Tyburn

"STAND AND DELIVER!" screams the masked highwayman as his blazing flintlocks shatter the night.

TYBURN takes you to the London Road west of Canterbury. The Dover Stagecoach blocks the lane. Its team of horses is cut loose. Its driver, mail guards, and passengers lie dead or wounded. Its chained strongbox, containing 50,000£ in gold and banknotes, is missing.

At midday, a band of armed riders clatters to a halt, horses steaming from the ten mile gallop.

One horseman trots forward.

“Black deeds afoot, Sir Nicodemus,” Constable Rakestraw calls to the Lord High Sheriff of Kent, “The survivor swears it was that Irish devil Captain Fitzgibbon who caused this wicked mischief.”

Nicodemus Skellington slides a half-cocked dragoon pistol back into a saddle holster. Turning, he orders his mounted deputies to continue the pursuit. The tall Sheriff winces as he dismounts. Skellington, using an unfamiliar cane, approaches the stagecoach.

Treading among the bloody corpses, he jabs the walking stick about in the high grass. He finds a woman’s yellow straw hat splattered in gore.

“Murdering jackals,” snarls Skellington, “They shall receive no mercy from me.”

TYBURN follows Sir Nicodemus Skellington, and his mysterious associates, The Shadows, as they pick up the trail of the fleeing outlaw gang. Skellington is closing in.

TYBURN whisks you through the sounds, smells, and tastes of 18th century England. You enter the country inns, brothels, abbeys, prize rings, gaming dens, theaters, and coffee houses. You hear the whores, thugs, boxers, gamblers, actors, publicans, outlaws, and clergy as they tell the story in speech and in letters.

TYBURN places you amidst the crowds on Hanging Day in London. In Newgate, the condemned, nooses round their necks, are loaded into carts. The throngs are massing at the gallows.

Time is running out.

At TYBURN, Jack Ketch, the hangman, awaits.

Available for Kindle and in print. Cover original artwork copyrighted and used by permission of Gwen Buchanan.