Page 76 of By the Sword
‘I don’t understand,’ Nell said.
Kate glanced at her friend’s innocent face. Nell might have known nothing about Prescott and whatever feud lay between him and her brother. Now was not the time to make a confidanteof Nell, so she kept her peace. Major Prescott’s interest in this house and its inhabitants would have to remain her burden to carry alone.
It took the rest of the day to restore the house to order. No chest had been left unemptied and no piece of furniture unmoved. The search had been thorough and destructive, but mercifully nothing seemed to have been plundered–not that there was much of value. It gave her some comfort that Price did not dare push her too far.
As evening drew on Kate sat in the parlour sorting through the pile of torn linen that would now require mending. She scarcely heard the timid knock at the door. When it came again she looked up with a start and saw Essie Barlow standing in the doorway.
‘Beg pardon, my lady,’ Essie began.
‘What is it, Essie?’
‘My brother Sam’s here to see you. Says he’s got a message for ye.’
Kate’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Send him in, Essie.’
Sam stumbled through the door and stood shifting from one foot to the other, nervously twisting his hat in his hands. He waited until Essie left, closing the door behind her.
Kate smiled encouragingly at the boy. ‘You have a message for me, Sam?’
He looked around as if he expected a Roundhead trooper to materialise from the gloom and swallowed nervously.
‘There’s a man, my lady. I was bringin’ a cart of hay from Knowles’ farm to the Long Barn when I found him in a ditch. He’s all done in. Those soldiers were everywhere so I hid him under the hay in the cart. The easiest thing to do was to take him up to Long Barn.’
‘Do you know him, Sam?’ Kate asked, her mouth dry.
‘Aye.’ Sam nodded. ‘I believe he’s Lady Longley’s man. I seen him here with Sir Jonathan the other day.’
Giles was alive.
Relief flooded over Kate. She rose to her feet and walked over to the window. It would be dark within the hour. She dared not risk going to him now, not with Prescott and Price still in the area. Giles would have to wait until nightfall.
‘You’ve done well, Sam,’ she said and turned back to face him. ‘Can you go back and tell him we will come for him after nightfall.’
The boy paled. ‘You mean go back to Long Barn?’ He swallowed as Kate nodded. ‘It’s near dark and I don’t like that place, my lady.’
‘You don’t have to stay. Just tell him I’ll be there.’ The boy turned to go and Kate called him back. ‘Sam, go by the kitchen and get something for him to eat and drink.’
Sam bowed and left the room. Kate paced the room, her thoughts racing. If she told Nell, Nell would hitch her skirts and run to Long Barn. The present situation required the utmost prudence and she wanted to be sure it was Giles before she alerted Nell.
She choked down a hasty supper with Nell and Tom. After the events of the last few days, they were all tired and if Nell found Kate a silent and pre-occupied companion, she did not comment. She was too lost in her own misery to notice anything untoward amiss with Kate.
Only when Kate was certain that the household was settled for the night did she go in search of a lantern and a tinderbox. She alerted Ellen and Jacob Howell to the mission and the two women slipped out of the house and into the night, meeting up with Howell along the way.
Long Barn stood about half a mile from the house. During the day she found it a gloomy and oppressive place; at nightit loomed out of the dark and she quite believed Nell’s tales of ghosts. She did not blame Sam for not wanting to go there after dark.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the heavy door open and knelt on the packed earth to light the lantern. As it flickered into life she raised it to her face.
‘Giles?’ she whispered into the dark.
‘Kate. Thank God.’ The voice came from the shadows.
She held up the lantern and peered into the shadows seeking out the direction of the voice. There was movement in the straw and Giles stumbled out into the light, leaning heavily against one of the solid oak posts that held up the roof.
He raised a tired, unshaven and still powder-blackened face to her. This was not the Giles with the jaunty red feather in his hat. Even in the poor light of the lantern she could see he was exhausted, his hair devoid of all curl hung in lank strands around his face.
‘Giles, it is I who should thank God you are safe,’ she said. ‘When Jonathan said you had stayed behind, we feared the worst.’
His face creased in pain and he lowered himself painfully to the ground with his back against the post, his right leg stretched out on the straw.
