsleigh thought they needed to act.
"Something needs to be done," he told the neighboring farmers and their sons who all came to the meeting he called.
"I agree," said Smithson. "It is time we catch these bloody bastards."
"I said before that I wanted to help," added Rogers. "Just tell us what you think is best."
"I suggest we form teams that consist of three men each," Endsleigh said. He had thought this out and had his plan ready. "Each night, two teams must ride out and cross the lands from north to south and from east to west. They should meet each other and exchange information."
"Agreed," said Parker. The others nodded their approval as well.
"And what about me?" the marquis asked. They had not been able to exclude him from this meeting. "I insist you include me and my men in your schedule."
What could they say? John Endsleigh would prefer the lord to stay inside his castle, but the man was headstrong and could not be told.
"Of course, my lord, that goes without saying," he answered.
Between midnight and five o’clock in the morning, two teams of three armed men cruised the Haversham lands in each direction, meeting and reporting to the others when they crossed paths.
Up to now, there were no more attempts to set fire to more farms or crops. The evildoers appeared to be careful. Their master had made some necessary changes to his original plan.
When daylight dawned on another sunny day early in July, Lord Haversham took his leave of John Endsleigh and his son Ned who had been his companions on the patrol.
"We’ll meet again in two days’ time," James said.
"Too bad we never find any trace of these scoundrels," Ned sighed. "I’d like to give them a good beating if I could lay my hands on them!"
"You will do no such thing," James remarked, but his tone was not too sharp. He understood how the young man must be feeling. Sometimes he too found it extremely hard to suppress his feelings of rage and revenge. "If we can catch them in the act, we take them directly to the sheriff, and they shall be tried by the King’s justice," he said firmly, hoping he could convince the younger man of the justness of this course of action.
"And rightly hung," John added, agreeing with the marquis. Then, as a kind of afterthought, he asked: "My lord? Aren’t you coming with us?"
"No. I’d like to check out the boundaries of my woodland where it borders Cheshunt Lodge. Lord Denby, the new owner, has complained about some fallen trees, and I want to see what needs to be done. Better do it now and catch some sleep afterwards."
"Be careful, my lord. You never know…"
"I’ve got a fast horse, a brace of flintlock pistols, and my sword," the marquis laughed. "Don’t worry about me, John. I’ll be safe enough. Besides, those bastards wouldn’t attack in broad daylight--we might recognize them."
The men parted company and James rode on. He followed the broad valley of the river Lea for a while then caught sight of Havers Castle situated off the west bank of the river. It was not exactly a castle anymore. A keep had been erected in the Middle Ages, but later generations had left it to ruin and had built a more modern manor house during Henry the Eighth’s reign. Then years ago during civil war, it was nearly destroyed and costly renovations had been necessary.
He passed through the still sleeping and peaceful village of Cheshunt close by the highroad from London to Cambridge then rode uphill to exchange the Lea valley for an extensive area of broadleaved woodland which made an excellent hunting ground.
When he arrived at his destination, he overlooked the situation near Cheshunt Lodge and made a few mental notes of the things that needed to be done. The thunderstorm of a couple of days ago had felled some birches, and they had landed on the grounds belonging to Cheshunt Lodge. The new owner had been right to complain; the forester should have seen to it. He would have to talk to his man and tell him to be more careful in the future, and he should also see Lord Denby.
They had not been formally introduced. From what he had heard, Denby had a wife and a young son. Perhaps that would be nice for Claire. She still missed being around her family and new female company might cheer her up.
The forest was darker here as the leaves of birch and oak took away most of the direct daylight. Somewhere in the undergrowth something cracked; perhaps a boar or…
Instinct urged James to ride on more carefully and to keep both ears wide open. There it was again, louder this time. He could not be mistaken.
"Is there anybody around?" he shouted, not really expecting an answer. He took the reins into one hand and with the other grabbed for a pistol. He rested it carefully on the knob of his saddle.
More noises.
"Show yourselves, or bear the consequences!"
James’s words went unanswered. He brought his horse to a standstill and waited patiently. After some time he could define the cracking of a bough, the rustle of man-made movement, and he thought he could spot the brown color of a man’s sleeve.
"If you don’t come into the open, I’ll shoot!" he warned sharply. He spurred his mount into a controlled trot and rode towards the clearing between the trees where he believed he saw the man.
When he had advanced some yards, he could see there was not just one man but several. Horses stood tethered further away. Obviously, they had been camping in the clearing for a while but were now ready to depart. A fire had been extinguished, a tent was being dismantled, and some of the men were carrying gear to saddle the horses.
"You men find yourselves on private property!"
When they heard James’s voice and realized their presence was no longer a secret, they cried out a warning. This was followed by fast action. Those men nearest the horses dropped everything and jumped on the bare backs, kicking the steeds into first a trot then a steady gallop. The others ducked behind the trees and drew their guns.
In an automatic reaction, the marquis urged his own steed into a full gallop and started the pursuit. As soon as he had a clear view, he took aim at one of the men and felled him with a single straight shot. He switched the used pistol for the other. Now he had one more bullet left and that one he would keep for their leader.
His eyes fixed on his prey, the marquis did not notice the thin cord that was strung between two oak trees. As he swept past another bush, he was caught in the maze, lifted out of the saddle, and thrown off his horse.
The animal galloped on without him. James landed hard. His head hit a thick root and carried him off into unconsciousness. His last thought before he sank into oblivion was how stupid he had been to run into an ambush.
He did not see nor hear the men turn their horses and ride up to where he had fallen.
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