Free A Crowning Mercy by Bernard Cornwell

she walked into the darkness of the passage. She did not see the man who stood in the door of her father's room.
    'The bowels of Christ. Who are you?'
    Her shoulder was gripped, she was pushed against the wall, and the man grinned at her. 'Sweet God! A little Puritan maid. Well, well.' He tilted her chin up with his finger. 'A ripe little piece of fruit.'
    'Sir!' It was Samuel Scammell's voice. He hurried out of the study. 'Sir! That is Miss Slythe. We are to marry!'
    The man let her go. He was big, as big as her father had been, and his face was scarred and ugly. It was a broad face, hard as leather, with a broken nose. At his side was a sword, in his belt a pistol, and he looked from Campion to Scammell. 'She's yours?'
    'Indeed, sir!' Scammell sounded nervous. The man frightened him.
    'Only the best, eh? She's the answer to a Puritan's prayer, and no mistake. I hope you know how damned lucky you are. Does she have it?'
    'No!' Scammell shook his head. 'Indeed, no!'
    The man stared at Campion. 'We'll talk later, miss. Don't run away.'
    She ran. She was terrified of him, of the smell of him and the violence that he radiated. She went to the stable-yard that was warm, in the sunlight and sat on the mounting block and let the kittens come to her. They rolled about her hand, fur warm and sharp clawed and she blinked back tears. She must run away! She must go far from this place, but there was nowhere to go. She must run.
    There were footsteps in the archway to the yard. She looked left, and there was the man. He must have followed her. He came swiftly towards her, his sword clanging against the water trough, and before she could move he had seized her shoulder and pushed her once more against the wall. His breath stank. His leather soldier's jerkin was greasy. He smiled, showing rotten, stained teeth. 'Now, miss, I've come all the way from London so you're going to be nice to me, aren't you?'
    'Sir?' She was terrified.
    'Where is it?'
    "Where's what, sir?' She was struggling, but was helpless against his huge strength.
    'God's bowels, woman! Don't play with me!' he shouted, hurting her shoulder with his hand. Then he smiled again. 'Pretty little Puritan, aren't we? Wasted on that bladder of a man.' He stayed smiling as his right knee jerked upwards, forcing her legs apart, and he pushed it up between her thighs, reaching down with his free hand for the hem of her skirt.
    'That's enough, mister!' The voice came from her right. Tobias Horsnell, the stable-man, stood easily in a doorway, the musketoon that was used to kill sick beasts held in his hand. 'I doubt this be good, mister. Let her go.'
    'Who are you?'
    'I'm the one who should be asking that.' Horsnell seemed unconcerned by the man's crude and violent air. He twitched the gun. 'You take your hands off her. Now what be this about?'
    The man had stepped back, releasing her. He brushed his hands as if she had been filthy. 'She has something I want.'
    Horsnell looked at Campion. He was a thin man, his wiry forearms burned black by the sun. He was taciturn in household prayers, though he was one of the few servants who had learned to read and Campion had watched him laboriously mouth the words of the Bible. 'Is that true, Miss Dorcas?'
    'No!' She shook her head. 'I don't even know what it is!'
    'What is it, mister?'
    'A seal.' The man seemed to be gauging whether he would have time to pull the pistol from his belt, but Tobias Horsnell kept his musketoon steady and his voice neutral. 'Do you have the seal, Miss Dorcas?'
    'No.'
    'There, mister. That be your answer. I think you should go.' The musketoon added force to his polite suggestion and Horsnell kept the weapon levelled till the stranger had left the yard. Only then did he drop the muzzle and give her a slow smile. ''Twasn't loaded, but the Lord looks after us. I hope you told the truth, Miss Dorcas.'
    'I did.'
    'Good, God be praised. He was an ungodly man, Miss Dorcas, and there be plenty like him outside these walls.'
    She