Page 1 of By the Sword
Chapter 1
Barton, Yorkshire, February, 1650
In the stone-walled garden of the little manor house at Barton, a fierce battle raged. Robert’s well-aimed snowball caught his cousin Thomas Ashley squarely on the head, knocking off his hat. Unbalanced, Tom fell back into the snow and lay there, laughing while his three cousins stood around pelting him with snow. Tom recovered his feet and, brushing off the fine, powdery snow, he and Robert joined forces against the other two.
Watching the children from her chair by the window, Kate Ashley smiled. Although the same age as Robert, Tom stood nearly a head taller and his dark hair made him instantly recognisable amongst his red-headed cousins. Beyond the walls, a lowering sky threatened more snow and she opened the window, leaning out to call the children in.
‘Look, Mother,’ Tom called. ‘Robert and I are General Fairfax and General Cromwell and Janet and Joseph are the King’s men. We’re winning of course.’
Kate sighed. How easily the games of adults could be mirrored in the innocent games of children, and war was all any of thesechildren had known. They had been born into a country torn apart by a struggle between a King and his Parliament, leaving her son with the bitter legacy of a father he had never known.
‘Kate.’ Her sister’s voice recalled her to the room. ‘You’re not listening. I asked what you intend to do about this letter?’
Kate looked around at Suzanne as she pulled the casement shut.
‘I intend to do nothing,’ she said. ‘I will not go all the way to Worcestershire just so an old man can clear his conscience before he goes to the Lord.’
‘Now, sister,’ Suzanne scolded. ‘The Lord teaches us to forgive.’
‘I’ve nothing to forgive,’ Kate said. ‘As far as I am concerned the quarrel with the Thorntons died with Richard’s father. It is nothing to do with me.’
‘I think you should go,’ her sister responded, ‘Tom is his great-grandson. Doesn’t the boy have the right to know his father’s family?’
‘Really, Suzanne.’ Kate found it hard to keep the exasperation from her voice. ‘It is thirty years since Elizabeth Thornton eloped with David. In all that time there has been not one word from the Thorntons. Whatever rights Francis Thornton had in respect of my son were long since forfeit.’
‘I think you are unduly harsh, Kate.’
Kate shrugged. ‘It’s not a matter of being harsh. It is simply of no consequence to me. We don’t need the Thorntons. We’ve never needed the Thorntons.’ She turned back to look out of the window. ‘Just look at that sky. It will snow again before nightfall.’
She rapped on the glass, summoning the reluctant children in from the cold. They tumbled into the warm parlour, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the well-polished floor. Kate’s maid, Ellen, brought a tray of honey cakes, and with only the scantestregard for manners, the hungry children made short work of the food.
Kate sat back watching the scene with a fond smile. Tom’s head bent close to that of his cousin and best friend, Robert, as they spoke in whispers. The two had been inseparable companions from birth, Tom being the older by only a few days. However, there the resemblance ended. In Robert’s face and in his uncertain health was a fragility not found in his sturdy cousin or his siblings. The two sisters never spoke of it, but Kate, glancing up at Suzanne’s impassive face, knew she feared her beloved child might not see manhood.
Suzanne packed away her sewing and stood, easing her aching back. Heavily pregnant with her sixth child, she found sitting difficult.
‘Come, children,’ she announced. ‘We must be home before that snow.’
Ignoring the howls of disappointment, the children were bundled into cloaks, hoods and gloves and distributed between the various mounts they had brought with them. Suzanne and her husband, the sturdy William Rowe, lived at Barton Hall barely one mile distant. The children moved easily between the two houses and Kate did not begrudge Tom the company of his cousins. The life of an only child could be very solitary.
‘Let me know what you decide,’ Suzanne said, leaning down from where she sat pillion behind one of her grooms. ‘I’m sure William will look after things for you, should you decide to go.’
‘You needn’t trouble William,’ Kate replied. ‘I have no intention of going.’
Suzanne glanced across at Tom, who stood stroking the nose of Robert’s pony. ‘Perhaps it is not a matter for you to decide alone,’ she said. ‘It seems to me that perhaps Tom should be consulted.’
Kate waved her sister off and stood in the shelter of the porch as the Rowe family turned out through the gates into the lane.
As Tom ran down to the gate to wave them off, Kate considered her sister’s words. It seemed inappropriate to involve a child in such weighty decisions. He had never asked about his grandmother’s family and Kate would not have known what answer to give if he had. She and Richard had only discussed the Thorntons on a couple of occasions, and in all the years she had shared a house with Richard’s father, she had never heard David Ashley speak of them. Now he too was dead and there was nobody to ask.
How dare Richard’s Thornton grandfather choose this moment to write.
She looked up as the first swirl of snowflakes drifted down from the bulging clouds. She let them fall onto her face, cold and stinging, and turned back to the warmth of the house.
‘Did your grandfather ever talk to you of the Thorntons?’ Kate ventured as she sat on the edge of her son’s bed that night.
Tom regarded her from her under his heavy, dark fringe. ‘No. Who are the Thorntons?’
‘Well…’ Kate took a deep breath and dredged her memory. ‘Your grandmother, Elizabeth, was a Thornton.’
