Percy shrugged off his hand. ‘You say that to me now? You, who call yourself friend?’
‘And me?’ said Mercia. ‘Am I not your friend?’ She looked back at the bonfire, witnessing the mob as it slithered and curled to wind its coils around its prey, refusing Nathan’s appeals to cease its inhuman dance. Then a rock flew from its midst, striking him on the temple. He staggered, dazed, while Nicholas swore at the townsfolk, reaching down to pull him out of harm’s way.
‘Damn this,’ she said. She took a deep breath, the smoke of the fire seeping inside her lungs. ‘Will you save Sir William or not?’
Slowly, Percy shook his head. ‘And betray all those men – those good, good men! – who died fighting against his kind, against the King? No, he is part of the whole stinking edifice, and in Cromwell’s name I will see it brought down!’
His years of fury had proven too much. ‘And so you stoke the fire in the people as surely as they stoke that real flame. But I will not stay to look.’
‘Mercia, I—’
She refused to meet his eye. Dragging her dress hems over her boots, he made no move to stop her as she fled his presence to find Nathan’s group. Once there she laid her hand on Nicholas’s shoulder, taking reassurance in his familiar touch.
‘How is he?’ She looked down at Nathan; now sat on the ground, he was clutching his forehead.
‘Bleeding, but not much harmed. Though that rock hit him hard.’ Nicholas frowned. ‘What is it?’
She shook her head. ‘Is it safe to leave him?’
‘Leave?’ Nathan looked up, the slight action making him wince. ‘Where are you going?’
‘You will see.’ She huddled close to Nicholas. ‘In a moment, I want you to come with me. I want you to pretend to be escorting me away.’ She glanced again at Nathan. ‘You are sure you are well?’
‘Mercia, I am not a child.’
‘Then gather your strength and make ready. When the crowd turn away, go in and rescue Sir William. Thorpe too, if you can. We cannot let them burn.’
Before he could press further, she laid her head in her hands, affecting a distress it was not difficult to feign, and she fled the viperous crowd. Seconds later, Nicholas ran past, then swivelled to walk backwards, bending to check her face.
‘To pretend I’m seeing if you’re upset.’
‘Very good,’ she said through closed fingertips. ‘Now look behind me and see if anyone is watching.’
Keeping his head still, he flicked up his eyes. ‘Just Percy. Amery is trying to speak to him, and the rest are … engrossed in their work.’ He paused. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
She kept her face covered. ‘Not now, Nicholas.’ She shivered. ‘How do people become like that? We so easily descend into brutality.’
‘You know how. Fear. Mistrust. The need to stay alive. Mostly because they are scared, as they were scared the night of Hopewell’s death. And now their fear has found its release.’
‘That may be.’ She set down her hands. ‘But I will be damned if I let anyone else die for it tonight.’
Fading into the low light of dusk, she hurried around the palisade to reach the southern gate, grabbing one of the torches from its sconce and speeding on towards the hill. In the penumbra, the unfinished fort at its summit took on an unnatural aspect, unseen forces darkening its barricade, but such ethereal spectres were meaningless to her as she led Nicholas into its dim embrace, not stopping to catch her breath. Once inside the open structure she made straight for the mortar, laying a hand on its cold metal, the crest of the old King hard beneath her purposeful hand.
‘Nicholas,’ she said, ‘you have to fire this.’
‘What?’ He let out a nervous laugh. ‘My, you are serious.’
‘If we fire the mortar, it will draw the attention of the townsfolk, and then maybe Nathan will be able to get Sir William away.’ She looked at the squat weapon, its maw gaping like a ravenous creature desperate to make its kill. ‘When I was here during the Indian attack, Fearing loaded it ready to use. So take that rammer over there and set it off. You were on the ships. You must have seen cannons being fired.’
‘Well yes, but I never manned—’
‘Can you do it?’
He stared at the gun, stifling a grin. ‘Hell’s teeth, I will give it a try.’
She held the torch in front so he could see. In its light, he quickly found the wooden rammer, thrust it inside the mortar and pushed down hard.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Give me the torch.’ She handed it over and took a step back. ‘Further than that.’
She took another two. ‘Hurry!’
Standing back himself, he set the torch to the taper that led into the mortar. The short fuse took hold, burning fast. Then he leapt back.
‘Cover your ears!’
She did as he bade her, and just in time. With a loud bang the mortar recoiled, firing its load into the sky. The shot flew out of sight, falling to earth with a series of hard thuds.
‘Wo-ah!’ cried Nicholas. ‘That should get their attention!’
She looked towards the now fierce bonfire, its flames engaged in their mesmerising whirl. Before the orange mass two figures stood slightly apart from the rest, their arms behind their backs, but as she watched, a number of people broke from the massed crowd and started towards the hill.
‘Christ,’ said Nicholas. ‘We better get out of here.’
Taking back the torch, she scurried from the fort, pausing to look down the slope of the hill as another figure pushed through the remaining crowd to reach the bound men. Yet another silhouette, in a dress she thought, placed herself in front of the few townsfolk who turned towards him, giving him time to release one of the prisoners, but the other was still bound when the crowd dodged past her outstretched hands. The dark couple sprinted with the freed man into the darkness of the forest, leaving the unfortunate second victim behind. While some of the townsfolk stayed to prevent his escape, others plunged after them into the woods.
By now the shouts of the group approaching the hill were growing louder. Nicholas grabbed Mercia’s arm and pulled her along.
‘Drop that torch!’ he cried.
Throwing down her light, she followed him down the back of the hill, slipping on damp patches until with a garble of a cry she stumbled, shocking her ankle. But her boot was strong, and the pain not great; Nicholas helped her up and they carried on. Behind them, the mob was now at the fort, lifting their torches to survey the landscape. One of the townsfolk – Lavington’s man Stephen, she thought – cried out ‘There!’ and the pursuers emptied the fort in swift pursuit.
‘Into the wood,’ cried Nicholas. ‘It will be harder to spy us.’
She raced amongst the trees. It was pitch-dark, and she had to slow down lest she fall on a stray root, or collide with an unseen trunk. She had caught her ankle more severely than she had thought, and up ahead, she could tell Nicholas was racing away, the rustling of the leaves under his boots growing steadily quieter. She tried to keep up the pace but before long she had lost him to the gloom. She could not call out: behind, her pursuers made no effort to disguise their own movement.
She pressed on, left around one tree, right around another, aiming back towards the town to find her bearings. Then a man’s shout startled a deer into flight not far off, and to her left a twig snapped. Turning cold, she stopped still as the leaves crackled beside her feet, and a black silhouette appeared in the corner of her eye. She inched away but the silhouette reached out a hand and grabbed her. Yet it was a loose grip, and she was able to snatch herself free.
‘Mercia, is that you?’ he whispered.
‘Amery!’
‘I knew it was you fired that shot.’ He brought his face close to hers. ‘Percy sent me with this group to protect you. One of them said she thought she saw you, but I sent them in a different direction while I came to look.’
‘Thank you.’ She realised she was panting, out of breath. ‘Have you seen Nicholas? I
heard a cry.’
‘That was me.’ Amery swallowed. ‘I tripped. I hoped Nicholas was with you?’
‘We became separated. I shall have to find him, and quickly.’ She looked about her, but the calls of pursuit were trailing off and it was too dark to see far into the forest. ‘Did you manage to talk sense into Percy?’
He laughed: odd for the circumstances, she thought. ‘He may share the people’s anger at what you have done, but he does not want to see you harmed. Maybe it would be best if you hide for a time, until things have calmed. The … clearing at the top of the waterfall, perhaps.’ The leaves under his feet rustled. ‘One of us will fetch you when we can.’
She looked at him, as well as she could in the blackness. ‘I had to stop them, Amery. I could not let them kill Sir William, not even Thorpe.’
‘No. But you understand Percy’s fury with men like those. ’Tis misplaced, on this occasion, but you understand it.’
‘Do I?’ Something in his tone gave her cause to hesitate, something … pleading? She creased her forehead as an indefinable concern crept into her chest, as if the chill air itself had seeped into her consciousness. ‘Whom did Nathan free?’ she asked, tearing her mind from its unwelcome paths. ‘I saw one of them was left at the bonfire.’
‘He freed Sir William.’ Amery’s voice resounded more strongly now. ‘I do not know where they have gone.’
‘Sir William.’ She bit her lip. ‘Amery, what do you think about Thorpe?’
He hesitated. ‘I think … he must be the killer. Percy says the letter we found proves it.’
‘And what say you?’
The outline of his head turned this way and that, the creasing of his shirt collar more audible in the dark.
‘I think Percy is usually right.’
‘But not always. And not in this case. Either he is too maddened to see what should be obvious to him otherwise, or else he—’
The woods fell utterly silent. The wind, the night birds, the creaking of the trees vanished.
Surely not? Oh Lord God, surely not that?
‘Or else he what?’
Did someone speak? She turned her eyes upwards to see Amery, closer now than a moment before. An intense ray of fear shot through her soul.
There were two of them, Vic had said.
She began to back away.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, taking one step forwards for every pace she took back.
She tried to steady her voice. ‘I think it best … if I go to the waterfall now.’
‘Oh, I don’t think you’re in any trouble here. Everyone has gone.’
‘Still—’
‘And I wouldn’t keep walking backwards, if I were you.’ Of a sudden he lunged towards her, stopping her retreat with an outstretched arm. She felt his hand against the back of her dress, holding her in place.
‘What are you doing?’ she said.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her to face the other way.
‘Helping, I hope. You almost fell on that root behind you.’ He eased away his fingertips. ‘If you walk in this direction, you will come out near the town. The light of the bonfire should guide you. From there you know how to reach the waterfall, I think.’ He pushed her lightly forward. ‘That way, then.’
Feigning composure, she walked quickly away, almost a run. Alone amongst the trees, she hurried on, the pines and the elms beginning to thin as her back crawled with the anxiety that a bullet or an arrow could strike. But none came. She fled ever faster until soon the trees ended and the palisade loomed into view, its dark mass of pointed staves a menacing witness to her attempts at stealth. But then she looked back, and she saw a man creeping from tree to tree on the forest’s perimeter, peering in and out.
Her stomach turned ever colder, but she waited, observing, until the man whispered loud enough to hear, searching for his lost companion. A relief as intense as her dread took hold as she realised who it was, and she strode out towards Nicholas, causing him to tense until he recognised her in his turn. She said nothing of her encounter with Amery, refusing to give in to her paranoid thoughts. But her mind was as frantic as the leaves now whipping in the wind at her feet, leading her to a conclusion she did not want to reach.
Go to the waterfall, Amery had said. Go to the waterfall, where one of us will fetch you.
And so there was no other choice. She knew there could be danger, but she had to go. Had to learn if she was right.
For Clemency. And for herself.
Chapter Thirty-Four
They walked to the waterfall in silence. Nicholas tried to talk, but she was not in the mood. She was reflecting on what she was going to say; what she was going to do if events turned sour. She toyed with the idea of returning the other way, to see if they could help free Thorpe, but she knew where the real answers lay. Nor was she concerned for Sir William, trusting Nathan and Remembrance to hide him somewhere safe. And so up the narrow path she clambered, ducking encroaching branches and stepping over sharp-pointed rocks.
The water’s descent seemed to run louder at night: unsurprising, perhaps, with the tension coursing through her veins. Nearing the clearing at the top of the falls, Nicholas put out an arm to stop her advance. Placing a finger on his lips he crept forward, peeking into the open space from behind a rotting trunk. She waited several moments, listening through the chirping of the insects and the murmuring of the trees, watching for any sign. But he remained immobile. For all she could tell, they were alone up here.
‘Nobody there,’ he confirmed as she slipped alongside. ‘What now?’
‘We wait, out of sight, in silence.’
They waited a long time it felt, but that too might have been the nerves, the wish to bring an end to the weeks of grief. To steel herself, she thought of Clemency, how all this had been for her, and how soon, she hoped, her friend would find her justice. And then she thought of Nathan, how their relationship had diminished; and of Daniel, waiting motherless in Hartford, of how she would make it up to him as soon as all was over. And also she thought of the risk she was taking, how her son might not have a mother at all. But persistence was her only choice; she cast that heady thought from her mind.
A thump nearby. Another. The heavy plod of boots on their way to the meeting place. She stopped breathing altogether as two dark figures, illuminated by a torch, seemed to glide up the path towards them. Passing them unnoticed, they emerged as if tall imps onto the plateau atop the gurgling falls. She inched forwards with Nicholas, as quietly as they could, straining to glimpse the new arrivals. Then a rustle from behind made her stop dead and look back. For a moment she thought she could see another shape, crouched, but only for a moment. Now there was nothing, just a bush. She signalled to Nicholas, pointing back, but he too shook his head. She returned her attention to the duo before her, spectral as they seemed in the night.
One nodded to the other. ‘Mercia,’ the second called, sweeping his torch. ‘Mercia, did you come?’
‘Amery,’ she heard Nicholas mutter, too quietly for the pair to remark. ‘Can you see who the other is? Amery is in the way.’
‘No. He is hooded.’ She lowered her eyes: pointless in the darkness. ‘But I know who it will be. These two … are the two behind everything.’ Even now she could barely say it. ‘The murderers.’
A long pause, and she knew what he was thinking. ‘Amery?’ Another pause. ‘But I … I shared his lodging. You are certain?’
She touched his forearm. ‘They have deluded us all. I should have seen this, not you.’ She took back her hand. ‘Stay hidden for now. If I need you, I will make a sign.’
‘No, Mercia.’ Even in a whisper, his worry was clear. ‘If what you say is true, you should not go out alone.’
‘Mrs Blakewood?’ called Amery.
‘I have to. I think ’tis better.’
A quiet resignation. ‘What sign then?’
‘I will … put my hands on my hips. If I am in trouble, use your judgement, but do not
put yourself at risk.’
She got to her feet, brushing loose stones from her dress, dismissing his silent objections by striking into the open. Now exposed, she made no attempt to hide her approach. The two men turned towards her, Amery bareheaded, the other in a well-fitting cloak.
‘Amery,’ she acknowledged. Then she turned to the other. ‘And you.’ Her voice rolled deep with bitterness. ‘I know who you are. You can show your sorry face.’
As the man did as she bade, she closed her eyes, overrun by sadness and pain. For her supposition had been right, and worse, she had been betrayed.
Percy cast off his hood. And smiled.
‘Welcome, Mercia. I knew you would come.’ He inclined his head, looking at her with a great curiosity. ‘Tell me, when did you realise the truth?’
‘Only tonight.’ Her expression was as sterile as his was animate. ‘I should have listened to myself sooner, instead of to your lies.’
‘I never lied, Mercia. As I never miss a thing. I regret this, but—Amery?’
He nodded at the schoolmaster. From under his cloak, Amery retrieved a doglock pistol and aimed it at the undergrowth behind her.
‘Another gun,’ she said. ‘How you men do like your toys.’
‘This is not a toy, Mercia. Nor is this a game.’ Percy looked towards the wood. ‘If you do not come out, we will shoot.’
‘Damn you.’ A rustling told her Nicholas had broken cover.
‘Hands in the air,’ said Percy. ‘Except … lift up your shirt.’
‘Why? Fancy a look?’
‘Just do it.’
Stepping into view, Nicholas pulled his shirt above his breeches, revealing the knife in his belt.
‘As I thought. You can throw that over here.’ Percy watched as Nicholas sent the knife thudding between his feet. ‘Now sit down and stay quiet while I talk to your mistress.’
Not breaking from his gaze, Nicholas lowered himself deliberately to the ground. Amery exhaled, loosening his hold on his gun.
Nicholas spat. ‘A nice pair of murderers and cowards, both of you.’ He looked up at Amery, disgust across his face. ‘But you. I expected much better of you.’
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