Page 90 of Feathers in the Wind
Deliverance’s heart skipped a beat. “Three months? But surely someone will come to our aid before then?”
“I don’t wish to alarm you, Mistress Felton, but we need to be realistic. Gloucester is already under pressure and could well be besieged itself within the next month or so. There will be no help from Wales and the nearest parliamentary force of any size would be at Warwick. You are sitting in the middle of a very unfriendly neighbourhood.”
“Oh.” Deliverance’s stomach lurched as she realised, he was right. To all intents and purposes, they were completely and utterly alone.
“What I need is someone competent to see to the provisioning of the castle. We have water in the castle well.” He paused and frowned. “I suggest we begin by mounting a twenty-four-hour guard on the well.”
“Even though we’re not under siege?”
“If we lose the water, then we are lost.”
“And you want me to do this task?”
“I would like you to be my adjutant and see to the logistics of the siege. Apart from food, we will need quarters, arrangements for the sick and wounded, sanitation and also the security of our powder.”
“Doesn’t Ned...Lieutenant Barrett do all that?”
“It will free Ned to do other tasks. Believe it or not, we are on the same side and what I need is for you and I to work together, not at odds.” The corners of his eyes crinkled and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Rather a nice mouth, Deliverance thought. She had seen the maids stop in their work as he passed by and greeted them. While their blatant simpering annoyed her, she was beginning to see the attraction.
“Does this arrangement suit you?” he said.
Deliverance thought for a moment. In waging what she knew to be a losing battle to maintain her authority, she had found the last few days stressful. Even her men, loyal to the death to the Feltons, had begun to waver and defer to the charismatic and— she had to admit, competent—Captain Collyer. Much as it chafed her to give up on the command of the castle, what he proposed made sense and it gave her what she sought; a sense of purpose.
She sniffed. “Very well, Captain Collyer.”
“Good. So, shall we call it a truce, Mistress Felton?”
She nodded, and he held out his hand. She looked up into the grey eyes and took the proffered hand. Strong, warm fingers closed around hers and she caught her breath as a shiver ran down her spine.
“Truce,” she said, hurriedly extricating her hand, and covertly wiping her fingers on her skirts as she rose to her feet. “I shall set a guard on the well.”
Chapter 3
The disused castle chapel stood apart from the residential buildings, hard against the east wall of the Castle, the only wall that did not concern Luke. It had been constructed on a cliff that fell to the river. No attacker in their right mind would try to attack from that direction. Attack from overhead was another matter and if the chapel were to take a direct hit from a fireball the resulting explosion would cause less damage.
Luke found Deliverance in the chapel counting barrels of gunpowder. She looked up as he entered and scratched a number on the paper she had set out on an upturned, empty barrel in the middle of the room.
“I’ve given orders for the lead to be stripped from the outbuildings and melted down for musket balls,” she said in the tone he imagined an ordinary woman would discuss making pastries, but Deliverance Felton was no ordinary woman.
“Err…good,” he said, feeling redundant to the conversation. “I have mounted the cannon on the Bastion tower and the Hawk Tower.”
“Excellent. The proximity of those two towers to the village worried me. It seemed the most obvious place for a full-scale assault,” Deliverance said. Her lips twitched. “Farrington tried that on the third day.”
“You saw him off?”
“It rained and his troops just gave up,” Deliverance said.
Luke had to bite his lip to stop from smiling. “There is another matter you can assist me with,” he said. “While Sir Richard is still licking his wounds in Ludlow, I would like to make the acquaintance of your neighbour at Byton. I hope perhaps we can be of some mutual assistance.”
“I doubt it,” Deliverance said. “You’ve not met Sir Alwyn Curtis. He and Father have not spoken to each other for years, not since the argument over the Brough’s Wood.”
Luke held up his hand. “I’ve no interest in Brough’s Wood. Surely such petty disputes can be put to one side when we are both facing a greater enemy?”
Deliverance laughed. “Unfortunately, I don’t share your optimism on that point. Sir Alwyn is very good at holding a grudge.”
Luke shook his head. “It’s worth a try. I would appreciate it if you would accompany me.”
“Me?” Deliverance frowned. “I’m not sure if I will add much to your cause.”
