Lady Star (Sir Edward 2)

“No, thank you, I have already had my coffee,” Edward said taking the opposite chair at the small round table. “Jules…I have a great deal to say.”

“Right then, ‘ole friend, say it,” Jules encouraged.

“I was held up last night on my return trip from Hastings…”

“What?” Jules exclaimed and interrupted him. “By God, man! Were you hurt? Are they still alive or did you send them to their maker as you have in the past?” He was bright with his sudden excitement.

“Websly and I could have put all four in the ground. I chose not to this time,” he said slowly.

“Why?” Jules studied his face.

“Ah. I followed my instincts, my old friend as I am going to do now.” He then said grimly, “There is something else on my mind, something you and I must talk about, right now.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Star. I want to talk about Star.”

* * *

“Eh there, Farley, come on then,” the bartender at the Mermaid Inn said. It was early morning and Farley lay sprawled in his chair, his cheek flat on the round table before him. Two of his men were in similar positions.

Two more were under the table, flat out, their mouths open. The table was covered with empty tankards. The bartender was weary after a long hard night, and what he wanted was his bed, so he shoved Farley’s shoulder hard and repeated, “Come on, then, up wit ye, man!”

Farley groaned and shifted. He opened one eye and stared at the large man growling at him. Where the hell was he? Ah, yes, the Mermaid. Spent a fine round on drinks he had…

The bartender pushed him again and Farley groaned, “Ah, for the love of…stubble it! Whot be the matter wit ye man? Just leave me in peace.”

“Devil wit ye!” shouted the bartender. “Oi wants me bed, Oi do, so O

i’m off. Ye’ll have to answer to Mrs. Bukes when she comes in, and that, Oi promise ye, won’t be pretty.”

Mrs. Bukes was never without her pistol and she had been known to use it on more than one occasion. Farley moaned and said, “Mrs. Bukes is it?” He tried straightening and moaned again as every muscle in his body ached, and his head, lord, he thought, it must be twice its original size!

He kicked the chubby man beside him and said, “Up wit ye…” thus he managed to get up from the table and stretched. Moodily he kicked one of the men beneath the table and told him, “Ye too…up.”

Between snorts, groans and curses his men began to rouse themselves. One man yawned loudly and Farley poked him in the head and said, “Ally, up wit ye…come on ye tallow-faced swine, up with all of ye!”

The first discernible complete sentence that came to mind as he looked around at his men’s faces and saw their bloodshot eyes was Damn Sir Edward’s soul!

He had spent a hellish night in spite of the fact that he had imbibed more than his usual quota of alcohol and all because of that flash covey. He looked outdoors and saw that it was a bleak day, raining in fact, and he cursed the fates.

If he had blunt to spare, he would take a room at the Inn and just sleep it off, but because of the flash, he was near out of funds. Their luck had apparently run out—may the flash covey rot in hell. If he could do Sir Edward an injury, he would, he damn well would, just for the pleasure of it.

A tricky business that. He had quickly come to the conclusion that this particular flash cove, was not cut in the ordinary style.

His day had been plagued by the man. First, Sir Edward had interrupted his designs for Star Berkley. Then, who should be in the coach they held up, but the same devil. Who has luck like that? No one, which meant, from now on, he would have to tread carefully, for he took it as a sign.

Sir Edward was no one to fiddle with. He could still remember the sound of the man’s voice in his ear last night in the dark and the memory struck him with a terror he rarely experienced. Sir Edward had told him in a voice that belonged to the devil himself, “You will take your crew and yourself and find new hunting ground. Do you understand me? Because the next time I come across you in Rye, I shall not hesitate to first injure you from your head to your crotch before putting you out of your misery. Understood?”

“Don’t see ‘ow Oi can do that, guv,” Farley had grumbled though his body quaked with fear.

“And I don’t see how you can do anything else and survive.”

The memory of how those words were said shook him now to the core. He could no longer hound the young lord for the information he had so desired. No longer would there be easy pickings at estates whose gentry and staff had gone off to London, Brighton or abroad.

Right, so how could he continue to rob the rich old nabobs while they were away, if he couldn’t find out this information from the young lord? And he couldn’t ride the highway as a toby…not with the flash on his tail. How was a man to make a living?

Then he remembered just how Sir Edward had looked at the young lord’s sister, Miss Berkley. A plan formed in his busy brain, his toothless grin appeared across his face and he said, “Eh lads, listen up here. Oi gots me a plan, oi does.”