Page 153 of Feathers in the Wind
“What will you do to the garrison?” Deliverance ventured.
Charles tore his gaze away from the glass and looked at her. “What do you think I will do?”
“Byton?” She spat the name out.
Charles looked up at the ceiling, pressing his fingers together. “Probably not all the garrison. Father would not like that, and it wouldn't be necessary. Collyer and the other officers will suffice. I think I will hang them from the gatehouse. That will serve as a pleasant warning.”
Deliverance suppressed the sob that rose to her throat.
“Oh, look at her,” Lovedie said. “She's sweet on Collyer, you know?”
Charles caught Lovedie’s hand and kissed it. “Is she indeed? So, Deliverance Felton, it will pain you to watch Collyer die?”
Deliverance did not respond.
“Then I will think of something drawn out and gruesome for your lover,” Charles said with a smirk. “And I will make you and the whole of the Kinton Lacey garrison watch him die in agony.”
“Charles!” Jack protested.
“Oh, don't be so soft, brother. This is war and these rebels need to be taught a lesson.”
The last grains of sand trickled through the glass, and Charles jerked to his feet, dislodging Lovedie. He handed one of his pistols to Jack.
“You bring Mistress Felton and if she makes one wrong move, kill her.”
He laughed at the horror on Jack's face and picked up the second pistol, pointing it directly at Deliverance. “If you don't, I will.”
Jack's fingers closed on Deliverance's arm as he pulled her to her feet. She searched his face for a spark of sympathy but saw only the cold gleam of utter commitment. Whatever Jack’s feelings for Penitence, his loyalty to his father and brother appeared to be absolute.
She blinked in the bright daylight of a beautiful day. Jack pushed her before him and she saw the faces of Farrington's garrison, watching them with interest as they passed. A few made lewd gestures, indicating that rumours of Charles’ intended punishment had gone around the camp. Regardless of the castle’s surrender, she would not escape that fate, of that she was certain. Nausea rose in her throat and for a moment she thought she would cry.
Gathering her courage, she tilted her chin and straightened her shoulders. She was Deliverance Felton, and she was damned if she would let these men see her snivelling like a feeble-minded child.
They stopped just out of musket range of the castle defenders. Deliverance looked up at the castle walls and saw the faces of her garrison ranged across the curtain wall. She ran her eye along the wall, doing a mental count of heads until she reached Melchior Blakelocke's unmistakable figure and beside him, no doubt standing on the box that she had stood on, her fair hair blowing in the wind and wearing the same red dress Deliverance had worn to issue her defiance, Penitence.
At the sight of Penitence, Jack's fingers tightened on Deliverance's arm. She glanced around at him, seeing for a brief moment the utter misery on his face.
“Jack, it doesn't have to be—” she began, but he pressed the pistol to her neck.
“Not a word, Deliverance,” His voice cracked.
Charles Farrington had caught the exchange. “Well, well, that milksop of a girl you were so keen on, Jack. Mistress Penitence Felton. I wouldn't have thought she had it in her,” Charles remarked. He raised his voice. “Mistress Felton? Do you have an answer for me?”
Penitence's voice, clear in the still, soft air drifted across towards them. “You have my surrender,” she said.
Deliverance's heart sank.
No, Penitence, you don't know what you've done. It will be for nothing. You have condemned Luke to death and me… She glanced at Charles and shuddered.
“Excellent,” Farrington responded, “Now send out Collyer, unarmed and I want to see the hands of every man on the wall.”
It seemed a long moment before Penitence replied. “Very well.”
A breathless few minutes passed before the gates opened wide and Luke walked through them, alone. Above him, the men on the walls raised their hands above their heads.
Luke wore his mulberry-coloured jacket and his hat with a curling feather that swept around the crown. Although he wore no baldric or sword and carried no weapon, he walked with a casual stride as if this were nothing more than a pleasant stroll.
Deliverance's heart beat faster. She wanted to scream at him to go back but the words stuck in her throat. Luke did not look at her. His unblinking gaze was fixed on Farrington’s face as he stopped a little way from the Farrington party.
