Free Black Powder by Ally Sherrick

shoved the chair aside and made to barge past her.
    â€˜No!’ She swung her cane out in front of him, barring his way. ‘You will stay here at Cowdray in our safekeeping until your uncle comes back from court. She reached for a small silver bell on top of a nearby chest and shook it. ‘Joan!’
    The door creaked open and the servant stepped inside. ‘Yes, My Lady.’
    â€˜Keep watch on Master Garnett while I summon one of the other servants to help. Then take him to his room and lock him in.’ She gave Tom a cold-eyed stare. ‘We will see what time spent in quiet reflection does for his manners.’
    Tom sat on the edge of his bed, staring into the gloom. The worst had happened. Father had been taken and thrown into gaol. But in spite of everything, the Viscountess hadmade it clear the Montagues still weren’t going to help. Which meant it was down to him to save Father.
    A tide of panic surged through him. What was he going to do? He took a deep breath. Courage, Tom Garnett. You’ve got to show courage .
    A rustling noise came from Jago’s box. He pulled back the lid and lifted the mouse out. He stroked his head then pressed Jago’s damp nose to his own and stared into his beady eyes.
    â€˜Mother’s safe with the Fosters, but Father needs my help more than ever. We’ve got to get out of here now, boy.’
    He glanced at the locked door and frowned. There had to be another way. He darted over to the window, opened it and peered into the gathering shadows below. It was a long way down. Too far to jump. He sank his shoulders. He was about to shut the window again when a pale gleam of metal caught his eye. A drainpipe. Hope bubbled up inside him. He pushed the window open wider to get a better view. It was within reach – just – and it looked as though it ran all the way down to the cobbles below. It was dark out there, but if he took it slowly . . .
    â€˜Come on, boy.’ He scooped Jago back into his box. ‘We’ve got some climbing to do.’ He bundled the box up in his nightshirt along with the candle from his bedside and the bread and cheese Joan had brought up earlier, then glanced down at his doublet and fancy breeches and frowned. He was going to need something warmer and less conspicuous for the journey.
    A wooden chest stood at the foot of the bed. He openedit and rummaged through the pile of linen inside until his fingers closed round the ends of a brown, wool blanket. He yanked the ruff from his neck, threw the blanket round his shoulders and knotted the ends together. Then, kicking off his thin silk slippers, he slid his feet inside his own boots and fixed his waist-pouch on to his belt. At least now he didn’t look like a puffed-up gamecock.
    Slipping the prayer book inside his doublet, he slung his bundle over his shoulder and crept back to the window. No sign of anyone. And in the poor light, he’d be harder to spot. All the better to make his escape.
    â€˜Let’s go, boy.’
    He hoisted himself up on the window sill and swung his legs out so they were dangling over the edge. The secret to climbing is not to look down. William had told him that once when they’d scaled the old oak at the end of their street looking for a woodpecker’s nest. Now, keeping his eyes fixed on the opposite wall of the courtyard, he shuffled his bottom along to the end of the sill, pulled up his feet and lifted into a crouch. He reached for the drainpipe. The tips of his fingers brushed the cold lead. He reached again . . . Got it! He tightened his grip and counted to ten. Keeping his right foot planted firmly on the sill, he swung his body out, then in again towards the wall. Clutching the drain-pipe with both hands, he felt for a gap in the stonework with his left foot and rammed his toe in hard.
    He puffed out a breath. So far, so good . . .
    Steadying himself he dropped his right leg down and