Deliverance broke open the letter. She scanned the contents, and then read aloud.
“Madam, as I esteem your courage in resisting the right and the might of your rightful King, I now offer you, for the last time, the opportunity to surrender Kinton Lacey Castle. Word has come to me that your food supplies have been compromised and it is unlikely you will hold out for many more weeks. Once again you have my word that you and your sister will be treated with the honor and respect due to persons of your delicacy and stature. Your household will also be allowed to depart in peace. The men of your garrison may offer their surrender and they will be conveyed to a place of confinement but otherwise unmolested. Surrender now on these terms. Yr faithful servant Chas Farrington.”
Deliverance looked up at the circle of faces; Penitence, Melchior, Ned and Luke. She turned to the messenger and with slow deliberate care tore the paper in half and then into small pieces letting them drop at the man's feet.
“You have my answer,” she said. “Sergeant Hale, see this man safely escorted to the gate.”
“Ma'am!” Hale, standing guard at the door, snapped to attention.
The messenger bowed and turned on his heel. Deliverance waited until he had left the room.
“How did he know?” She looked around the faces that surrounded her, scanning each one. “How did he know our food supplies have been compromised?”
“Because the person who perpetrated the act is in contact with him,” Luke answered.
“But how?”
Luke shook his head. “I don't know, but you have my word, Mistress Felton, that I will find out.”
“Do you really think it is Toby Brown?” Deliverance asked.
Luke shrugged. “He is our best suspect at present. If anything else untoward happens while he is locked up then we will know he is innocent. If not...” He left Toby's possible fate unspoken. “In the meantime we have work to do. Please excuse us, ladies. Ned? Blakelocke? We need to talk. Come with me.”
Ned inclined his head and hurried after his commander with Melchior following at his usual sedate pace.
Alone with her sister, Deliverance looked down at her drab, dusty, and stained gown.
“I think it may be time to show my colours again, Pen. Can you help me dress?”
The red gown hung a little more on her already slender frame. Even with careful rationing, they were all looking thinner. She let down her hair and with a brave smile at Penitence, swept out of the residence.
As she climbed the steps to the curtain wall, Luke broke away from his discussions with his officers and met her at the top of the steps.
“What do you think you're doing?” he said.
“I need to have a word to Charles Farrington. Can you summon him?”
“Are you surrendering?” Luke enquired with a raised eyebrow. “If so, I think you should have discussed it with me.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Captain Collyer. We haven't come this far just to surrender because some fool thought they could starve us out? Get Farrington for me. I will wait here.”
Word went around the castle and a crowd gathered in the castle courtyard, eager to hear what their lady had to say.
Deliverance ignored the onlookers and at a nod from Luke, she climbed on to the box on the castle wall and looked down over the enemy camp. The bustling soldiery beyond the walls also stopped what they were doing and climbed to the top of their earthworks.
“Farrington,” she called out, her voice carried well on the breeze. Charles Farrington, resplendent in a blue jacket trimmed with silver, stood with his hands on his hips on the closest earthwork. Jack Farrington, hatless and similarly uniformed stood beside his brother.
“You declined my terms, madam?” he shouted up at her.
“I wish to inform you personally, Colonel Farrington, that I shall not surrender Kinton Lacey while I have breath in my body.”
From the distance she could not see his face, but the tone of his voice carried nothing but contempt as he said, “I believe you have cause to know, I do not suffer rebels lightly, Mistress Felton. When Kinton Lacey falls, as it will, no one will be spared.” He swept her a low, contemptuous bow. “I bid you good day, madam.”
Deliverance’s stomach lurched at his last words. Everyone on the castle wall would have heard them and she felt the eyes of the garrison turned on her. A low murmur rose as the implication of what Farrington had said was passed around. They all knew the fate of the garrison at Byton.
She turned around to face her own garrison. The wind whipped her dark hair into her eyes and she pushed it back.
“You have heard the words of a fool,” she said. “Kinton Lacey will not fall to him. Even now word has gone to my father at Gloucester and relief will be with us before our food runs out.”
A scattered applause broke out but the faces that looked up at her had lost their confidence. They all knew their position was dire and nothing she could say or do could instil the same bravado they had once shown. They were all tired, hungry and dirty, and time was running out.
Chapter 16
Deliverance could not say what woke her. She lay awake listening to the sound of steady rain beating against the boarded window of her bedchamber. Once she would have found that sound comforting. Over the rain she heard the muted sounds of men’s voices and heavy boots on the wooden floorboards.
She rose and padded out into the corridor. In the courtyard shadowy figures moved in the light of covered lanterns and the low murmur of voices drifted up to her. Horses stood waiting while men saddled them, their heads tossing and breath blowing whitely in the damp, cool air.
She swallowed. Was Luke deserting her? Leaving in the dead of night?
She returned to her chamber and being carefully not to wake Penitence and the other women, grabbed some clothing, changing quickly in the corridor.
She opened the door to the residence. A tall figure in cloak and hat stood at the top of the stairs, his hands on his hips, watching the quiet activity in the courtyard below.
“Luke?”
He spun around and put a finger to his lips.
“Ssh…keep your voice low.”
“What are you doing?”
“We are going on a sortie.”
She glanced at the horses, twelve in all. Twelve against four hundred?
“No!” She clutched his sleeve and shook it. “No. I absolutely forbid it.”
She couldn’t see his face in the dark and the shadows but beneath her hand, the muscles of his arm tightened and he shook her clinging hand free.
“Your objection is noted,” he said. “But there are good reasons for taking this action, Mistress Felton. We need food and we need action.”
“We can manage. We can’t spare a dozen men, Luke.”
“We have a plan, Deliverance. We’re not just riding out there with our fingers crossed. I have given four men the task of cutting out some of the cattle from the supply Farrington has in that meadow to the south of us and Hale and I—”
“You? Surely you’re not going?”
“Hale and I are going to take on the guns. If we can spike a couple of them in the time it takes the men to round up the cattle, it will be a good morning’s work.”
She stared at him, speechless.
He looked up at the glowering sky. “It’s a good morning for it. Even those of Farrington’s men officially on watch will be sheltering and the rain helps to deaden the sound of movement.” He pointed at the horses. “And I’ve muffled the horse’s hooves.”
Deliverance looked at the pathetic beasts, their hooves swaddled in sacking. Inaction and poor food had taken all condition from the horses. She doubted they would carry the men far if the action got serious.
Hale appeared at the foot of the stairs. “We’re ready.”
Luke nodded and without another word to Deliverance strode down the stairs. The men had begun to mount, the horses shifting restlessly beneath the unaccustomed weight. Luke ran a hand down the nose of his horse,
before swinging into the saddle. The horse tossed its head, prancing on its muffled hooves.
After a quick glance around to see that everyone was mounted and ready, he gave a curt nod. The portcullis rattled upwards and the great bars across the gates slid back. The gates swung open and for the first time in weeks the outside world loomed beyond the dark portal.
Deliverance stood frozen to the spot. He really was going to ride out of the gates into the teeth of Farrington’s guns.
He raised his hand and the little party moved forward on silent hoofs. Only as they reached the gatehouse did Luke put his heels to the horse and it sprang forward as anxious for action as he was.
Deliverance ran to the wall, crouching down behind the ramparts as the twelve horsemen burst from the castle gate below her, like demons from hell. They made no noise, just spurred their horses on with grim determination.
The party split, the four soldiers designated with the task of rounding up the cattle turned to the south, while Luke and his seven men rode straight at the earthworks.
Deliverance cursed the dark and the rain that hid her view of the action on the earthworks. She could dimly make out the shapes of the horses, breasting the ramparts and she heard cries of alarm and the heavy clanging of steel, but no gunfire.
The rain must be their saviour, dampening match and powder and reducing the defenders to the steel-edged weapons.
Above her, their own little gun thundered from the Hawk Tower and she looked to the south seeing a small herd of lowing cattle being driven hard towards the castle. From the fortified village came the rattle of drums and scattered gunfire as horses came flying like beasts of mythology, across the earthworks.
Deliverance counted. One, two, three…eight. They were safe but even as she dared to breathe, she saw the shadows of horsemen riding out from the village and heard a bellow.
“Collyer!” In the growing grey light of dawn, Deliverance recognised Charles Farrington, bare headed and brandishing his sword.
One of the fleeing horsemen wheeled.
Don’t do it, Luke, Deliverance silently pleaded.
Luke doffed his hat and swept Farrington an extravagant bow. With a whoop, he set the horse at a hard gallop for the safety of the castle, following a small herd of cattle and all eleven of his men as a hail of musket fire from the ramparts of the castle deterred Farrington from following.
The gates crashed shut and Luke drew his labouring horse to a shuddering halt.
“We did it,” he crowed, throwing his hat into the air.
Applause and shouts of delight went up around the castle and Luke looked up at the castle wall. Deliverance watched him with her arms folded. She turned to the man nearest to her and said.
“Tell Captain Collyer I would speak with him in the library.”
Without looking at Luke she returned to the residence by the curtain wall entrance.
He burst into the room without knocking. One look at his face, flushed and exultant, told her everything she needed to know even before he spoke.
“Two guns spiked and a dozen cattle, Mistress Felton.”
“You disobeyed my command, Captain Collyer. I forbade the sortie.”
His eyes gleamed in the early morning light as he took a step towards her.
“Are you going to court-martial me, Mistress Felton?”
“I should have you whipped for your disobedience.”
He stood so close to her that all she had to was reach out and touch him. His lips were curved in a smile as he looked down at her.
“You are not taking me seriously, Captain Collyer. I am seriously displeased.”
She raised her hands to do what she didn’t know. Slap him? Beat some sense into him?
He caught her wrists and drew her toward him, pressing his body against hers as he brought his mouth down on hers with a bruising intensity that took her breath away. She squirmed in his grasp, her protests silenced by his questing tongue.
He released her wrists and her arms found their way around his neck, drawing him even closer as he encircled her. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment. The scent of man and horse enveloped her, filling her senses. She started tugging at the back of his jacket and shirt, pulling material until her hands slid across the broad plane of his back, the skin silky beneath her fingers.
He did not relax his mouth, his tongue exploring her with an insatiable hunger and she responded, twining with him, as his hands ran across her shoulders, sliding the bodice down, imprisoning her arms, as he gave a tug, freeing her breasts. She knew this was wrong, the rational, sensible Deliverance was plucking at her skirts, telling her to stop now before she did something she regretted but as his hand cupped her breast, she regretted nothing. Heat flooded her body, coursing through her like a torrent. Her fingers scrabbled at the buckle of his belt. She wanted this man.
The door. It came over like a dousing with cold water. The door was unlocked. Anyone could walk in on them. She stiffened, pushing Luke away from her, struggling to restore her clothing, desire replaced with embarrassment.
He stood looking at her, panting as if he had just run a hard race, his clothing dishevelled, his hair mussed beyond redemption.
“What are you staring at?” she demanded, her voice rising on a note of hysteria. “You were the one who ended it and you were right, Luke. We have to think beyond ourselves.”
“Deliverance.” His voice was husky.
Her fingers shook as she relaced her bodice, her hair falling about her face, hiding the scalding tears.
He put his hands on her shoulders, drawing her toward him again. If he touched her again, she would be lost. Deliverance summoned up the one weapon she had left in her armoury. She slapped him hard. He took a step back, his hand going to his cheek, as she gathered the last shreds of her dignity and walked out of the room.
Mercifully the bedchamber was deserted. Deliverance flung herself down on her bed and curled into a ball, trying not to think about the look of hurt and surprise on Luke’s face as she slapped him. Tears pricked her eyes but she fought them back. She had done the right thing. If she had given in to her own base instinct, the fragile cord holding the defence of this castle together would be lost. The castle and its inhabitants came first, all else was of little importance. There would be time at the end of all this to deal with the complexities of human emotions, but for now she had to remember who she was and what needed to be done.
When…? If…?
She gave an agonised groan and rolled herself into a tighter ball to stifle the pain. Was this what was meant by a ‘broken heart’?
Despite their dire circumstances, a veneer of gentility required that Penitence, Deliverance, Ned and Luke ate at least one meal together. With the shortage of rations they had been reduced to one meal a day which they ate around noon. The cooks did their best, producing a stew for the midday meal that by evening would become a weak broth, accompanied by one small hunk of bread.
Deliverance poked at the gelatinous mess on her plate, acutely conscious of her proximity to Luke. Being forced to sit and make polite conversation with him after what had passed between them that morning caused her heart to clench. She craved his touch like a drunkard craves wine.
He seemed unaffected, engaged in conversation with Ned about the possibility of another sortie. He hadn’t even glanced at her, beyond the politeness required of a shared meal.
She turned her attention to Penitence, who sat staring at her plate, her hands folded on her lap, her head bowed.
“Eat up, Pen,” Deliverance said with forced cheerfulness. “We all need to keep our strength up.”
Penitence gave a shuddering sob.
“Pen?”
Penitence's shoulders rose and fell and she pushed the plate aside, her face concealed by the curtain of hair, once bright and shining but now dull and lifeless.
“I can't go on like this,” the girl said.
“What do you mean?” Deliverance stared at her sister.
; Penitence looked up. “Why don't you just surrender, Liv? This house is not worth all this misery. It's just stones. People are going to die here. If Farrington doesn’t kill us all first, we will die from a fever or starvation.”
“We have the extra cattle…” Deliverance trailed off, swallowing hard. Penitence’s words enunciated the thoughts that had been going around in her head since refusing Charles' Farrington's offer of surrender the previous day.
She forced herself to look across at Luke. She saw no sympathy in his face, only a steely resolve.
Luke pushed back his chair. “It’s not just about stones, it is about principles. Principles that your father, that we,” he glanced at Ned, “believe in. The King has ridden roughshod over his people for too many years. He forced this country into civil war through his own blind refusal to accept he is a man, not a king by divine providence. Enough people have suffered at his hands and if we hand over this house to him, the suffering continues.”
“I don't give a fig for the king or any just cause,” Penitence said, the expression on her face mutinous. “I just want this siege to be over.”
Before Luke could respond, Deliverance spoke, “You know what Farrington did at Byton, do you think for a moment he will just let us go?”
“He promised you and I safe custody,” Penitence said.
“But not the garrison. Not those of us who are fighting to hold this castle. These are our people, Penitence. We owe them our protection.”
“You may not realise it, Penitence, but Kinton Lacey is vital to control of the southern part of this county,” Luke interjected. “If the king holds it, then he can ride into Wales and the Cotswolds. We are all that is standing between him and total annihilation of the parliamentary cause in the west.”
“I don't care,” Penitence cried, pushing back her chair. “I just want everything to be the way it was. I want to marry Jack Farrington. I want to live out my days with children at my feet. I don't give a ha'pence for strategy.”
Her Rebel Heart: A romance of the English Civil War Page 15