Page 16 of By the Sword
‘And if it were not for the war, you would be living in wedded bliss in Barton Manor, surrounded by a brood of children,’ he said.
Kate swallowed and he knew his observation had hit home.
‘I’m sorry, Kate, that was a thoughtless remark. From what I knew of Richard, he did not have the heart of a soldier.’
He knew more about Richard Ashley than he was prepared to reveal. A scholar, not a soldier. Richard should be at home at Barton Manor with this woman and their children. Not dead in the ground at the age of twenty-two.
Kate looked up at him, her brow creased in puzzlement, and he cursed himself for revealing too much.
‘What could you possibly have known of him? The Thorntons have been estranged from the Ashleys for over thirty years.’
This time he held his tongue and she continued, ‘To answer your question, Richard may not have gone willingly to the war but he followed Sir Thomas Fairfax into hell during those early years. Sir Thomas trusted him enough to keep him close as one of his staff.’
Jonathan nodded. ‘Fairfax’s men had it hard in those early years.’ He paused. ‘Was he with Fairfax that day at Marston Moor?’
‘Of course,’ Kate replied. She looked up at him, her grey eyes scanning his face, challenging him as she said, ‘Were you there? Is it possible you faced Richard?’
Of course, Jonathan had been there with Prince Rupert’s cavalry. It had been a bloodbath. Marston Moor had put in train a series of tragic events in his own life that had nothing to do with the battle.
He swallowed and gave a barely perceptible nod. ‘I was on the other flank with Rupert.’
‘What did it matter?’ The colour rose in Kate’s cheeks and her eyes flashed. ‘You wouldn’t have known Richard if you had met on the battlefield.’
Yes, I would, he thought.
‘That is the tragedy of a civil war, Kate.’
She didn’t seem to notice that he had used her given name. Her eyes blazed with anger and misery. ‘They brought him home to die, a lingering, horrible death.’ Her voice cracked.
She lowered her head and took several deep shuddering breaths that wracked her body.
Without thinking, Jonathan lifted his hand to her face, tilting her chin so she looked at him. Her eyes swam with unshed tears. Tears he had caused.
‘So many deaths. Too many, Kate. Believe me, it’s not always easy to be a survivor. I may not be dead but I have lost all that is important to me. It’s a hollow victory over death.’
So many deaths…Marston Moor and afterwards, Oxford. He had run at life, stumbled into the path of innocent people, and he had survived while they had died.
‘Jonathan?’ She touched his hand. The merest brush but she may as well have branded him with fire.
He forced himself back to the present and dropped his hand, turning his gaze back toward the house, which glowed serenely in the setting sun.
Time to stop dwelling in the past and concentrate on the present.
‘Must you leave so soon?’ Kate asked.
He shook his head. ‘I only bring danger to my family, Kate.’
‘What did you do to earn the sentence of death?’ she asked.
That was an easy question to answer. ‘I’ve done a lot of things, Kate. I carried letters for the late King and I killed someone who deserved to die.’ He looked at her with a wry smile. ‘I’m no saint, Kate Ashley.’
‘Were you ever?’ Her mouth lifted in a smile that lightened her face.
He smiled in response, ‘So you were not entirely ignorant of my existence. Have my family apprised you of my wayward youth?’
She shrugged. ‘You are no longer a youth, Sir Jonathan.’
‘No, I’m not,’ he agreed, ‘but I still carry letters for my King and I face the hangman’s noose if I am caught.’
