Amethyst (12 page)

The children scooted forward in anticipation. Kendra looked up with a congratulatory smile.

"After the Battle of Worcester," Colin began, "our king, Charles II, endured great hardships in escaping his enemies."

"Were you there?" Davis's little brother interrupted.

"No, I was only thirteen at the time. But my father and mother were there."

Colin saw no reason to tell them they'd both died in the battle. They were already worried about their own parents.

"For nearly six weeks, King Charles was hiding and sneaking about," he continued. "Sometimes he hid with persons of high rank, and sometimes with those of low. He'd been declared an outlaw, you see, and he was hunted for his life. But the people still saw him as their lawful sovereign and willingly risked their own lives to save his."

"Our king was hunted?" The girl with the straight flaxen hair looked doubtful. "For real?"

"Yes, certainly. Cromwell wanted him well out of the way." When the girl nodded, Colin went on. "Charles rode hastily away from the scene of his defeat, in the company of a few faithful friends. Whenever they came within hearing range of anyone, they spoke French to avoid detection. His friends brought him to a lonely farmhouse where five brothers named Penderel lived. It was death to anyone who dared to conceal the king, while a great reward was offered to any who would betray him to his enemies, but these honest farmers cared neither for threats nor rewards."

"How much was the reward?" Davis asked.

"A thousand pounds."

"A
thousand
pounds?" Davis's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" A thousand pounds was an absolutely vast sum, more than the average workman would earn in a lifetime.

"I'm sure," Colin assured him. "Charles cut off his famous black lovelocks so no one would recognize him. The Penderels dressed him like themselves, in clothes belonging to the tallest brother, for the king is over two yards tall."

"Like you?" little Mary asked, gazing at Colin as though he were the tallest man she'd ever seen.

Colin nodded solemnly while quelling a smile. "Yes, Charles and I are almost exactly the same height. He had to wear his own stockings with the fancy tops torn off, because his feet were so big they could find none to fit. And the clumsy country boots they gave him were too small, so he was forced to tramp around all day in great pain."

"Ouch!" said the apple-cheeked boy.

"Indeed. In fact, King Charles's memory of those boots is so strong that today he has the largest collection of shoes in the land, each pair made exactly to fit."

A couple of the children giggled. Colin glanced at Kendra. She was still smiling down at her embroidery. So far as he could tell, she'd yet to ply the needle.

"What happened then?" an impatient little voice asked. The girl had long dark hair and large gray eyes, and Colin realized with a pang that she reminded him of Amy. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what a little girl of Amy's would look like.

He banished that thought. "I'm just getting to the good part. One day, while the king was with the brothers in the forest, Parliamentary soldiers came upon them. Quickly, Charles climbed up an oak tree and crouched amid the leaves."

"How long did he stay there?" Mary asked.

"More than twenty-four hours, a whole day and night. The soldiers were certain they'd seen more men, so they rode back and forth searching all that time."

"How many soldiers?" Mary asked.

Colin shrugged. "I don't know, sweetheart."

"How many?" she persisted.

In a quandary, he glanced again at Kendra. She looked up, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

No help there.

"Seven," he announced finally. "I'm certain there were seven."

When the little girl smiled happily, Colin reached to ruffle her bright gold curls. "Charles slept for a time in the tree. When he woke, the soldiers were directly under him, saying how glad they should be to catch him. Hoping they wouldn't notice him there, Charles held his breath."

Hearing the children's indrawn breaths brought him a ridiculous sense of satisfaction.

"Finally, the next day, the soldiers rode off and left him to get down in safety." Little breaths were released. "That tree, in memory of the good service it had done him, was afterward named the Royal Oak, and if ever you go to Boscobel you can visit it," he said by way of conclusion.

"What happened
then
?" asked a boy. "How did he escape?"

Colin glanced toward Kendra, but she was smiling back down at her handiwork. "Yes, Colin," she said to a misshapen embroidered flower. "What happened then?"

"Hmmph," he said, wishing she were close enough to kick her. "The brothers were afraid the Roundheads would return when they couldn't find Charles elsewhere, so they moved him to another house, a few miles away. They had to find him a horse to ride there, because he couldn't walk that far on his aching feet. The boots, remember?"

Nine little heads nodded.

"He hid in a priest-hole in that house, and he was very cramped and uncomfortable in there."

"Because he's so tall," said little Mary.

"Exactly. Charles needed to get to Bristol to catch a ship and escape England," he continued, "but he couldn't travel in the farmer's clothes, since farmers don't often take to the roads. So they dressed him as a manservant and found a loyal woman named Lady Jane to ride behind him on a horse, posing as his employer. He decided to call himself William Jackson, and they made up a story that they were on their way to a wedding."

"Whose wedding?" Mary asked.

A smothered laugh came from Kendra.

Colin's mind raced. His gaze swept the chamber. "Lord Cornice and Lady Chimneypiece."

He would swear Kendra was choking. Not that she didn't deserve to.

He cleared his throat. "Charles and Lady Jane playacted all the way to Bristol. One day Charles's horse cast a shoe, and as he held the mare's foot for the blacksmith, he asked the man if there was any news since the battle."

Mary's big blue eyes were round as saucers. "What did the man say?"

"He told Charles that some of the Royalists had been found and arrested, but not yet Charles Stuart. The Roundheads called the king by the name of Stuart."

"Then the blacksmith was a Roundhead," Davis surmised. "Wasn't Charles afraid to talk to him?"

"Not Charles. But Lady Jane, she was having a fright. And what do you suppose our good king said then?"

"What?" the children chorused.

"He told the smith, 'If that rogue Charles Stuart is taken, he deserves to be hanged, more than all the rest.'"

"He didn't," Davis breathed.

"He surely did. Charles enjoyed his jest, but Lady Jane wanted to die right there."

"I don't blame her," said the dark-haired girl. "Not at all."

"Me, neither," Kendra put in with a raised brow. "That prank brings to mind one of my brothers."

"Let me finish," Colin scolded. "Lady Jane breathed more easily when the shoeing was done and they could be on their way. But at Bristol they were disappointed. For a whole month, there was no ship sailing to France or Spain. So Charles had to hide about the countryside again until they finally found a ship that could take him to France. The ship was named the
Surprise
, but it's now called the
Royal Escape
."

He stood. "And
that
is the end of the story. Time for bed, children. We've a long trip back to London in the morning." He flexed his shoulders and stretched.

Applause came from the doorway behind him. He turned to see his brothers, faces and clothing black with the soot of London's fire.

"Welcome back!" Kendra sprang up to greet them, her embroidery landing unceremoniously on the floor. She hugged them each in turn. "How did you like our storyteller?"

"Watch your gown; we're both sorely in need of a bath," Jason admonished. He aimed an exaggerated nod toward Colin. "I would have liked to attend the Cornice–Chimneypiece wedding. Pity that we were too young."

"Colin certainly rose to the occasion," Kendra said. "I all but forced him into it—in a sisterly way, of course." When Colin snorted at that, she flashed him an innocent smile. "Whatever made you think of that particular story?"

"Are you jesting? We must have heard Charles tell it a hundred times on the Continent. It was all but our nightly entertainment." He looked to Jason. "You brought Ebony with you, I'm hoping?"

"We're both fine," Jason drawled. "Thank you so much for asking." He turned to Ford. "So nice of him to inquire after us before thinking of his horse."

Ford shrugged. "It's not as though we've spent three days battling flames, exposing ourselves to the dangers of falling walls and debris—"

"No, nothing like that," Jason agreed. "Nothing that would compare to the hazards of telling tales to a pack of children."

"Oh, that's not all he's been doing. You don't know the half of it." Kendra rolled her eyes toward where Amy slept upstairs, and Colin moved closer, intending to elbow her in the ribs.

With a laugh, she dodged out of his way. "We'll see the children to bed. You two go clean up, and we'll meet you back here with some supper."

AMY WOKE TO THE
sound of low voices nearby. She kept her eyes shut tight—she had no intention of letting anyone know she was conscious, just yet—but even so, she could tell from the color inside her lids that morning had arrived.

Finally.

Several times during the interminable night, she'd awakened and floated to the surface of awareness, first hearing the soft crackling from the fireplace, then feeling the persistent burning in her right palm. And then she'd remember—and immediately force herself back into the depths of slumber. Back to where it was last week, and she wasn't alone in the world, and her only worry was her upcoming nuptials.

Once, she'd sensed a presence in the chamber and slitted her eyes open, peeking through the slits to see Colin watching her, his profile dark against the light of the flickering fire. She'd shut her eyes and lain perfectly still, feigning sleep until he left. He'd sighed heavily before closing the door behind him.

What kind of sigh had it been? she'd wondered vaguely as she lapsed back to her troubled dreams. A sigh of concern, or a sigh of exasperation?

He certainly seemed to be exasperated now.

"Bloody hell," she heard him say. "I want to take her with me. I need this over and done with. I've work to do."

"Well, it's not to be," a male voice answered reasonably. Ford or Jason, Amy reckoned. So they were back. "You'll have to deliver the children without her. You're not going to haul her around the countryside unconscious, are you?"

"Of course not!" Colin spat.

"Shh!" cautioned another unfamiliar masculine voice. The other brother, she supposed. "She might be ill, you know, if she's been sleeping this long."

Amy heard a couple of footsteps, then a warm palm pressed onto her forehead and rested there a few seconds. Colin. It had to be. "She's not hot," she heard him say, his voice closer now. "I checked her hand again last night. There's no infection."

Amy's heart fluttered at the thought of him caring for her while she slept. Perhaps she should let him know she'd awakened…

No!
He'd take her away, ship her to France, and she wasn't ready to go. Aunt Elizabeth was kind, but she'd smothered Amy with concern following her mother's death. She couldn't face that yet; she needed a few days to think about things, to come to some kind of peace within herself.

Better to pretend she still slept.

"It won't be a simple matter to find a chaperone in London right now," Amy heard Kendra pointing out. "And you cannot just plop her on a ship by herself."

"That's true," he admitted grudgingly.

"You'd better go," Kendra advised. "The wagon is packed, and the children are waiting. She's not going to magically wake up, and even if she did, it would take her too long to get ready. She hasn't eaten in two days."

"More like four days," Colin grumbled. The voices receded, accompanied by footsteps. "I suppose you're right."

"We'll have her ready and waiting when you return," Amy strained to hear Kendra say before the voices faded away entirely.

Amazingly, Amethyst Goldsmith woke up the minute Colin's wagon rattled over the drawbridge.