“You are proposing murder of hundreds. Surely there must be a less violent way to make our point.”
“Master Whitfield, if you have a better suggestion we would dearly love to hear it. What can we do, in your opinion, which would bring about change in this country without shedding blood? James is not about to listen to reason. He is too concerned with his own agenda, and we are not on it. The Members of Parliament are all in favor of suppressing Catholics and denying them basic freedoms. When was the last time you have even attended Mass? The priests are hiding like rats in their holes, coming out only when summoned, and scurrying back inside as soon as they have performed a baptism or a marriage ceremony. Countless men go to their death without the basic comfort of getting last rites, buried in Protestant cemeteries, not free even in death. Now, how do you propose avoiding bloodshed to rectify this?”
Finlay had to admit that Catesby had a point. Nothing, short of drastic action, would ever bring about change. After years of persecuting Catholics, and denying them the freedom to worship openly, things were not bound to change. Many people had held the hope that once Queen Bess died and James took the throne, being a Catholic himself, the plight of Catholics would end. James would allow Catholic churches to reopen, and bring the priests out of hiding, but to the great disappointment of his supporters, that did not happen. James was just as bad as Elizabeth. No freedoms were granted, and all known priests were sent out of the country. The chokehold did not loosen, and if left as is, nothing would ever change in the foreseeable future.
“I can provide two kegs of powder. Anything more would be noticed and questioned.”
“Very good, Master Whitfield. We will advise you where to deliver these kegs and when.”
“What do I do after I have delivered the gunpowder?” Finlay needed to be clear as to exactly how high the risk was.
Wintour gave him a dour look, annoyed by his questions. “After the powder has been delivered to the designated location, you will leave London immediately, getting as far away from the scene as possible. We are trying to make a point and teach this country a lesson, becoming martyrs is not part of the plan. Now, would you like a drink to celebrate our agreement?”
For once Finlay did not want a drink. He felt sick to his stomach, but he accepted a cup of ale and raised it in salute, draining it along with the other men. The plan sounded reasonable enough, and there was plenty of time to make his escape, but his hand shook as he put the pewter mug back down on the table. There were too many people involved, and the more people, the higher the risk.
Chapter 33
Bridget came to us in the middle of October. Alec just brought her one day from Plymouth, explaining that she would take Betty’s place when the girl finally married Toby at the end of the month. With Nell gone, Toby’s parents needed help on the farm, and Betty would be moving out of the castle to live with her husband and his family. I would miss the girl. She was sweet and helpful, if not overly bright.
Alec found Bridget on the docks, cold and hungry, desperate for work. She was an Irish Catholic, two things that made her an undesirable candidate for any position, save prostitution where no one cared about your religious beliefs, as long as you opened your legs and gave the pleasure you were paid for. Bridget was around my age, with hair the color of fresh carrots, and blue eyes that were merry despite all the hardship she’d suffered. Her husband was a fisherman who drowned one day, not due to the elements, but to the drink he’d consumed while on the boat. He simply fell overboard and went to his death, still senseless with gin. Bridget had left her two girls with her mother, setting off in search of work. She’d been on the road for the past few months doing odd jobs and sleeping rough, not having enough money to pay for a bed. I was glad Alec took her in. She wouldn’t have survived the winter.
Bridget learned the work very quickly, and went about her tasks singing quietly in that Irish lilt of hers. I loved listening to her, and often asked her to sing to me while we sat sewing in the drawing room after lunch. Bridget’s presence calmed me. She was a no-nonsense girl with a lot of practical knowledge, born of being the eldest of eleven children and a mother of two. I asked her questions about pregnancy and birth and she was happy to answer, although I thought she withheld some details for fear of frightening me.
Betty was wed right before All Hallows Eve, and we all went to the church to witness the ceremony, then had the bridal couple and Toby’s parents over for a wedding lunch. Mr. and Mrs. Higgins kept to themselves, and wouldn’t meet my eye, given the fact that their daughter tried to kill me. The memory was still fresh in all our minds and no one mentioned Nell, who as far as I knew, was working as a maid for a wealthy family in Truro. I made attempts to make them feel welcome, but gave up after a time. What did it matter? This was actually the first time I’d met them and probably wouldn’t be seeing them again anytime soon unless I went to the farm to visit Betty, which was unlikely. Finn wouldn’t like that. Betty would still come to the castle several times a week to bring fresh milk, butter and eggs for Mrs. Dobbs, so I would see her then.
Betty and Toby left earlier, going to the farm to begin their wedding night, while the Higgins’ stayed behind to allow the newlyweds some much-needed privacy. They were still downstairs having a drink with Finn and Alec after I made my excuses and went up to bed. I was tired and longed to take off my corset and lie down. I hoped Finlay would come up soon and rub the tension from my back and shoulders. He was leaving for London in the morning on some business, and I felt a little uneasy seeing the secretive look in his eyes when he told me. What was he up to? I tried to ask, but he simply laughed it off, telling me not to play the jealous wife. He kissed and caressed me until I forgot what I was so concerned about, and I let the matter drop. He said he would only be gone about a week, and I knew the time would go by quickly with Bridget to keep me company. She was the closest thing to a friend I had at the castle, and I was grateful to Alec for finding her.
Chapter 34
October turned into November, bringing with it a few sunny, mild days that I was eager to take advantage of before the snows of winter came. I sat out in the garden soaking up the weak warmth of the sun, and savoring the aroma of the rose blooms that still clung stubbornly to their bushes, not ready to surrender to the coming cold. The baby had begun to kick, first lightly, like the brush of butterfly wings, and then stronger and harder. I was overcome with wonder every time I got a swift kick in the ribs, and talked to my belly whenever no one was around to hear. I knew that Finn hoped for a boy, but I would be equally happy with a girl. Having a little girl had always been a dream of mine, and I imagined brushing out her hair and dressing her in some elaborate gown that her uncle had brought her from town. I knew that once Finlay got over his disappointment, he would love his daughter with all his heart.
Alec was away as well as Finlay, making arrangements for the coming winter. The ships wouldn’t be sailing the Atlantic during the winter months, due to the storms and squalls that sank more ships than they spared. The crews would be paid and dismissed until spring, when it was deemed safe to make the voyage once more, the cargo stored in the warehouse untill then, preparing to load as soon as possible come March. I wished that Finn would come back from London. He’d been gone a week now, and I missed him terribly. Maybe he would be back tonight, in time to join me in bed. I longed to put his hands on my belly and watch his face as the baby kicked, surprising him.
The afternoon came and went, but there was no sign of anyone. I ate a lonely supper, then settled in the drawing room to reread my book of poetry, not ready to go up to bed. Bridget sat sewing in the corner, humming under her breath, and I was grateful for her company in the lonely castle. If it wasn’t for her, I would be all alone and the thought frightened me. She heard the hoofbeats before I did, raising her head and listening to the night. I looked out of the window, seeing the light of the lantern move from the stable to the gate. Someone galloped into the yard, and there was a brief exchange before the l
antern moved back toward the stables, and the shadowy figure walked toward the castle. I thought it was Alec, but couldn’t hear the voice clearly since the wind was blowing in the other direction, carrying the words with it toward the distant woods.
I heard the door slam, the sound of boots taking the steps two at a time, and Alec appeared in the doorway. I gasped when I saw him, but he didn’t seem to hear.
“Leave us, now!” he said to Bridget, who scampered out of the room seeing the fury on Alec’s face. His hair was wild, and his usually immaculate clothes were splattered with mud and dust. I noticed the scrapes and dried blood on his knuckles, and my eyes went to the fresh bruises on his face, livid and crusted with blood. Alec strode to the decanter and poured himself a full glass of brandy, tossing it down in one gulp and hurling the empty glass into the flames. The glass shattered, drops of brandy hissing on the flames as Alec stared into the fire with empty eyes.
“Alec what is it? What’s happened?” I wanted to go to him, but I was suddenly afraid. I’d never seen him look this way before. He looked manic and scared at the same time, and I hung back waiting for him to explain. He dropped into a chair, covering his face with his bruised hands, his shoulders shaking. I put aside my fears and came up behind him, wrapping my arms around him and kissing the top of his head.
“Alec, please, tell me what’s wrong.” His hands left his face to cover mine and he leaned back against my swollen belly, his cheeks still wet with tears. He finally disentangled my arms and rose, turning to face me. I could see that he was looking for the words to explain and I felt more scared with every passing moment. I took his hand, looking up at him. “Alec?”
“Valerie, I do not even know how to tell you this. Sit down, sweeting.” He paced in front of the fireplace, shadows playing on his face and flames reflected in his anguished eyes.
“Two days ago, a plot had been uncovered to blow up Parliament when it reopened for Session. The blast was meant to kill the King, as well as all the Members of Parliament present. The conspirators hired premises beneath the building, and were apprehended storing kegs of gunpowder ready to be deployed at the appropriate time. It seems that someone had sent an anonymous letter alerting authorities to the danger.”
I looked at Alec, not quite understanding why he was so upset, or what prompted the fight he had obviously been in. I knew he didn’t want the King dead despite his policies, or condone acts of violence, but why such fierce emotion? “Did they apprehend them?” I asked, hoping to understand.
“They did. All of them were hunted down and taken to the Tower to be questioned and tried. Finlay was one of them, Valerie.” I felt my heart plummet to the floor in shock and fear. So that’s what he was doing when he went out in London, and then again this time. No wonder he hadn’t come back. Oh Finn, what have you done, I thought, as I wrapped my arms around myself trying to keep myself from falling to pieces. Alec was at my side, pulling me into his arms and holding me hard enough to make me gasp for air. “Valerie, we need to go to London tonight. We do not have much time. Tell Bridget to pack you a case. We will leave within the hour.”
“So you think we can help him?” I felt a surge of hope well up in my chest. Alec obviously had a plan. I looked up at him for confirmation, but he just shook his head in denial. His eyes were full of pity at my naiveté. “We cannot help him, but we can at least say goodbye.”
Chapter 35
The ride to London was almost silent, and I managed to doze off a few times while Alec just sat there staring into space. It took two full days to get there, and we only stopped for food and a few moments of privacy before setting out again with fresh horses. Alec and Robbie took turns driving the carriage, giving each other a chance to rest. I was exhausted and sore, but I kept quiet, my needs not being important right now.
We finally entered the outskirts of London, and I thought wistfully of how happy I was only two months ago when I came this way with Finn. The streets looked dark and sinister as the carriage made its way toward the dark silhouette of the Tower, thick yellow fog filling every nook and cranny, making it almost impossible to see anything more than a few feet away. Alec wanted to stay as close as possible, and finally found a room in a small inn, located on a narrow street a few blocks from the prison. I could just make out the outline of the fortress from the window, and it made me shiver with fear.
We were to share a room, since Alec didn’t think I would be safe on my own. I was the wife of a traitor now, and fair game to anyone who wanted to mete out justice. I kicked off my shoes and fell on the bed in exhaustion. Every muscle in my body ached, and the baby kicked viciously awake after being lulled to sleep by the motion of the ever moving carriage. I was hungry, but didn’t have enough energy to go down to the dining room. Food would have to wait. It was too late to go anywhere tonight, so we would go to bed before trying to see Finlay in the morning.
There was a knock at the door and a young girl entered carrying a tray laden with dishes. I sat up, suddenly less tired.
“Father sent up some supper for ye and yer wife, sir” the girl explained, setting down the tray and making a brief curtsey before disappearing through the door again. Alec lifted the lid of the pot. “Oyster stew,” he proclaimed, and began to spoon it out into the two bowls. He must be famished, I thought, as I joined him at the table. He’d barely eaten or slept since we left for London, and I was afraid for him. He looked on the verge of collapse. We ate in silence, as Alec eyed the bed. “You take the bed; I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said, rising to take a pillow for himself.
“I won’t hear of it. This bed is big enough for both of us and you’re exhausted. If you won’t sleep here, then I’ll sleep next to you on the floor.” He saw that I meant it and smiled.
“All right. I am too tired to lift a finger, much less make advances to my sister-in-law.” With that he fell into bed and was asleep fully dressed, before I even took my corset off. I climbed in next to him and pulled the coverlet over his sleeping form. He looked ten years older than he did just a week ago, and I gently touched the healing cut on his cheek. I knew that he’d tried defending Finlay’s honor, but it was a lost cause. There were broadsheets everywhere calling for the death of the traitors, and I knew that it wasn’t just Finn’s honor we had to worry about. The thought of losing Finlay cut like a knife through my heart, and I lay awake for hours, shaking badly, and praying that his life would be spared. Surely, there were degrees of guilt. Maybe he was just an accomplice and not an actual perpetrator. Maybe there was hope.
Chapter 36
Alec woke up at first light desperate for a piss. He looked over at Valerie, and his heart turned over. She looked so pale and drawn; dark smudges visible under her eyes. She was terrified, and it was all his fault. He could have played down the threat to Finlay the night he came back from Plymouth, but he decided not to. For one thing he wasn’t thinking straight after getting into a tavern brawl; for another, he just needed to share his grief with someone. People who had known his brother for years were calling him a traitor and a whoreson, eager for his death. He had no choice but to respond to the provocation, and it actually felt good to feel his knuckles crunching against someone’s nose, or seeing blood spurt from a busted lip. He didn’t care if he got hurt; it relieved some of his fear and anger, but not for long.
Once he finally managed to extricate himself from the fight and head for home, all the tension of the past few hours returned tenfold, making his heart race and his blood boil. A part of him wanted to beat Finn senseless for getting embroiled in the scheme, and the other part wanted just get to him and hold him close, protecting him from what was to come. If the gossip was accurate, the conspirators had been betrayed, their names sent to the authorities with the details of the plot in an anonymous letter. Finlay’s name had apparently been on it, and he was arrested along with the others. Regardless of who came up with the plot, they were all guilty and would be dealt with to the full extent of the law, which was too horrible to contemp
late.
Alec knew perfectly well what happened to traitors, and his chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe, when he thought of what might be awaiting his hapless brother. There was absolutely no chance of a pardon, it all coming down to the actual death. If he was very lucky, he would be beheaded or hanged, if not, he would suffer the ultimate penalty for treason. Drawing and quartering was reserved for High Treason, and regicide definitely fell into that category.
The condemned would be hanged by the neck until he was almost dead, then cut down and revived, to the cheers of the bloodthirsty crowd. The second step would not commence until the poor sod was fully conscious once more, and aware of what was happening. He would be laid out on a table, where he would be disemboweled and his manhood severed, his entrails and cock thrown on the fire before his eyes.
If the victim did not die of shock by then, he would be beheaded and his body chopped into four parts, which would be displayed around town as a warning to would-be traitors. The thought of his brother suffering such a gruesome death made Alec ill, and he held on to the wall, his knees buckling under him. He looked to see if he had woken Valerie, but she was still asleep, and he was at least grateful for that. She needed her rest.
The Hands of Time Page 11