Page 111 of Exile's Return
Turner returned his gaze to Ashby. ‘I meant no.’
‘I will have you tried for mutiny,’ Ashby raged at Turner.
Turner shook his head. ‘I don’t think you will. Thornton is right — it is time for a king to rule once more in England. I am taking my men and riding north to join General Monck. I received word from a friend who is with him that he is moving on London. The end is coming.’
‘Monck? A traitor?’ Ashby stared at his captain.
Turner swallowed. ‘In a few months Charles Stuart will once again sit on the throne of this country and there will be a price to pay for those who resisted him, particularly those who participated in the killing of his father. A wise man knows where his allegiances need to lie in times like these and Ashby, your days are numbered.’
The colour drained from Ashby’s face. ‘You were there too.’
Turner’s eyes narrowed. ‘But I did not command the guard at the King’s execution. You did.’
Turner waved a hand at the prisoners. ‘I suggest, if you have any sense left, Ashby, you let these people depart with the children and whatever it was they came here to retrieve.’ He glanced at Jonathan and his lips twitched. ‘If indeed they did find it. I for one see no evidence that they did.’
‘Septimus, what are you doing?’ Leah Turner dragged the two children forward to confront her brother.
Turner shook his head. ‘It is time to return home, Leah. You are not needed here anymore.’
She glanced at Ashby, ‘But Tobias and I…we had an understanding…’
Ashby glanced at her as if noticing her for the first time. His lip curled. ‘An understanding? I think not, Mistress Turner. Why would I want a dried-up old maid such as you?’
Leah looked from one man to the other. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It was not supposed to be like this. Tobias should be the Earl of Elmhurst, with me by his side.’
She flung Lizzie to one side, tightening her grip on Henry. From her skirts, she drew a knife.
‘Sweet Jesu,’ Kit muttered.
Agnes screamed and lunged forward again, to be caught by Jonathan. ‘She will hurt the child, Agnes. Keep your peace,’ he said.
A shot rang out in the room, reverberating off the ancient walls and setting a pigeon high in the rafters fluttering in alarm. Septimus Turner fell to his knees, looking up at Tobias Ashby with surprise in his eyes before falling forward.
From where she huddled on the floor, Lizzie screamed.
Ashby threw aside his useless pistol and Daniel saw his moment. He took the dais in a couple of leaps, wrestling to free Turner’s sword from its scabbard. Ashby, seeing what he intended, grabbed Henry off Leah. The child struggled in his grip, reaching out for Agnes and screaming her name.
Ashby slapped the child hard across the face and Henry’s protests died to a quiet whimpering and he stopped struggling.
Daniel gave Agnes a quick sideways glance. She hung in Jonathan’s arms, her eyes wide with fear.
‘Daniel … Henry … ’ she sobbed.
Daniel weighed Turner’s sword in his hand. It was an Army issue back sword, an inelegant weapon compared to his Spanish rapier, but it would do the task.
‘Put the child down and face me like a man, Ashby,’ he said. ‘Only a coward would use a child as a shield.’
Ashby’s gaze flicked around the room. He let Henry fall to the ground and took a step back, drawing his sword. Daniel could do nothing for either Henry or Elizabeth as Leah once more swooped on both children, even as Kit began to move. She moved away from the two men and the body of her brother, the light from the windows glinting on the honed steel of the knife she held.
Daniel considered his opponent. Ashby was older and heavier, but he had a better sword and experience on his side. Daniel knew he was not the swordsman his brother had been before his right hand had been crippled, but close-quarter fighting on the decks of ships had taught him some interesting manoeuvres.
Ashby clearly expected him to move first, and when he didn’t the silence hung in the room with an almost palpable presence. Agnes’s choked sob echoed around them and Ashby, wearying of waiting, lunged.
As he had thought, Ashby had some classical training in swordplay, but it became clear from their initial conversations, the back and forth of swordplay, that Ashby’s technique had been refined on a battlefield with little need for the elegance of the fencing master.
Sparks flew as the weapons came together, Ashby trying to use his superior size to advantage over his lighter opponent, but Daniel had no trouble disengaging. He just needed to keep Ashby moving until the older man tired.
He backed Ashby off the dais, his opponent staggering but regaining his feet with surprising agility for a man of his size. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jonathan, still holding Agnes, move her away, clearing the space on the floor of the Great Hall. He now had the entire room to play with and here his youth came to the fore, forcing Ashby backwards down the hall in a series of thrusts, parries, and ripostes.
