Page 30 of By the Sword
‘Jonathan Thornton,’ she replied without looking around. As she put a hand to Jonathan’s icy forehead, his eyes flickered open and he grimaced.
‘Jon, what happened?’
‘I was recognised.’
He groaned as Kate fumbled with his jacket as gently as she could, peeling it back to reveal the injury. Her stomach lurched as she took in the extent of the damage, and she gave an inadvertent gasp.
‘It’s all right, Kate. It’s not fatal,’ Jonathan muttered, his right hand closing on hers. ‘I should be grateful for inaccurate cavalry pistols.’
‘It may not be fatal but it looks bad enough,’ Kate observed. ‘Gates, don’t just stand there. Give me a cloth.’
Mistress Gates, keeping her distance and wearing an expression of distaste, handed Kate a clean cloth.
Kate held it to the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding as William bent over them.
‘Who did this, lad?’
‘Prescott…’ he began, frowning as he looked up at the faces around him. ‘He’ll turn the town upside down…I’m putting you all in danger…’
He tried to rise to his feet but Kate pushed him back down again.
William looked down at the wounded man. ‘Prescott? You mean Major Prescott.’
But William’s question went unanswered. Jonathan’s eyes had closed, his breathing ragged.
‘Do you know this man?’ Kate demanded.
William nodded. ‘Aye. It pays to know the men in power, lass. As for you Thornton, I won’t ask why, for its none of my concern, but if you’re kin of Kate and young Tom, then you’re safe enough here.’
Kate looked up at her brother-in-law. ‘He needs a chirrurgeon, William.’
‘Aye, well, that’s obvious,’ William agreed. ‘Mistress Gates–’
Jonathan raised his right hand in protest. ‘No. He knows I’m hurt. There’ll be men watching the surgeons.’
Kate rose to her feet. ‘Ellen will know what to do. She’s nursed wounded before. I’ll fetch her.’
Ellen had earned a formidable reputation among the wounded that had come to Barton after the battle that had taken RichardAshley’s life. There may have been nothing she could do for Richard, but there were plenty of others who owed their lives to her practical and skilled hands.
Kate left Jonathan in the care of a reluctant, and squeamish, Mistress Gates and went to fetch Ellen, who would be waiting in the bedchamber for Kate to adjourn. She reached the top stairs and stopped, at the sound of an authoritative knocking on the door.
Her hand froze on the banister, her heart beating behind her bodice, as William himself answered the door, opening the door to an officer, distinguishable by the gorget around his neck, and behind him two troopers in heavy helmets.
Kate took the last few steps to the gallery, drawing into the shadows. The officer removed his hat revealing a thinning pate of fair hair.
‘Major Prescott,’ William said. ‘What brings you here at this hour of the night? We were just retiring.’
A cold hand clawed at Kate’s heart. Major Prescott. Stephen Prescott? The man who had shot Jonathan?
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Master Rowe.’ The officer sounded suitably deferential. William, after all, enjoyed a respectable reputation. ‘I came to warn you that there is a notorious delinquent loose in the town and a curfew has been declared until we apprehend him. Would you please ensure neither you nor your household goes abroad tonight?’
‘Is this man dangerous?’ William asked.
‘Any desperate man is dangerous,’ Prescott replied. ‘Have no fear. I have sealed the gates and I have reason to believe he has been badly wounded. He won’t get away.’
Prescott looked around the hallway, raising his gaze to the gallery where Kate stood in the shadows. He frowned as if trying to bring her into sharper focus.
‘Thank you for your trouble, Major,’ William said, pointedly moving to the door.
