Page 134 of Feathers in the Wind
But a tide of sentiment swiftly turned against the boy. The garrison needed a culprit and whatever the boy's guilt or otherwise, he made a convenient scapegoat.
Two of the soldiers grabbed the boy, pushing him forward to the steps.
Luke looked down into Toby's frightened face. He wanted to believe the boy's protestations, but he could see logic in the argument put to him by the others. Toby was the outsider and the circumstances of his coming to Kinton Lacey could give rise to suspicion.
“Take him to one of the cells below the castle and lock him up,” Luke said.
“You don't think...?” Ned whispered in his ear.
“For the boy's own safety if nothing else,” Luke replied. “They'd hang him here and now if they had half a chance.”
He turned on his heel and strode back into the residence.
In the Great Hall, Luke leaned on the table, looking down at its ancient surface, polished to a gleam by age and many applications of beeswax.
“We should have put a guard on the cellar.”
He straightened at the sound of Deliverance's voice and turned to face her. “It's enough I have a guard on the water supply. I couldn't spare another for a sturdy, locked, oak door.” He saw the unhappy look on her face. “Don't blame yourself, Del... Mistress Felton.”
“But who else has a key?”
He shrugged. “It is easy enough to make a copy.”
She frowned. “Is it?”
He shook his head and allowed himself a smile at her sometimes endearing naivety. “All you need is a mould of clay, press the key into it and then fill it with molten iron and you have a copy. There is a blacksmith's forge working here. Anyone could have done it.”
“But only if they had the original.”
“You said yourself, there are people you have trusted with the key to run errands.”
She sank into the great chair at the head of the table and rested her chin on her hand. “How long do you think we can we hold out?”
“Much longer than you think. When we run out, we can always eat the horses... and then there are the dogs, the cats and the vermin.”
She looked up at him, her mouth opening in horror. “Surely you're jesting...no, I can see you're not.”
“This is the reality of our situation, Deliverance. I will not paint a pretty picture for you. The certainty is Farrington will keep banging away at our walls, while we grow physically weaker. In the end he will simply walk in.”
Her lips parted and her brow creased with despair, and Luke cursed himself for his honesty, but she needed to know. She wouldn't find this in her textbooks. This was war, and war was brutal. He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving her sitting at the long table in the ruins of her father's hall.
“We've got to get a message through to Gloucester,” he said when he found Ned on the castle wall.
“Gloucester's still besieged,” Ned replied.
“It's the only place help is going to come from,” Luke said and his friend nodded.
Luke drummed the stone wall with his fingers as he stared thoughtfully out at the enemy position. “Send a man out through the sally port tonight with a message to Sir John. As for me, I've had enough of being cooped up in here just taking what Farrington throws at us. Tomorrow at dawn, Ned, I will lead a sortie. The men need some action and if we can bring in a little more food, we stand a chance of holding out for longer.”
“Well, we better not eat the horses tonight,” Ned remarked. He glanced over the wall at the sound of a trumpet. “What a surprise. It looks like we have visitors.” He pointed to a party of three men advancing on foot towards them under the white flag of truce.
Luke held up his hand to stop his own men from firing as the party came within range of the castle wall.
“Captain Collyer?” An officer stepped forward. To Luke’s relief, not Jack Farrington this time.
“I am he,” Luke identified himself.
“I bring a letter from Colonel Charles Farrington to Mistress Felton and I seek an audience with the lady in order to deliver it.”
