Exile's Return

by Alison Stuart

  ‘I’ll have to hold you,’ Jonathan said.

  ‘I won’t get enough purchase to shift it more than a few inches,’ Daniel replied. ‘They must have left the leg of the chest right on top of it, and I swear the woman is storing rocks in it. We’ll have to try your suggestion.’

  The tiny space left them little room for manoeuvring and Jonathan’s bad shoulder, the legacy of a pistol ball, he told Daniel, hampered his ability to lift Daniel, but Daniel found if he braced his feet against the wall, he could get sufficient purchase to exert his strength against the heavy flagstone.

  Taking a deep breath, he grunted as he pushed upwards. This time the chest moved an agonizing couple of inches. Daniel gathered his strength to try again.

  ‘Stop,’ Jonathan said in a low voice, releasing Daniel, who let his feet drop back to the ground.

  Every nerve in his body strained to hear what Jonathan had heard. They had waited a long time to see if Ashby had left a guard but had heard nothing. Now he could hear the unmistakable tap of light footsteps on the flagstones.

  Daniel drew his knife from his boot.

  ‘Are ye here? Can you hear me?’ A woman’s voice came from above.

  For a moment Daniel thought it might be Agnes and his heart leaped.

  ‘It’s me, Sarah Truscott,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve come alone. Daniel, if ye’re in the cellar,’ the girl’s voice seemed closer as if she were lying on the floor, talking to the concealing flagstone, ‘They’ve got Peg and Mistress Agnes and a man locked up in the castle and the Colonel says he’ll ‘ang the three of ‘em in the morning if he don’t get what you stole from him back.’

  Jonathan’s fingers tightened on Daniel’s arm, telling him to keep silent.

  How were they to know that Peg’s niece had come alone? Daniel ground his teeth in impotent silence and tightened his grip on the knife. They had no choice but to trust Sarah had come alone, otherwise they could spend days in this cellar before they managed to move the chest sufficiently to get the flagstone up.

  ‘Sarah, we’re down here,’ he said aloud. ‘We can’t move the flag.’

  ‘Thank the Lord,’ Sarah replied and above them the chest scraped on the floor. The girl grunted as she tugged at the flagstone. Daniel lent what assistance he could and with a harsh grating of stone on stone it shifted. The men flattened themselves against the wall of the cellar as the square of light was blocked out by the outline of a woman’s head wearing a white coif.

  ‘Ye’ve my word there’s no one here but I,’ she said. ‘I saw ‘em bring in my aunt and the other man and heard what the Colonel said about there being two others. I knew one of ‘em would be you.’

  Jonathan glanced at Daniel.

  ‘She can be trusted,’ Daniel answered the unspoken question and looked up at the woman. ‘Thank you for coming to the rescue, Sarah. We feared we were trapped down here. Your aunt’s hiding place only works if there is someone left on the outside.’

  Daniel turned to Jonathan. ‘You go first. I’ll push you up from below. If you can hook your right arm over, we should be able to get you up.’

  It took an undignified amount of effort, but with Sarah pulling and Daniel pushing, Jonathan landed on the floor gasping like a fish out of water. With his years of climbing in rigging, Daniel swung himself up and over the lip of the cellar with relative ease, landing on his feet.

  ‘There was a time … ’ Jonathan grumbled, sitting up and dusting off his jacket.

  Daniel restored the flagstone and the chest. By the hearth, the old dog lay, its sightless dead eyes turned to the door and a bloody wound in its neck. Sarah crouched down and gently stroked the dog’s ears.

  ‘Poor Bonny’ she said.

  ‘She was only defending her mistress,’ Daniel said.

  Sarah rose to her feet, tears pooling her eyes. ‘They dragged my aunt and that other man tied to the stirrups. They were in a terrible state by the time they got to the castle. I didn’t have to listen at the door. Ye could hear the Colonel yelling. He said clear as day that if his gold isn’t returned to him, then my aunt, Mistress Fletcher, and the man will hang at dawn. Thieves, he called ‘em, and my poor aunt, a witch.’

  Daniel ran his hand through his hair.

  ‘The man’s my brother,’ he said in a low voice. He turned to face Jonathan. ‘We’ve got to give him the gold.’

  Jonathan regarded him with calm, grey eyes. ‘And who is to say if we give him the gold he won’t hang them anyway?’

  ‘You’re right, he would,’ Daniel turned away and paced the floor a few times. He wanted to hit something, just from sheer frustration. ‘He has no scruples, but what other choice have we got?’

  Jonathan’s eyes flickered. ‘If we give up the gold it will be on our terms, not his. We have to choose the ground on which we fight.’

  ‘Fight?’ Daniel threw up his hands in frustration. ‘Thornton, there’s two of us and he has a private army of at least two dozen soldiers.’

  Jonathan’s even gaze met his, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. ‘Oh come, you’ve not shirked from a challenge before, Daniel. I’ve overcome worse odds.’

  Daniel stared at him. ‘Challenge? That is sheer lunacy.’

  He stumped out of the cottage and paced the ground outside for some minutes before coming to rest on a fallen tree trunk, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

  Jonathan joined him.

  ‘I will offer myself in exchange for the other prisoners,’ Daniel said without looking up.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘This was always my mission, not yours and Kit’s. You both have wives and families. I have … no one.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Jonathan mused. ‘And what of Agnes?’

  Daniel looked away. ‘Agnes’s priority has always been the children,’ he said. ‘I was just the means to get to Charvaley.’

  ‘But you and she … ’

  Daniel cut his friend short with a bitter laugh. ‘Agnes came to me because she felt sorry for me.’

  ‘She told you that?’

  Daniel nodded. ‘She is under no obligation to me, or … ’ his voice strained as he added, ‘or me to her.’

  Jonathan sighed. ‘If I may give you the benefit of my meagre knowledge of women, it seems to me that Agnes is not as indifferent to you as you might think.’

  Daniel thought back to the previous night. Agnes had come to him then, thrown herself into his arms. Were those the actions of an indifferent friend? Had that just been the exigency of the moment? He remembered the scent of rosemary in her hair, and her body pressed against him, and realized whatever Agnes’s feelings for him, his for her were not those of an indifferent friend. He loved her with a physical ache.

  ‘What does it matter what either of us feels, if Ashby hangs her tomorrow? It should be me. This was nothing to do with her. Come to that, what does my death matter? As far as the world is concerned I am already dead. That’s why I will offer myself in exchange for her and the others.’

  ‘You Lovells have a death wish,’ Jonathan said. ‘And I don’t think your selfless offer will tempt Ashby. Tell me, you know the man marginally better than I. What matters most to Ashby, the gold or the title?’

  Daniel huffed out a humourless snort of laughter. ‘Can I answer both?’

  Jonathan frowned. ‘Both … ’ he murmured. ‘I think at this point he may settle for the gold.’

  Sarah wandered out of the cottage, her arms wrapped around herself against the cold.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said. ‘There’s a way into the old part of the castle that the Colonel won’t know. It’s an old route, used by the soldiers from long ago.’

  ‘A sally port?’ Jonathan suggested.

  Sarah shrugged. ‘Don’t know what that is, but it leads direct into the cellars. You may be able to get ‘em out without too much trouble.’

  Daniel stood up and clasped the girl’s face between his hands, planting a kiss on her forehead.

  ‘You are a godsen
d, lass. Thornton, I’ll go in with Sarah once it is dark.’

  Jonathan rose to his feet and looked around at the woods and the little cottage. ‘There’s nothing we can do until dark anyway. If you can get them out, I will wait outside, but I warn you I won’t wait beyond two hours.’

  ‘But –’ Daniel’s protest was cut short by Jonathan.

  ‘Alone and on foot I should be able to reach Preston, and I will raise help from the local authorities. They won’t countenance Ashby’s high-handed behaviour, not at this point in time.’

  Daniel nodded. ‘You just have to make sure you get that help before Ashby hangs them out of hand.’

  A humourless smile twitched the corners of Jonathan’s mouth. ‘That’s all we have to do.’ He clapped Daniel on the shoulder. ‘Let us just hope you can get them out first.’

  Chapter 17

  Agnes shivered, wrapping her arms around herself in a vain attempt to keep warm as she paced the floor. The room into which they had been thrown must have been a buttery or something similar in a past life. A long, low, heavy stone bench ran along one wall, below two small windows so grimed with dirt and cobwebs as to admit only the faintest light.

  Kit sat on the cold, filthy, flag tiled floor, with his back to the wall and his eyes closed. Peg huddled in a corner, drawn in on herself. The shock of her capture and the brutal means that had been used to drag her to the castle had broken the old woman.

  ‘Sit down,’ Kit grumbled. ‘You’re making me tired.’

  Agnes turned to face him. ‘How can you be so calm?’

  ‘I have already been hanged once in my life,’ Kit said, all humour gone from his voice. ‘Death holds no fears for me anymore.’

  Agnes turned away so he could not see her face. ‘I don’t want to die, Kit.’ She choked back the sob that rose unbidden and turned back to face him. ‘Why can’t we just let him have the gold?’

  Kit blew out his breath, making a cloud in the cold air. ‘I don’t know where it is. Thornton’s hidden it somewhere. Anyway, lass, we’re not going to die. Ashby’s all bluster and Dan and Thornton will find a way to get us out.’

  Agnes, who had already envisaged Jonathan and Daniel halfway to Seven Ways, narrowed her eyes. ‘You believe that?’

  ‘I know,’ Kit said and smiled without humour. ‘They don’t have a horse between them and they will hardly be setting off on foot with Ashby’s men on the rampage.’

  In her corner, Peg cried out, and Agnes hunched down beside the old woman, wrapping her arms around her, trying to instil some warmth into the frail old body, but she got no response. Peg threw off her arms and looked at her with unseeing eyes.

  The hours passed and the light faded from the window, plunging the room into darkness. Agnes drew the woman tighter into her arms.

  The click of the key in the lock made her start to her feet and she braced, every muscle tensed, as the door opened to admit Leah Turner, carrying a basket and a lantern. Agnes rose to her feet, standing like a lioness over her two charges. The two women faced each other across the length of the room.

  Leah met Agnes’s fierce gaze and gestured at Kit. ‘I’ve brought bandages for him,’ she said, ‘and some food and drink.’

  ‘Really?’ The magnanimity of the gesture caused Agnes’s anger with the woman to falter. ‘Thank you.’

  Leah sniffed. ‘I only do what my Christian duty commands.’

  ‘Did you come alone?’ Agnes enquired.

  Leah set the basket down on the floor beside Kit and held the lantern up to scan his face.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

  ‘Kit Lovell, and you, Madame?’

  ‘Leah Turner. How badly are you hurt?’

  ‘It wasn’t too bad, until your friend upstairs decided to drag me through the slush by my wrists,’ Kit grumbled.

  Leah’s thin lips tightened. ‘The Colonel is enraged,’ she said. ‘I have never seen him like this.’

  ‘I have,’ Kit said, holding her gaze with his own.

  Leah sighed. ‘I try to be a good Christian and not think ill of people.’ Her gaze flicked to Agnes. ‘Despite what you might think.’

  Kit studied her face. ‘We can’t always help our hearts, can we?’ he said softly.

  Leah started as if he had pricked her with a knife.

  Kit looked up at Agnes. ‘Mistress Turner is, I suspect, more than a little in love with the good Colonel,’ he said.

  ‘You are talking nonsense,’ Leah replied, her acerbic tone restored. ‘I need your help here, Mistress Fletcher. There is water in that flask and clean cloths.’

  Agnes wiped most of the mud from Kit’s haggard, unshaven face and turned her attention to his arm. ‘Nasty,’ Agnes remarked, looking at the angry, seeping gash that Leah was attempting to clean with another cloth.

  Kit glanced at his arm and flinched. ‘At least you don’t faint at the sight of blood,’ he said.

  ‘No. Why? Who does?’ Agnes asked.

  ‘My wife. She’s utterly useless when it comes to tending to my hurts.’

  Kit closed his eyes and endured Leah’s efficient ministrations in silence, his lips compressed into a tight line.

  ‘You’ve done that before,’ Agnes said.

  Leah looked up. ‘In the last years of the war,’ she said, ‘the King’s men took refuge in our town. The fighting was fierce and many were wounded. I was only a girl but we all had to lend what aid we could. I saw things no girl of my age should see.’

  Kit’s eyes flickered open and he laid his right hand on Leah’s arm. ‘Thank you, Mistress Turner.’

  The woman glanced down, her eyes widening at the sight of his crooked fingers, but she said nothing.

  ‘As I said, I only do what I consider my Christian duty.’

  ‘Perhaps you may find it in your Christian duty to provide us with some blankets. This woman,’ Agnes rose and crossed to Peg, ‘is blameless and yet she is treated like a common criminal.’

  Leah turned her attention to Peg, crouching down beside her. ‘Mistress Truscott, can you hear me?’

  When Peg didn’t respond, Leah looked up at Agnes. ‘Her senses are addled?’

  ‘As yours would be, had you been treated as she has.’

  Leah sighed. ‘I thought I knew Tobias … ’ she began, but broke off.

  She rose to her feet and turned to face Agnes, once again the Leah Turner Agnes knew, stiff and unbending and convinced of the rightness of her cause.

  ‘I will find some blankets,’ she said. ‘But I would entreat you to spend your time in prayer and contemplation, Mistress Fletcher. You do not wish to face your God without repentance in your heart.’

  ‘Repentance for what?’ Agnes’s voice rose. ‘I have nothing in this life I repent or regret.’

  Leah’s brows drew together. ‘You are a whore, Mistress Fletcher. You shared your bed and your body with a man not your husband.’

  Two men not my husband.

  Agnes thought of Daniel and a physical ache clutched at her heart. God, keep him safe, she prayed as Leah bent over Peg, trying to wash the worst of the mud from the woman’s face and hands.

  ***

  Daniel, Jonathan, and Sarah waited until dark before leaving the relative safety of the cottage. As they skirted through fields and coppices, Daniel wrestled with the nagging fear that Sarah may have been leading him into a trap. Instinctively, his hand tightened on the hilt of Kit’s sword, the reassuring weight of a loaded pistol tucked into his belt and the press of his knife secreted in his boot.

  The security the weapons gave him was illusory. The fact remained he would still be only one man against a troop of soldiers.

  Sarah led them around the rear of the castle, where the last of the old castle walls met the ground. They had left Jonathan in a ruined building about 500 yards from the castle, with the agreement they would rendezvous there after Daniel had freed Kit and Agnes.

  Daniel needed his knife to cut through the tangled brambles that grew in what would have on
ce been the moat. Sarah chafed in impatience behind him. The rasping of the knife sounded like a saw through wood in the silent night, but no movement came from the walls above. Pushing the sharp, straggling fronds aside, they reached the wall.

  Even in the gloom, Sarah led him straight to a small wooden door set low in the wall. It gave with only the slightest push from Daniel’s shoulder, the rotten wood making barely a noise. Daniel had to almost bend double to duck under the door and into a low-ceilinged passage.

  The dark of the old, noisome space closed in on him and he had to stop for a moment, fighting the constricting band that closed around his chest.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Sarah whispered in the dark.

  She had collected candles and a tinderbox from the cottage before she had left, and he heard the soft scrape of a tinder being struck. Focusing on the tiny light of the candle, the band slowly released its grip and he could breathe again.

  Sarah glanced at him and pointed into the velvet darkness beyond.

  ‘This way,’ she said.

  He grunted an assent, and feeling their way along the slimy walls with their fingers, they edged upwards into the bowels of the old castle.

  The corridor brought them out into a large space, crowded with broken furniture and old boxes.

  ‘The cellars,’ Sarah whispered. ‘My brothers and I used to play down here as children – that’s how I know about the old entrance. I’m going to have to snuff the light or they’ll see it. Give me your hand.’

  Daniel had no choice but to do as she said, and her work-hardened fingers closed around his, leading him on through the maze.

  ‘You’re cold as ice,’ she said in the dark.

  She couldn’t see the sweat that gathered on his brow and ran down his face as once again the vice closed on his chest.

  When she stopped he almost ran into her. She placed a finger on his mouth.

  ‘Shh … they’re just beyond there.’

  A faint light illuminated a dogleg in the corridor and Daniel inched forward, peering around the corner. He could see a wide corridor lit by a solitary lantern twenty yards or so ahead of him. One of several doors stood ajar, a soldier standing beside it, his back to Daniel.