Free Black Powder by Ally Sherrick Page B

wasn’t much chance of getting away from here tonight.
    She tapped him on the knee. ‘What’s wrong?’
    â€˜Nothing.’ His throat tightened. He reached inside his bundle and pulled out Jago’s box. As he slid back the lid, the mouse leapt free. He sprang on to Tom’s right arm and skittered up on to his shoulder.
    â€˜What’s that?’ Cressida shrank back, hands clutched to her chest.
    â€˜A friend.’ My only friend . He lifted Jago off gently and cupped him in his palms.
    She wrinkled her nose. ‘A mouse for a friend? Whoever heard of such a thing?’ Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. ‘So it was you in the chapel!’
    He’d felt guilty then, but he didn’t now. ‘Better a mouse than no friends at all.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’ Her face wore a hurt expression. ‘I’d have plenty of friends – the Princess Elizabeth, the King’s own daughter, included – if the lord my father would let me join him at court.’
    â€˜Why doesn’t he then? Here, boy.’ Pulling a small lump of cheese from his bundle, Tom dropped it in front of Jago and watched as the mouse gobbled it up.
    Cressida fiddled with one of the bows on her dress. ‘I . . . I don’t know. Because he wants to keep me safe.’ She shot him a look. ‘Not like your father who seems to have done everything he can to put you in danger.’
    Anger sparked inside him. ‘You don’t know anything about my father. He’d never hurt anyone, least of all us. Hedoesn’t deserve to han—’ He clamped his mouth shut. If he didn’t say the word, maybe it wouldn’t happen. His eyes blurred. He rubbed them with the back of his sleeve. ‘Come on, boy.’ He put Jago back inside the box, retied his bundle and ducked back out into the courtyard.
    A rustle of skirts sounded behind him. ‘Cousin.’ Warm fingers clutched his arm. He stiffened. ‘I’m sorry. About your father, I mean. Granny told me earlier.’
    He raised his shoulders. He didn’t care a fig what she thought.
    â€˜But what good will it do if you run away?’
    He sighed, then turned to face her. ‘You don’t understand. It’s because of me Father’s in prison. I came here to put things right and get help. But your precious granny won’t lift a finger, even though Father’s so-called crime is no worse than hers.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’ Cressida arched her eyebrows.
    â€˜My father helped a priest because he was sick and needed shelter. Your granny has a priest living under her roof and leading the Mass every Sunday. So why isn’t she in prison too?’
    She gave a small shrug. ‘Because she’s a Montague.’
    â€˜That’s your answer for everything, isn’t it?’ He kicked at a pebble. It bounced across the cobblestones and smashed into the wall opposite.
    She frowned. ‘But I don’t understand? Why was it your fault your father was captured?’
    Tom’s stomach twisted. The scene in the kitchen flashed in front of him. Constable Skinner’s jeering words. WeaselFace’s fist ready to strike. And the look of horror in Mother’s eyes as he blurted out the road Father and the priest had taken.
    He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter!’ He shouldered his bundle. If he didn’t go now he might not get another chance. He turned and marched beneath the gatehouse arch.
    â€˜Where are you going?’ Cressida’s voice echoed after him.
    â€˜To find someone who will help Father.’
    â€˜Who?’
    He clenched his jaw. Why was she asking him all these questions? ‘I don’t know. I’ll work it out along the way.’
    â€˜But what about the sergeant?’
    â€˜I’ll take my chances.’ He reached the door, took a deep breath and made to pull it open.
    â€˜Wait.’ She drew alongside him