A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3)

by Irina Shapiro

  “What is it?” Finn had no idea what caused that reaction.

  “British soldiers. Go quickly. Use the back door as if you’re going for a piss. Go!”

  “What about you? Come with me,” Finn urged, but Sam shook his head.

  “You need to deliver that message. I’ll be fine.”

  Finn pushed his way through the crowd, making for the back door. No one would pay any attention to someone going out back to relieve themselves. Finn couldn’t help wondering if Sam had been mistaken. Everyone was still talking and drinking happily.

  He stepped into the night, taking a deep breath of fresh air. His clothes reeked of smoke and spilled drink, and his stomach growled with hunger. He should have gotten something to eat while waiting for Sam. Were there really British soldiers, or was Sam just trying to get rid of him so that he could go meet Cissy in the barn? She certainly looked willing.

  Finn was just about to walk off into the trees when he noticed several British soldiers taking position behind the tavern and blocking the back door. There were soldiers at the front as well, preparing for whatever they were going to do. Finn melted into the shadows, watching. The soldiers entered the tavern, their muskets at the ready. All was quiet for a few moments until chaos erupted inside. Several men were forced outside and lined up in front of a wagon. Finn couldn’t hear what was being said, but the captain was obviously questioning them, and none too gently. One of the men doubled over as he was punched in the stomach by one of the soldiers.

  Finn was distracted from the scene by the wagon as several men tried to escape through the back door. The British soldiers ordered them back inside, threatening to shoot if they refused. All the men turned around, except for one. He looked straight ahead and walked out of the tavern, refusing to be intimidated. A single shot rang out, finding its mark. Finn watched as the man fell to his knees, his mouth open in shock, before keeling over into the dirt. He was obviously dead.

  Finn sucked in his breath as he saw Sam dragged out of the tavern by two soldiers. He was resisting, twisting around to punch one of the soldiers in the face. Two more soldiers came to the rescue, holding Sam between them as a third drove the butt of his musket into Sam’s stomach, bringing him to his knees. They yanked Sam back to his feet and pushed him toward the line of men by the wagon before going back inside.

  Finn had to get closer, so he crept from the shadows, hiding behind the privy since it was the only structure behind the inn. He tried to ignore the stench as he craned his neck to see the front yard, but it was making his eyes water, and his nose burn. Sam was sitting on the ground, his back against the wheel of a cart, his arm pressed to his middle where the soldier hit him earlier. His nose and upper lip were smeared with blood, but he looked at the soldiers defiantly, unlike the others, who just looked scared. The captain questioned the other men before Cissy was brought out into the yard, looking frightened. She had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her cap demurely on her head to hide the abundant curls she was so happy to display earlier. The captain swept her a courteous bow and kissed her hand before speaking to her. He was smiling cordially, obviously trying to put her at ease. Cissy was paraded in front of the four men slowly as she made a pretense of concentrating. She finally pointed to Sam and another fellow, but the captain wasn’t content. He seemed to be asking questions of her while pointing at the other two. Cissy finally nodded, pleasing the captain. She was permitted to leave and ran back into the tavern, clearly distressed. What could she know about them?

  Finn watched as the soldiers tied the men’s hands behind their backs and forced them into the wagon, prodding them with the butts of their muskets. Sam was the last to get in before the wagon rumbled out of the yard, followed by the foot soldiers, their white wigs glowing in the moonlight. The mounted captain led the procession, his back stiff as a rod. Where were they taking them? Men spilled out of the tavern as soon as the soldiers cleared the yard, eager to get away. The ones who came out the back door threw nervous glances at the fresh corpse in the back yard, but didn’t stop. Finn hoped someone would claim the body and at least give him a Christian burial.

  Finn stepped out from behind the privy, gulping fresh air like a drowning man. He had two choices: either be on his way and deliver Sam’s information, or follow the soldiers to see where they were taking the men. He knew that the logical thing to do would be to just go, but he couldn’t leave Sam to his fate. Whatever was happening, it didn’t bode well for the young soldier. It didn’t take long to reach a decision. Finn kept his distance, staying close to the trees whenever possible as he followed the wagon. It wouldn’t do to be noticed by the soldiers, but they never bothered to look back. All their attention was directed toward the men in the cart.

  Chapter 57

  As Finn followed the cart, his mind raced with questions. Where were they taking Sam and the other men and why? What would they do to them? Was there anyone Finn could alert to what happened? He had no idea where Sam was stationed or if anyone knew of his activities. Finn would just have to improvise once he saw the lay of the land.

  It took just over an hour for the procession to reach its destination, which was a compound of some sort, surrounded by a high wall made of sharpened wooden spikes. As the gates opened to admit the soldiers and cart, Finn spotted several wooden structures and a sea of canvas tents, aglow with candlelight from within. There was a lot of activity in the yard, given the lateness of the hour. Finn glimpsed dozens of soldiers before the gates were closed again by the sentries. If only he could get inside somehow. Don’t do anything rash, he thought to himself, retreating into the woods.

  The first thing he had to do was hide his sack. If caught nosing around, Sam’s message could betray him as well as others. Finn found a hollow tree not too far away from the outer wall. The space inside was nice and dry, just large enough to hold his possessions. He pushed his sack into the tree, marking the spot with two crossed sticks at the base, just in case he lost his bearings, then went back toward the fort. The logs making up the outer wall were driven into the ground with such precision that there wasn’t even a chink of light escaping between them. He couldn’t see anything at all, but heard activity in the yard. Finn decided to walk around the wall. There had to be more than one way in. No one would limit themselves to one exit, especially in a time of war.

  Finn followed the perimeter of the wall on silent feet, but there wasn’t much chance of anyone hearing him. There was so much noise inside that no one would pay attention to a snapped twig or the sound of footsteps. The compound was much larger than he expected, probably housing an entire garrison. The front half of the fort jutted out into a clearing, but the back half was surrounded by woods and didn’t seem to have any guard towers. Finn didn’t know much about warfare, but he’d seen the Jamestown fort and was expecting this one to be similar.

  He was just behind the compound when a small door leading into the woods opened up. Two uniformed soldiers walked out carrying torches and spades. Thankfully, their torches didn’t give off more than meager pools of light, leaving Finn in the shadows. The soldiers didn’t go too far into the forest before stopping and driving their torches into the ground. They removed their coats and hung them from a nearby branch before beginning to dig in their shirtsleeves. They didn’t seem too enthusiastic about their task, grumbling as they worked.

  “Why are they having us dig these now with night coming on?” one of them asked. He looked no older than Finn, with a shock of dark hair that was tied back with a ribbon.

  “The Colonel wants these ready for tomorrow. It’s for the men they arrested today at McVie’s place,” the other one answered.

  “Were you there, Arnold? What happened?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss it, Paul,” Arnold answered, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He looked hot and tired, probably longing for his bed.

  “Oh, come now. There’s no one here to overhear us. Tell us what happened then,” the dark one persisted. He l
eaned on his spade, his eyes aglow with curiosity.

  “All right, but you didn’t hear it from me. It seems that the rebels know too much of our plans. They attack convoys and strike at strategic points. The Colonel has been suspecting that someone has been passing them information.”

  “No! You mean there’s a spy here among us?” Paul was so shocked, he let go of the spade and it fell into the gaping hole, making a thud as it hit the dirt. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Well, believe it. The Colonel hatched a plan to smoke out the traitor,” Arnold replied, leaning on his own spade and facing his friend.

  “How do you know this?”

  “My cousin is on the Colonel’s staff. He tells me things. Anyhow, the Colonel sent an undercover man to drink and socialize at the tavern just to see if he could learn anything. He’s a local man, so no one would suspect him of being a sympathizer. Seems the innkeeper’s daughter is rather pretty and likes a bit of a roll in the hay. She’s very talkative too. Said one of the lads told her that he was part of a spy ring who met at the tavern. He was trying to impress her, I wager.”

  “So what happened?” Paul was hanging on Arnold’s every word.

  “They sent a patrol to the tavern and had the girl identify which men she met with, and who was seen with the one who claimed to be a spy. Seems they were in luck. They got several rebels. The best part was that the one who claimed to be a spy is one of our own. The Colonel is having them questioned now.” Arnold drove the spade into the earth again, grunting with effort.

  “What will happen to them?”

  “They will offer them a pardon for any information, but it will be the gallows for them come morning. Why d’you think we’re digging this hole?” Arnold gave Paul a pitying look. The lad was obviously fresh off the boat, innocent of the ways of warfare.

  “That’s not honorable.” Paul’s face was pale with shock. “They try to trick them into confessing, and then hang them based on the word of some girl who spreads her legs for just anyone? Doesn’t seem right, that doesn’t.”

  “Well, it’s not for us to decide, is it? We are told to dig a hole, so we dig a hole. I’m sure our betters know what they are about.” Arnold seemed to be getting annoyed with the younger soldier, eager to be finished with the task.

  “But what if they are innocent?” Paul persisted.

  “No one is innocent. They’d kill us all in our beds just to win this conflict. Even if they’re innocent of this particular crime, they’re sure to be guilty of something else. Anyhow, sends a message, doesn’t it? Others will think twice before betraying the King.”

  “Will they not even get to see a minister before they die?” Paul asked, shocked.

  “Someone will ride to the village in the morning to fetch the minister. They will be given absolution before they die, don’t you worry. Now dig faster. I want my bed sooner rather than later.”

  Finn waited for a few more minutes, but the conversation moved on to other topics that had nothing to do with the condemned prisoners. Finn quietly melted into the shadows, going back to the hollow tree to retrieve his things. He had no idea what to do, but getting inside the fort no longer seemed like a good idea. Come morning, Sam and the others would be executed. Even if he managed to get inside the fort, there was no way he could get Sam out. With dozens of soldiers milling around, and the gates locked, there wasn’t much hope of escape. The minister would come tomorrow from the village, but what good would that do? Unless inspiration struck, Sam would die in a few hours.

  Finn spread his bedroll without lighting a fire. It was cold, but he didn’t want to attract attention. He was hungry and tired, but he couldn’t sleep. There had to be something he could do to help Sam. Finn stared at the overcast sky. Tonight there were no stars, just a wooly blanket of dark clouds obscuring the heavens. Suddenly, Finn sat up, an idea taking shape in his head.

  Chapter 58

  Louisa grabbed on to the doorjamb, trying to keep her balance. The ship was rocking hard, riding the monstrous swells that battered the vessel with relentless frequency. She tried hard not to spill the soup she was bringing for Bridget. Only a week had passed since their conversation on deck, but Bridget took a dramatic turn for the worse. Her face was drenched in cold sweat and tense with pain. She hadn’t eaten anything all day, refusing everything but a few sips of water.

  Louisa perched on the edge of the berth, balancing the bowl of soup on her knees. “Bridget, you have to try and eat something. I brought you some soup, and believe me, it wasn’t easy getting here from the galley without spilling any, so you owe me at least a few spoonfuls. Now try to sit up a little.”

  Louisa’s tone was light, but it was all an act. She couldn’t bear to see Bridget suffering this way. In the modern world, she might have had a chance of survival, but here there was nothing anyone could do. If only Louisa had some morphine or laudanum to give her. At least it would ease the pain of the disease that was obviously devouring her from the inside. Bridget clutched her belly, moaning as another wave of pain left her breathless.

  “I wish I wasn’t Catholic,” she suddenly whispered, her eyes glazed with misery.

  “Why?”

  “Because suicide is a mortal sin. I would give anything to put an end to this misery. I pray for death to come quickly, but it looks like this world isn’t done with me yet.”

  Louisa wished she could say something, but there was nothing to say. She took Bridget’s hand, squeezing it in a show of understanding and support. “Bridget, is there anything I can do for you? Just name it.”

  Bridget licked her dry lips, her voice barely audible above the roar of the ocean outside. “Yer ladyship, I’ve written a letter to my daughters. I don’t know if they’ll be able to read it, but I hope someone will read it to them. I was illiterate when I first came to yer sister. She taught me to read and write. I don’t know if my girls have been as fortunate.” Bridget closed her eyes as another wave of pain washed over her, silencing her.

  “Bridget, I promise to deliver the letter to your daughters and to read it to them. Now, try to eat something, please.” Bridget just shook her head.

  “Get some rest, yer ladyship. There’s nothing more ye can do here.”

  **

  “How is she?” Kit was lying on the narrow berth, his long legs hanging off, Evie sound asleep on his chest. Her cheek was pressed to his doublet, rosebud mouth open in peaceful slumber. Louisa sat next to Kit, tracing her finger over the rounded cheek of the sleeping baby. She couldn’t imagine giving up her baby, no matter what she’d done.

  “She’s in a lot of pain. I wish I had something to give her, but there’s nothing. She won’t eat anything either. She can’t last much longer at the rate she’s deteriorating.” Louisa wiped away a tear, as Kit took her hand.

  “Louisa, that’s probably a blessing. The woman is suffering. Why prolong it?” His other hand held Evie firmly as the ship pitched under them.

  “Kit, I’m scared. The ocean is so rough tonight,” Louisa said, grabbing onto his hand to keep from falling off the berth.

  “It’s normal at this time of year. We will be all right. I promise you. Why don’t you stay with Bridget tonight? I’ll see to Evie. Just feed her before you go. She should be waking soon.” Kit caressed Louisa’s face, his eyes never leaving hers. “Lou, everything will be all right. We will cross the Atlantic safely and Valerie and Alec will be back home with Finn by the time ships start sailing again in the spring. We’ll have news of home. You’ll see.”

  “But we won’t go home, is what you’re saying?” Louisa asked, reading between the lines.

  “We will see what the situation is. Right now, we’re fugitives from the law of the colony. If we go back, you might have to face punishment, and I might be accused of assault on the guard. We’ll be safer in England until we know differently, besides, if you are with child, you’ll be in no condition to cross the Atlantic again so soon. We’ll have to wait until the baby is old enough to travel.” He wiped a
tear from Louisa’s cheek. “I know you’re upset, but we didn’t have much choice, did we?”

  “Kit, Valerie and Alec entrusted us with the running of the estate and the welfare of little Louisa, and thanks to me, we now can’t do either. I can’t begin to imagine what Louisa is going through. Her parents are gone; we’ve disappeared in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye, and Charles can’t marry her off to Thomas fast enough. She’s only fifteen. She’s not ready to be married, even if it’s to avoid scandal. What if he gets her with child? She’s still a child herself. I’ve failed both my sister and my niece, all because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. And now I’m failing Bridget.” Louisa sighed, carefully rising to her feet to avoid falling. “Just bring Evie to me when she wakes up. I’ll have the milk ready. I need to see to Bridget.”

  Chapter 59

  “Will ye sing to me? My mam always sang to me when I was ailing as a little girl,” Bridget whispered. She’d been quiet for the past hour, lying still and silent. Her face was still sheened with sweat, but the pain seemed to have abated a little. Louisa held a cup of water to her mouth, letting her drink. Most of the water ran down her cheek, but some got in, bringing some relief. The night was dark around them, only the sounds of creaking wood and flapping sails heard above the crashing of the waves against the hull. The waves seemed to pummel the ship with less force than before, the rocking turning to rolling under Louisa’s feet. She hoped tomorrow would be a calm day, the water placid as they sailed toward England.

  Kit had come and gone, bringing Evie for her feeding. Louisa held her daughter close to her heart, praying that nothing would separate them the way Bridget had been separated from her children. Was there any worse punishment for a mother? The baby drank contentedly from the thimble of milk, oblivious to everything around her, her dark eyes closing in blissful slumber once she got full. Louisa couldn’t wait to get to dry land. Every day aboard the ship felt like a week, with no news of anyone. She returned the baby to Kit, wiping Bridget’s face with a cool cloth and making sure she was comfortable.