Duncan picked up Wallace’s bloody sword where I had dropped it, closer and easier to get to than his own. He pointed the blade at Thomas, who still scrambled on the floor.
“You set this trap. If not for you, Annie would be alive.”
The tip of the blade moved swiftly to the hollow in Thomas’ throat and held him pinned to the floor.
Something about Thomas’ petrified, bulge-eyed face struck at my heart, for it reminded me of the small boy Peg and I used to taunt.
“Let him go,” I said softly, with a hand on Duncan’s torn shirt.
“He deserves to die.” The blade dug deeper into Thomas’ throat, blood welling up around the tip.
“Can you not see how helpless he is?”
“No, I cannot. He’s a meddling fool,” Duncan rasped, though the sword remained suspended above that white, quivering throat.
“Release him,” I insisted, my fingers digging deep into the flesh of his sword arm.
He jerked the sword away.
Thomas shot to his feet, looked frantically around for a weapon, and finding none that he could reach, raced to the hearth and jerked a torch out of its bracket.
“Get away.”
With a wide swing of the torch, he lunged at us again and again, finally moving back toward the door. But flame erupted on his sleeve. He screamed and dropped the torch into a pile of half-open books, then raised the bolt, threw it aside, and fled out the door past a surprised Penrod.
Suddenly, there was fire everywhere, flames raging through the dry volumes and along the bookcase toward the tapestries.
Duncan turned to me. “If we rally your men, we may be able to confine the fire to this tower.”
“A Roundhead army will be here within hours.” I coughed, the bitter smoke thick and pressing. “We have no way to resist them. Why save it, only to lose it? Let it all burn.”
Duncan’s face froze in surprise. With a startled shake of his head, he picked up his long-separated pistols, his sword, knife, and his bag of gold. He started for the door, free hand extended to me.
Fire swept up the tapestries around the flaming bookcase and worked around the walls, filling the room with thick smoke that stripped the air out of our very lungs. It rose into the overhead where flame licked at the ceiling timbers.
Duncan pushed me out the door with his weapons, my sword, and the bag of gold. He followed shortly with Wallace’s body over his shoulder.
A nervous Lieutenant Penrod awaited orders at the door, which I quickly slammed shut.
“Help us get Wallace outside and then we’ll get Annie. Her body is on the south side of the house, so there’s time if we’re quick. We must bury them decently.”
The private tower archway was littered with Manx bodies and my loyal guard stood at a short distance, ready for action.
“Release the guards, all of them.” Duncan’s intense gaze went from Lieutenant Penrod back to me. “Do you think they’ll follow Prince Rupert?”
“Yes, I am sure they will,” I said, tears welling up in me. Smoke rushed out from under the library door, slowly filling the hallway.
“I will certainly follow him,” Penrod agreed with a nod and a fit of coughing.
“What about Thomas?” Duncan asked, smoke swirling at our feet in the hallway now.
“Last my men saw him . . .” Penrod put in as he and the guard ushered us away down the corridor. “. . . he fled out through the postern, his clothes afire.”
Though I gasped, I felt no remorse. I had done the best I could for my childhood friend. And now, it was getting hot. We had to see to our own safety, for a sudden crashing roar sounded behind us.
“He always seems to avoid the disasters he creates,” Duncan complained with a grim show of teeth.
Lands on his feet, like a cat, Peg’s very words. A sad smile of chagrin curled my lips.
Duncan’s free hand settled at my back. In a tight, protective group, we all clamored toward the back entry through unrecognizable hallways already thick with churning smoke.
We buried our dead near the chapel tower, then returned around the smoking house walls to the stable, where I bid farewell to Penrod and each of my guards, sending them out the postern gate with the horses. By dawn, Duncan and I had avoided a Roundhead force and were miles from Tor House, headed west. We sat our horses for a moment on the crest of a hill. One could not tell the dawn from the rosy glow of still-burning Tor House in the distance. It was a huge conflagration. Amilie was surely free.
We came to a stand of trees and low brush beside a meadow. Duncan reined in Ajax and I followed suit with Kalimir.
“This is still Royalist territory. Soon to change, but safe enough for now,” Duncan said.
We loosened the horses’ girths and hobbled them in the grassy meadow. Both of us exhausted, we slept in one another’s arms in an open space within the prickly brush.
I awoke, disoriented and fearful. Duncan quickly enfolded me in his arms in that crushing embrace that so signified his feelings.
“Do you still love me?” he asked, nuzzling my neck.
“I do,” I said. “Black eye, bruises, bloody nose, and ear, all of it.”
I kissed his hurts tenderly, wanting him badly, but there would be time now for such delightful things. We dared not linger too long.
“The ship’s captain will marry us once we are well at sea.”
“As MacGregor?”
“Yes. I need to protect what is left of my rightful name, for our lads and lassies to come.” He chuckled.
A hot flush spread over my cheeks. I bit at my lip, and caressed his poor, mutilated face.
“Will we be able to take the horses?” I asked many hours later as our mounts shouldered their way onto Liverpool’s crowded docks.
“If there’s room on board, I’m sure we can.” He patted his heavy jerkin, where the gold resided.
“You know, I’ve been dreaming lately. I thought they were normal dreams, but now I have my doubts.”
“Why? What are they about that they seem normal to you?”
“I call it my river fantasy. Over and over I dream of coursing rivers in a wide green land.” I laughed happily, but went silent suddenly. I reined Kalimir to a stop. “Are there great rivers in Virginia?” I called out to him, who had ridden on.
I quickly overtook him. “Well, are there?”
An amused little smile played at his lips. Finally, he looked across at me and nodded, gold winking in the dark depths of his eyes.
The End
About the Author
Exile’s Bane is Nicole Margot Spencer’s fourth published novel.
Her Legacy trilogy, The Lady in the Locket, Smuggler’s Haven, and Devils Elbow set during the American War of 1812, was written over two decades of raising three children on her own, working as a legal secretary, and writing in the very early mornings, a habit she has retained.
Exile’s Bane, her new novel, is set during the English Civil War years of 1642-1644 in Lancashire, England. The author lives in a small town in the White Mountains of Arizona.
Table of Contents
Exile’s Bane
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
About the Author
Exile’s Bane Page 31
