Her Rebel Heart (20 page)

He had convinced himself that an estrangement with Deliverance was for the best but seeing the unguarded misery in her face when she had first looked up at him, tugged at his heart. For all his fine words, nothing could change his feelings for Deliverance Felton.

He stopped at the top of the cellar stairs and took a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of Deliverance to one side. The greater good of the castle and every soul within it had to be considered and he had a traitor to find.

Luke paraded the garrison in the courtyard despite the pouring rain. He stood at the top of the steps and looked down at the gathered throng. Water dripped from the brim of his hat down his collar. If he felt tired and dispirited, weary of the siege, then he could only imagine what the garrison must be feeling. In their present mood the news that their food supply had been compromised could well provoke mutiny.

Behind the ranks of men, the household staff, who had also been summoned, milled in the poor shelter of the buildings surrounding the courtyard, whispering to each other. He wondered if they were speculating on whether he brought them news of capitulation.

As he scanned the faces, his resolve hardened. No matter how wet, miserable and hungry they were, among them was a traitor, a traitor hoping that the destruction of the food supplies would lead to a speedy capitulation.

He glanced over to the corner of the courtyard where the small herd of cattle had been confined. The miserable beasts would not feed a hundred mouths for very long. Before calling the muster he had checked with Melchior Blakelocke, who confirmed that almost all of the flour was gone. Half the cheese had been saved, along with turnips, carrots and dried beans. They had water to drink but at best they could last another two weeks. After that—

He held up a hand commanding instant silence.

“There is a traitor among us,” Luke began. A murmur rose from the crowd as each man looked to his fellows. “Last night, someone broke into the cellars and attempted to destroy the castle's food supplies.”

A surge of anger rose from the soldiers. To steal a comrade's food was one of the lowest crimes a soldier could commit. Luke scanned their faces, hoping to see a guilty face but all he could see was stunned disbelief.

“Fortunately the perpetrator was not entirely successful and there is food enough for us to survive on for the time being. However our rations will be severely cut.”

“How long 'ave we got?” A voice called out.

Luke hesitated. They had a right to know. “Two weeks, maybe three.”

A rumble of anger surged among the men and he held up a hand. “If any person here knows who may be responsible, there is no shame in turning them over to me. You all know the price for such treachery.”

Hanging...the unspoken word fell on the crowd, subduing it into silence.

“If anyone has any information as to the identity of the perpetrator, they can speak to Sergeant Hale, Lieutenant Barrett or myself.”

One of the men, who had been with him at Byton, pointed a finger at Toby Brown.

“What about him? Convenient he's the only one to survive Byton, and then comes here all whey-faced and eager to help.”

Toby's mouth fell open, his eyes widened. “Me? Oh, no, I'd never... I'm Captain Collyer's man to the death.”

But a tide of sentiment swiftly turned against the boy. The garrison needed a culprit and whatever the boy's guilt or otherwise, he made a convenient scapegoat.

Two of the soldiers grabbed the boy pushing him forward to the steps.

Luke looked down into Toby's frightened face. He wanted to believe the boy's protestations but he could see logic in the argument put to him by the others. Toby was the outsider and the circumstances of his coming to Kinton Lacey could give rise to suspicion.

“Take him to one of the cells and lock him up,” Luke said.

“You don't think...?” Ned whispered in his ear.

“For the boy's own safety if nothing else,” Luke replied. “They'd hang him here and now if they had half a chance.”

He turned on his heel and strode back into the residence.

In the Great Hall, Luke leaned on the table, looking down at its ancient surface, polished to a gleam by age and many applications of beeswax.

“We should have put a guard on the cellar.”

He straightened at the sound of Deliverance's voice and turned to face her.

“It's enough I have a guard on the water supply. I couldn't spare another for a sturdy, locked, oak door.” He saw the unhappy look on her face. “Don't blame yourself, Del... Mistress Felton.”

“But it was my key.”

He shrugged. “It is easy enough to make a copy.”

She frowned. “Is it?”

He shook his head and allowed himself a smile at her sometimes endearing naivety.

“Deliverance, you are so innocent. All you need is a mould of clay, press the key into it and then fill it with molten iron and you have a copy. There is a blacksmith's forge working here. Anyone could have done it.”

“But only if they had the original.”

“You said yourself, there are people you have trusted with the key to run errands.”

She sank into the great chair at the head of the table and rested her chin on her hand.

“How long do you think we can we hold out?”

“Much longer than you think. When we run out, we can always eat the horses...and then there are the dogs, the cats and the vermin.”

She looked up at him, her mouth opening in horror. “Surely you're jesting...no, I can see you're not.”

“This is the reality of our situation. I'm not going to paint a pretty picture for you. The certainty is Farrington will keep banging away at our walls, while we grow physically weaker. In the end he will simply walk in.”

Her expression was one of despair, and Luke cursed himself for his honesty, but she needed to know. She wouldn't find this in her text books. This was war and war was brutal. He turned on his heel and walked out leaving her sitting at the long table in the ruins of her father's hall.

“We've got to get a message through to Gloucester,” he said when he found Ned on the castle wall.

“Gloucester's still besieged.” Ned stated the obvious.

“It's the only place help is going to come from,” Luke said.

Ned nodded.

“Send a man out through the sally port tonight.” Luke drummed the stone wall with his fingers as he stared thoughtfully out at the enemy position. “I've had enough of being cooped up in here just taking what Farrington throws at us. Tomorrow at dawn, Ned, I'm going to lead a sortie. The men need some action and if we can bring in a little more food, we stand a chance of holding out for longer.”

“Well, we better not eat the horses tonight,” Ned remarked. He glanced over the wall at the sound of a trumpet “What a surprise. It looks like we have visitors.” He pointed to a party of three men advancing on foot towards them under the white flag of truce.

Luke held up his hand to stop his own men from firing as the party came within range of the castle wall.

“Captain Collyer?” An officer stepped forward.

“I am he,” Luke identified himself.

“I bring a letter from Colonel Charles Farrington to Mistress Felton and I seek an audience with the lady in order to deliver it.”

“Come forward and alone. You have my word you will not be harmed,” Luke replied and with a quick glance at Ned who signalled for the small door in the gate to be opened to admit Farrington's messenger, relieved to see that this time it was not Jack who carried the message.

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.”