“Good for them,” Noah said. “Oh, and be generous with the poor mummers, who did miss their Christmas collection tonight.”
“Wait!” Ingles said. “What about the boy?”
“Ah,” Noah said, “this is Lewis, my ward. He it was who made certain the door would be unlocked and who gave us the signal to enter.”
“Not a hostage at all, then,” said Ingles with a laugh. “And a brave lad.”
“Most brave,” Noah agreed. “And now, gentlemen, I bid you farewell and godspeed.”
He put spur to his horse, which carried them on toward Norchester at a brisk pace. Lydde twisted in her seat to see his face.
“Did you really think I was brave?” she asked.
“You were wonderful,” he said, though he didn’t look at her but continued to survey the ground ahead.
“And you,” she said, “were magnificent. My heart nearly stopped when you came walking in. But would you really have shot those people?”
He was smiling. “Mine was the only pistol loaded. The shot that broke the glass was the only one that could be fired. I would not have the Raven’s last act be to kill someone. I am done with that, I hope.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the mask, held out his hand, and then dropped it. “Farewell to the Raven and his threats.” Then he pulled the horse to a halt. “Best you take off that costume too before we enter Norchester. Quickly, for I must be back soon.”
She slid down and pulled off the beribboned outfit, glad because of the cold that she had kept on her coat underneath all.
“Get back up behind me now,” Noah said. “It is more the way a boy would ride with me.”
He helped her up and they rode on in silence for a time. Then she said, “Why did you make me ride in front before?”
“Because,” he said, “if someone was going to take a gun ball in the back, it was going to be me.”
“Why?” she said indignantly. “I can risk that—”
“As well as I can,” he interrupted in a teasing tone of voice. “Lydde, I will protect you whether you want me to or no.”
She thought a moment, then said, “If you are the one shot in the back, then what will become of me?”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone else to talk to death,” he said.
She set her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward to see his face. It bore his familiar smirk. She swatted him on the back of the head.
“Ouch! Wait until I get you home, my girl.”
“Your woman,” she said.
“My woman.”
“And what will you do to me?”
For an answer he reached around and she felt her rump pinched for the second time that night.
Chapter 21
Christmas Day
AT THE BISHOP’S Palace they put on their nightshirts and Noah built a fire in the bedroom hearth. Soon a party of horsemen arrived from Rosewood, and Noah, in nightshirt and slippers, opened the door to them. Lord Radford was conspicuously absent. The tardy Lord Shepperson acted as spokesman.
“Good God, Fallam!” he cried. “Where are the constables? We have been pounding away at the jail door and no one answers but a single keeper!”
Noah yawned. “I sent them out toward Bradway looking for an illicit Christmas party and mumming we’d heard rumored,” he replied. “I could not accompany them because I still recover from an illness. But I sent the lot of them out, for if the Christmas party is discovered, I intend to clap everyone present in jail.”
Lord Shepperson glanced around at his companions, who seemed to be at a loss for words. Noah leaned against the doorframe and raised his candle to their faces. “What brings you out so late?” he asked.
“Why,” said Shepperson, “there’s been a robbery at Rosewood. That damned Raven and his gang have carried away a great deal of money and jewels.”
Noah regarded them suspiciously. “Was there some sort of gathering at Rosewood?”
“Ah. Yes, a family gathering, I believe it was. A small family gathering. I only arrived late myself, after the robbery had taken place.”
“I did not know you and Lord Radford were related.”
“We are not,” Lord Shepperson acknowledged. “Yet I was invited.”
“Not a Christmas gathering, was it?”
“No, no,” said Lord Shepperson at once. “Certainly not.”
“How much was stolen? If this was a small family gathering, I assume the loss was not terrible. At least I hope not, for poor Lord Radford’s sake.”
“Some of the women were forced to part with jewelry. The few women who were present, of course.”
“And nothing else taken?”
“I believe Lord Radford was forced to open his strongbox.”
“Lord Radford is a prudent man,” Noah observed. “I doubt he kept much in it at one time.”
“That I don’t know.”
“Well, I will look into it. Then I will send to London to learn if any stolen jewelry has turned up. Though I warn you it is difficult to follow such transactions. Good night to you, my lord.”
“Oh, one more thing. A lad was kidnapped, a—” Shepperson caught himself just in time, for he had been about to say “a mummer from Little Gallops.” Instead he added, “I did not know him—a servant, I surmise. The brigands carried him off and I do not doubt you will find his dead body somewhere on the heath.”
“I shall send a constable to look for him after the Sabbath is over,” Noah said. Then he shut the door firmly.
PERHAPS it was the adrenaline rush, but that night in bed could not have been more different than the one previous. Noah, returning from speaking with the men from Rosewood, found Lydde hiding on the staircase, listening. He chased her back to the bedroom and, catching her just inside the door, treated her as a conquest of war. She pretended to resist, laughing all the while. He pinned her to the bed. Afterward he apologized.
“I was too rough,” he said.
“No. I wanted it rough.”
He patted her head and fell quickly into a deep, exhausted sleep, his recent illness and the worries of the past few days catching up to him at last. Lydde had more trouble sleeping. She tried not to move for fear of disturbing him, finally dozed fitfully, but came fully awake at dawn. Noah still slept and she lay watching him, whispered a prayer of thanks that she had found such a man. When she sensed it was time to get ready for church, she shook his shoulder gently. He opened his eyes and they lay for a moment staring at one another.
“Today is the day,” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
He smiled. “Happy Christmas.”
LYDDE stuffed a sack with several changes of clothes for Noah, along with his razor, strop, and comb. Uncle John would bring a bundle from Soane’s Croft—a pair of warm dresses and stockings from the attic trunk, and two shifts he had convinced Mother Bunch to sew, telling her they were for a charity case.
Noah stood for a time saying good-bye to his books, touching each on the spine as though memorizing the titles. “I shall miss you, my friends,” he said. Then, “It’s time.”
They walked arm in arm downstairs, out the door for the last time and across the cathedral close. As they went, Noah said, “When we reach Trinity Church you will go straight to John and sit with him. When you say your good-byes, make certain no one hears you or notices any unusual display of emotion. As soon as the service is over I will collect you. We will walk to Mossup’s and take two horses straight to the abbey.”
“Can’t Uncle John come to meet the ship with us?”
“I have no objection, but he may not think it safe. It will put him far from St. Pancras in case he needs to leave quickly. I think he will want to go forward in time as soon as we leave. But the decision is his.”
Lydde stopped before they reached the gateway. “I’m frightened,” she said. “Let’s leave now.”
“I doubt the ship has arrived this early, and it would be noticed if I am not in church. Besides, I have a sermon to preach.”
“You can preach sermons in Virginia.”
“We must give the ship time. Don’t worry”—he touched her cheek with his fingertips—“you told me yourself, when you did not know who the Raven was, that Noah Fallam would go to Virginia. Have you forgotten?”
She stared at him, horrified. She had in fact forgotten, and never considered that he might include her remark in his calculations for escape and take more risks because of it. She turned away to hide the expression on her face, but he had noticed.
“What?” he said.
She could barely answer. “Uncle John told me later that it may mean nothing. We may be in a parallel universe here, with different outcomes.”
He stared at her, trying to understand what she meant. “You mean it is not certain I will make it to Virginia?”
She shook her head mutely, and tears sprang to her eyes at the look of fear that crossed his face. He looked at the sky a moment, then away, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders.
“Of course one should never expect a guaranty of safety,” he said. “God would not be thus mocked. There is nothing for it but to go on.” He put on the black robe he had been carrying across his arm and turned toward the gateway. “This is the last time I shall have to pretend you are not my wife,” he said. “Walk two respectful steps behind me now, and look a properly solemn boy.”
Solemnity would not be too difficult, she thought, for either of them. She marveled at the steadiness of his step as they entered the street and joined others walking toward the church. She was terrified at how vulnerable he now was. If Woodcock had heard of the robbery at Rosewood he would know who was responsible. All he need do would be to convince a gang of like-minded men to assault Noah and haul him to jail. But so far everyone they met nodded respectfully as they passed. Then Woodcock himself loomed. He smiled and nodded.
“I look forward to your sermon this morning, Pastor Fallam,” he said.
Noah nodded for an answer and walked steadily on, Lydde trailing behind and not daring to glance at Woodcock.
Uncle John waited at the entrance to Trinity Church. Noah waved his arm at Lydde as if dismissing her, and she went at once to Uncle John, who held up his hand to remind her not to hug him. He handed her the bundle of clothes.
“I didn’t know if I’d see you again,” he said.
“Last night went well,” she whispered in his ear. “We got all the money and escaped unscathed.”
“Is he ready to go?” Uncle John whispered back.
“He is. We’re going straight to the beach from church. Will you go with us, or is this good-bye?”
“I think this better be good-bye. There’s something in the air that I don’t like. I’m afraid as soon as you two disappear all hell is going to break loose. Better for me to be on my way too. I’ll probably be back at Roundbottom Farm before you reach the coast.”
They stared at one another. “Tell Aunt Lavinia how much I love her,” Lydde said.
He nodded. “I’m going to find you, Lydde. Some way. If you can’t make it to the New River Gorge, we’ll come east. I’ve just got to locate the right wormhole.”
“A needle in a haystack,” she said.
“Maybe not. I’ve been working on it with the new labyrinth pattern I made from the one in the cathedral. I just need to get back to West Virginia and test it out.”
They took their seats at the back of the church beside the aisle. The congregation was more unsettled than usual, people talking among themselves, men even leaning across the center aisle to speak to the women. Then Noah entered the chancel in his robes and climbed into the pulpit. A hush fell over the sanctuary so profound that even the rustle of garments was stilled.
“A blessed Christmas to you all,” Noah said.
A ripple of astonishment ran the length of the church. Jacob Woodcock stood. “Do you dare blaspheme at this late date?” he called out.
Noah ignored him. He was looking over their heads from his high perch in the pulpit through the clear glass windows that had replaced the “papist” stained glass of Trinity Church. Lydde saw the change come over him. She could not see what he saw, that a troop of a dozen helmeted horsemen had entered the far end of North Gate Street. But she saw his death so clearly in his face that she would have stood as well had not Uncle John forcibly held her down. “Give nothing away!” he whispered urgently.
Noah had bowed his head momentarily, then looked up, straight at Lydde.
“I promised someone I love very much,” he said in a clear voice, “that I would one day preach a true sermon, from my heart. Today is that day.
“I take as my text the fourth chapter of Luke’s gospel. Jesus is baptized and undergoes temptation in the wilderness, then reveals himself for the first time. He says, ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord.’ Then Jesus told the people, ‘This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears.’
“What is this ‘acceptable year of the Lord’? It is the jubilee year, the time of freedom and justice, of the liberation of the poor and oppressed, indeed the liberation of all of us. It is nothing more nor less than the proclamation of the Kingdom of God, a kingdom which is not coming, my friends. No, Jesus says it is already here. We live at this very moment in the Kingdom of God. Only we have not eyes to see it.”
He was looking toward the windows again and hesitated, temporarily distracted. Then the congregation could hear the hooves of a troop of horses ringing against the cobblestones around Trinity. Lydde began to weep silently. Noah gathered himself and went on.
“Why can we not see the Kingdom of God? Because we avoid living in it. We do not heal broken hearts, we do not deliver captives, we abuse the poor, and we do not free anyone.” He was looking at Lydde again. “But also because, though the Kingdom of God is here, it lies just beyond the surface of what we see. It is like another dimension present with us always, though we are separated from it by the thinnest of membranes. But sometimes it trickles through into our wounded world in sublime moments of beauty, of truth, of peace, like water trickling through tiny fissures in a dam. We perceive it when we love. And someday it will burst through in its entirety and its goodness will wash over our world and transform and renew and restore everything we know. Someday—”
Then the back doors opened with a crash and a dozen armed men entered the sanctuary and fanned out along the outer aisles, followed by a short man in a gray coat and hat.
“I am Major-General Elisha Sitwell,” he proclaimed, “and I am come to arrest the criminal who styles himself the Raven. Since,” he added with a nod toward Noah, who stood frozen in the pulpit, “your Pastor Fallam seems unequal to the task.”
Noah stepped down from the pulpit into a deadly silence. “Do you interrupt Sabbath worship, sir?” he said.
“I do,” Sitwell replied. “For the Sabbath here cannot be peaceful while crimes like last night’s robbery at Rosewood are committed. I will apprehend my criminal, sir, and then you shall have back your peaceful Sabbath.”
Sitwell strode halfway down the center aisle and stopped, facing the men’s side of the church. “This Raven,” he said, “is known to bear a red birthmark on his shoulder. Every man here will therefore remove his coat and shirt and be examined by my constables.”
The men looked at one another and began uneasily to pull off their coats and unbutton their shirts. Noah took a step forward. He still looked at Lydde, frozen in her pew, and she saw what he intended to do. She shook her head violently and he answered with a slow, reluctant head shake of his own. At the end of the aisle a Bristol constable was calling for Lydde and Uncle John to comply as the other men were.
“This is not necessary!”
Heads turned toward Pastor Fallam, who was coming down the center aisle.
“And
why not?” Sitwell demanded.
Uncle John clapped his hand over Lydde’s mouth.
“Because I know who bears the birthmark,” Noah said. “It is on my own back. I am the Raven.”
Lydde’s scream was muffled by Uncle John’s hand and the outcry from the congregation.
“Arrest this man!” Elisha Sitwell cried, and four of his constables came around from the sides and grabbed Noah, wrenching his arms behind his back. Sitwell walked slowly toward him.
“You!” he said. “I remember you well from Wexford. I wanted to hang you then, and should have. Has there ever been a more disgusting, despicable act of treachery than this?” He pulled a cudgel from his belt and waved it at the constables. “Tear off the robe of this man who pretends to serve God but in fact serves the Devil. Strip down his coat and shirt and show us the mark of Satan on his back.”
They turned Noah roughly, stripping the robe from him and pulling down his coat and shirt to expose the birthmark on his shoulder. Lydde buried her face against Uncle John’s arm. Then they pulled Noah back around to face Sitwell. The major-general glared at him a moment, then raised his cudgel and struck Noah a blow to the side of his head that dropped him to his knees. He stayed down, stunned, until the constables hauled him up again. Blood streamed down the right side of his head and face. Sitwell grabbed Noah’s chin and turned his head roughly to one side, inspecting the damage he had done, then stepped back as though satisfied and faced the congregation. They sat in stunned silence—save for the weeping of a number of the women—their faces variously mirrors of outrage or distress.
“This man,” Sitwell said, pointing at Noah with his cudgel, “is condemned by that birthmark and by the words out of his own mouth. He admits he is a damnable brigand, smuggler, thief, and traitor to the Commonwealth. There is no need for a trial, only a sentencing. Noah Fallam will be lodged in Norchester jail. Tomorrow at dawn he will be led to the place of execution and there he shall be hanged, while yet living his entrails spilled and private parts removed and burned, his head cut off, and his body quartered. His head shall be sent to London Bridge, the rest shall go to the four directions of the Commonwealth as a warning to others of his kind. So say I, Elisha Sitwell, major-general of Bristol District.”
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