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  “What are you going to do then?” Neets sounded confused and I have to admit so was I. “Whatever it is, I want to help, Bryn. I know what you must be going through.” I waited for her to say the ‘I…’ words, but like Bryn she kept them locked away and shut up. The two unspoken sentences drifted away in the wind, but when a clap of thunder exploded directly overhead, Neets grabbed Bryn’s hand and the young Welshman made no move to reclaim it. Need for the non-existent vomit-bag yet again.

  Seconds became minutes, but probably seemed to last the eternity of a moment for the two of them.

  Bryn broke the magic of the silence. “Will you meet me here tomorrow night?”

  “Why?” It seemed a silly question, but Neets was nearly a woman and probably wanted Bryn to tell her.

  He hesitated. “Because I want you to.” Then he added, “I really would like you to, please. Besides I’m going to Schwartz to try to get information for my father, not to betray him and if I can find out for sure where the wreckers are going to operate tomorrow night then my dad will be able to capture the lot. And…and I like you.”

  Outwardly Neets smiled serenely. But I knew my cousin, and I could see that inwardly she leapt to her feet, gave a whoop of delight and reacted very much like Arthur had when he’d discovered Merlin was really a woman. “Very well, Bryn,” she said calmly. “If that’s what you’d like I’ll be here at eight o’clock tomorrow night. Don’t be late. Now go if you must.”

  Bryn stood up and helped Neets to her feet. He was still holding her hand and showed no sign of letting go. I wondered if this was going to be the right moment for their first kiss, or even for a quick peck on the cheek, but given the circumstances they formally shook hands. Then Neets nearly choked when I walked out from behind the bush.

  “I don’t know,” I said shaking the surplus water out of my hair, “I leave you two alone for a few minutes and you go all romantic on me. Plus you make plans to deliver yourself on a plate to Schwartz. And you think it’s all fine, Neets. Bryn, you’re a fine pair. What makes you think Schwartz will believe you hate your dad all of a sudden and spill the beans, boy?” I reckoned that might shake him up a bit. “After 17 years you’re suddenly on his side? I don’t think so.”

  “And what do you propose instead…girl?”

  Was that the best he could do?

  “I’ll go to him.” I carried on before they could come to their senses and realize what I’d just said. “I’ll go because I can make him believe me. He was vain in Camelot and he’ll be the same here. He won’t understand why I should hate him even though he’s already tried to kill me once here. He’ll think that I really must want to join his gang of thugs, just for the adventure of it. It’s a street credibility thing… boy.”

  Bryn and Neets still stared with their mouths open but gave the slightest of nods.

  “So I’ll be going, but meet me here at eight tomorrow night, like Bryn said. Then I can tell you where the wreckers will be. On the other hand, if I’m not here, get Gawain to rescue me because I’ll probably need it! With my luck I’ll be chained to those rings in the Salt House!”

  Before they could answer I turned and walked into the night up the muddy cliff path towards the wreckers’ stronghold and an uncertain reception. I must have been mad!

  I stopped near the cliff top and by the light of their storm lantern watched Neets and Bryn disappear into the darkness back to the manor house. I could have been mistaken but it looked to me as though Neets was floating on a cloud of happiness. Poor cow.

  Chapter Seven

  The Wrecker’s Lair and Several Ways to Die

  I struggled up the path to the top of the cliffs not daring to look back in case I chickened out and decided to follow the lovebirds back to Gawain’s house.

  The storm was less furious than before and the rain had slowed to a steady drizzle. The moon appeared as a dull glow through the clouds, but gave little light to see by, so I used instinct, plus old mumbled instructions from Bryn and the unreliable back of my hand, to avoid the gorse bushes and unseen rabbit holes.

  I soon passed the beacon where earlier we’d met up with Gawain and walked on towards the villages of Mewslade and Rhossili. Schwartz’s house - most would call it a fortress - was perched on a small rise set back from the headland and gave excellent advance warning of any unwelcome visitors. To Schwartz these would have been Revenue Men, Redcoats, Gawain and his men, or people he owed money to. Welcome visitors were probably very few and far between and included… well, they were probably very few. I approached Schwartz’s house with a feeling of extreme nervousness and stopped several feet from the gateway, standing with my arms and legs spread wide apart to show I had no concealed weapons, though I was sure that whoever was watching me was armed to the teeth.

  I heard a click as the hammer of a flintlock musket was pulled back and I could almost feel the owner taking careful aim. A second click meant he was ready to fire and I knew that Schwartz’s men in Camelot had a habit of firing arrows first and not even bothering to ask questions afterwards, except of course I wonder who he was? Here was probably the same and I dodged to one side, held up both hands and shouted at the top of my voice.

  “Don’t shoot! It’s me Tertia. I want to see Mr. Schwartz and I think he’ll want to see me.” I stood very still and hoped the fact that the musket hadn’t been fired yet meant that the guard was considering whether to let me in. Of course it could also have meant that the gunpowder in the firing pan had got wet, in which case the guard was probably picking up a dry musket and would be shooting me any moment now. I screwed up my eyes and tried to make out any movement, but nothing stirred. I counted to ten then slowly moved into what little light there was in front of the gate keeping my arms outstretched so the guard would know I was no threat. There were still no shots.

  “What do you want with Mr. Schwartz? He don’t like visitors.” The unseen guard was probably running through a script and had no intention of deviating, which promised to make the conversation interesting as it progressed.

  “First of all get me out of the rain and then I’ll tell Mr. Schwartz why I want to see him.”

  I’d completely thrown the guard. Not only had his target failed to answer the questions in the correct order, but I was now making demands. In desperation he shouted, “Open the gate!”

  I started to walk forward and nearly died when a hand clamped on my shoulder and a voice whispered in my ear. “Careful, Tersh. Don’t look too eager. I’m right behind you.”

  I nearly smacked her, but gave Neets a little hug instead. It seemed more ladylike. “What the heck are you doing here? You should be back home with Bryn and Gawain. Not risking both our lives.”

  “I told Bryn to go back home, make up with his dad and act his age. I also told him to leave the dangerous work to the professionals and that we’d see him tomorrow.”

  It sounded fair enough, except for the professionals bit and I wondered for a moment where my Inspector Smollett was, but only fleetingly. “I saw you walking back to the manor house. What possessed you to join me here?”

  “Think about it. The Black Knight knew we did everything together in Camelot as Merl’s Girls. Now he’s Schwartz and knows we’re both here so if only you turn up on his doorstep and say you think he’s great and want to join him, he’ll probably kill you. But if we both say we want to join him and have a good story to back it up then he may believe us.”

  “Ah! A credible story!” I spotted the flaw in Neets’s plan. I watched nervously as the gates slowly opened. The guard was looking totally confused at our delay and was using one hand to pull the gate while trying to keep the pistol he held in his other hand leveled at our advancing figures. Beyond the entrance I could make out a large dimly-lit courtyard and a group of men, all of whom seemed to be heavily armed and staring in our direction. I licked my lips as we walked under the gate archway and into Schwartz’s lair. It all seemed so simple, but then getting caught in the spider’s web is always easy. Getting
out is the problem.

  I looked round the courtyard through the heavy drizzle, attempting for the moment to ignore Schwartz’s men. Two oil lamps gave what little light there was, but I guessed that Schwartz would be keener to work in the dark rather than in broad daylight, or even any lamplight that might attract attention. Sweat poured off a line of horses in steaming clouds as they were led to their stables by a couple of men probably too old to go out wrecking anymore. Wooden barrels were stacked untidily as though having just arrived, while next to them was a pile of plunder that included bales of cotton and broken crates full of food ruined by sea water. It all pointed to recent activity and to my mind, severe mischief.

  “Tertia and Unita, the two little tramps from Camelot.” I hate being called little! “So in spite of my warnings you’ve come to see me.” Schwartz stood in the entrance to his house looking as though he didn’t have a care in the world. He leaned against the doorjamb and chewed a lamb bone as he studied us. “Why are you here? You and I have what you might call a history, both here and in Camelot.” He laughed. “So I presume you’re not here on a goodwill visit. Speak, or I should tell you that my men have some interesting ways of loosening tongues. They may even let you keep them in a jar afterwards.”

  I stared at Schwartz. This was the Black Knight who had tried to wreck Camelot, nearly killed my parents and laid waste to Neets’s home. This was the man who for more than seventeen years had been terrorizing the area around Port Eynon and wrecking any ship that strayed too close to the shore on a stormy night. We’d delivered ourselves like lambs to the slaughter and didn’t even have a plausible story.

  “I repeat, little girls,” the man really knew how to hurt! “why are you here? Does the rest of your pathetic gang know you’re here?” Schwartz was still smiling. “I rather think not, so it implies that either you and the rest have fallen out, or you’re here to spy on me. Could it be you’ve at last discovered that the famous Sir Gawain is nothing but a vain, empty liar and been deceiving you all these years? Is that why you’re here?”

  God, he was clever. I’d never have thought all that out. I’d never noticed Schwartz’s bald head in Camelot because he’d always worn a wig and now I was definitely facing the man who had tried to throw me from the church tower and who I’d seen riding away on his horse near Bryn’s house. Somehow the lack of hair made the man look not only more villainous, but a lot less credible when he twisted the truth. I grinned up at the bald-headed gorilla, put my hands on my hips and tried to look brave.

  “Yes, you’re right.” I almost shouted the words hoping that volume would make my anger seem more believable. Neets nodded. “Gawain blames you for everything that’s gone wrong in his petty little life, including the death of his wife, which is crazy, because as everyone knows it was just a riding accident.”

  “Could have happened to anyone,” said Neets. “He’s definitely got it in for you.”

  “Ah yes. The beautiful Marie,” Schwartz said with a theatrical sigh. “Such a tragedy. Her horse bolted in a storm not unlike tonight’s and crashed over the cliffs into the sea… or so I understand.” He tossed the remains of the lamb bone into the courtyard for the dogs to fight over. “I would have thrown you from the church tower to stop you getting here, girl, so why would you still want to join me and why should I let you?”

  He was asking bloody difficult questions and I decided that the only way to tackle the man was to avoid them and bluster. “Of course you would and I’d have done the same if I’d been you. I was an unknown quantity, so getting rid of me was the right choice. Good move, except I beat you. Remember? I let you get away too, because I didn’t want you captured. I wanted you back here so I could join you. You’re good at being bad and I… I mean we… can make you even more powerful.”

  Schwartz stared at us for what seemed an eternity and I had a feeling our lives hung by a thread… and not a very thick one at that. He pushed himself away from the doorpost and stood upright, towering above us in the shelter of the porch roof while we remained in the rain like drowned rats waiting for his decision. He grunted and nodded for us to follow him into the house.

  The whole place had a medieval feel about it with no modern amenities. In the main hall a roaring log fire provided all the heat that was needed and light came mostly from bundles of rushes soaked in tar, which hung on the wall as lanterns, much as we would have used back in Camelot. Time and technology seemed to have stopped for the Black Knight. The long tables were covered in scattered food of all kinds with jugs of ale for the thirsty.

  “Sit down.” Schwartz pointed to two wooden chairs near the fire, while he poured himself a glass of brandy and leaned against the mantelpiece. “I’ll ask you again and this time, now that you’ve accepted my hospitality, I want a real answer.” He put out a hand to silence me. “Personally I don’t care what Gawain has, or hasn’t done. I want to know why you’re here. In other words what are you going to do for me?” The last words echoed round the room. Schwartz didn’t seem to have shouted, but there was so much menace in the way he spoke.

  “We came to help you,” I said with a gulp.

  “Help me?” Schwartz picked up an apple and bit deeply into the flesh. “What makes you think I need help from young pups like you?” He turned his head to one side and spat pips and pieces of core into the fire.

  “We can let you know things,” I almost squeaked in my nervousness, “like where Gawain is going to strike against you next.”

  “I already have informers in his household. What else?”

  “Gawain’s son Bryn is in love with me,” I thought Neets was stretching things a bit there, “and he’ll tell me anything I want to know about his father’s plans.”

  “For instance we can let you know when the gentlemen smugglers are moving their goods,” I added, appealing to both his vanity and his greed.

  “Ah, now that may be of greater interest.” Schwartz pushed himself upright and was paying more attention now he smelled easy pickings.

  I knew there were two kinds of smuggler in the eighteenth century. The gentlemen only brought in those goods that were vastly over-taxed by the government and therefore priced beyond the reach of the average person. These items included brandy, tobacco, and strangely, tea. The gentleman smuggler was almost felt to be doing a community service and was held in high regard by everyone except of course the Revenue Men. The devils on the other hand concentrated on high-value items such as silks and occasionally slaves. Robbery, murder and wrecking just made it easier. Schwartz was a devil.

  He stretched out his hand. “In genteel circles we would shake hands to settle our agreement. We’ll do that, but I’ll also warn you that if either of you makes any attempt to double-cross me you will die.” We stood up and shook hands, though after the casual way Schwartz had made his death threat my instinct was to run a mile.

  “Tonight, you can sleep here in front of the fire with the dogs. Prove yourself to me and I’ll reward you, just like I do the dogs.” Schwartz threw the apple core into the fire and without a backward glance walked out of the hall into the courtyard.

  We remained motionless for several minutes before I moved in front of the fire to dry off. I hate sleeping in wet clothes even when they’re warm and reckoned I had a half an hour at least of steaming before I could curl up on my chair and close my eyes. Neets was bigger than me and would take longer to dry, though it has to be said she also started out being a lot wetter than me! In fact, my mind was racing and I ached in every muscle, so I knew that the chance of getting any sleep was less than a snowflake’s chance in the fires of Hell. I smiled at Neets who was already curled up in her chair and snoring, then sank down on the floor in front of the hearth and slept soundly until dawn.

  It wasn’t so much the dog’s tongue rasping on my cheek that woke me, it was more the boot prodding my stomach. The prods were becoming kicks as I groaned, eased myself into a sitting position and tried to avoid the early morning wake-up call. Neets was already rubbin
g her eyes and stretching the kinks out of her muscles. I stared at the bald-headed man looming over me and groaned again as Schwartz laughed.

  “So, woken up at long last have you, girl?”

  “My name’s Tertia,” I said sleepily and out of habit.

  “Not yet it isn’t. Until I say so, you’re girl. Got it?”

  I nodded. It was easier to nod than get another toe poke.

  “Right, girl, follow me and bring your friend.” Without another word Schwartz turned and walked out of the room. Neets and I followed him like obedient puppies. As we passed the tables I grabbed an apple and a cold pork chop, stuffing them into a pocket because by the look of it we’d already missed breakfast. Outside in the courtyard the barrels were still stacked in one corner, but most of the bales and plunder had disappeared. The wrecker and his men had obviously been busy during the night and the place looked swept.

  Schwartz gave a humorless smile as he watched us taking in what we’d obviously been intended to see. Eventually he gave me a shove forward. “I haven’t brought you here to look at what you saw last night. Today I’m going to show you other things and I may even show you how to fly.” Schwartz threw his head back and laughed. Two of his men joined us as we walked out of the courtyard, across the headland and down a steep path overlooking the rocky bay far below. A morning mist and heavy dew made the stone track as slippery as a skating rink, though the view was certainly better. Schwartz stopped at the cliff edge.

  “Look at that, wenches.” Girls was far more preferable, but I didn’t correct him. He pointed down at the sea below. “Nice and calm, isn’t it. Always is after a storm like the one we had last night and there’s hardly a ripple now.” He picked up a stone and lobbed it, watching it arc into the sea. We heard the distant splash and saw the spreading ripples. “I call it the Leap of Faith and it’s for those who cross me and therefore deserve to die. You two would have made a much bigger splash than that stone and if you double-cross me you still will. Believe it.” I believed it and Neets gave a little squeak as our small procession made its way down the path. Personally, I was highly relieved when the vertical drop became a gentle slope.