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      In a time when outlaws were revered as heroes, Claude Du Vall thrived as a true gentleman of the road. Born into poverty in Domfront France in 1643, Du Vall grew up in harsh times and at the tender age of fourteen his neglectful parents sent him out alone into the world to make his mark.

      To his good fortune, young Du Vall fell into the care of English Royalist exiles who became his benefactors and taught him valuable skills whilst preparing him for employment as a footman.

      When King Charles II regained his rightful place on the throne, Du Vall crossed the English Channel and found a new and profitable life as a highwayman. Later he became the most infamous outlaw in British history. During his wild escapades, men hunted him and women adored him.

      Despite being loved by the masses, Du Vall never escaped being haunted with the inevitability of where his chosen path would someday lead him.

   

     Cherished Thief tells about the life of this infamous rogue. One particular noted slice of his life is his encounter with a knight and his lady...

                                                                  *****          

          “Oh, I do hate the countryside,” the lady inside the stagecoach moaned. “It is quite dull.”

     “I have told you before, wife, too many people are getting sick in London. The country will be safe for us until a reason for it has been discovered,” her husband, the knight, explained while reading The Weekly News. “My God, The Five Mile Act has actually passed. No clergyman can come within five miles of any parish from this day forth.”

     “Let’s not talk politics,” the lady said. “This dull journey is bad enough without such bleak conversation.”

     The man tossed the pamphlet on the seat across and said, “If boredom has overshadowed your heart, my lady, may I be so bold as to suggest some vigorous activity?”   

     He moved his hand up her dress while kissing her neck. She wretched and pushed him away.

     “Not now, husband. The motion of this dreadful carriage has made me ill.”

     Disappointed, the knight went back to reading. She turned her large bright eyes to the window, secretly admiring the lush green forest surrounding them. The air was fresh, warm, and clean with the sound of wildlife all around. The sight of such natural beauty nearly took her into another world, even distracted her from her motion sickness. But her tranquility ended the moment horsemen rode swiftly past her window.

     “Stand and deliver!” ordered a loud strong voice.

     The stagecoach abruptly halted and more orders were aimed at the footmen.

     “Drop your bloody weapons or we’ll shoot! Drop them I say!”

     “Henry,” the lady said fearfully. “What is going on?”

     “It appears we are being robbed,” he answered irritably. “Stay calm, my love.”

     She peered over to her husband’s window to the few highwaymen outside.

     “Sir Henry,” one of them shouted. He was dressed very well and held himself straight upon his steed. He wore a black masquerade mask. The lady believed him to be the leader. “We have received information that you carry the sum of four hundred pounds upon you.”

     “How does he know your name?” she whispered. “And to where did he get this intelligence from?”

      The knight shrugged and whispered, “I know not.” To the horseman, he said, “Hum, good sir, I am afraid your information is quite false. You see, I have nothing more than twenty quid upon my person.”

      “You’re lying,” the highwayman challenged.

      The highwayman turned his focus away, and when he did, the door flung open. A man wearing an ugly sack mask pulled the knight out.

      “You’d do best to cooperate, boy-o,” the masked man warned. “Things will go much easier on all of us if you do.”

      “I recognized that atrocious voice,” the knight said to him. “You, sir, played me in a game of cards last night back at the tavern. You were there when I won said four hundred pounds from others who played us.” The knight looked around at the rest of the highwaymen. “This man is the source of your intelligence?”

      “Oui, monsieur,” the well dressed highwayman admitted. “And by your confession of your previous encounter with him, it appears that he is rather accurate.”

     The lady shivered uncontrollably. Not out of fear for her safety, but for her husband’s. She needed to show these creatures they were not afraid from the likes of them.

     “You shall not have my money,” the knight said bravely. “It is nearly everything we have until we reach our summer home.”

     “Don’t give us your bleeding heart, or I’ll shove it back down your throat,” threatened the highwayman, standing beside him. “This is your last warning. Give us the loot or…”

     “Quiet,” the leader ordered.

     Everyone became silent. The lady knew she had their undivided attention. Both her husband and the highwayman peered into the coach as she played her flageolet. The song was low and her nervousness forced her quivering lips to jag the tune. Naturally, everyone seemed bewildered by her action. The leader dismounted and approached.

     She watched the tall man come close while he pulled off his gloves. She kept playing even after he brought out his own flageolet and joined in on the low melody. His masquerade mask covered only the top portion of his face, which made it perfect for him to play without removing it. The rogue stunned her to no end. For him to not only own such an elegant instrument, but play it so well, was the last thing she expected. His steady lips carried the song in the passion with which it was meant to be played. She rose to the challenge by calming herself and strengthening her own tune to match his.

     No one moved as the lady and highwayman played in perfect sync.

     “What are you doing?” asked the masked man.

     The leader paid him no mind and peered inside the stagecoach. Together they finished the song.

     For a moment silence dominated the area. Finally the leader said, “You play excellently, my lady.”

     “Thank you, good sir.”

     “A lady who plays so elegantly must possess feet to match. Will you honor me with a dance?”

    “Good fellow,” the knight contested. “I must say this is intolerable, I…”

    “Yes,” the lady interrupted. “You seem to be a gentleman and your request is very reasonable.”

     The highwayman held out his hand to her and she accepted it without delay. She was utterly nervous about where this dance could lead. To a ditch where her dress would be thrown over her and herself raped in front of her husband’s very eyes?

    “This is rather unexpected,” one of the other masked men said, aiming his pistol at the coachman while two others held guns on the footmen.

    The rogue helped her out and led her to a more spacious area with the eyes of the knight following them. Her body trembled, especially when he pulled her close to him. She gasped a little. His strong embrace steadied her a bit.

    “Do not fear me,” he whispered gently, obviously seeing her distress.

    He led her in a slow dance, stepping gracefully despite his heavy boots. Regardless of her fear, she looked up into his eyes. They were nearly as black as his mask. The section of his face that the mask didn’t conceal was very appealing; nothing like she imagined a scoundrel would look like. He smiled generously at her and right then she no longer felt afraid as if that smile had powers to eliminate fear. She decided that this was the most exciting moment her life had ever offered, one she could not wait to share with her lady friends. He began speaking to her in French, a language she did not understand, but she quivered with pleasure nonetheless. He held her close to him while they danced in a theatrical, yet nearly provocative fashion. She was too swept away by the moment to know what kind of dance they performed. As he spoke his soft foreign words, he slid his hand down her face, to her slender neck, and carelessly brushed over her exposed flesh as lightly as a feather. Eventually, his hand rested on her waist. The excitement raised her body temperature, causing her to forget she was in the middle of a holdup. The elegant highwayman slowly dipped her backwards where his breath touched her chest. Her breasts nearly reached his lips and she cared not. He lifted his head to the knight, and said, “You are a privileged man, monsieur.”

     Her husband’s disapproving expression brought the world back into focus.

     With a grin, the highwayman raised her up and bowed deeply to her. She rewarded him with a curtsy. He offered his hand and escorted her back to the coach. Along the way, she tried to hide her amusement from her husband. The highwayman helped her inside and kissed her tenderly on the hand.

    “Au revoir, madam.”

    She blushed and turned away to shield her rosy cheeks.

    “Well then,” the knight said impatiently. “Gentlemen, thank you for this, er, unique delay. Good day.”

    He turned to enter the coach when the highwayman placed a hand on his shoulder.

    “Monsieur, I do believe you have forgotten something. I have danced with your lady and should be paid for my time.”

     The knight faced him, puffed out his chest, and said, “Sir, I will not pay…”

     “Pay him,” the lady cut in. “His services were well worth it. Pay him, husband.”

     The knight decided not to argue any longer and therefore, reached under the seat cushion and brought out a hidden purse. He slapped it into the highwayman’s hand and said, “Does this satisfy you, sir?”

     He opened the purse and the highwayman beside him bellowed, “This be no more than a hundred pounds! Where’s the rest, you fucking…”

     The leader only raised his hand for him to silence himself. 

     “Monsieur, you are liberal, and shall have no cause to repent your being so. This liberality of yours shall excuse you the other three hundred pounds.”

     With that, he walked away from the coach and mounted his horse.

    “Let us be away.”

    The leader rode off down the road with the others following him. When their hooves fell away to nothing, the knight sat in the coach and ordered the driver to move on.

    “What insolence,” he shouted angrily. “How dare that man treat me like some common fool!”

     Before he uttered another word, she kissed him then mounted herself on his lap while loosening the threads of her corset.

     “I want you, husband,” she said with heavy breath. “Make me the mother of your child, right now!”

     The knight argued no further.

                                                                           *****

Claude Du Vall remained elusive for nearly a decade until falling into a trap at the Hole-in-the-Wall Tavern on Christmas Day, 1669. Yet, even in chains, his life story was nothing short of remarkable. Claude Du Vall drank life in while embedding his name in the book of legends, forever roaming the King’s Highway by the light of the moon.

Read Cherished Thief, now available on Kindle, here!

To learn more about Claude Du Vall, please visit these links. 
Claude Du Vall
http://www.stand-and-deliver.org.uk/highwaymen/claude_duval.htm