Free Black Powder by Ally Sherrick Page A

searched for another toehold. Nearly there . . .
    â€˜Arrgghhh!’ His boot slipped. He jerked backwards, legs flailing, head spinning. The square edges of the drainpipe dug into his palms. His fingers cramped and his grip began to loosen. Hold on. You’ve got to hold on!
    He took a deep breath, counted to three and jabbed at the wall with his right boot. It bounced off. He licked his lips and jabbed again. This time it held. He toed over the stones with his left foot. After what seemed like an age, he found a gap. He shoved his boot in and tested it. It stayed where it was. He sucked in another breath. What if someone had heard him? He shook his head. He’d worry about that later. He gritted his teeth and fixed his eyes on the drainpipe. Then, placing one hand below the other, he started to make his way down.
    As soon as his feet touched the cobblestones, he ducked and peered about him. No one. He mopped his forehead with his sleeve and heaved a sigh. A loud squeak sounded from his bundle.
    â€˜It’s all right, boy. We made it!’ He patted the side of Jago’s box.
    The clock in the gatehouse tower chimed five. Staying low, he edged along the wall, then made a dash for the gate-house arch. Still no sign of anyone. He crept up to the door in the gate, slid back the bolt and pushed it open. His heart leapt at the glimpse of the causeway beyond. He gathered his makeshift cloak to him.
    â€˜This is it, Jago. We’re free!’
    He was about to step over the threshold when a thud of boots outside pulled him up short.

Chapter Thirteen
    T om yanked the door shut and stole back into the shadows. He couldn’t risk getting caught and locked up again. He’d have to hide and wait for whoever it was to go away. But where? He scanned the courtyard. There was a low arch to the right of the gatehouse, half stacked with wood. He darted over to it. He was about to slide beneath it when a set of footsteps pattered across the cobbles behind him.
    â€˜What are you doing, skulking about like a common thief ? I thought Great-Grandmother had sent you to your room?’
    His heart sank. Cressida! Slowly he turned to face her.
    â€˜Nothing. I . . . I felt sick and Joan let me out to get some air.’
    â€˜Really?’ Her face wore a disbelieving frown.
    He bit his lip. He had to put her off the scent. ‘Aren’t youmeant to be doing extra Latin?’
    She tossed her curls and sniffed. ‘I finished that hours ago.’ She glanced at the bundle and the blanket tied around his neck. Her frown deepened. ‘Going somewhere?’
    He flushed and slipped the bundle off his shoulder. ‘No . . . I . . . er . . .’
    A rattle of metal and the creak of wood made them both jump. In a moment, whoever it was would enter the courtyard and spot them and he’d be back under lock and key.
    â€˜Quick! In here!’ He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her behind the wood pile.
    Footsteps echoed beneath the gatehouse and an orange light spilled across the cobbles. ‘Who’s there?’
    Cressida made to stand but he dragged her back down.
    â€˜It’s only Sergeant Talbot.’
    â€˜Keep quiet.’ Tom spoke through gritted teeth.
    â€˜Who’s there, I say?’
    He pressed a finger against Cressida’s lips and shook his head then closed his eyes and waited.
    Silence, then an annoyed-sounding growl, the marching of footsteps back beneath the gatehouse and the creak and bang of a door.
    He snapped his eyes open and heaved a sigh. ‘That was close. What’s he doing?’
    â€˜Making his patrol. He does it every evening to frighten off any vagabonds that might be lurking outside.’ Cressida narrowed her eyes and gave him a meaningful smirk.
    He clenched his fists. If she was laughing at him . . . But what did it matter? He slumped back against the wall. WithSergeant Talbot on the prowl, there