ourselves?’
‘It is not our concern, Bess,’ their father said curtly, then turned to Jacob. ‘I am sorry, lad, but your father should have been more careful. The man is no fool, he knows the dangers.’
Jacob looked up at Tom who was glaring at his father. ‘You would leave him to the mob, Father?’ Tom asked, fire in his eyes.
‘I would,’ Sir Francis said.
‘Then you are a coward,’ Tom spat.
‘Tom! Enough!’ Mun said, but Sir Francis was already going for his brother, fists balled.
‘Francis!’ Lady Mary yelled. He halted and turned to his wife, who gave a slight shake of her head, imploring him to hold. He held.
‘Martha Green is to be my wife,’ Tom said, putting on his hat, ‘and I will not abandon her when she needs me. Honour will not allow it.’
‘He is right, Father,’ Mun said, throwing his cloak around his shoulders. ‘It would not be right to stand by and do nothing while a good man, a minister, is so cruelly used. And by the likes of Henry Denton,’ he said, the name tasting like dirt in his mouth.
‘You would both disobey me?’ Sir Francis asked, incredulity twisting his flushing face.
‘We must do what is right,’ Mun said as evenly as he could, glancing at Bess, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. She looked horrified by the discord around her, for like Mun she had never before had to choose between obedience to her father and her own conscience.
Sir Francis shook his head in bewilderment. ‘My father used to say, “God is good, but never dance in a small boat.”’ He looked at his wife and shook his head. ‘Why do our boys insist on bloody dancing?’ Lady Mary put her arm around Jacob Green and Sir Francis shook his head again because her silence was all but condonation of their sons’ disobedience. He knew he was outnumbered. ‘Fetch Priam,’ he growled at Vincent. The stablehand turned and was gone.
‘You will stay with us, Jacob, until the matter is resolved,’ Lady Mary said. ‘Isaac, fetch the lad some small beer and something to eat.’ Bess ruffled the boy’s hair, trying to coax a smile out of him. ‘Be careful, husband,’ Lady Mary warned, stepping forward to take Sir Francis’s hands in her own. ‘Bring our sons safely back.’ Sir Francis nodded darkly and stormed off to dress. Then Mary leant in to Mun, fixing him with eyes that were suddenly cold despite the candlelight glossing them.
‘Do not risk harm for the boy’s father,’ she whispered, clutching his arm with a grip that surprised him.
He nodded. Then he turned and strode through the still-open door. Into the piercing December night.
CHAPTER FOUR
THEY RODE HARD , their mounts’ hot breath trailing in moon-silvered tendrils as they galloped across fields of frozen mud and along sunken lanes whose hedgerows clawed at them greedily. Hooves thumped out a breakneck beat, pounding the iron-hard earth. Sword scabbards bounced, saddles and straps creaked, and buckles, metal fittings and tack jingled. The frigid night air scoured Mun’s face, dragging tears across his freezing cheeks and biting through his gloves into raw finger bones. And he would have wagered a shilling that even their father, out in front on his noble black stallion, Priam, was finding it exhilarating, that even he was charged with the mad thrill of it. It takes him back to his years at Theobalds House hunting with King James, Mun thought. It reminds him of when he was young.
In the dark the moon-touched sandstone hills loomed, mere pimples compared with their lofty cousins to the east, yet standing like ancient sentinels and made more ominous by night’s veil. The Rivers men flew across this darkling countryside, like the shadows of owls sweeping close to the ground after prey. And yet they came to Minister Green’s house too late.
‘They took him,’ Martha sobbed, hurling herself against Tom who wrapped his arms around her as though to shield her from the night itself. ‘Those devils took Father.’ Her
‘It is not our concern, Bess,’ their father said curtly, then turned to Jacob. ‘I am sorry, lad, but your father should have been more careful. The man is no fool, he knows the dangers.’
Jacob looked up at Tom who was glaring at his father. ‘You would leave him to the mob, Father?’ Tom asked, fire in his eyes.
‘I would,’ Sir Francis said.
‘Then you are a coward,’ Tom spat.
‘Tom! Enough!’ Mun said, but Sir Francis was already going for his brother, fists balled.
‘Francis!’ Lady Mary yelled. He halted and turned to his wife, who gave a slight shake of her head, imploring him to hold. He held.
‘Martha Green is to be my wife,’ Tom said, putting on his hat, ‘and I will not abandon her when she needs me. Honour will not allow it.’
‘He is right, Father,’ Mun said, throwing his cloak around his shoulders. ‘It would not be right to stand by and do nothing while a good man, a minister, is so cruelly used. And by the likes of Henry Denton,’ he said, the name tasting like dirt in his mouth.
‘You would both disobey me?’ Sir Francis asked, incredulity twisting his flushing face.
‘We must do what is right,’ Mun said as evenly as he could, glancing at Bess, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. She looked horrified by the discord around her, for like Mun she had never before had to choose between obedience to her father and her own conscience.
Sir Francis shook his head in bewilderment. ‘My father used to say, “God is good, but never dance in a small boat.”’ He looked at his wife and shook his head. ‘Why do our boys insist on bloody dancing?’ Lady Mary put her arm around Jacob Green and Sir Francis shook his head again because her silence was all but condonation of their sons’ disobedience. He knew he was outnumbered. ‘Fetch Priam,’ he growled at Vincent. The stablehand turned and was gone.
‘You will stay with us, Jacob, until the matter is resolved,’ Lady Mary said. ‘Isaac, fetch the lad some small beer and something to eat.’ Bess ruffled the boy’s hair, trying to coax a smile out of him. ‘Be careful, husband,’ Lady Mary warned, stepping forward to take Sir Francis’s hands in her own. ‘Bring our sons safely back.’ Sir Francis nodded darkly and stormed off to dress. Then Mary leant in to Mun, fixing him with eyes that were suddenly cold despite the candlelight glossing them.
‘Do not risk harm for the boy’s father,’ she whispered, clutching his arm with a grip that surprised him.
He nodded. Then he turned and strode through the still-open door. Into the piercing December night.
CHAPTER FOUR
THEY RODE HARD , their mounts’ hot breath trailing in moon-silvered tendrils as they galloped across fields of frozen mud and along sunken lanes whose hedgerows clawed at them greedily. Hooves thumped out a breakneck beat, pounding the iron-hard earth. Sword scabbards bounced, saddles and straps creaked, and buckles, metal fittings and tack jingled. The frigid night air scoured Mun’s face, dragging tears across his freezing cheeks and biting through his gloves into raw finger bones. And he would have wagered a shilling that even their father, out in front on his noble black stallion, Priam, was finding it exhilarating, that even he was charged with the mad thrill of it. It takes him back to his years at Theobalds House hunting with King James, Mun thought. It reminds him of when he was young.
In the dark the moon-touched sandstone hills loomed, mere pimples compared with their lofty cousins to the east, yet standing like ancient sentinels and made more ominous by night’s veil. The Rivers men flew across this darkling countryside, like the shadows of owls sweeping close to the ground after prey. And yet they came to Minister Green’s house too late.
‘They took him,’ Martha sobbed, hurling herself against Tom who wrapped his arms around her as though to shield her from the night itself. ‘Those devils took Father.’ Her
Similar Books
