Raiders' Ransom Read Online Free

fleet no reason?”
    The soldier looks around, like he’s noticed all the wreckage for the first time. He smiles, and it ain’t a nice one.
    â€œYou’re claiming the raiders came and destroyed your
boats?
And left all the other villages on the coast untouched? I find that rather odd.”
    â€œThe raiders came down upon us three days ago. Of course they wrought this terrible damage. Who else could it be?”
    Everyone nods and mutters, but the soldier just smiles his nasty smile.
    â€œI’d say I was looking right at the most likely perpetrators. After all, the raiders don’t attack single villages and then flee. They’d have ravaged the coast and slaughtered the lot of you. Yet you claim your village alone was attacked, and you were all left alive.”
    Something just boils up inside me at that. “My granny! They killed my granny!” I’m shouting. The soldier looks around at me, but his smile doesn’t break, even for a moment.
    â€œYou expect me to believe the word of some urchin? I wouldn’t be surprised if you did this all yourselves in the hope of compensation.”
    â€œNo! No! Never!” come the shouts.
    â€œI’ll make a report,” says the soldier coldly, “then we’ll see what happens.”
    John Greenstick steps forward from the fisherfolk and takes his cap from his head.
    â€œExcusing your pardon, Your Honor,” he says. “But you’ve got to believe us. We’re honest folk here, and loyal to the Prime Minister. And we need help. We’ll starve if we can’t get our boats sorted.”
    â€œAye, what’s the Prime Minister going to do to help us?” shouts someone in the crowd.
    The soldier’s smile turns to a sneer.
    â€œIsn’t that just like you peasants? Sly and greedy, every one. All you want is your handouts, but you’ll get nothing if it turns out you scuppered your own boats.”
    And then everyone’s in an uproar.
    â€œIt was raiders done the damage to our fleet!”
    â€œWe ain’t scroungers!”
    â€œWhat’ll my children eat if we don’t get nothing from His Majesty?”
    â€œShame on you! Shame on your hard heart.”
    The soldier’s horse starts to skitter about at all the shouting, and the soldier roars out, “Enough! Haven’t you read His Majesty’s new declaration on attacks? Haven’t you understood it? Go and read the notice up at your church if you want to know what’s coming to you.”
    But no one needs to go up to the church, we’ve all got that notice by heart, all read it dozens of times since it got pinned up last month.

    And at the bottom there’s a big squiggly signature.
    The soldier glares about at the crowd. Everyone’s still mumbling and fizzling with anger, but the shouting quiets down; no one wants the Prime Minister to punish us, not on top of being raided.
    â€œWell now,” says the soldier, “since that’s cleared up, I will get on with my main business here.” He looks around. “Which way is it to the house of Mrs. Clare Denton?” A hush falls over us, like we all stop breathing at once. “Come on! I haven’t got all day. I’m charged to lead Miss Alexandra Randall’s escort back from her aunt’s house to the Prime Minister’s palace in Swindon. And we need to leave in good time.”
    No one says anything. Captain Ainsty and John Greenstick sneak back into the gaggle. The soldier looks around at everyone, and you can see a dawning of something on his face.
    â€œIs there some problem?” he barks.
    Eventually Captain Ainsty pipes up.
    â€œYou can’t see Mrs. Denton,” he says nervously, “because I hear the poor woman is laid up in bed with the hysterics … And you can’t take little Alexandra Randall back to her father, because the raiders have her.”

3
ANGEL ISLING

    My father! He’s