Smuggler's Glory Read Online Free Page B

as possible while they
could – but why?
    “ Come on, Billie, let’s descend into the bowels of hell,” Simon
muttered, nudging his horse forward. As sure-footed as mountain
goat, Billie began to descend the narrow road that would take him
down the gentle ridge toward the village. There was no village sign
to indicate where he was. If it hadn’t been for the excellent
directions a travelling salesman had given him several miles back,
Simon knew he would most probably never have found the place, or
could have considered he had found the wrong village. Strangely,
although there were several carts going here and there, he hadn’t
passed a single one on the road leading into the village. So where
were they all going? Again, a thin shiver of awareness swept
through him and he felt the familiar thrill of anticipation at the
thought of unravelling the mystery that lay before him.
    A steady
drizzle began to settle on his shoulders, but Simon ignored it,
studying each house carefully as he slowly meandered past the first
few low-slung buildings on the very edge of the village. The
further into the village he went, the more plentiful the houses,
until he soon found himself in what appeared to be the thriving hub
of the village.
    Sitting
astride the familiar comfort of Billie, he drew to a stop and
quietly studied the milling people around him. A few looked upon
him suspiciously as they passed. More often than not their eyes
slid away from his before he could affect a greeting, and they
increased their pace, eager to be on their way. One or two did
venture a quick greeting, but despite the joviality in their
voices, Simon was well aware of the glint of suspicion in their
gazes.
    Eventually the main road crossed with a second road that
seemed to run out of town to the east and the west, although there
were no road markings to say where the roads went. Pausing at the
crossroads for several moments, he carefully studied the buildings.
A bakery, a buttery, a blacksmith, several houses as well as a
church all lined the street facing him.
    “ Excuse me,” Simon called, sighing deeply as the old woman he
hailed paused and stared at him with large round eyes, before
tugging her shawl around her shoulders and glancing frantically
around her, as though deciding which way to run. Determined not to
let her vanish until he had answers, Simon edged closer, trying to
appear relaxed and at ease. “Can you tell me where I can find the
tavern, or some place to stay?”
    The
woman stared at him, clearly trying to decide whether it was safe
to answer.
    “ I need a place to stay overnight,” he persisted.
    The
woman edged cautiously closer, glancing up and down the road
carefully. As she tugged her shawl tighter, Simon watched the grip
increase until the knuckles on her gnarled hands turned white. He
carefully leaned down as she edged closer.
    “ If you have any sense you will turn that huge beast around and
get out of the village while you still can,” she whispered, her
hard eyes locked on his.
    “ What’s wrong?” Simon asked, his own voice no louder than a
whisper. He wasn’t sure if the old woman was as nutty as a fruit
cake, but was happy to accommodate her strange behaviour as long as
she told him where he could spend the night.
    “ It’s not safe for us villagers, let alone a stranger like
yourself. Please, you have to leave here, or you may not survive.
If you have any sense, you’ll go back the way you came.” She made a
furtive shooing motion with her hands, glancing around her
suspiciously before shoving her hands back under her thick woollen
shawl.
    “ Survive what?” But Simon’s question met thin air as the old
woman coughed and stumbled backward, nodding to two old ladies as
they hurried past, their heads close together as they chatted while
they walked. Simon watched them pass, but as his gaze turned toward
the old woman, she was gone. Glancing up and down the road, he
could see no sign of her and shook his head at