By the Sword (39 page)

"Kate ... Kate, you're crying!"

He brushed away the offending tears and she caught his hand, holding it tight.

"Don't leave me again, Jonathan!” she said suddenly, fiercely.

"My dearest ... dearest, Kate. I will never willingly leave you again. You have my word on that."

She smiled wistfully and bent over to kiss him, her lips brushing his forehead. “Willingly? Is that a promise you can keep? Surely that is for those Fates, spinning out our lives in Whitehall to decide."

His lips tightened and he nodded. “You're right, Kate. It's ... it's not a promise I can keep. Can I see ... Tabitha?"

She looked doubtfully at him. Even wasted and gaunt, sallow with spent fever, he still presented a considerably less fearsome aspect than he had when last his daughter had seen him on the night Nathaniel had brought him home.

"I'll fetch her. I know she is anxious to see you,” she said.

She found Tabitha kneeling on the window seat in the parlour, looking wistfully out at the driving rain.

"Your father liked your music,” Kate said.

The girl spun around eagerly to face Kate. “Did he?"

Kate held out her hand. “He wants to see you. Come with me."

Tabitha held on to Kate's hand tightly. At the door to the bedchamber she looked up at Kate and gave her a tight smile. Kate squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Jonathan turned his head towards the door as they entered. “Tabitha!” he said softly and held out his hand.

With a strangled cry, Tabitha leaped on to the bed and buried her face in his shoulder. He winced slightly but did not attempt to dislodge her. Instead his arms tightened around her as she wept. Kate turned and slipped unobtrusively from the room. There was no place for her at this moment.

Jonathan had the peculiar feeling of being watched. He opened his eyes and started. Three pairs of grave eyes regarded him solemnly from the foot of the bed. He pulled himself up against the bolster and ran his eyes down the line that comprised, in order of height and age, Thomas Ashley, Tabitha Thornton and Anne Longley.

"You look terrible,” Tom said.

Jonathan ran a rueful hand over his unshaven chin and up through the closely cropped hair. “I'm certain I do,” he said, surprised at how weak his voice still sounded to his ears after three long weeks. “What are you doing here?"

"Aunt Nell brought us,” Tom said, “but
they
—” he indicated the door “—wouldn't tell us anything so we thought we'd see you for ourselves."

"Are you going to be all right, Uncle Jon?” Nan asked.

Jonathan forced a smile. “It seems so,” he said.

"I picked these for you.” Nan held up a small bunch of wilting spring flowers, no doubt picked from Henrietta's garden.

"Why did you let them catch you?” Tom asked accusingly.

"Because there were too many of them,” Jonathan said. “Some fool mistook me for the King."

"The King?” Tom scoffed. “You don't look anything like the King!"

"How do you know what the King looks like?” Tabitha demanded.

"I met him!” Thomas pulled himself up straight as the two girls stared up at him with new respect.

The door opened and Nell glided in. “Out!” she scolded. “How did you children get in here? I thought we told you..."

"It's all right, Nell,” Jonathan said. “They're fine. Nan brought me flowers. Can you put them in water?"

"Can we play chess?” Tom asked as Nell bustled them out.

"Perhaps tomorrow,” Jonathan said as the door closed behind them.

His sister stood by the door, regarding her brother with her hands on his hips.

"You look—” Jonathan frowned “—very pregnant, Nell. Did you come all the way from Seven Ways in that condition?"

She sniffed. “The coach still has wheels,” she said. “I wasn't going to sit on my hands in Worcestershire if my only living relative was apparently so intent on dying."

"Sorry you came all this way for nothing.” Jonathan smiled.

"Complete waste of time,” Nell scolded.

She walked over to the bed and with a sigh sat down on the chair beside him, easing her aching back. “However I think this child will needs be born in London,” she said. “I can't see me making it back to Seven Ways. Quite the family reunion, isn't it?"

"You've met my daughter?"

Nell smiled. “No denying her parentage, is there? She and Tom seem to be getting on very well."

"Are they? That's good, isn't it?"

"I think so,” Nell said. “Now are you anxious for gossip?"

"Giles is safe?"

"Giles is in Amsterdam. You know the King made it back to Paris safely?"

"Did he get the George back?"

"Giles delivered it personally. Now, did Kate tell you how we got Giles away?"

Jonathan lay back against the bolsters and let his sister talk about the sojourn in Yorkshire and the trivialities of life at Seven Ways. Her voice drifted over him and just for a few brief moments he allowed himself to hope that the unfortunate circumstances of his recent detention might finally end his fugitive life and there might yet still be a future here for him in England.

Kate sat by the window of the parlour, pretending to be intent on some sewing, but watching with an amused eye the game of chess being waged between her son and Jonathan. She wondered if Jonathan deliberately pretended to lose, lulling his opponent into a false sense of superiority, before apparently turning the tables.

"Ha!” Tom declared. “Check!"

Jonathan narrowed his eyes and squinted thoughtfully at the board. As he lifted his knight to make his move the door to the parlour opened and Henrietta, looking agitated, entered, making way for a dark-haired man of middle height.

Jonathan rose slowly to his feet, still holding the chess piece.

"Colonel Thornton.” The man inclined his head. “I must say you look somewhat improved since our last meeting."

"Master Thurloe,” Jonathan responded coldly.

Thurloe! Kate recognized the name and knew this man had been the one responsible for Jonathan's incarceration. His coming could mean only one thing. She rose to her feet and crossed to Jonathan.

"Have you come to take him away?” she demanded, her anxiety barely concealed.

Thurloe looked her up and down. “I beg your pardon, Mistress. I do not believe we are acquainted."

"Ashley. Katherine Ashley,” Kate replied.

Thurloe raised an interested eyebrow. “I know that name. Are you kin of David Ashley of Yorkshire?"

"My late husband's father."

Thurloe nodded. “I knew him from his days in Parliament. A fine man,” Thurloe bowed towards her. He looked from Kate to Jonathan. “But what is the connection with the Thornton family?"

"David Ashley's wife was a Thornton,” Jonathan replied.

"I see. Well, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mistress Ashley.” Thurloe made a deprecatory gesture. “But if you would excuse me, I have business with Sir Jonathan."

Kate did not move.

Jonathan, set the chess piece carefully back on the board, before looking up at Thurloe. “Whatever you have to say to me, Master Thurloe, can be discussed in Mistress Ashley's presence. Tom, would you excuse us?” he said to the boy who stood scowling from under his fringe.

Tom gave the Secretary of State a cold glance and a half-hearted bow before leaving the room, closing the door behind himself and Henrietta.

"Forgive me if I sit, Master Thurloe,” Jonathan resumed his chair. “I find I tend to tire somewhat easily. Well, have you come to return me to the Tower?” he asked. “If so, you have come extremely badly prepared. I see no escort for such a dangerous prisoner as myself."

Thurloe smiled. “And I see no guard on the door. You surprise me, Sir Jonathan, I would have thought you may have seized the chance to escape."

Jonathan laughed dryly. “Aside from the fact that I am barely out of my sick bed, I have no heart for flight, Master Thurloe.” His eyes narrowed. “So if I am not to be returned to the Tower, what is my fate to be?"

"You are fortunate in your friends, Sir Jonathan. Through the intercession of your uncle, I have come to offer you your freedom, Sir Jonathan, on one condition.” Thurloe reached into his jacket and produced a paper that he handed to Jonathan.

Jonathan read slowly through the document. “I am to undertake never again to take up arms against the lawful government of the Commonwealth of England and swear the Solemn Oath and Covenant."

"Do you give that undertaking?” Thurloe leaned forward.

Jonathan met Kate's eyes and she saw the question in his eyes. Surely a question that did not need her to answer. His King had sworn it, he could do it as well. A few words on a piece of paper, nothing more.

Jonathan set the paper down. “Yes, I give that undertaking,” he said with a trace of bitterness.

He stood and walked over to the small table where an inkstand and pen stood. He laid the paper out and scratched his signature on the bottom. As he turned to hand the signed paper to Thurloe, a black and white spaniel pushed its way through the door, hotly pursued by its small owner, who burst into the parlour with cries of “Oliver, bad dog. Come here."

Tabitha pulled up short and stared in panic at her father's guest. “I'm sorry, Father,” she said quietly.

Jonathan smiled and held out his hand to her. “Come here, Tabitha. Master Thurloe is a very important man. He has come here especially to tell me that I do not have to go back to prison.” A smile lit Tabitha's face and she looked from her father to John Thurloe. Jonathan placed his hand on her shoulder. “Master Thurloe, my daughter Tabitha."

Tabitha curtsied politely. She looked back at her father. “May I tell Aunt Hen and Aunt Nell and Tom and Nan?” she asked.

He nodded. “Take Oliver,” he reminded her as she turned to flee.

Tabitha scooped up the dog in her arms and skipped from the room.

"It seems you do not know as much about me as you thought you did, Master Thurloe?” Jonathan looked steadily at the Secretary as he handed him the paper.

Thurloe frowned and shook his head. “Apparently not. So, Sir Jonathan, what will you do now you are a free man?"

Jonathan considered a moment. “I do not consider that is any business of yours, Thurloe. You will have more pressing matters of state to concern you than the fate of one spent royalist."

Thurloe leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. “On the contrary, Sir Jonathan. I may have badly misjudged you once but my thought is that while domesticity may suit for a while—” he shot a glance at Kate “—it will begin to pall and you will yearn for the old days when you rode roughshod over the forces of Parliament. You were a master at the agent's craft, my friend and you will miss those times."

"What is your meaning?” Jonathan asked.

Thurloe stood and picked up his hat and gloves. “I am saying that leaving your politics aside, England could still use those talents. We have enemies other than Charles Stuart."

Jonathan looked thoughtfully at Cromwell's master of spies. “I am weary, Thurloe, weary of war and weary of the games that go with war. You're a clever man, you will always find others prepared to take your gold but not I.” His voice became icy and his fingers clenched and unclenched. “I'll not forget or forgive how ill you dealt with me, John Thurloe."

Thurloe bowed. “Well it seems we must part on those terms. I will bid you good day, Sir Jonathan, Mistress Ashley."

After the door closed behind Thurloe, Jonathan walked over to the window. He stood staring out at the garden, his mouth set in a grim line.

Kate threw her arms around him, looking up at him, her face suffused with happiness. “Dare I believe it? Is it true? Are you free?"

He nodded. “You understand what it was I signed?"

"Jonathan, you told me you could never swear the Solemn Oath and Covenant. To do so was a heavy undertaking."

"I don't care anymore, Kate,” he said and the corners of his mouth lifted. He seized her, lifting her off her feet with a sudden strength she would have doubted he possessed ten minutes earlier. “For you, my lovely lady, it is an undertaking I am prepared to make. You may recall a promise you once made me.” His eyes shone. “If it pleases you, now I am a free man, will you wed me?"

Kate took his face in her hands. “Oh yes, my dearest love, a thousand times yes."

He set her down and they kissed, no longer with the urgent passion of secrecy but the long, slow passion of promises to come.

Alison was born in Kenya and has lived and travelled around the world but home is Melbourne, Australia where she lives with her two sons, two cats and her husband, the one true hero in her life.

In her “real” life she is a lawyer and has been, among her many and varied occupations, a legal officer in the Australian Army reserve.

She lived in Singapore for three years, pretending to pursue a serious, full time writing career while being ‘just an expat wife'. She has had short stories published in anthologies, and has been a contest finalist in a number of competitions, including the shortlist of the Catherine Cookson Fiction Prize, the Emerald Award and the Emma Darcy Award.