The Bladesmith

by Melinda Hammond

  'This way, my good fellows!' cried a burly individual, ushering everyone towards a large barn. 'Lord Warenford's compliments. You will find food and drink in there, and a brazier or two to comfort you during this long, chilly night. Go on in, my friends and warm yourself.' They found themselves being herded towards the barn with the rest of the servants. As they approached the large double doors John touched Matty's arm and they peeled off into the darkness, doubling back towards the curtain wall.

  When they were clear of the building, John stopped.

  'Did you notice the shutters on that barn, Matty? They are made to be barred from the outside.'

  'Matthew shrugged. 'Not unusual, on a storeroom.'

  'Perhaps, or it may be designed to act as a prison.'

  They walked on, avoiding the press of carriages and people in the centre of the outer ward by hugging the east curtain wall. Here, the sound of the sea was more apparent, and the icy wind cut through their clothes. John's eyes strained through the darkness as he surveyed the wall. Somewhere in this area was the postern gate he had used on his previous, unsuccessful visit to the Keep. Ah, there it was. As they drew level he drew in a sharp breath. The steady flame of a lantern glowed from the loophole next to the door.

  'So we have confirmation of the message we intercepted,' said Matthew, when John nudged him, pointing to the light. 'There's to be a ship here at midnight.'

  'Let us hope we are well away by then.'

  They hurried on, following the wall round until it brought them back to the cluster of buildings that bounded the inner ward. Slipping between two stable blocks, they saw that the yard before the stables was still bustling with carriages and horses. Torches flared, casting distorted shadows and adding to the noisy confusion. Shouts went up as another carriage rattled in and John took advantage of the distraction to move towards the north tower. As he expected, the solid door was locked and he drew the largest of the iron keys from his pocket and fitted it into the lock. It turned easily. John stilled for a moment to look about him. The ostlers were racing towards the carriage to unharness the team. When one of the wheelers reared suddenly, causing even more commotion, he opened the door, and dragged Matthew through into the tower.

  John locked the door and they leaned against it, listening hard, but the sounds from outside did not change. No one had noticed them. Then, as their eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, they looked about them. The only light within the tower came from the loopholes on either side of the door, the narrow slits large enough to fire an arrow or a musket, but not to climb through. John looked towards the northern wall, where he had seen the window overlooking the sea. Two slivers of grey showed him where a leather curtain had been placed over the opening.

  'Stay here Matthew.'

  Cautiously, John felt his way across the room to the window and pulled down the curtain. The cold streamed in, bringing with it the tang of salt air and the muted roar of the waves below. A block of blue moonlight now lay across the room, sufficient for them to see the boxes stacked around the room. John pulled out his hunting knife and prised off the lid of one of the boxes. He reached in and pulled out a sword, scattering chaff like snow as he did so.

  He carried the sword to the window and climbed into the recess, turning the blade this way and that to catch the moonlight. It clearly showed the wolf's head on the blade. With a sigh he hurled the sword out into the night, watching as it fell, the moonlight glinting briefly on the turning blade before it disappeared into the churning waters. Any splash it made was drowned by the constant hiss and crash of the waves. He stared out, his eyes searching the bay. Matthew came up to him.

  'Well, John, is anything stirring?'

  'I can see nought. Thropton's men will be watching the roads and the southern approaches to the Keep. There is always the chance that someone could be looking this way, but that's a chance we will have to take. Let us get on with it.'

  Matthew picked up a sword from the open box.

  'Seems a shame to destroy so much of your brother's work.'

  'Aye, but I cannot take the risk of Thropton finding this. Nor, if I am honest, do I want to aid the rebels.'

  They worked steadily, box after box going out of the window to break open upon the rocks where the crashing waves soon washed the swords into the sea and dispersed the chaff and the remains of the boxes. It was heavy work and soon both men had stripped down to shirts and breeches to manhandle the heavy loads. Occasionally a shout outside the door made them freeze, but no one tried to enter, and after a few moments they would carry on, lifting the boxes into the opening and pushing them out into the darkness.

  As the last of the boxes dropped towards the rocks, Matthew let out a whispered cheer and then sank down beside John in the recess, breathing heavily. John held out his hand.

  'Well done, Matthew. Thank you.'

  'Oh, 'twas nothing, master.'

  'It was a great deal,' countered John. 'Whatever happens now, Wolf should not be implicated with the rebels.'

  Matthew's teeth gleamed. 'Whatever happens now – you mean we have to get out of here.'

  'Aye, and find Kate, too.'

  'What we need,' said Matthew, 'is a diversion.'

  'You are right. Let us see what else we have in this tower.' He began to prowl about the room, but the other boxes held nothing of interest.

  'Bundles of blankets, a trunk of boots – very poor fare. What about you, Matty?'

  Receiving no reply he looked round, but Matthew was not in the room. Then he heard a muffled exclamation from above. John felt his way to the stairs and up to the next floor. Here, the numerous window openings allowed in the torchlight from the busy yard outside. It was a relief after the darkness of the lower floor. Matthew was standing in the centre of the room, a black shape against the moonlight.

  'Careful, sir, the floor is not clear.'

  John moved a foot, almost immediately it came in contact with an object that shifted a little as he pushed it with his toe. He reached down.

  'Muskets. One, two … six muskets, wrapped in a blanket.'

  'Aye,' said Matthew, his voice awed. 'There's dozens of 'em - and over there are kegs o' powder. Small ones: easy to pack into travelling carriages, like.'

  John sat back on his heels.

  'Aye, Matty, you're right. That's how he's going to get the arms to the Pretender. His guests will take them in their carriages.'

  'But they'll not all agree to it, sir, surely.'

  'Remember the shutters on that barn, where they were accommodating all the servants? It's my guess that he plans to hold his guests and their servants here while he takes the arms away in their coaches.'

  'Of course!' exclaimed Matthew. 'They all have travel permits, and who would dare to challenge the likes of Lord Hertford?'

  'Aye, 'tis a daring plan, Matty, but it must not be allowed to happen.'

  'What are we going to do?'

  John grinned.

  'What you suggested, Matthew. A diversion.'

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Katherine was beginning to feel a little desperate. She had laughed and danced throughout the evening, but she was aware that it was her wedding night, and Lord Warenford would not be held off forever. She had been relieved and not a little surprised that he had demanded no more than a kiss from her when they had arrived at the Keep. Widow Skelton had bustled about making sure the wedding breakfast was as it should be, and Katherine had insisted on helping her. The widow appeared more nervous than ever. She told Katherine that the earl had refused to let her wear her customary black and she had bowed to his will, choosing for the wedding day a lavender silk overdress with a gold quilted petticoat, but the colours could not be said to suit her sallow complexion, and when they at last sat down to the wedding feast, Katherine noticed that the widow ate almost nothing.

  Following the dinner came the speeches, long and ponderous. Lord Hertford, as the most high-ranking of the guests, praised the bride.

  '…for her grace and beauty
, and my lord Warenford, you are to be congratulated in choosing for a wife one whose family has long been respected in the county, despite an, ah, unfortunate history.' Lord Hertford looked down his aristocratic nose at the guests seated around him. 'But of course, in these dark and unsettled times the King is glad to know he can count on Northumberland to stand firm.'

  As a murmur of assent ran around the table. Katherine looked towards Charles Radleigh and was in time to see the smirking look he gave to Sir George Bedleston, sitting opposite. The daylight had quite gone before the speeches had ended, and when they finally rose from the table the first guests were already arriving for the evening's entertainment. There was therefore little time for Katherine to be private with her husband, which was a relief, but she was also uneasy. Warenford seemed pre-occupied, and her suspicions grew that he had more planned than a wedding celebration. She remembered John's words and determined to watch him.

  Katherine longed to know if it was yet midnight. There was a small chiming clock in one corner of the great hall, but it could not be heard above the music and chatter, and she dare not move that way too often to look at the time. The evening seemed interminable, and her cheeks ached with smiling, but her brain felt as if it would burst with the agony of not knowing. Was John inside the castle, was he safe and how would he come for her? When would he come for her? Widow Skelton brought Lord Hertford up to her, and she graciously laid her fingers on his sleeve and allowed him to lead her out for the minuet.

  'I am sorry your father could not be here tonight.' He began as they took their places on the dance floor.' I personally wrote to Captain Thropton, urging him to grant permits to all the guests on this auspicious occasion. I cannot understand why he should have denied your father this pleasure. In fact, I was led to believe he had given permission for your father to be allowed to come to the Keep this evening. Odd, most odd.'

  'He did grant it, my lord, and my father is most grateful for your efforts, but his health is too poor to allow him to travel abroad at night. The wedding this morning was as much as he could manage.'

  Katherine spoke cheerfully, but behind her smiles she was anxious. Where was John, why had he not come for her? If the earl was planning mischief, it was best her father was safe at the Manor, there at least she need not worry, but for herself… She gave herself a mental shake. She trusted John, she told herself fiercely. She had to trust him, or her life meant nothing.

  Lord Hertford led her with stately grace through the movements of the minuet and as the music died away the earl came up to them, smiling, urbane, flattering the viscount before taking Katherine away.

  'I hope you will excuse us, my lord?'

  Lord Hertford bowed. 'But of course, Warenford. 'Tis a husband's privilege.'

  Katherine swept a low curtsey and accompanied the earl off the floor, a sudden thought making her grow cold.

  'Do, do you wish us to withdraw, sir?'

  'Nothing would give me greater pleasure, madam, but we cannot leave our guests just yet.'

  Relief washed over her.

  'No, of course not. Then why…?'

  'I want you to join my cousin.'

  'Oh? Is she ill?'

  'No, no, my dear, nothing like that, but I should like you to slip away quietly, when you can. You will find her in the library. Go as soon as you are able, my love. She will explain everything to you.'

  Puzzled, Katherine moved to the edge of the room and from there out into the corridor. There seemed to be more footmen than usual in the passage but she quickly made her way past them to the library. She had not been in the room since the night she had tended to the sword-cut on John's ribs. Then it had been empty but now the few chairs were all occupied. Katherine recognised Sir George Bedleston's plump wife, and Mistress Charles Radleigh. These ladies had taken the chairs beside the smoky fire while two more, Mistress Kendle and Mistress Arnott were engaged in a card game at the large library desk. Mistress Skelton was perched on the edge of a chair by the window, looking more nervous than ever. She fluttered up to greet Kate and drew her into the room.

  Katherine tried to calm the alarm that was growing within her.

  'Now what is my lord planning?' she said lightly. 'Is there some revelry that we are too innocent to enjoy?'

  Mistress Radleigh looked up at her.

  'My dear, it is nearly midnight.' She raised one painted eyebrow. 'Can it be that you do not know?'

  'Know what?'

  Mistress Arnott tittered. 'Oh, you poor innocent. Has Warenford not told you? How naughty of him.'

  'So it would seem.' Katherine felt her temper rising. She looked towards Mistress Skelton. 'Perhaps you could enlighten me?'

  The widow looked alarmed, and wrung her hands. Mistress Radleigh answered for her.

  'Why, my dear child, we are off to France tonight!'

  'Are you? Tonight? How odd.'

  'La, child, how remiss of Warenford not to explain it all. You, of course, are coming too.'

  'What!'

  Mistress Skelton nodded and began to speak with breathless haste.

  'Yes, yes, it is all arranged. We are to go abroad while the men ride west to join the Prince. It is all for the best, my dear, because the soldiers might try to imprison us if we stay here. Much better that we go to France until the fighting is over.'

  Katherine's head began to spin and she wondered if she was in some kind of nightmare.

  'But I cannot go. What of my father?'

  'It is a pity that he could not come here tonight,' put in Lady Bedleston, looking down her long nose at Katherine. 'Of course you will be anxious for him, but we must hope that he is shown the clemency demanded by his age and infirmity.'

  They all looked round as the door opened.

  'Henry!' Katherine started forward.

  He gave his sister the briefest of smiles.

  'Ladies, I am sent to tell you that you will be leaving within the hour. However, the earl is adamant that you should remain in this room until he comes for you. Whatever happens you will be safer if you remain here.'

  She put her hand on his sleeve. 'Henry - did you know of this?'

  'Of course.'

  'And you would have me abandon our father?'

  He flushed a little under her scornful tone.

  'You have a duty to your husband now, madam.'

  He shook off her hand and walked out, leaving her staring after him. Mistress Skelton came up to her.

  'Come, my dear, let me pour you some wine. This is such an exciting day for you.'

  'It does not make sense,' muttered Katherine, ignoring her. 'I cannot go to France. It is my wedding night!'

  'And that is the cleverest part of the whole trick!' declared Lady Bedleston, with majestic calm. 'The guests all have their travel permits, so the men will be able to travel freely across the county without arousing the least suspicion until it is too late for that meddlesome Riding Officer to do anything about it!'

  'But Lord Hertford,' Katherine put a hand to her head, frowning. 'Surely he is no rebel.'

  Mistress Radleigh laughed. 'Bless you, my dear, of course he is not!'

  'Then …'

  Mistress Skelton tried to smile.

  'You must not be alarmed, Katherine, my dear. My cousin has assured me that no one will be harmed, only he must keep them here because he needs the carriages to move the arms.'

  Katherine stared at her. 'Are you saying that he means to imprison the Viscount and the other guests loyal to the crown while he uses their carriages to take supplies to the Pretender?'

  The widow spread her hands. She looked extremely uncomfortable.

  'You must admit it is exceeding cunning, dear.'

  But Katherine was not listening. She wrenched open the door and flew back to the great hall, but her way was blocked by a dozen men, each heavily armed. One gave her a clumsy salute.

  'Your pardon, my lady, but you cannot come through here.'

  'Where is my husband?'

  'In the gallery, ma'
am – '

  She turned and flew up the stairs to the minstrels' gallery that ran across one end of the hall. The musicians were cowering against the wall, while the earl stood against the rail, looking down into the hall. He was flanked by several men on each side, each one with a musket trained on the crowd below. A general muttering was coming from the hall until the earl clapped his hands, when an expectant hush fell over the room.

  'You must forgive this little inconvenience,' said the earl, smiling down at the upturned faces. 'It is necessary for me to make sure that my guests do not leave the Keep for a while yet.' There was a little uncertain laughter at what some guests thought to be the earl's joke. He continued. 'You will see that every doorway is guarded by my men, and you should have no doubt that they will use force, if they must, to prevent you from leaving.'

  'What do you mean by this, my lord?' demanded Viscount Hertford, his hand on his sword.

  'I should have thought that was quite clear, Hertford,' purred the earl. 'I mean you all to remain here, as my guests.'

  'But that is preposterous!' declared another man in a powdered bag-wig. 'You cannot keep us prisoner.'

  'Oh, but I can, Sir Michael,' replied the earl, an unpleasant smile curling his mouth. 'Now I suggest you make yourselves comfortable. If you behave no one will be harmed. However, if anyone tries to escape,' he gestured towards the men on either side of him. 'It would be tragic if any of you, and especially any of your ladies, should be shot.'

  A buzz of indignation rose up at his words but the earl had moved back from the rail. As he did so he spotted Katherine, the gold lustring of her gown shining bright against the guards' brown fustian. His brows snapped together.