Page 142 of The King's Man
‘You can’t catch me, Kit!’
In the well-kept gardens of Eveleigh Priory, Kit played hide-and-seek with his young brother Daniel and his sister, Frances. Always fearless, Daniel often had to be retrieved from the tallest oak tree by a hot and impatient brother.
‘I’m over here.’
Kit heard Daniel’s challenge and turned to see the boy’s fair head disappearing behind a hedge. He set off after him, running hard, his booted feet sinking in the soft lawn.
Every so often Daniel’s head would appear from behind a tree or a hedge, with a cheeky grin that split his freckled face from ear to ear.
‘Catch me!’
Kit ran on. The well-kept grass gave way to tussocks and mud. He stumbled and looked down to see he had tripped over the body of a man, his dead eyes staring sightlessly into a grey sky.Around him were the bodies of other men and horses. A heavy pall of powder smoke hung over the battlefield.
He scoured the field around him, looking for his brother. He called his brother’s name.
‘Kit!’
Daniel was just ahead of him, running for his life as two burly foot soldiers bore down on him, their muskets raised like clubs.
Kit tried to run, but his legs would not move and his feet had become pinned to the ground. He screamed the boy’s name again but the soldiers had caught up with Daniel, an up-swung musket carrying him to the ground with a dull thud.
Moving as if his feet had become anvils, Kit reached his brother, who lay face down in the crushed grass, his fair hair lifting in a slight breeze. With shaking hands he turned him over, to find himself looking into the face of a rotting corpse.
Kit woke with a shudder, his heart pounding, his breathing ragged. He sat up in the bed and tried to steady his racing pulse. He put his hand to his face and it came away wet. Kit ran the sleeve of his nightshirt over his face, fell back on the bolster, and stared up at the faded, red bed hangings.
His head felt clear and no longer hurt to move. He put a hand to his throat, touching the bruising, remembering. It hadn’t been a dream. He really was alive.
‘So, ye’re back with us?’
He turned his head to see Nan standing in the doorway.
She set down the tray she was carrying and stood over him, her hands on her hips.
‘Nan,’ he croaked.
Nan shook her head. ‘You’ve given us a scare, Lovell. We thought we was going to lose you all over again.’
Kit coughed and tried to speak again. He frowned and beckoned for Nan to come closer. Nan leaned forward to hear, affording him a good view of her ample bosom.
‘How long?’
‘Five days, lover,’ she said.
Five days?
‘Thamsine?’
Nan straightened and considered him a moment, biting her lip.
‘It’s like this, lover. We sent May’s Tom to Turnham Green but when he got there, the house was all closed up. He asked around and someone told him the whole family had gone but they didn’t know where. The maid thought it was somewhere in Hampshire they was going. Anyways, by the time Tom came back,’ she grimaced, ‘it didn’t look too good for you and we thought it would be cruel to tell Thamsine you was alive just to have you die again, so we thought we’d wait until we was sure you were going to live before we went looking some more.’
Kit ran a shaking hand over his eyes, trying to remember the name of Thamsine’s home in Hampshire.Hartley?Where was that? Hampshire was a large county. He had no idea where to look for her.
Should he send Jem with a note? No, that would not be right. Breaking the news to his wife that he lived was something better done in person. For the moment he needed time to recover his strength. He doubted he could stay on a horse as far as Ludgate, let alone Hampshire.
Nan held out a cup. ‘Here, drink this. ’Pothecary said it would help.’
Kit lifted his right hand to take the cup. When he saw his fingers, misshapen and useless, a red mist of anger flared. The twisted fingers represented everything that he had endured in the last year, events over which he had no control, that had left him broken and crippled.
