Page 109 of Exile's Return

‘No!’ Sarah’s strangled sob was muffled by Agnes’s shoulder.

‘Why did they let them catch you?’ Daniel demanded.

‘I’m not sure it was my choice,’ Jonathan responded. ‘You were right about it being a trap.’

Daniel glanced at the servant girl. ‘Sarah, did you betray us?’

Sarah raised her head. ‘Me? No! They were waiting for me when I left the tunnel. Turner’s men ‘ave been holdin’ me these past few hours in the guard house. Turner himself brought Sir Jonathan in.’

‘They caught up with me about two miles out of the village,’ Jonathan said.

‘Dear God,’ Kit spoke at last. ‘I’m not sure I can see how we are going to get out of this, Thornton.’

Jonathan hunkered down beside him. ‘Trust in God, Lovell. God and the weakness of man.’

Kit gave a hoarse laugh. ‘God? I’m not sure the Almighty himself would have an easy answer to our current predicament.’

Agnes released Sarah. ‘There has to be something we can do.’

Jonathan slid down to the floor beside Kit and leaned his head against the cold, damp wall. ‘I have every confidence that we will prevail. In the meantime, I think we should try and get some rest,’ he said. ‘We will need all our wits about us when the sun rises.’

Despite the cold and discomfort, Agnes curled up again in Daniel’s arms and allowed her eyes to close, heavy with sleep that could no longer be held at bay. Daniel stroked her hair and she heard his voice in her ear.

‘Don’t give up hope, Agnes. We will get through this.’

How?Three unarmed men, one hurt, and two women did not seem to stand much chance against a troop of soldiers led by a determined and murderous commander.

Hope…she understood now. The moment you abandoned hope you gave up on the world.

Daniel was right, they had to have hope.

Chapter 47

Under a heavily armed guard, Ashby’s raggle-taggle prisoners entered the Great Hall, Jonathan, Daniel, and Kit in front and behind them, Sarah and Agnes. Sarah clung to Agnes’s arm, still weepy with grief for her aunt. Ashby had arranged his men down each side of the Great Hall, the two lines closing behind the prisoners as they walked the length of the room.

Tobias Ashby himself waited on the dais, with Turner behind him. Next to her brother, Leah Turner held the two children by the hands.

‘Henry!’ Agnes lunged forward.

‘Aunty Agnes!’ Henry wailed and struggled to release himself from Leah’s grip.

Daniel caught her by the waist.

‘Not now,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Your time will come. Sarah, see to her.’

Sarah took Agnes in charge, with an arm around her shoulders.

Henry yelped and fell silent as the fingers of Leah’s hand tightened on his shoulder.

Daniel stepped forward before Ashby could speak. He was damned if he would stand there meekly allowing this man to play God with their lives.

‘I stand here in the presence of these witnesses and accuse you of the murder of Margaret Truscott,’ he said.

Not a muscle twitched in Ashby’s face.

‘Forgive me if I misunderstand, Lovell, but the only reason Mistress Truscott was taken into my custody is because you and your fellow conspirators made her complicit in your plans,’ Ashby said, his gaze travelling along the line of prisoners. ‘Guilt by association. As for her death, that is unfortunate but my physician tells me that Mistress Truscott’s health was poor.’

‘She would not be dead had you not dragged her through the mud and left her to die in a cold cellar,’ Daniel responded. ‘But then your crimes go back a very long way, don’t they, Ashby?’