Before he’d left the innkeeper, Flynt had asked exactly where Masilda’s farm was, explaining that when he headed back south he would attempt to convince her she should leave with him. Oak Beck Farm was across the bridge, over the hill and down river about a mile, the entrance marked by an ancient oak tree beside a stream, both of which gave the farm its name, Drummond had said, but Flynt didn’t want to risk passing through the village again so they had to navigate a longer way round and find a point at which the River Galwes was shallow enough to ford. The sky had lightened when they finally came upon the tall oak, streaks of colour darting through the clouds as the sun climbed the hills. By that time, Flynt slumped low over the saddle. Gabriel did not remark upon it, but as their horses splashed through the stream he reached out to steady him. Flynt nodded his thanks and straightened, noting the concern on his friend’s face, causing his confusion to deepen.
They climbed up a slight rise to the farmyard, bound on one side by a sturdy, but small, limestone steading with a gorse and heather thatch and on the other a medium-sized timber and clay-walled barn. It was in fine repair and judging by its shape, Flynt suspected it was of cruck construction, with strong curved timbers supporting the roof. He had seen them before in parts of England.
Gabriel seemed prepared to step down but Flynt waved his hand to tell him to remain in the saddle. He recalled Masilda’s reaction when he had used her name without permission so thought it likely she would not take kindly to them dismounting without first being invited. His decision proved wise, for when the farmhouse door opened and she appeared, a musket of some considerable vintage aimed directly at them, her face was as stoney as the walls of her home. Samson was at her heels and eyeing them with the kind of wariness only a dog can accomplish. He didn’t snarl, he didn’t bark, but Flynt could tell he was primed to defend his mistress.
‘Well,’ Gabriel muttered appreciatively when he saw the woman, ‘now I know why you wished to come here.’
Flynt raised a hand to tell Gabriel to hold back as he gently nudged Horse forward.
‘That is far enough,’ the woman said, the weapon unwavering.
‘I mean you no harm, madame,’ said Flynt, aware that exhaustion rasped his voice. ‘We met before, in Gallowmire and…’
‘I remember you, Jonas Flynt, by name. I thought I made it clear I did not require your assistance.’
‘You did, but I regret it’s your assistance I require.’ He freed his right leg from the stirrup and waved his hand towards the ground. ‘May I step down?’
‘You may not.’
There was some satisfaction in knowing that he had judged her correctly, but pain vibrated through his body as he settled back in his saddle. If he did not find somewhere to rest soon he was in danger of falling from Horse’s back.
‘There are men searching for you,’ she said.
Flynt involuntarily cast his eyes around him. ‘They have been here?’
‘They have, early this morning.’
‘Fitzgerald’s men?’
‘Who else would be so bold as to come onto my property without my permission and demand to search my home and my barn?’
‘And you allowed them to do so?’
‘I had nothing to hide and they were too many, even though I had this…’ She twitched the musket slightly.
‘They didn’t attempt to molest you or harm the boy?’
A slight smirk. ‘They were perfect gentlemen, or as perfect as they are able, but I kept them under my gun all the same. They looked for you and some Irishman.’
Her eyes flicked to Gabriel behind Flynt and he took this as his cue to whisk off his hat and affect a bow. ‘Gabriel Cain at your service, madame.’
‘You do not speak the Irish.’
He laughed and adopted the sound of the land across the Irish Sea. ‘Ah, it comes and it goes, darling. Like life and love and laughter.’
Flynt thought Fitzgerald’s men having been here already was a stroke of good fortune. Finding no trace of them, the chances were they would not return. At least, not immediately.
Gabriel had another thought, though. ‘They could have left someone to keep watch, Jonas.’
They both scanned the hillside behind the steading then twisted to examine the road beyond the oak tree. ‘We’re here now,’ Jonas said, ‘the damage may well be done. We’ll have to risk it.’
‘You’ll risk nothing, either of you, for you will not be remaining. In any case, fear not, for they have left nobody to keep watch. They scour the countryside for you and all men are needed for that. But leave you will and now, if you please.’
She emphasised her instruction by raising the musket a little.
‘We’re on the same side, Masilda,’ said Flynt.
‘I am on my own side, and I remind you that I have still not given you permission to be so familiar.’
Gabriel spurred his horse come forward a few steps. ‘Madame, I can assure you that we are both friends to you.’
‘I have no friends in this place. None that would admit it, at least.’
‘There is a saying in Latin,’ Gabriel said. ‘Amicus meus, inimicus inimici mei. Roughly translated it means that we are a friend if we are the enemy of your enemy. We share a common foe in Lord Gallowmire. Jonas here has suffered at the hands of he and his men, hence the reason why we need some shelter, if only for a few hours.’
The musket lowered but not enough to make it less perilous should she decide to discharge it. ‘Why did they abuse him?’
‘They didn’t like my manners,’ said Flynt, feeling himself wilt. Once again, Gabriel put out a hand to steady him.
‘For pity’s sake, madame, have you no charity?’ Gabriel pleaded. ‘A stranger in need should be cared for, should he not? It is mere hospitality we require, a few hours and then we shall be about our business.’
This appeal to her sense of hospitality hit home, for she lowered the weapon further. ‘If they seek you they will come back.’
‘They will come here anyway, sooner or later, whether they seek us or not. You know that,’ said Flynt. ‘At least with us present you will have weapons behind you that will serve you better than that old musket, along with men who know how to use them. And when I have rested, it is my intention to cause them such harm elsewhere that they will have more to concern them than you and Philip Fitzgerald’s desire for this land of yours.’
She frowned. ‘What do you know of that?’
Jagged pain lacerated the deep breath he took. ‘Sufficient to state once more that we are on the same side.’
She thought this over, her eyes reaching past them as if she was looking for more men to ride in. The weapon remained level as she asked, ‘Who was it that gave you the wound on your face?’
‘Your friend, Joshua Cooper.’
‘Was it in payment for the assistance you gave me?’
‘Partly, but also because, as I have already explained, he and his master have taken me into a severe dislike.’
Her lips compressed. Finally, she allowed the muzzle of the weapon to droop. Flynt could not discern if she realised there was some security in numbers or if Gabriel’s appeal to her hospitality was the deciding factor. Whichever it was, he was relieved. Even so, she didn’t invite them to dismount immediately, but instead stared at them, her brow furrowed as she reached a final decision.
Then, eventually, a curt nod, as if she resisted the very idea of it. ‘You may rest in the barn. I will bring you food and you can draw water from the stream.’ She waved a hand towards Gabriel. ‘You seem healthy, so you can fetch it. You will find a bucket in the barn.’
Gabriel gave her an exaggerated bow. ‘I thank you kindly, madame.’
She studied him, her face stern, and seemed to take his measure immediately. ‘I warn you that nobody enters my chamber unless I invite them. I have knives and I will use them if either of you intend to attempt any familiarity.’
Gabriel seemed hurt. ‘Madame, I can assure you that we would do nothing to compromise your good name or, indeed, your virtue.’
‘My virtue was taken long ago and my good name means little, but I am most skilful with a blade and I can slice you like a ham.’
Gabriel smiled. ‘Partial though I am to ham, I am in no hurry to be served as breakfast. You are safe with us.’
Her head bobbed again and she turned away. Gabriel watched her go, his smile broad. ‘My God, Jonas, she is a fine-looking, spirited wench, however did you meet her?’
‘We shared an encounter with Cooper, the large gentleman you incapacitated.’
With a final look at the woman as she snapped her fingers at Samson to follow her, Gabriel took Horse’s reins and wheeled his own steed towards the barn. ‘Well, by the warm reception we have received, I would say that you certainly charmed her.’
‘Charm is not my responsibility,’ said Flynt. ‘I leave that to you.’