The Song of the Siren

I saw that I was completely at his mercy. The others would have killed me and thrown my body in a stream or buried it under the trees and nobody would ever know what had become of me. I would disappear ... as Beau had disappeared.

He stretched out beside me eating bread and bacon and drinking from his flask.

He said: “You are a bold young lady, I know. Don’t think I don’t see those flashing eyes. You must realise that you are in ^cute danger. Your hope is in me. You know that. You have stumbled on something which is a matter of life and death ... your death as well as others. You were too curious, mistress. Why did you not go on when there was no room at the inn? Why did you walk into that room when you had no business to?” He leaned towards me. “But, do you know,” he went on quietly, “I am glad you did.”

I did not answer.

I wondered what would happen to me next. I knew he desired me. I knew that he was a man who would have mistresses throughout the country. He was so like Beau in many ways. He did not want to kill me as the others did, at least not until after he had been my lover.

Death was very close but, strangely enough, I felt more alive than I had since Beau had died.

We were in the wood for two hours before we set out again. I was very conscious of his proximity and he was aware of this. I could see by the expression in his eyes that this amused him; but I warned myself against him. He was as ruthless as the rest of them.

They seemed to be making for some special place and I very soon realised that we were heading south. I was all right for now and then I fancied I caught the tang of the sea. We kept away from main roads and at length we came to a house in a very isolated part of the country. It overlooked the sea but there appeared to be no other dwelling for miles around.

We rode into the courtyard and dismounted. As we had ridden along I had been trying to think of ways of escaping from them. That was not going to be very easy, I could see; but the thought exhilarated me. I imagined their rage and fear when they discovered I had gone, and that gave me a certain pleasure.

One thing I had gathered was that General Langdon was no unwilling prisoner; and I came to the conclusion that they had rescued him from the Tower. Surely quite an undertaking, but I already knew that if Hessenfield made up his mind to do something he almost certainly would.

Could it really be that these men were members of that often spoken of Jacobite community who were determined to put James on the throne? That General Langdon was one of them I already knew. I could see what a dangerous intrigue I had fallen into without caring one way or the other for their aims.

I was hustled into the hall. There was an air of absolute quiet about the place.

Hessenfield said: “Better search thoroughly. Every room, every possible spot.”

I looked about the hall.

“Pleasant place,” said Hessenfield conversationally. “We’re lucky to have it.”

“How did you know it would be empty?”

He held up a finger almost playfully. “Really, my dear, must I tell you again not to ask questions?”

I turned away impatiently and I saw the excitement leap up in his eyes and it sent a shiver of apprehension through me which I could not honestly say did not hold a slight touch of pleasure.

One of the men, who was called Geoffrey, returned to the ball.

“All in order,” he said.

“Good. Now for a council of war. First get the invalid to a bed.”

I said: “His leg is bleeding badly. It needs attention.”

They were all looking at me.

“She’s right,” said Hessenfield. “One of you had better see about that doctor. You know where to go.”

Durrell said: “I’ll go.”

“At once.”

“The bleeding should be stopped at once,” I said.

“Help him up and we’ll look at his leg again,” said Hessenfield. He was gripping my arm and two of them carried the General up the stairs. Hessenfield and I followed.

The house was in good order. I could not understand why it should be deserted. There was a wide staircase leading to a landing, and the General was taken into a bedroom and laid on a four-poster bed.

His hose were removed and his breeches cut away. There was an ugly wound on his thigh.

I said it should be bathed and bandaged. That might stop the flow of blood.

“Get water for her,” said Hessenfield.

“I want bandages too,” I said.

It seemed that there were no bandages, but one of them found a man’s shirt in a cupboard and we tore it up. It served well enough.

“How did this happen?” I said.

And Hessenfield gripped my shoulder and laughed at me, reminding me that I was at it again. Questions were forbidden-at least coming from me.

“You understand we have to stop the flow of blood,” I said. “If we don’t he’ll die.

I think I know how to do it.”

I was remembering an occasion when Damaris had cut her arm badly and Leigh had stopped the bleeding. I had watched him fascinated and now it came back to me.

“I need a strong stick,” I said.