Penitence leaned over the ramparts. “Oh,” she said. “Oh my! I really do think he should put some clothes on.”
“What on earth do you mean?” Deliverance joined her. “Oh...I see.”
Last time she had seen him, Luke Collyer had been fully clothed, albeit with his jacket unbuttoned and his shirt unlaced at the neck. Now he swung a mattock like one of his men, naked to the waist. His back glowed with the healthy tan of a man used to working outdoors…without a shirt.
Her eyes widened. She had never thought of men as being particularly attractive creatures. There had been no opportunity in her life to spend her time thinking about men much at all. While young, handsome men had queued at the gate for Penitence’s favours, the only offers Deliverance had received were from three old, bald and foolish men of her father’s acquaintance. Mercifully her father had not sought to force her into accepting any of the offers.
Now, as she watched the smooth muscles across Luke Collyer's back moving rhythmically to the swing of the mattock, she revised her opinion of men in general. She shifted her gaze to Ned Barrett, working a shovel not far away and similarly unclothed. Ned's tan ended at his neck and his body was pale and freckly. Further along the line of straining men, Sergeant Hale, wielded a mallet, his great hairy, bear-like chest heaving under the effort of each stroke of the mallet.
She turned back to Luke Collyer. Compared to Hale, he seemed almost slender and graceful. Almost—she bit her lip ashamed even of the thought—beautiful.
Giggling from the assembled audience of maids reminded her that she and Penitence were not Luke Collyer's only audience. Jennifer Jones, a buxom lass of dubious reputation who worked in the dairy, called out to him. “Captain Collyer, if you pull a muscle, come and see me and I'll rub it for you.”
To Deliverance's mortification, Luke stopped his work and leaned on the handle of the mattock, grinning up at the dairymaid. “Ah, the beautiful Mistress Jones.” Using the handle of the mattock as if it were a walking stick, he swept her a courtly blow to which Jennifer Jones responded with a curtsey
Curses, thought Deliverance, he even knows her name!
“Now you mention it,” Luke continued, “I've an ache that will need a gentle hand.”
The girls broke into gales of laughter at the ribald exchange between the dairymaid and the soldier.
Even Penitence giggled.
Deliverance rounded on her sister. “Penitence.” She clapped her hands, addressing her errant staff. “All right, enough of your gawping. Get back to your work.”
The girls shot her disappointed glares and giggling into their hands went back to their duties. Luke looked up at Deliverance, his head cocked on one side. As she glared down at him, he put two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute and picked up the mattock. As he swung it, the broad muscles of his chest, peppered with dark hairs, slid beneath his skin. Deliverance turned on her heel and fled.
When she heard Ned Barrett and Luke Collyer's voices and the sound of the men's boots on the flagstones behind the screen, Deliverance stopped pacing the floor of the Great Hall.
“Captain Collyer,” she called.
He pushed aside the curtain and raised an enquiring eyebrow at her. “Mistress Felton?”
“I would appreciate a moment of your time,” she said.
He crossed the floor towards her, carrying his jacket slung over one shoulder. At least he had put his shirt back on, but it clung damply to the sculpted muscles of his chest and shoulders, the tight whorls of hair on his chest, still damp with the effort of his exertion. She forced herself to look up at his face. A smudge of dirt marred his right cheek and his dark brown hair was thick with dust.
She resisted the temptation to wipe the smudge of dirt away.
“Captain Collyer. That was a disgraceful display this afternoon. I would thank you not to upset my servants in future.”
“I assure you if I have upset anyone, you have my profuse apologies.”
He bowed in penitence, one hand on his chest but as he rose his lips twitched and she knew he was mocking her.
An uncomfortable heat rose to her cheeks.
“Captain Collyer,” she began, noticing that even to her ears her voice sounded shrill. “I need hardly remind you, our situation is desperate. We do not have time for frivolity...”
Her diatribe trailed off as she found herself transfixed by his grey eyes.
She saw no trace of humour in their icy depths. He looked down at her, his face grave.
“Mistress Felton, it is precisely because of our situation that the occasional frivolity and jesting is called for. Now, if that is all you wish to say to me, I should go and clean myself up.” His voice held a clipped tone that she'd not heard before and she knew she had pushed him too far.
As he turned and started to walk back towards the screen where Ned waited, she said, “No. No...There is something else I wanted to tell you. There was a man on a horse watching us this afternoon. What do you think we should do?”
He turned back to look at her.
“Where was this man?”
“In the tree line. I only saw him because the sunlight glinted on something metal. Could it have been one of Farrington's men?”
“Of course it was.” Luke's mouth tightened and he turned to Ned. “Send Hale to me, I want to know why our patrol didn't see him.”
“What are you going to do?” Deliverance asked.
He scratched his chin and looked up at the dusty beams of the hall. “I think the time has come. I need to see for myself exactly what Sir Richard Farrington is planning.”
“I thought you said he was in Ludlow,” Deliverance said.
“He is,” Luke replied. “But it's what he's doing in Ludlow that interests me.”
“Shall I send our scout again?” Ned asked.
Luke shook his head. “No. I will go myself.”
“Don't be a fool,” Deliverance scoffed. “You can't just walk into Ludlow. You would be instantly suspected.”
Luke looked back at her, his brows creased.
“Not if I had a woman with me.” He raised an eyebrow, a slow, conspiratorial smile spreading over his face. The grey eyes that only a moment ago had cut her down with the force of cold steel, now rested on her with the warmth of soft smoke. “A woman who had a fancy for a little adventure?”
“Do you mean me? Don’t be such a fool. Do you really think that I, the daughter of Sir John Felton, rebel, can just walk in through the gates of Ludlow when it suits me?”
“You could if you were suitably disguised. Are you particularly well known in Ludlow?”
Deliverance bit her lip, trying to suppress the sudden surge of excitement within her. What would her father say when he found out? Would he commend her for her courage and audacity?
“Not so well known that I couldn't pass as a goodwife on her way to Ludlow market.”
“And when is market day?” Luke asked.
“Collyer, this is folly!” Ned interposed.
“Tomorrow,” Deliverance said.
“Excellent,” Luke said. “Tomorrow it is.”
“Are you both mad?” Ned looked from one to the other. “Do you honestly think that you will get away with this?”
Luke held Deliverance's gaze with his as he said, “Yes, I do, Ned.”
“Then let me go,” Ned said. “You're needed here.”
Luke gave his second-in-command a withering glance. “What am I doing that's so valuable here? Digging ditches?”
Ned looked at Deliverance. “Of all the people in the castle, the two of you are the ones we can least spare. Please see sense. Mistress Felton, see sense.”
Luke's gaze returned to Deliverance. His grey eyes sparkled with irresistible and infectious mischief. “Well? Mistress Felton, it's entirely up to you.”
What he proposed was rash, bordering on dangerous, but looking into the smoky depths of his eyes she would have followed him into hell.
The gates of Ludlow stood open, but heavi
ly guarded as the market day traffic flowed into the old town. Seated pillion behind Luke on the oldest cob they could find in the stable, Deliverance’s stomach gave a nervous lurch. Even the telling off she had endured from Penitence could not quell the heady anticipation of danger. Every nerve in her body seemed to have a life of its own. The lure of adventure had always called her and now she had the opportunity to shine. She would make her father proud of her, the worthy protector of Kinton Lacey.
She gripped the handle of her basket of eggs harder with one hand while the other, twisted in Luke's belt. He cast a reproachful look over his shoulder.
“Relax your grip. I can hardly breathe.” he said.
They had rehearsed their story on the journey. She would be Goodwife Chambers of Kersey bringing eggs to sell at the market. In a russet gown borrowed from her maid, Meg, and a starched white cap on her head, topped with a flat crowned brown felt hat that concealed her face, she looked very much a goodwife.
Luke would be her 'man', Tom Perry. Despite much grumbling from Luke, Penitence had rough-cut his hair like a labourer’s, and now it stuck out at odd angles from beneath the filthy, battered hat borrowed, like the greasy jerkin he wore, from one of the stable hands. Riding behind him, at such close quarters, Deliverance’s nose wrinkled at the smell of man and horse that exuded from his borrowed garments.
The guards on the gate gave them no more than a cursory inspection and asked their business. Deliverance responded in a faultless local accent that would have appalled her father.
Once inside the gate, they found a stable for the cob, and set out on foot for the market square at the gates of the castle. They stood looking up at the magnificent walls and the well-guarded gate.
“You're not thinking of trying to get in there?” Deliverance whispered.
Luke didn’t respond but his gaze roamed the castle walls.
“How much you sellin' them eggs for?”
A woman's voice at her elbow startled Deliverance, almost causing her to drop the basket. A stout matron waited expectantly.
“How many do you want?”
“A dozen. Are they fresh?” The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“Fresh today, lady,” Luke replied.
“A shilling then, for a dozen,” the woman said.
“Fine,” Deliverance agreed,
The woman looked surprised. She had evidently expected to haggle. Deliverance concluded the transaction while Luke waited behind her. When the woman had gone away, evidently pleased with her bargain, Deliverance turned back to Luke.
“Stay here and sell your eggs,” he said.
Deliverance looked up at his determined, grimy and unshaven face, and a shiver of fear ran down her spine. She wanted to say, “Don't leave me here by myself” but that sounded childish. She had volunteered for this adventure and she would see it through with the true courage of a Felton.
“Be careful,” she said.
“If you sell all your eggs before I'm back, meet me in the porch of that church.” Luke indicated the spire of St. Laurence. “And if I'm not there before the clock strikes twelve, leave without me.”
“Will an hour be long enough?” Deliverance looked around the crowded market square, noting the large number of soldiers in blue uniform coats.
“It should be plenty of time.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Stay out of trouble, Mistress Felton.”
She watched him walk away, her gaze following him until he was lost in the bustling crowd.
Word had evidently got around that her eggs were cheap and Deliverance sold them all within half an hour. She wandered around the market square pretending to be interested in the produce, all the while watching for anything that might be of interest to Luke. She had been to Ludlow market many times in the peaceful years but now the familiar bustle of farmers and townsfolk had been padded out with armed troops who all looked better equipped than the rabble Farrington had set down in front of her gate.
She looked up at the clock. The hour of twelve approached so she set off at a brisk pace to the church of St. Laurence, the beautiful medieval building, with a square tower that rose high above the roofs of the town. The presence of more soldiers surrounding the porch of the church and bristling with weapons and smart new uniforms, slowed her step. The church had evidently been appropriated for military purposes.
“Now then, goodwife, move along,” one of the soldiers said as she hesitated at the gate to the churchyard.
“I came here to pray,” Deliverance responded. “How dare ye turn a house of God into a ... what are you doing with it?”
“Gunpowder store,” the man said.
“Oh, that's shameful,” Deliverance said, guiltily recalling the chapel at Kinton Lacey, presently lined with barrels of powder. “And what need 'ave ye for such a large store? From what I 'ear tell in the market, there's only a handful of rebels in this county.”
“Aye, and it's Sir Richard's intention to blast 'em to hell,” the man replied. “He's ordered a siege gun to deal with the bastards.”
“A siege gun? And what's so special about a siege gun?”
“Ah lady, ‘tis the length of two men with a mouth that a grown man can put his head in. God have mercy on the rebels, is all I can say.”
Deliverance’s guts clenched. God have mercy on them indeed.
“And when is this 'ere gun to arrive?” Deliverance asked.
The men looked at each other. “Why it came yesterday, lady. Ye'll find it outside the town walls on the water meadow.”
“Really?”
“Aye. Not seen it myself but they say 'tis too big to bring into the town.”
Deliverance glanced down the street and a wave of relief washed over her at the sight of a familiar greasy hat that marked Luke’s progress through the crowd.
“Well, 'tis a sad day when a church becomes a harbinger of death,” Deliverance returned to the street and waited for Luke to join her.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Here and there. Farrington's brought in a whole regiment of reinforcements, well-armed and well-trained. It will be no raggle-taggle troops, afraid of the rain, that we will face.”
“Well I have intelligence too,” Deliverance said, her heart racing at the thought of what lay ahead of them. “There's a siege cannon in the water meadow.”
Luke's eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. “A siege gun. How did you find that out?”
“Sometimes men will talk more easily to a woman,” she said with a smile.
Luke’s mouth tightened. “If you're right, that one piece of information is far more worrying than anything I've managed to glean. You've done well.”
Deliverance flushed. She heard praise so rarely that when it came it was a nugget to be treasured.
He looked up at the town walls. “Anywhere we can get a sight of the gun?”
Deliverance nodded and led him across the town, through the narrow streets lined with half-timbered buildings. A gaggle of townsfolk lined the town wall, indicating the presence of the siege gun had excited some interest in the local populace.
They pushed their way through the crowd, ignoring the grumbles. Deliverance drew breath as she caught sight of the object of the attention. Below them on the far side of the river Teme, another crowd had gathered around to watch blue-coated soldiers drill with the massive gun and several smaller pieces. Luke whistled and Deliverance cast a sideways glance at him.
“That is a serious siege gun,” Luke said in a low voice. “A forty eight pounder cannon, unless I am greatly mistaken.”
“No, you're not, friend.” They turned to see a young man, one of the townsfolk, Deliverance presumed. “A whole cannon they call it. Over ten feet long, she is. They call her the ‘Thunderer'.”
“I didn't know guns had names?” Deliverance cast a questioning glance at Luke.
“Only the special ones,” their informant told them. “God help those poxy rebels when they meets her, is all I can say.�
��
“Indeed,” Luke replied. “God help them.”
The onlookers were ushered back by an officer, and the artillerymen set the fuse alight. Fire spurted from the mouth of the mighty weapon with an accompanying roar that rocked the walls on which Deliverance and Luke stood.
With her ears still ringing, she looked at Luke. He stared at the gun, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Time to go,” he mouthed and taking Deliverance by the arm he guided her back into the town. They turned down the High Street towards the stable where they had left the cob.
They were only a matter of yards from the lane that led to the stables when a body of soldiers wheeled around the corner. Luke and Deliverance stepped back into the shelter of a doorway to allow the troops to pass them. At their rear, a young officer in well-polished breast and back plate and gorget, glanced in their direction.
“Go on,” she begged him silently. “Just walk on, ignore us.” Too late, she pulled the hat brim low down across her face.
The young man stopped, his mouth dropping open in surprise.
She had been seen and recognised.
“Deliverance?”
She looked up and forced herself to smile into the puzzled face of Jack Farrington.
Chapter 5
Deliverance? What are you doing in Ludlow?” A mixture of pleasure and puzzlement, mingled with anger crossed Jack’s face. Jack had never been good at hiding his feelings.
Deliverance cast her eyes around the street and lighted on the apothecary. For the first time in her life she lied. “I had to fetch some medicine from the 'pothecary.” When he looked unconvinced she compounded the lie, using the one weapon in her armoury she knew would find its mark with Jack Farrington. “Penitence is unwell.”
She scored a hit. The expression on his face changed to one of the deepest concern. “Is she all right?”
“The recent trouble at the castle affected her deeply and she has contracted a chill to her chest,” Deliverance continued. “I had to take the risk of coming to Ludlow.”
Jack's gaze strayed to Luke. “Who's this? I don't recognise him?”
Her Rebel Heart: A romance of the English Civil War Page 4
