Page 133 of Feathers in the Wind
“Has anyone borrowed your key?”
Deliverance frowned and Melchior answered for her. “I have loaned it to a people who needed to access the cellar for food preparation, but they have always returned it to me.”
“Who?”
Melchior named the cooks and several of the household staff
Deliverance, adding, “They have all been with our family for years and I would stake my life on their honesty. Surely you don’t suspect—”
“War changes people, Mistress Felton.” Luke ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. “We won't be able to keep news of this disaster quiet. See what you can do to mitigate it. Blakelocke, come with me.”
He passed Penitence, who stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at her sister.
“Oh, this is terrible. What are we going to do, Liv?” Penitence said.
Deliverance stood up, smoothing her skirts as she straightened her shoulders. “Gather the maids. We will clean up as best we can and salvage what can be saved. The cheeses can be washed and dried, the apples may be bruised but they are still edible. There is still some flour in the bags and ale in the vats.”
“But surely not enough to last us more than a few days?” Penitence added unhelpfully.
“We will have to ration ourselves,” Deliverance said.
Luke excused himself, taking the stairs two at a time. He had convinced himself that an estrangement with Deliverance was for the best but seeing the unguarded misery in her face when she had first looked up at him, tugged at his heart. For all his fine words, nothing could change his feelings for Deliverance Felton. He stopped at the top of the cellar stairs and took a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of Deliverance to one side.
The greater good of the castle and every soul within it had to be considered, and he had a traitor to find.
* * *
Luke paradedthe garrison in the courtyard despite the pouring rain. Standing at the top of the steps, he looked down at the gathered assembly. Water dripped from the brim of his hat down his collar. If he felt tired and dispirited, weary of the siege, then he could only imagine what the garrison must be feeling. In their present mood the news that their food supply had been compromised could well provoke mutiny.
Behind the ranks of men, the household staff, who had also been summoned, milled in the poor shelter of the buildings surrounding the courtyard, whispering to each other. He wondered if they were speculating on whether he brought them news of capitulation.
As he scanned the faces, his resolve hardened. No matter how wet, miserable and hungry they were, among them was a traitor, a traitor hoping that the destruction of the food supplies would lead to a speedy capitulation.
He glanced over to the corner of the courtyard where the small herd of cattle had been confined. The miserable beasts would not feed a hundred mouths for very long. Before calling the muster he had checked with Melchior Blakelocke, who confirmed that most of the flour was gone. They had saved half the cheese, along with turnips, carrots and dried beans. At best they could last another two weeks. After that—
He held up a hand commanding instant silence.
“There is a traitor among us,” Luke began. A murmur rose from the crowd as each man looked to his fellows. “Last night, someone broke into the cellars and attempted to destroy the castle's food supplies.”
A surge of anger rose from the soldiers. To steal a comrade's food was one of the lowest crimes a soldier could commit. Luke scanned their faces, hoping to see a guilty face but all he could see was stunned disbelief.
“Fortunately, the perpetrator was not entirely successful and there is food enough for us to survive on for the time being. However, our rations will have to be severely cut.”
“How long 'ave we got?” A voice called out.
Luke hesitated. They had a right to know. “Two weeks, maybe three.”
A rumble of anger surged among the men, and he held up a hand again. “If any person here knows who may be responsible, there is no shame in turning them over to me. You all know the price for such treachery.”
Hanging...the unspoken word fell on the crowd, subduing it into silence.
“If anyone has any information as to the identity of the perpetrator, they can speak to Sergeant Hale, Lieutenant Barrett or myself.”
One of the men, who had been with him at Byton, pointed a finger at Toby Brown.
“What about him? Convenient he's the only one to survive Byton, and then comes here all whey-faced and eager to help.”
Toby's mouth fell open, his eyes widened. “Me? Oh, no, I'd never... I'm Captain Collyer's man to the death.”
