Epilogue
A quartet of masked, mounted figures concealed themselves in the forest, watching the road. Their horses shifted beneath them, eager for what was next, but the riders were confident and knew their business, and kept the animals still as they waited.
It was summer, and even at this hour of the night, traffic between Essex and London was high, especially for the private carriages whisking their aristocratic passengers to their country estates as they escaped the season’s heat in the city.
There would be jewels and coins and valuable clothing being transported in these carriages, which means more funds to be distributed to more people in need.
There might be a little left over, to continue renovations of the few safe houses scattered through the forest, since four people in one home needed more room and amenities than three.
These dens would be comfortable and safe. They would be home.
Three of the figures went still, hearing what the fourth figure could not.
At last, the familiar rumble of carriage wheels arose.
The vehicle itself appeared moments later, with a gilt crest on its lacquered door, and it was drawn by a team of matched chestnut bays.
There was a driver and a postilion and, foolishly, no outrider or armed guard.
The mounted riders exchanged nods. Three of them wore full-skirted coats, breeches, tall boots, and tricorns pulled low to conceal that which their masks didn’t fully hide, while the fourth was dressed in a smart blue riding habit, with a small three-cornered hat perched on her head.
A leather baldric was slung across her torso, and tucked into the baldric were two pistols, loaded.
She, too, wore a mask to cover her lower face, but her mask was embroidered with flowering vines.
When, finally, the carriage reached the needed position, the masked figured kicked their horses into motion.
The animals surged forward, and their riders bent low over their necks, a seamless fusion of beast and human.
Three of the riders had more than a little beast within themselves, and those creatures would come out later.
For now, they would rely on their skills in their human forms, and it would be enough.
The first rider positioned himself in front of the carriage, which tried to roll around him, but a second rider blocked their path. Seeing he had no choice, the carriage driver pulled up on the reins, slowing the vehicle until it lurched to a stop. Worried, pale faces gathered in the window.
The fourth masked rider drew her pistol and pointed it in the direction of the carriage, making sure that it wasn’t aimed directly at anyone. Although, it could be, if anyone decided to do anything foolish.
Their intended targets seldom did anything foolish, especially with the four masked riders so proficient in their craft, and so well-known on this road.
They were feared by some, celebrated by many.
Ballads were sung about them, the three highwaymen, and one highwaywoman.
Only a few knew their secret. They transformed into wolves on the night of the full moon.
They weren’t beholden to the moon, either, for this transformation. When their lady asked them, they could change into their other forms. They never refused her this request.
This lady had lived one life, a very different one.
She would whisper to them that this new existence was a joy to her.
She said it gave her freedom and purpose and pleasure, and three men who were always by her side.
They trusted her. She would confess to her lovers that she trusted them to the very depths of her being.
She had learned what to do when stopping carriages full of wealthy people. She had been taught to pick them clean of their valuables and be hidden back in the shadows within seconds. Having such expert teachers, and being a quick learner, she could run the game. She was good at it, too.
“Stand and deliver,” Jessica commanded.
The End