Page 112 of Exile's Return
Ashby’s breath started to come in laboured grunts, sweat sheening his forehead. When Ashby tried to counter, Daniel just skipped aside, leaving Ashby thrusting into thin air. Only a few feet now between Ashby’s back and the door to the room. Daniel lunged forward, catching the sleeve of Ashby’s left arm. The man yelped and stumbled backwards, his back coming to rest against the solid wood panelling. A feint to the right and Daniel sent Ashby’s weapon spinning from his hand, the point of his sword hard up against his neck.
Everything he had imagined in the long, long years since that day at Eveleigh had come to pass. The death of his father, the fateful events at Worcester, his captivity and torture and even the years aboard a privateer — he had laid them all at the feet of this man.
Now, as he looked into Ashby’s eyes, he realized how wrong he had been. Yes, Ashby bore the sole responsibility for Thomas Lovell’s death, but everything else? The blame for those events rested on his shoulders alone.
‘Get it over with,’ Ashby panted.
Daniel lowered his sword.
‘No,’ he said. ‘If I were to kill you, I would be no better than you. You will answer for your crimes in a court of law, not by the spilling of more blood.’
Ashby straightened, his fingers going to the cut on his neck where Daniel had pressed a little too hard. A trickle of blood stained his pristine white collar.
He smiled a nasty, humourless smile. ‘A court of law? I will answer to no one but my God, Lovell.’
Daniel wrenched the man’s arm around behind his back and, stooping to retrieve Ashby’s sword, turned to face the room. There remained the problem of Leah Turner.
‘Let the children go, Mistress Turner,’ Daniel said.
Leah shook her head. ‘No. You release the Colonel.’
‘I’m not going to do that,’ Daniel said.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Agnes twist in Jonathan’s arms. Jonathan went down on his knees as if he had been felled with a pistol ball. Daniel recognized the manoeuvre and grimaced in sympathy for his friend, but he could do nothing but watch as Agnes flew out of Jonathan’s grip and, with a bloodcurdling scream akin to the war cry of an ancient Celtic warrior, hurled herself bodily at Leah Turner.
Leah had no time to react. As her grip on Lizzie relaxed, the child sank her teeth into Leah’s hand and the knife fell from her grip. It took both Jonathan and Kit to separate Agnes and Leah. Kit held Agnes by one arm as Agnes continued to glare at Leah Turner. Jonathan had the other woman but all the fight had gone from Leah. She drooped against his arm, her cap gone from her head and her lank ginger hair falling around her face.
As Agnes’s breathing returned to normal, Kit released her, and she sank to the floor, gathering the two children into her embrace.
The men visibly relaxed, and Daniel marched his prisoner down to the far end of the hall, depositing him in a chair. Jonathan, still wheezing from his encounter with Agnes’s knee, secured Leah in a similar manner. Daniel tossed Jonathan the Colonel’s sword and Kit retrieved Leah Turner’s knife.
‘What now?’ Daniel enquired of no one in particular.
‘To be honest,’ Jonathan said, ‘I think our best course of action is for us to be quit of this place as soon as possible. Much as I would like to see this bastard hang for his crimes, which now include the murder of his own officer, the paperwork…’
‘Agreed,’ Kit said.
‘You’ll let me go?’ Ashby put in.
‘Not exactly. If you have any sense you will quit England. Everything Turner said is true. Monck is considering marching on London and if he does, the King’s return is only a matter oftime. If you make the mistake of still being in England, Ashby, I will have the greatest pleasure in seeing that charges are brought against you and that you hang.’
Ashby swallowed. ‘Let me go and I will be on the next boat I can find,’ he said.
‘As for you, Mistress Turner?’ Jonathan asked, his tone unnervingly gentle.
Leah raised her head. ‘I will take Septimus’s body back to our home in Staffordshire,’ she said, turning her head away from Ashby.
‘Now, how do we explain to two dozen heavily armed soldiers that their commander is dead?’ Kit enquired.
Jonathan sighed. ‘I suppose that falls to me.’
‘The privileges of rank, Colonel,’ Kit said.
Henry wriggled out of Agnes’s embrace and ran to Daniel, throwing his arms around his booted leg. Daniel hefted the boy into his arms.
‘You were very brave, young man,’ he said.
Henry touched the scar on Daniel’s cheek. ‘Now I know you really are a pirate,’ he said.
