Free The Devil's Plague by Mark Beynon Page A

inside.
    "Can we help you?" said Faith, holding a slipper in her hand.
    Davenant noticed that the colour had returned to her cheeks and her blue eyes seemed to glisten as a cascade of moonlight flooded the tent. He paused, as he contemplated her natural beauty. Dr Tyrell's medicine had patently done the trick.
    "No, no. We heard a scream and came over to see if you were all right," he replied.
    "You came rushing over on our account? You've done enough for us already, Sir William."
    "You know my name?"
    "But of course. We've heard all about you." Faith glanced over at Anne who was grinning wickedly.
    "From Mary, no doubt," spat Davenant, almost losing his cool.
    "No, Sir William, from your daughter. She was telling us what a kind, considerate father you are."
    "Where is Mary?" he asked.
    "She's gone for a walk."
    "Fine, I shall catch up with her later. How are you ladies bearing up?"
    "A little better, thank you."
    "Perhaps when you are quite yourselves, you might explain why you were being tried for witchcraft?"
    "And perhaps you might explain why you chose to risk your lives to save us?" Faith replied.
    Davenant suddenly became aware of hurried footsteps approaching the tent.
    "Father, it's Betterton, he's gone!" shrieked Elizabeth, her voice penetrating through the canvas.
    Davenant staggered back outside, almost colliding with Elizabeth and Underhill as he did so. "What do you mean, gone?" he spluttered.
    Elizabeth grimaced; her face was raddled with worry. "I hadn't seen him for about an hour, so I went to his tent to see if he was all right. There's no sign of him and all his belongings are gone."
    Davenant let out a weary sigh. "Do you have any idea where he could have gone?"
    But he didn't need to satisfy himself with an answer. He knew full well where Betterton was going.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
     
    Kempsey, Worcestershire
     
    Thomas Betterton trekked through the tiresomely persistent undergrowth that seemed to greet his every step with a vice-like grip of sodden earth on leather boot. As he spied the cluster of lights belonging to the dwellings of Kempsey, he spared a thought for Elizabeth and what her reaction would be when she discovered his betrayal. He had managed to convince himself that in spite of his affection for her, no relationship was worth one double crown, no matter how beautiful she was. It must have been his parents mutual hatred for one another that had left him a shallow, loveless son-of-a-bitch, he mused. Either that or he was just, in fact, a covetous bastard. Davenant weighed heavily on his mind also, and as he waded through the mire, he almost felt a tinge of sorrow for him.
    Still, no time for regret when there's a reward to collect.
    He hauled himself from the shallow ditch that was clinging to his ankles and onto the cobbled pathway that led into the scenic hamlet, its smattering of lodgings full of character with their whitewashed walls bedecked with flowers. He searched for an inn from where he might get directions back to Bewdley. He couldn't have been that far away, he thought to himself, as he spied the local hostelry, comprised of a row of cottages. As he ambled along the walled tavern garden, fragrantly planted with roses and honeysuckle, he cast his mind back to what the soldier had told him in Pershore. As Davenant was being interrogated following Mary's declaration on his parentage, Betterton had skulked into the nearby inn, armed with the wanted poster, and had spied the Parliamentarian soldier in the corner. He was a peculiar man by the name of Danes, a robust, full-bodied type, which made his effeminate nature seem all the more bizarre. He had told Betterton to return to Bewdley and that he would make arrangements for someone to meet him there. Betterton began to lament that it would have been far more prudent to wait for the money to arrive before divulging his information. But there was little point in worrying about that now, he concluded. What was done was done.
    There was