​“No” my father said quietly but with rising anger “I shall pay the apprentice fee for you to become a butcher but I will not waste money on some idiotic scheme for you to become a horse dealer. You would squander half the money in a week and be cheated of the rest soon after.”

​

And so I became a butcher’s apprentice, and am I to blame for finding it dull?

 

There is nothing splendid about a butchers trade and I was none to keen to make it my life. I behaved like most apprentices, skipping work to come and watch fine spectacles like this one, and drinking and making merry, and throwing stones at cats and cats at convicts. Indeed I can remember the first time I ever stole, it was but a pin and there was a young lady weeping most awfully for the loss of such.

 

Bigger things followed and when my fellows would say “Hey Dick, coming for some fine sport with us?” I cared little for the legality of such things. Once in our gambling I managed to win a brace of pistols and with a bit of practice could hit a pig’s head at the other end of the yard.

 

At last my apprenticeship was over and I tried to ply my trade. But the meat was to tough and customers wary so I realised I would have to look elsewhere to earn my bread.

 

* * *

​

“Sweetbread not good enough for you then?”  one of the lads perched in the tree above the crowd called.

​

“No, he needs butter too!” His neighbour answered.

​

With a low bow a reply came.

 

“If I may continue gentlemen, you will learn my necessity.” 

 

The crowd quietened and Dick Turpin resumed his narrative.

 

* * *

​

I had married early and my children seemed to want ‘butter’.

 

Anyway whatever the whys and wherefores may have been one fine crisp winters morning I sat upon Fearless, my horse, by the side of the road that wound through Essex forest. My heart hammered and my ears strained to catch any sound as with my hand upon my pistol I waited.

​

And then around the corner it came, in a flurry of thundering hooves and fast turning wheels.

 

When the carriage reached where I waited I spurred Fearless and galloped beside, keeping pace. I pointed my pistol in at the open window and asked.

 

“What is the hurry my lord?”

​

The sole occupant, a rather old and corpulent man dressed in rich clothes of costly material, looked round at me and his face showed shock, fear; and then he yelled.

 

“John! Highwaymen!”

 

The carriage slowed and half skidded on the ice as the horses were jerked back and the coachman jumped down. I drew my other pistol with the words.

 

“Don’t move or I’ll fire!”

 

He moved. I fired.

 

* * *

 

“And you hit the horse!”

 

Dick spun round to stare at the speaker but quickly he recovered his poise.

 

“And I meant to!” He answered in a tone that betook of no reply.

 

Dick continued.

 

* * *

 

The near horse fell dead with my bullet in its brain and I not liking to shoot the coachman threw the now empty pistol and knocked him cold.

 

I then gave my full attention to the Earl for such was the man on whom I had kept my pistol trained. Even before the words

 

“Your money or your life!” were out of my mouth the trembling peer was hastily pulling off his heavy gold rings and unhooking his watch. It took little inducement to get him to part with all the wealth he carried.

 

I made it into a bundle, which I secured to my belt, dismounted and fastened Fearless to the traces of the dead horse. It didn’t feel right somehow to leave a horse missing; it spoilt the symmetry.

 

* * *

 

Dick stopped and turned to Hadfield to ask for a bottle of wine.

​

“…for tale telling is fine thirsty work and I had not my share on the way.” Upon wine being procured he had it held to his lips and took a deep draught.

​

He was about to recommence talking when a gruff voice rang out loud in the eager quiet.

 

“Now that’s a fine tale to be sure, but I heard that you threatened to roast an old woman if she did not tell where her money was hid. And you would have if her son had not spoken!”

 

No, I would never do such a thing, if I were to roast someone my choice would be young and tender.” He winked at a young woman who stood gazing up enthralled. She blushed and then another interruption came as one of the boys upon the tree yelled out.

 

“Is it true that once you rode here from London in less than half a day?”

 

“It’s as true as anything old Nick could tell you, but listen.”

 

Dick had no more interruptions.

 

* * *

 

Now I have an appointment to keep but first let me tell you of my beautiful and courageous mare Black Bess. As black as starless night and as fleet as the wind she was and she carried me through many adventures. Oh the tricks we played, and the fights and the chases, and never even sweat upon the black satin of her coat. We stole from Dukes and from Marquises and we ran from the law of six counties but nothing even taxed a little her nigh on limitless strength and endurance – save one race alone.

 

It was in the capital just after my friend and partner Tom King was taken, I had tried to rescue him but in the scuffle he was shot. With a prayer for his gallant soul I shot one last ball into the confusion around him; no need to worry about hitting a corpse. But now I could look to my own safety only.

 

I sprung upon my clever mare and we set of in flight. The posse followed. At first I rode heedlessly, my anger melding into the thrill of flight. I did not know where to go. The only place I could be sure of safety was York many, many miles away. It was my intended destination, though I had not thought to be pursued and to have to make such speed. But surely no horse could make it under pursuit? Perhaps. But oh, my beauty, my wonder, my Black Bess, I would wager my life on her fleetness and strength. And I did.

I wasted no time but set my course and at a steady pace we started, clearing gates and threading through narrow lanes.

 

They shut the spiked tollgate before me but we cleared it by an inch. I rode as never before or since, stopping only once, to wash Black Bess with brandy and rub raw steak upon her bit. My pursuers caught up close with me there, they thought they had me cornered in the inn but they did not know the spirit of my mare! I escaped through the stable and behind it down a near vertical slope. They did not dare follow, what horse would not stumble?

 

I rode on upon my splendid mare but she tired, she was exhausted. By the time we came to the Ouse our pursuers were nigh upon us, indeed when my flagging mare had to swim they were in the water with us, fighting through the current towards us. The closest rider reached out and almost caught hold of my stirrup. I kicked and my spur gashed his hand, granting us a moment’s respite. Still we should have been caught but a shot rang out and he fell away, the current whirling him downstream in crimson water. A man still upon the bank, a fool, had shot at me but he hit his own man.

 

Confusion halted our pursuers for a while and the cold water had revived my poor mare a little, so we had a chance again as we went on. The ride seemed endless: the serpentine winding of the roads, the shudder of my beautiful mare beneath my hands, the sharp pounding of hooves; Bess’s, and others fainter – did I hear them? We seemed barely to move, she was so tired, but we went on until at last we came to the outskirts of York.

 

I had ridden from London to York in eleven hours. A cry of triumph escaped my lips. My pursuers, they had not caught me, though they had used a score of horse and I only one, but she neighed, shuddered and fell. I knelt beside her dead body and felt it was all nothing besides the loss of my mare Black Bess. I cannot remember what I did after, suffice to say I escaped for a while my fate, which I now embrace.

 

* * *

 

The hangman’s noose was about Dick’s neck as he flung himself from the scaffold [...]