By The Sword

by Alison Stuart

  John Thurloe smiled. “Oh no. He most certainly is not Charles Stuart, but he is a most elusive quarry for whom we have been searching for quite some years. I wager that you have snared Sir Jonathan Thornton."

  The name meant nothing and the captain frowned. “How do you know that, sir?"

  "Oh, I am acquainted with Colonel Thornton, Captain. We met a long time ago of course, before the war when his family had some hope of turning him into a lawyer. We have Sir Jonathan to thank for the London trained bands. He did a fine job with them. Pity he turned for the King."

  The captain brightened. “Decent reward, sir?"

  John Thurloe glared at him. “You get no reward for doing your duty,” he snapped.

  "Well, what do you want doing with him?” the captain asked sulkily.

  Thurloe crossed to the table and picked up his pen. “Convey him with all speed to the Tower, Captain. I have plans for the good Colonel Thornton but it would serve me well to lose him for a little while if I am to make him see sense."

  The captain stumped back into the dark, cheerless room and looked down at his prisoner with a supercilious smile. “Well, John Miller, or whatever your name is, your appointments in The Hague will have to wait. You're to be our guest for some time."

  Jonathan looked up. “With what am I charged?"

  The captain slapped a handful of seditious pamphlets on the table. “With selling these."

  "I was not carrying those and you know it."

  A nasty smile crept across the officer's face. “My orders are clear, John Miller, bookseller,” he said.

  "And my trial?"

  "Trial?"

  "Did we not fight a war to ensure there could be no imprisonment without trial?"

  "Oh, is that what it was about?” The captain smirked and leaned closer. Jonathan could smell stale wine on his breath. “No one knows we have you and we'll make sure you have no way of alerting any of your friends, if you have any, to your predicament. You'll not be seeing the light of day for some time."

  Jonathan abandoned all pretence at bravado. “My name is not Miller. I am Colonel Jonathan Thornton of His Majesty's Lifeguard. I fought at Worcester and I demand my rights as a prisoner of war."

  The officer looked at him. “I don't care whether your name is Charles Stuart, John Miller or Jonathan Thornton, I have my orders, and they are to convey you to the Tower of London forthwith. You are to neither receive or to send any messages and you are to remain manacled hand and foot for the duration of your incarceration."

  It was not until the heavy cell door had slammed shut that the full enormity of his position hit Jonathan. The cell walls closed around him and, in despair, he slid down the wall to the floor. Ignoring the clank of the two feet of chain on his manacles, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and surveyed the small, cell containing only a narrow bed with a couple of threadbare blankets, a small table, a stool and the ubiquitous bucket.

  His few possessions, his sword and what little money he had were all gone. He had no way of ameliorating his condition and even if he had there seemed to be small chance of any request being heeded. Utterly defeated, Jonathan rose and sat down on the stool by the small, rickety table. He bowed his head on his manacled wrists and wondered at the severity of his treatment. In the greater order of things, he represented no great prize. Surely he was only a minor player in the drama. So why this solitary confinement in the Tower?

  He sighed and looked up at the damp, grey, mildewed walls and the small window set high in the wall that admitted neither light nor air to any great effect. Whoever held the key to this hellhole knew his identity quite well and was evidently powerful enough to ensure that Jonathan Thornton disappeared from the face of the earth.

  He had to acknowledge that this time he was well and truly caught and escape would require nothing short of a miracle.

  * * * *

  Was it really only seven months since I left Barton? Kate wondered as she stood beside her sister looking out across the courtyard of Barton Hall. Outside in the courtyard, William sat patiently astride his horse waiting for Giles to conclude a long and passionate farewell to Nell.

  In contrast to Kate's own life, nothing in Yorkshire seemed to have changed, except Suzanne's shape. She had used the need to return for Suzanne's confinement as the solution to getting Giles away from Seven Ways. Giles’ reaction to her scheme had not been entirely favourable. When he had heard the plan, he had looked helplessly from the implacable face of his wife to that of Kate but found no quarter or mercy to be shown in either of their faces.

  "I'll not wear a skirt!” he announced with feeling.

  Kate looked sternly at him. “The plain fact of the matter is, Giles,” she said, “your knee is not sufficiently healed for you to sit astride a horse and there is no other way to move you about the country."

  "God's blood, Kate, I will make a pretty poor woman,” he said miserably, sensing defeat.

  "On the contrary,” Kate said, “Nell and I are quite of the opinion that once the beard and moustache have gone, with the aid of a mask you'll make a pretty fine woman. You're not overly tall or particularly solidly built. Just a fine, strapping wench. Is that not so, Nell?"

  "And there is a certain amount of poetic justice in it,” muttered Nell under her breath.

  Giles did not hear what she said but Kate did and smiled. She looked at Giles’ long face and actually felt sorry for him. Things had come to a pretty pass when Giles Longley, the most debonair of cavaliers, had to escape England dressed in petticoats.

  Happily their journey had been uneventful, marred only by one unfortunate incident when a drunken tapster had taken a fancy to the strapping “Gillian". He had been rewarded by a hefty right hook and was probably still nursing a broken jaw.

  Now at Barton, with his knee healed and disguised now as William's servant, the time had come for Giles to leave. William had agreed to take him to Hull and put him aboard a ship of wool bound for the continent, posing as William's agent to the merchants in Amsterdam.

  "Is he faithful to his wife?” Suzanne asked suddenly.

  Kate looked at her in surprise. “Not for a moment,” she replied honestly. “He'll be seeking out company as soon as he arrives at The Hague. What makes you ask?"

  "Oh, the glint in his eye. I know a rogue when I see one. Poor Nell."

  "Strangely, I think Nell understands,” Kate said. “She told me once that Giles was a man who loved women and Jonathan was a man whom women loved..."

  Her sister gave her a quick sideways glance. “And Jonathan. Is he safe?"

  Kate's lips tightened. “I've heard nothing. It's nearly six weeks since he left and I had expected some word by now.” She forced herself to smile. “But he's no letter writer. I can only assume that no news is good news and he is safe on the continent. Giles has promised to send word as soon as he arrives in Amsterdam."

  Suzanne straightened her aching back she turned away from the window. Kate caught the grimace on her sister's face.

  "Is it close?” she asked

  Suzanne nodded. “Tonight perhaps,” she said as she lowered herself unsatisfactorily into her chair.

  Kate stayed by the window, watching Nell as she waved her husband off, dabbing decorously at her eyes with a lace-edged kerchief. Nell's slender figure still betrayed no sign of the child she carried.

  Kate silently and inexplicably envied her. Her own disappointment at finding she was not with child had taken her completely by surprise. She surely had not wanted to explain a bastard child to the curious world? Yet she envied Nell her child, the part of herself that belonged to her and Giles. She had nothing of Jonathan except memories of snatched moments of intimacy. Even the ring he had given her had disappeared on the night it had betrayed her.

  "What are you thinking?” Suzanne's voice startled her out of her strange reverie.

  Kate turned sharply. “It's strange, Suzanne, but you and Nell are both with child and I feel...” She sighed. “...I feel lonely. I long
to hold a baby in my arms again, to share that joy of new life."

  "You're being sentimental, Kate.” Ever pragmatic, Suzanne shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “You're welcome to this ponderous belly and the pain of childbirth. I've told William that this is it. No more children for me!” Suzanne winced and tightened her lips.

  "Shall I send for the midwife?"

  Suzanne shook her head. “It will be some hours yet.” She smiled at her sister and held out her hand. “If it's a girl I shall call her Katherine,” she said.

  The baby was born in the early hours of the morning. Kate held her small namesake in her arms, awestruck at the wonder of childbirth. Suzanne lay back on her pillows, watching her sister with a deep and abiding affection. Whatever had occurred in the past months, and she knew there was more than Kate would tell her, had put her younger sister forever beyond her reach; she no longer belonged to this quiet world. She wished Kate would stay but knew that it would not be long before she would be gone back to Seven Ways to wait for Jonathan.

  Eighteen

  London

  March, 1652

  Kate Ashley held out her hand and Nathaniel Freeman bowed low over it.

  "Mistress Ashley,” he said, indicating a chair and seating himself behind his vast table, covered with neatly arranged stacks of paper. “This is an unexpected pleasure."

  "I must thank you, Master Freeman, for all you have done for us in the past months. We have received the promised compensation for our troubles after the affray at Worcester and, with God's blessing, have weathered the winter."

  "I am glad to hear it. It has been our intention to pay a visit to Seven Ways when the weather improved, but the winter has proved harsh and of course—” he waved a hand at his desk “—the press of work..."

  "I quite understand,” Kate said.

  She looked down at the velvet mask she held in her hands. She had rehearsed what she had planned to say but now the words escaped her. “Master Freeman,” she began. “I have come to ask one more favour of you."

  He sat back and pressed his fingertips together. “My dear, Mistress Ashley, whatever is in my power,” he said

  Kate looked straight at him, that honest, level gaze that Jonathan had first noticed in her. “I am looking for Jonathan Thornton,” she said, barely disguising the agony in her voice.

  "Jonathan? And what is Jonathan to you?” he asked, knowing the answer but testing her out.

  Kate hesitated a moment. “He is everything to me,” she said softly then looked up at him, defiance in her eyes. “Sir, I'll not keep from you the fact that I hid him after the battle and saw him safely on his way by early October. He intended to make his way to London and from here to the Continent but to the best of my knowledge he never gained the Continent."

  "Jonathan never was a good correspondent,” Nathaniel warned.

  "Master Freeman, I know he would have sent word, somehow, had he reached safety,"

  Kate handed him a much folded, crumpled and stained letter. “Nell received this scarcely two weeks ago. Lord Longley wrote it shortly after Christmas, nearly three months after Jonathan left us."

  Nathaniel put on his glasses and peered at Giles’ impatient scrawl, reading aloud.

  Dear Heart,

  God knows if this will reach you but I pray that it does for you will know that I have reached Amsterdam safely. The knee has mended well but we are a sad and sorry crew, so many friends lost or imprisoned. While I do not wish to alarm you or Kate, I hold great fear for Jonathan of whom there has been no word. I have made extensive enquires in other likely places he may well have turned up, Holland, France and Spain and the like but there is no sighting or word of him. Perhaps he has decided to turn to the New World and we will hear shortly of his doings in Barbados or Virginia? Few know better than I his aptitude for turning up where least expected. I hope that perhaps by the time this letter reaches you one or other of us may have some better news. My love as always to you and Nan and the new baby. Keep yourself well and give Kate my warmest regards.

  Yr Loving husband,

  Giles L.

  "He has vanished.” Kate said, a note of desperation rising in her voice. “I have been in London nearly a week. Every day my man has been down on the docks but all to no avail. If any of the boatmen know anything they will not tell me."

  He laid the letter down on the table and regarded her from over the top of his glasses. “They would not talk to strangers, Mistress Ashley. You need to know the right people to ask."

  She sat forward eagerly. “Please, can you tell me where I should look, who I should ask?"

  Nathaniel looked her sympathetically. “Mistress Ashley. You should have come to me sooner. Please let me put your mind at rest on at least one count. Jonathan reached London, and I can be reasonably certain from which dock he intended to take ship for France."

  Kate looked at him in grateful amazement. Then a thought occurred to her and she caught her breath. “If he did indeed take a boat to France, is it possible the boat was lost in the crossing?"

  "I must confess my wife and myself have shared your concerns, Mistress Ashley. We have our own reasons for being troubled over the lack of word from Jonathan. However let us not think the worst, Mistress Ashley. Would you leave your enquiries with me for now and I will see what can be discovered?"

  Tears of gratitude sprang into Kate's eyes. “Thank you, Master Freeman. In a world gone mad with hate and revenge, it is reassuring to know that we are not entirely without friends. I am so grateful he sought you out."

  He stood up and offered Kate his hand. She took it gratefully and he escorted her to the door.

  "Now, Mistress Ashley, there is perhaps one favour you can do for me."

  Kate's eyes, still wet with tears, looked eagerly at him. “Please, whatever is in my power,” she said.

  "You are to return to your inn, pack your belongings, and my wife will be expecting you at our home by supper."

  "I cannot intrude on your hospitality,” Kate protested.

  "Nonsense!” The lawyer waved his hand, “Henrietta would be mortified if she thought you were staying in an inn when we have a large house with guest chambers to spare."

  He opened the door to show her out. “One last thing,” he said, “I am aware that my nephew was in the habit of travelling under aliases. You would not happen to know what name he is likely to have used?"

  "I only know of one. John Miller,” Kate replied without hesitation, “a bookseller."

  Nathaniel smiled. “I do not recall in Jonathan's short career as a law clerk that the boy had any great enthusiasm for books, but many years have passed and perhaps that is a taste that has matured. Please do not fret, Mistress Ashley. I promise I will make the necessary enquiries and I may even have something to report by this evening."

  Kate curtsied and Nathaniel closed the door after her, returning to his desk, still smiling at the contradictions in Jonathan's nature. The amusement soon passed and he tapped his pen thoughtfully on the table for a few minutes before sending for his clerk.

  * * * *

  "This Master Freeman must be well thought of,” Ellen commented dryly as they turned in at the gates of the handsome half-timbered house.

  Kate had to agree. The whole house wore an air of comfortable prosperity, unlike the shabby and downtrodden aspect Seven Ways presented to the world.

  As Dickon lifted Kate off the saddle, a woman, who could only be Henrietta Freeman, flew down the front steps with a light step that belied her solid appearance.

  "My poor, dear girl,” she exclaimed, taking Kate's hands, “what you have been through! You should have come to us before now!"

  Kate managed a smile. “It's kind of you to take me in like this, without any notice, Mistress Freeman."

  Henrietta took her arm and guided her into the warm, well-polished parlour. “Nonsense, my dear,” she said, “Nathaniel and I seem to have been looking after stray Thorntons all our lives. One more makes no difference. Please cal
l me Aunt Hen, everybody else does."

  Ellen and the luggage were directed to a large, comfortable bedchamber overlooking the garden and the river, and Kate found herself propelled to a seat by the fire in the parlour where a cup of mulled ale and some cakes awaited her.

  "Now you must tell me,” Henrietta said, seating herself down, “you have a son, I believe?"

  "Thomas."

  "Is he with you?"

  "No, I have sent him to school in Worcester. Seven Ways is a sad, lonely place with just Nell and me, and I felt he needed the companionship of boys his own age."

  "You must miss him."

  Kate's lips tightened and she felt a betraying wobble in her voice as she replied, “We have never really been apart before and I confess I miss him terribly but...” She reached for another cake. It had been a hard winter at Seven Ways and food had been plain and frugal. “...I cannot hold him to my side forever."

  "And Nell. How is my dear Nell? Jonathan told me she was with child."

  Kate looked up sharply at the mention of Jonathan's name. “Nell is suffering most terribly,” she said. “She is constantly sick and it shows no sign of abating. However the baby seems to be growing well and little Ann is looking forward to the idea of having a sibling."

  They were silent a moment. Henrietta's hands twisted in her lap and she frowned. “Nathaniel has told me that you are concerned about Jonathan. We too had been expecting some news of him. Poor correspondent though he is, he is not a man to break his promises. If he gave his word that he would write then he would have done."

  "That is why I'm so anxious,” Kate confessed. “I am certain some ill has befallen him.” She looked away to hide the betraying tears. “I know he must be in some terrible trouble or worse, he could be dead and I have no way of knowing."

  "Love can sometimes be a powerful medium,” Henrietta said and, seeing the alarm in Kate's face, smiled. “It's all right, my dear. Jonathan told me about his feelings for you and even if he hadn't, it was written in his eyes whenever he spoke of you."