Highwayman: Ironside Read Online Free PDF

and that had made him blasé, while his fury at the world had made him reckless. He had always insisted that Bella and Grumm conceal their faces during an ambush, telling himself that it would keep them safe, but deep down he knew that his own behaviour would eventually negate any such safeguard. Why had they spent so long at the barn? Why had he chosen to inspect his loot before they were safely back home? No reason, he chided himself as Star gathered pace to a brisk canter, beyond pure arrogance. He prayed they would make good their escape.
    Star burst through a stand of withered brown bracken and out onto the moonlit road. Lyle stood in his stirrups to squint at the approaching posse. There were six of them, and he knew their presence was unlikely to be mere coincidence, for they each wore scarfs the colour of saffron about their torsos and waists, the device carried by many of the men who served William Goffe, the new Major-General of Berkshire, Sussex and Hampshire. Such men were no longer simply the army - they were the law - and to see them riding in strength about a night-fallen backwater spoke of a purpose beyond routine. Orders were bellowed from the lead rider and the main group seemed suddenly to dwindle, the rearmost of their number peeling skilfully away. Good, Lyle thought. Divide and conquer. He raked his spurs viciously along Star's flanks and the big stallion roared its anger, reared briefly, and sped away. He twisted in the saddle to see how many of the pack remained. To his surprise, there was only one, and, though the distance was too great to make out the man's features, he could see enough of the rider to identify him. He was clad in the ubiquitous hide and metal of a cavalry trooper, his head encased in a helmet with a single sliding nasal bar and a tail of riveted steel sheets to protect his neck. In all this, the horseman might have been any nameless trooper thundering along this rain-softened bridleway, but for his scarf. Swathing his torso diagonally, fastened in a large knot at his side like a vast flower in bloom, the garment was made unique by a black smudge at the point where the voluminous material crossed its wearer's shoulder. Lyle could not see the detail, but he knew the device well enough, and the revelation gave him pause. He hauled on Star's reins, stooped forth to whisper into the skittish stallion's pricked ear. "I won't run from him."
    Lyle instructed the snorting beast to turn with deft movements of his wrists and thighs, and Star did as he was bidden, hooves sliding alarmingly in the mud. But he was steady enough, and soon they faced their pursuer, moving into a lively trot.
    The man in the orange scarf was at a gallop now, and his big black horse devoured the ground in a matter of moments. Lyle saw him draw a pistol and he produced the short English flintlock holstered to his left. He was reticent to fire, for Star hated the sound, and the report would doubtless tempt the rest of the posse back to his position, but the armoured man discharged his weapon immediately, its sharp cough making Lyle shrink low behind his steed's thick neck. Star bellowed like a bullock at Smithfield and it was all Lyle could do to keep control, but eventually he was able to straighten and take aim. He shot when the rider was still thirty paces away, knew he had missed, and dropped the reins so that he might draw his second firearm. His attacker had another pistol too, and it was fired quickly, the report agonisingly loud now that they were so close. Lyle ducked, even as his hand groped madly for the butt of his double-barrelled gun, but the lead flew over his right shoulder to smack into a tree some distance behind. Now he had the advantage, levelled his pistol, but the trooper raced past before he could cock the hammer, slashing at Lyle with a hefty looking broadsword, and the highwayman only just managed to avoid its murderous arc, the pistol skipping from his grip to tumble into a muddy rut.
    The foes