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The Gallows Murders

The Gallows Murders

Titel: The Gallows Murders Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Paul C. Doherty
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Pelleter snapped.
    'Why, sir,' the fellow replied, 'Robert Sakker was killed eight months ago outside Maidstone.'

Chapter 12
    Despite Pelleter's insistent questioning, the verderer was adamant.
    'It's well known,' he explained. 'Sakker became a poacher. We often hunted him; fleet of foot, he was. Then one day a chapman, making his way from Dover, stopped at one of the hostelries on the road and told us the news: Sakker was slain in a tavern brawl.' He shrugged. That's all I know.'
    Pelleter thanked him. We rode on, following the track deeper into the forest, its dark greenery filled with birdsong and the occasional bright spots of sunlight. We rode silently, listening to the chattering birds: all the time I kept my eyes on the fair Miranda's slender neck. So close! So soft! I felt like stretching out my hand and touching her. But, of course, Shallot could not. Instead I was drawn into conversation with the under-sheriff about what the verderer had told us, whilst the light of my life talked to Benjamin. Now and again I caught her gaze, I glimpsed the admiration in her eyes as Benjamin explained to her the mysteries of alchemy, or made her laugh with the stories from the schoolroom at our manor.
    At last we entered a clearing larger than the rest. In the centre stood the ruins of an old hunting lodge which, Pelleter explained, dated from the days of Henry VI. The stockade fence had long disappeared, as had the bothies, byres and stables. The lodge itself still stood, but the roof was holed and the windows were mere gaps in the wall. We hobbled our horses and went inside. The stairs were usable but there were gaps in the roof and puddles of mildewed water on the floor.
    This is where Sakker and his gang often hid,' Pelleter explained. 'I now know the woodland path, but it's easy to get lost in the forest. The Sakkers would gather there, plot their ambuscades and retreat from any possible pursuit. Young Robert stayed at the tavern, shielding the rest of his family' He took us across and pointed to where the floorboards had been ripped up. This is where we found most of their plunder.' He smiled thinly. 'God knows what happened to that: the King's commissioners probably took it.'
    (Oh aye, I thought and, knowing the Great Beast as I do, I doubt if any of it found its way back to the rightful owners.)
    At first I couldn't understand why Benjamin had insisted on coming here. True there were scorch-marks on the floor, bits of rotting food, traces of people having lived there, but these could have been due to the verderers or any of the forest people. Nevertheless, Benjamin began to search the house carefully, scrutinising every nook and cranny. At last he paid heed to my insistent questions.
    ‘Roger, we know this place is now the haunt of owls and bats -' he looked round and shivered – Taut it was also the lair of the Sakkers. People never change. Old habits die hard. Robert Sakker must have come back here. Even if it was just to search for some of the plunder his family had hidden.'
    I glanced across where Pelleter and Miranda were sitting on a crumbling doorstep, leisurely eating the provisions they had brought.
    'Master, what is the use? You heard the verderer. Sakker is dead and I am hungry!'
    Benjamin plucked at my sleeve. 'I don't think Robert Sakker's dead,' he replied, then cautiously climbed the battered wooden staircase.
    I groaned and reluctantly followed. The second floor was positively dangerous, with gaps and sagging timbers. Benjamin went into the chambers on either side. I still did not know what he was looking for. As our search continued, the shadows grew longer and that old hunting lodge creaked and groaned. A tingle of fear ran up my spine. After all, this was an ancient house. God knows what terrible things the Sakker gang had done here. Were their ghosts peering at us from a corner? Did their shades follow us, ghoul-like, from room to room?
    (I see my little chaplain snigger. Oh, sitting at the centre of a maze in the glorious sunlight, the little curmudgeon can titter and giggle. Nevertheless, I have seen him tremble down at the edge of the marshes when the sun sets and the darkness creeps in from the forest! And yes, before he asks, I have seen ghosts. I have been along the great gallery at Hampton Court, just near the royal chapel where Catherine Howard, the Great Beast's fifth wife, ran screaming and shrieking, begging her base, syphilitic husband to spare her the headsman's axe. I have sat in

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