Page 100 of Exile's Return
‘Tempted as I am to find my cousin’s coldest and darkest dungeon, I do not wish to be accused of being unfeeling. Lock them in a cellar, Turner, and provide Mistress Fletcher with whatever she needs to see to Lovell’s wound and keep the old woman alive until tomorrow. I would hate for them to become ill or die before I can see justice done. No need to leave a guard’
‘But—’ Turner began. Ashby flashed him a thin-lipped smile and Turner nodded. ‘I see.’
‘Setting a trap, Ashby?’ Kit said between clenched teeth.
Ashby took a few steps toward him. ‘You know, the interesting thing about you, Lovell, is that I would swear you were hanged a few years back. Some plot to assassinate the Lord General?’ When Kit did not reply, Tobias jabbed a finger at his chest. ‘You may have escaped the noose once, but not this time. Even if your comrades have a rush of sentimentality and try to save you, I will see you hang.’
Chapter 43
Daniel perched precariously on the inadequate ladder, his shoulder to the flagstone. With a grunt he heaved again, to be rewarded with the scrape of furniture as the chest shifted slightly. Jonathan, holding his legs, huffed an appreciative grunt, cut short as the rung on which Daniel’s feet were braced gave a sickening crack and gave way.
Daniel fell back against his companion and they both tumbled to the floor. Sitting up, he ran his hand through his hair, accompanied by a colourful French curse acquired in his privateering days.
Jonathan blew out a breath and considered the flagstone. They were both tall men but it was two feet above their heads, making it an awkward height to get any leverage without the ladder.
‘I won’t get enough purchase to shift it more than a few inches,’ Daniel replied. ‘They must have left the leg of the chestright on top of it, and I swear the woman is storing rocks in it. We’ll have to try your suggestion.’
‘I’ll have to hold you,’ Jonathan said.
The tiny space left them little room for manoeuvring and Jonathan’s bad shoulder, the legacy of a pistol ball, he told Daniel, hampered his ability to lift Daniel, but Daniel found if he braced his feet against the wall, he could get sufficient purchase to exert his strength against the heavy flagstone.
Taking a deep breath, he grunted as he pushed upwards. This time the chest moved an agonizing couple of inches. Daniel gathered his strength to try again.
‘Stop,’ Jonathan said in a low voice, releasing Daniel, who let his feet drop back to the ground.
Every nerve in his body strained to hear what Jonathan had heard. They had waited a long time to see if Ashby had left a guard but had heard nothing. Now he could hear the unmistakable tap of light footsteps on the flagstones.
Daniel drew his knife from his boot.
‘Are ye here? Can you hear me?’ A woman’s voice came from above.
For a moment Daniel thought it might be Agnes and his heart leapt in hope.
‘It’s me, Sarah Truscott,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve come alone. Daniel, if ye’re in the cellar,’ the girl’s voice seemed closer as if she were lying on the floor, talking to the concealing flagstone, ‘They’ve got Peg and Mistress Agnes and a man locked up in the castle and the Colonel says he’ll ‘ang the three of ‘em in the morning if he don’t get what you stole from him back.’
Jonathan’s fingers tightened on Daniel’s arm, telling him to keep silent.
How were they to know that Peg’s niece had come alone? Daniel ground his teeth in impotent silence and tightened his grip on the knife. They had no choice but to trust Sarah hadcome alone, otherwise they could spend days in this cellar before they managed to move the chest sufficiently to get the flagstone up.
‘Sarah, we’re down here,’ he said aloud. ‘We can’t move the flag.’
‘Thank the Lord,’ Sarah replied and above them, the chest scraped on the floor. The girl grunted as she tugged at the flagstone. Daniel lent what assistance he could and with a harsh grating of stone on stone it shifted. The men flattened themselves against the wall of the cellar as the square of light was blocked out by the outline of a woman’s head covered in a white coif.
‘Ye’ve my word there’s no one here but I,’ she said. ‘I saw ‘em bring in my aunt and the other man and heard what the Colonel said about there being two others. I knew one of ‘em would be you.’
Jonathan glanced at Daniel.
‘She can be trusted,’ Daniel answered the unspoken question and looked up at the woman. ‘Thank you for coming to the rescue, Sarah. We feared we were trapped down here. Your aunt’s hiding place only works if there is someone left on the outside.’
Daniel turned to Jonathan. ‘You go first. I’ll push you up from below. If you can hook your right arm over, we should be able to get you up.’
It took an undignified amount of effort, but with Sarah pulling and Daniel pushing, Jonathan landed on the floor gasping like a fish out of water. With his years of climbing in rigging, Daniel swung himself up and over the lip of the cellar with relative ease, landing on his feet.
‘There was a time…’ Jonathan grumbled, sitting up and dusting off his jacket.
Daniel restored the flagstone and the chest. By the hearth, the old dog lay, its sightless dead eyes turned to the door and a bloody wound on its neck. Sarah crouched down and gently stroked the dog’s ears.
‘Poor Bonny’ she said.
