Free Sovay by Celia Rees

A long table had been set out for the passengers, with bread, knives and a scattering of forks on a cloth that had served at least another sitting, maybe more, judging from the stains upon it. The passengers took their seats and various dishes were brought out and spread along the board. The food was plain, but there was plenty of it. They only had twenty minutes and Gabriel was hungry. He set to with a will, even though the scalding broth burnt his mouth, the steak was tough, the boiled mutton more fat than meat and the potatoes floury on the outside and hard within. His companion ate with rather less relish, but declared it ‘Not half bad. No worse than we get in college.’
    The guard’s horn summoned them back to the coach. Gabriel elected to ride rather than travel inside. He disliked the motion and the stuffy interior of the carriage. The guard was relieved. He could use another pair of eyes and Gabriel looked as if he might be a useful man in a fight.
    ‘Look to your weapon, sir. Make sure that it is primed and ready for use,’ he advised as they prepared to set off. ‘The next stretch of road is lonely and much infested with highwaymen and robbers.’

    ‘This is a likely spot.’ Greenwood drew off the road. ‘Now you can learn something. The way narrows, see? Trees crowd close. The road is ill kept. It’s been raining and the ground is always sodden.’ He pointed to numerous pools and meres. ‘I will position myself here where the coach has to slow to negotiate the marshy ground. You go to the top of the rise, keep yourself well hid, and whistle when you see the coach coming.’ He grinned at Sovay. ‘You can whistle?’
    ‘Yes. I can whistle,’ Sovay replied. ‘But why are we doing this?’
    They had ridden through driving rain and she was wet and miserable. All she wanted to do was get to London as soon as possible.
    ‘Because I’m a highwayman,’ he explained patiently. ‘It’s my occupation. You aren’t turning gutless on me, now? You have already done enough to hang twice over. What difference will one more excursion make?’
    ‘No, I do not lack the courage, if that’s your meaning. I merely meant that it will cause delay.’ She looked through the rain dripping off the brim of her hat. ‘How do you know there is even a coach on the road? We could wait all day.’
    ‘I heard the horn and saw them in the yard of the White Hart. You must learn to use your ears and eyes if you wish to live much longer.’ He paused. ‘You don’t have to do the fleecing, if that’s what bothers you. Just stand look out.’ He leaned forward in his saddle. ‘If you want to stay with me, you will do as I say.’
    ‘That is not what bothers me,’ Sovay replied, stung that he would think her squeamish in any way. ‘I’ve done enough of that to hang twice over, as you say. I’m in a hurry to get to London, that is all. What if I choose to leave you here and go on my own?’
    ‘Oh and what will you do there?’ He gave a scornful laugh. ‘In five minutes you would be relieved of that fine horse, at the very least. If you ever want to be Miss Sovay again in your fine house, if you ever want to see your fine house again, you need my services. So look sharp.’ He consulted a handsome pocket watch. ‘By now, they’ll have finished their inedible mutton and will be on their way.’
    Sovay did not like being ordered about by him, but she decided she would do as he said. She might need his help when she got to London. She hid in a brake of young trees and positioned herself where she could see the road and felt some of the old excitement returning. A coach was approaching, just as he had predicted. Sovay loosened her weapons, her heart beating harder, she felt the familiar prickle at the back of her neck as she eased her mask into place. She put two fingers to her mouth and prepared to whistle. Then she saw the horseman riding alongside. There was something familiar about him. She craned forward. There was