Category Archives: Flash fiction

Cardeen crouched low on his steed’s broad neck. Flecks of foam escaped from her wide, flaring nostrils and hung in long, white streams from her sweat-soaked mane.

He knew that she could not continue at this furious pace for much longer. Her eyes wide and bloodshot, her hooves thundering on  the hard baked earth of the forest path.

Cardeen smiled, behind them there was no sign of his pursuers but  he could not afford to slacken her pace. They would be safe only after crossing the bridge which he knew could not be far ahead.

The sun had set and evening was jut beginning to close in as dusk came down and as they rounded a bend, ahead of him between the trees he spotted the bridge ahead. The border between Devon and Cornwall, the river Tamar which raged below.

Taking one hand off of the reins but keeping the pressure on so that she would not slacken her pace he adjusted the leather bag slung from his shoulder.

With only fifty yards between he and the bridge he caught a movement in the corner of his eye. His heart sank as from between the trees emerged the red tunics and white waistcoats of a small group of soldiers. Two  had muskets raised. He tried to coax one last effort from his already exhausted companion. A puff of smoke showed that one shot had been fired. The first one missed but hearing another report he instantly felt a blow on his chest.

He felt a damp stain below his throat and his grip on the reins loosened. The horse started to slow and came to a halt about ten yards from the bridge. Cardeen felt himself sliding off the saddle to one side.

As his feet landed on the ground he wrenched the leather bag from his neck and swinging it around his head managd to throw it with it’s precious cargo into the middle of the fast flowing stream.

A smile of satisfaction passed over his face as he realised that the documents in the bag would no longer be legible even if they were retrieved. The evidence of treason against his Lord, the Duke of Cornwall would not be found despite his having failed  in his attempt to bring the letters back to the castle as his master required.

His eyes closed and sinking to lie on the damp soil Cardeen passed away knowing that he had done his duty.

The strangers with her on the rooftop paused in unison. They seemed confused, unsure what to do next. They had got her this far and so far no hint of what their intentions for her were.

Her mind raced. Looking about her wildly she couldn’t, in fact refused to believe that twenty  minutes  ago she had been walking through the cobbled streets of the finely preserved National Trust show village.

There had been no sign that there was some form of medieval pageant but  she had found herself grabbed bu a pair  of swarthy, dark-skinned men in what looked  like authentic peasant’s smocks. If the dirt was anything to go by.

Despite her protests the two men had grabbed her and speaking in a strange accent, at least it sounded like an accent but the words weren’t even recognisable, had put a rope round her waist and started to lead her towards the public house she had just passed, “The vine.”

It had seemed empty before but now she found it to be full of the costumed townsfolk. Baleful eyes were cast in her direction as she was roughly dragged through the door.

Still unable to make her captors understand what she was saying and in total confusion, tears started to form; they pulled her through an archway at the side of the old wooden bar.  Despite her situation she found herself marvelling  at  the authenticity of the bar. It really was like stepping back in time as she noted the two large oak barrels standing on the dark brown, knotted, roughly sawn plank that doubled as a bar counter. Behind which there were a range of earthenware pots with unknown contents. There wasn’t even a price list. Then they started to ascend a granite staircase between two rough whitewashed walls.

The people had formed a procession behind them, there were giggles and shrieks of laughter but it was more at her than with her and there was no humour  in their loud clamour. From the dark staircase they  burst out into the light  and she saw that they were on a wooden balcony that overlooked the  street at least two storeys below. A rough shaped beam was crudely attached to the handrail and looking up she saw the rope that hung from it over the edge. It was knotted at the bottom with a noose.

Only then did she start to scream.