They passed two castles and many single abodes as they galloped north, and when they reached the vicinity of Langholm, Greystoke noticed horses grazing in the fields, though none of them were his thoroughbreds.
“There’s the race course.” Greystoke drew rein as he took a moment to admire the six furlough oval, then his gaze shifted to the adjacent Castle Holm owned by the Armstrongs.
The castle and race course had numerous stables and grassy paddocks, and Greystoke’s keen eyes spotted a pair of his thoroughbreds frolicking in the April sunshine.
He spurred his horse and his men followed him into the castle yard. When a stableman came forward, Greystoke demanded, “Who’s in charge here?”
“Sim Armstrong is laird of Castle Holm,” the man answered warily.
Greystoke bit back the orderFetch him.It would do no good if the stableman alerted the Armstrongs that trouble brewed. God only knew how many Armstrongs were in residence. “I’m interested in acquiring a thoroughbred. I’d appreciate a word with Sim.”
The Scot nodded and crossed the yard to one of the stables. The minute he left, Greystoke’s men drew and cocked their pistols and rested them on their saddle mounts.
Sim Armstrong emerged from the barn and Greystoke urged his horse forward.
“You are in possession of horses stolen from England that bear my Beaumont brand. In the name of the king, I order you to submit to arrest.”
Armstrong reached for his pistol, but before he could take it from its holster, he glanced up to see six pistols already cocked and aimed at his head. “I’m no’ a thief! I bought the horses fair an’ square, and paid a high price too.”
“Who sold them to you?” Greystoke demanded.
Armstrong hesitated.
Greystoke reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a noose. “The marauding of English livestock is punishable by death.”
“It were theElliots.The marauders were theElliotsand theGrahams.”
Greystoke dismounted. He approached Armstrong and slipped the noose over his head. “Order your men to fetch my horses. All of them. We’ll take you with us on a short tether as a pledge of good conduct for all at Castle Holm.”
“Where are ye taking me?” Armstrong was quaking in his boots.
“Carlisle Castle. You’ll provide the names of these thieving Elliots and Grahams, and I’ll issue writs of arrest. If you are found innocent of theft, I’ll release you.”
When they crossed the English Border, Greystoke directed half his men to take his horses back to Beaumont Hall, while the rest accompanied him and Sim Armstrong to Carlisle Castle.
The Great Hall of the Carlisle fortalice was crowded with English moss-troopers. Some had brought in Scots arrested for reiving, while others were on their way out to patrol Cumberland and Westmoreland.
Greystoke sat down at a table and took up pen and paper to write out arrest warrants.
“Give me the name of the man who sold you my thoroughbreds, and all the other Elliots and Grahams you believe went on this raid.”
“It was Gavin Elliot and his brothers.”
“Give me their names.”
“Let’s see—there’s Jock, Gavin, Douglas, and Rob Elliot. There’s some Grahams too reside at Castle Elliot. There’s more Grahams and Elliots live in Eskdale than ticks on a sheep. I can’t name them all.”
“These will suffice.” Greystoke wrote the names on the arrest warrants. Then he removed the noose from Armstrong’s neck and escorted him to one of the innumerable cells in the bowels of Carlisle Castle.
When he returned to the hall, Cumberland hailed him. “We’ve a dozen Maxwells to interrogate about a raid on Penrith. I think we’ve got the ring leaders. Will you sit in judgment with me, Lance?”
“I was on my way to Castle Elliot to arrest four brothers who raided Beaumont and stole my horses, but I warrant tomorrow will suffice.”
“The wily bastards will have flown the coop by then. Send your troopers and I’ll have some of my men join them.”
Greystoke nodded, and handed the warrants to one of his trusted moss-troopers.
~~~
