'Not that way, little Caro,' he said brutally, grinning at her. He whipped out his sword, stepping forward and pressing the point into her breast.
He glanced across at Bessy, who had rushed to help Jacob, and was now staring at him, her hands to her mouth.
'Open the cellar door and bring me the key. Then get yourself and the old fool down there. Move! Every second you delay makes it more likely little Caro here will be hurt!'
'Typical of Cromwell's bullies, to attack women, like they did after Naseby,' a calm, quiet voice interrupted.
Caro, heedless of the sword held to her heart, swung round with a gasp of dismay. Surely he would not meekly give himself up? He mustn't be allowed to do it!
'Robert!' she exclaimed, and took a hasty step towards him, her hands held out in supplication.
Lord Ashring stood in the doorway leading from the hall. He had his own sword raised, and there was a grim, determined smile on his face.
'Out of the way, Caro. I'll deal with this scum who can only fight women!'
On the words he advanced slowly into the room, and Caro was brushed aside as Culham turned to face him.
Bessy grasped her hand when she seemed inclined to move towards his lordship, and pulled her across to the nook beside the fire where Jacob was already huddling, nursing his bruised arms and wrists, sore from Culham's mistreatment.
'Leave it to his lordship, Miss Caro!' she begged urgently. 'He'll show that devil how to treat honest folk!'
There were two lanterns alight on the table in the centre of the room, and the fire which Caro had poked was beginning to flare. The lights cast enormous shadows on the far wall, dancing in broken patterns across the white-washed walls and the huge dressers, their shelves filled with brightly polished pots and cooking utensils.
Caro's gaze was fixed unmovingly on Robert, however. He wore just his shirt, open at the neck and tucked firmly into tight fitting breeches, and was in stockinged feet.
This, she soon realised, gave him an advantage over John Culham, encumbered with a heavy riding coat and boots. He could move with greater speed and delicacy over the stone-flagged floor, while Culham more than once found his feet slipping on the smooth stone and had to pause to regain his balance.
For some time they circled one another warily, testing each other's skills, then Robert suddenly increased the pressure, moving forward decisively, pressing hard and forcing Culham back with a rapid flurry of slashes and lunges. If Culham had not moved quickly to put the table between himself and Robert the end would have come very swiftly.
The table provided a respite for him and for a while they cirled it warily, but it was large and Robert was unable to get within striking distance. Then Culham suddenly moved backwards towards the group in the chimney corner and reached for Caro's hand. He dragged her towards him and twisted her in front of him, clamped rigidly to his body. He had a dagger in his left hand, and its point was a bare inch from her throat.
'Come nearer and I'll make sure you don't enjoy the pretty little whore's favours again,' he sneered, beginning to drag Caro towards the outer door.
She resisted fiercely, kicking his shins and trying to bite the hand which held the dagger, heedless of whether it scratched her or not, but he was far too strong. His arm was like an iron vice round her waist and the dagger was terrifyingly close.
Her mind worked even faster than when she had been inventing the story to tell the soldiers. She knew the door was shut and he would need to use one hand to lift the latch. This would have to be his right hand if he wished to keep her imprisoned.
And so it was. The second she saw the sword move backwards as he felt for the latch, she threw herself to that side, and as she fell thrust her foot between Culham's ankles.
He was thrown off balance as he tried to restrain her, and within seconds Robert was once more threatening him.
If Caro had not been lying between them, impeding Robert's movements as well as Culham's, it would have finished then. But somehow Culham scrambled away. Once more the devilish shadow-dance began.
Caro rose cautiously to her feet and put a hand to her cheek. The dagger had slid across it and there was a trace of sticky blood on her face, but the cut was slight.
Even more determined to help Robert now, she darted towards the table. It had saved Culham before, and if she could move it back Robert would have greater space. Culham would have nowhere to retreat.
It was far too heavy, but the bench was not. She dragged it out to make a barrier over which Culham would have to climb if he tried once more to put the table between them, or over which he might fall and break his head, she thought hopefully. For a moment she marvelled at the bloodthirsty nature she was revealing.
Culham had seen her manoeuvre and kept away from the table. Within minutes Robert, who despite his illness was by far the better swordsman, had driven Culham into a corner.
A few more moves, a feint, a lunge, and suddenly, as Robert twisted his sword aside his adversary's weapon was spinning away from him.
'Drop the dagger,' Robert said calmly, only slightly out of breath. Culham was breathing deeply, sucking air into his lungs.
'You'll not get away, you devil! My men are waiting!' he gasped. 'They'll soon capture you.'
'Kill the pesky rebel!' Jacob quavered, having become an ardent Royalist during the course of the fight.
Robert smiled slightly.
'I think it will be enough to tie him up and leave him somewhere - the priest's hole, perhaps?'
'You couldn't!' Culhams's voice was weak. 'They'd never find me there! I'd be dead within hours!'
'No, unfortunately. But I've no wish to have your wretched life on my conscience. The cellar will do. Caro, have you some strong rope?'
'I'll get some,' Jacob offered, sounding disappointed. Then, to Culham's obvious dismay, he stood guard with both daggers while Lord Ashring tied Culham's hands and feet and pushed him into the cellar.
'What in the world shall we do now?' Bessy asked tearfully. 'They'll take Mistress Caro when they come, and heaven knows what they'll do to her.'
Jacob was entering into the realms of conspiracy with considerable gusto. He was chortling with glee as he made his suggestion.
'Lock us all into one of the attic bedrooms, and then we can say we had to do what you said, you'd threatened us if we dain't. We'll be safe enough.'
'But if they didn't come, you'd none of you be able to get out,' Robert said, highly amused despite the predicament they found themselves in.
'Don't you fret, I can open they pesky little locks,' Jacob said contemptuously.
'Even if they let us go they'd still blame Mistress Caro,' Bessy said gloomily. 'They wouldn't believe she was innocent, not with Mr Culham to say how she helped you.'
'Caro must come with me and I will escort her to her Uncle at Falmouth.'
***
Chapter 7
Caro knew her only hope of safety was to go with Robert. That she also wanted to made her impatient when Bessy began to protest it wasn't right, a young girl going off alone with a man.
'Bessy, they'll make me a prisoner if I don't! Would you prefer that? And worse? You heard from John Culham what those others said about me.'
'Go and pack saddlebags with the minimum you can take,' Robert said briskly. 'Jacob, saddle mine and the best horse you have for her, and muffle their hooves in straw and rags. We'll lead them onto the moor and hope the soldiers lose us.'
'Put Peter's saddle on, Jacob,' Caro said suddenly. 'I'll wear his old clothes and ride as a boy, it will be safer.'
She ran out of the kitchen and as soon as he saw Jacob obeying his commands, Robert followed. A few minutes later he was back fully dressed, packing into his own saddlebags the packets of food Bessy had hastily prepared.
Caro came down a little self consciously. She felt surprisingly naked without her petticoats. She had on a pair of worn breeches which Peter had discarded many years since. They were still too large for her, and she'd tied
them with a length of cord. With them she wore a white shirt with hastily tied cravat, and a thick, homespun riding coat. She had considered cutting her hair, but hadn't time to make a tidy job of it, so had stuffed her hair beneath a wide-brimmed hat, somewhat bedraggled. A jaunty feather drooping over her right eye made her look decidedly rakish.
Peter's shoes had all been too large, but her own riding boots did not look too odd. She'd slipped a dagger into the top of one, feeling foolish but defiant. She needed a weapon of some sort.
Robert nodded approvingly and picked up his saddlebags.
'Good, come quickly and make as little sound as you can.'
There was no time for more than a quick hug from Bessy, who was sniffing ominously, and still muttering that it wasn't seemly, before Robert led the way to the stables.
Jacob had a small lantern alight there, with just one side open giving him a faint glow by which to work. He blinked a little and raised an eyebrow when he saw Caro's attire, but said nothing while he arranged the saddlebags.
'I've put the pistols in holsters, Mistress Caro, and they're primed aand ready to fire,' Jacob whispered conspiratorily as he turned back to her.
'Just aim well away from me,' Robert commented wryly. 'Though on second thoughts, perhaps you'd best aim at me, then I'll be safe,' he added, grinning.
How could he joke when his life was in danger? Caro, who'd been too busy for anything but the most immediate planning, felt her spirits suddenly soar. With such a man she'd be safe. He'd never allow harm to come to them.
Within minutes they were cautiously leading the horses through the fields, avoiding the track towards the moors in case Culham's men were waiting. Both of them had a hand ready to stifle any betraying whinny if their mounts caught the scent of other horses.
They reached the open moor safely, and when Robert judged they were well out of reach he stopped and hitched the reins to the branch of a lone tree.
'We'll ride now. Can you take the rags from his hooves?'
'Yes.' Caro bent to the task. 'Oughtn't you really to be going to find the King, as John Culham said?'
'Tyler took my letters. The rest can wait. I'll go first to Prince Charles at Barnstaple, and discover what's been happening.'
'But you cannot escort me all the way to Falmouth. It would waste too much time. If you've news for the King why can't I come with you?'
'You'd be going through enemy-held country, and I'm not poltroon enough to leave you alone and unprotected, Caro! My news is far from good, and the King will almost certainly have heard by now. I'm much later than I intended, remember.'
Caro blushed. That was her fault. 'Did it – would it have made much difference?' she asked in a subdued voice.
'No, my sweet. Don't blame yourself. Neither France nor Spain can afford men to help, and will merely be sending embassies to England. Some form of negotiation is the only way Charles can keep his throne.'
They mounted and set off. They had to go cautiously in the dark, for the track was poor and there were sudden dips into hidden combes, boulders to avoid, and streams swollen with the recent rains. By dawn they were still some miles short of Barnstaple.
'We must stay up on the moor and hide during the day,' Robert decided. 'It would be foolhardy to ride into Barnstaple unless we know it is still safe in Royalist hands. If the rebels could ride unhindered as far as Waring Manor they might be further into Devon than we thought. And we both of us need to rest. We can find a secure spot and sleep for a while.'
They found a tiny secluded valley, watered by a stream, with a dense thicket of trees and undergrowth where they and the horses could remain hidden. They took the horses to drink, then hobbled them amongst the trees where there was a fortuitous clearing with sweet grass for them to nibble.
Robert unstrapped the saddlebags and arranged them as pillows, softened by two blankets Jacob had strapped on behind.
'First we must eat, to keep up our strength, then you will try to sleep while I keep watch.'
'But you must be as tired as I am,' Caro protested. 'Surely we're safe here?'
'We are never safe anywhere,' he replied soberly. 'Later I'll sleep for an hour or so while you keep guard.'
As she tucked into Bessy's pie Caro felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over her. Within minutes she was asleep, curled up on the ground but oblivious of its hardness.
Robert gazed down at her. She still looked a child, yet she'd been so valiant in protecting first her home and then him.
He covered her with his cloak and sat with his back against the trunk of a tree. As a soldier he was used to going without food and sleep, but his head was aching. His wound still troubled him occasionally, and he knew he was not entirely fit. He must regain his full strength before the decisive battle came.
Caro awoke as the pale wintry sun reached its zenith. She was stiff, and for a moment disoriented. Where was she? Why was she asleep in the open, the sky above her, trees all around?
Recollection swept back. She looked for Robert to find him smiling down at her.
'Time to eat again, then I can snatch a few hours.'
'I don't think I'm hungry,' she said slowly.
'You'll still eat. We may not have another chance today. We must set out the moment it's dark.'
Meekly she obeyed, and afterwards he rolled himself in the cloak and slept. Caro feasted her eyes on his beloved face. She knew every line of those high, slanting cheekbones, thin nose, and exciting, tantalising lips.
She realised with a slight shock that while she had been asleep he had somehow shaved. How many men, she wondered, on the run from deadly enemies, and no doubt exhausted, would have bothered to shave off their stubble with no more than cold water from a stream? His fastidiousness, which had impressed her earlier, now made her love him even more fiercely. She vowed that even if she had to give her life to prevent it, he would not be allowed to fall into the hands of the Roundheads.
No such sacrifice was called for. They resumed their journey at dusk, and despite having to travel cautiously, reached Barnstaple before dawn.
'I think it best if I take a private room at an inn,' Robert said as they crossed the long stone bridge. 'Then you can sleep while I go and see the Prince's friends.'
Caro was loathe to part from him, but she was suddenly shy of being seen in her boy's raiment, so she made no protest. When he had seen her safely into a small room under the eaves, the best that could be provided, Robert kissed her briefly and bade her let no one into the room but himself.
She sank down onto the bed, her hand touching her brow where his lips had rested so briefly. Did he feel anything for her? Or was she but a nuisance, delaying him from his real concerns? Had the kiss been one of comfort, given unthinkingly? It was very different from those they'd exchanged earlier.
She was soon asleep, exhausted and stiff from the unaccustomed long hours in the saddle, and the short sleep on hard ground the previous day.
When she awoke she knew instantly there was someone else in the room, and looked about her cautiously. Yes, there was steady breathing. Slowly she raised her head, and with a gasp of relief saw Robert stretched out on the floor near the door, his head pillowed on one of the saddlebags.
Her movement roused him and he sat up instantly, then grinned at her.
'You looked so peaceful, as if you hadn't a care in the world,' he said, smiling in a way that made her heart turn over with love. 'I couldn't bear to wake you.'
'You must be tired. What o'clock is it? And did you see the Prince of Wales?'
'Midday, just after. Are you hungry? Dinner will be ready soon, but I brought bread and cheese, ale and some apples in with me. Eat, while I tell you the news.'
She ate ravenously, and when she was sitting cross legged on the bed, chewing an apple, while Robert sat beside her, he told her what he'd discovered.
'The King is at Newark, he seems to be making for Scotland. But otherwise it is all disaster.'
'Robert!'
She held out h
er hand and tentatively, for his face was forbidding at the memory, she touched his shoulder. Suddenly he turned towards her and clasped her to him, while she pushed off his hat and gently stroked his dark, springing curls.
'The King refuses to believe Rupert acted to save as many men as possible at Bristol,' he said slowly. 'Rupert is with him now, but reports say Digby is still in the ascendant, has in fact been given much of Rupert's command and sent north to try and join Montrose. If Scotland is safe, no doubt the King will go there. Most of his other garrisons, Chester, Winchester, as well as most in Wales, and even Basing House, have fallen. Fairfax has captured Tiverton - '
'Tiverton?' Caro exclained. 'Just the far side of Exmoor? Then that explains why John Culham and his men were so close to Waring Manor. But is the Prince of Wales safe here?
'No, he's left Barnstaple to go westwards.'
'Then what will you do?' Caro asked gently. 'Do you not want to join Prince Rupert and the King?'
'I will take you to Falmouth,' he said briskly, the moment of weakness past. 'There seems no point in trying to reach the King, one more man will make little difference. And from what they say he already has too many officers and too few ordinary soldiers at Newark!' he added wryly.
'You can follow the Prince of Wales. He'll be going into Cornwall. Is it safe for him?'
'For the moment. There have for long been arguments about where he should go if England becomes unsafe. I can best serve him by offering my knowledge of what is happening in the countries I have visited.'
'Do we start today, ride tonight again?' Caro asked. Suddenly she was cold, knowing their time together was very short.
He grinned, his spirits restored, and stood up.
'No, you shall have a night at least in a comfortable bed, my love, and we can ride safely through the day. The rebels are not yet in control here.'
***
Chapter 8
'If you insist on such ridiculous gallantry, and are stupid enough to sleep on the floor, then I will too!' Caro declared heatedly.
Her Captive Cavalier Page 5
