Free Timewatch by Linda Grant Page B

reading glasses, she began reading where Caleb had left off.
    I was in the midst of an alchemical experiment when Father, with Susanna close behind him, flung open the door. “You and your sister must hide yourselves!”
    Startled, I dropped the flask I was holding. Ignoring the shattering of glass, Father said, with an urgency that I had never before seen him display, “There is no time to lose. Alf has spotted Cromwell’s men on the track. They will be here momentarily.”
    He hurried me down the stairs where our housekeeper, Molly, was wringing her hands. We swept past her, urged on by Father, who pushed us into the priest’s hole. A faint smell of incense and candle wax still lingered in the air. The thought of the many masses that had been celebrated here was oddly comforting.
    â€œYou will remain here until the invaders leave.”
    â€œBut, Father, I must help defend our home.”
    â€œThey are too many for us, my son. Hide here with your sister. If I am arrested, take the gold hidden here—enough to provide for you both for a short time—and get you away to London to my sister’s home. Here, I have written your aunt Arabella’s address.”
    As Father spoke, he pressed a bit of paper into my hand. Then he went over to the wall on which hung a crucifix, in front of which stood a table bearing a small altar. He pressed a cunningly wrought design of a flower, which swung open. Thrusting his hand into the crevice, he withdrew a small velvet bag in which one could hear the clink of coins. His face resolute but pale, he put the bag into my hands.
    Then he looked at my sister and said, “Take this, Susanna. It was your mother’s rosary.” Emotion choked his voice as he added, “She prayed every day for you—for all of us.”
    At this juncture, we heard a mighty pounding on the door and the voices of men demanding entrance. Throwing an agonized look at us, Father hurried away. After that, we heard a loud altercation, then the sound of much stomping about and coarse voices being raised.
    As my sister bowed her head, her fingers desperately fingering the wooden beads of the rosary, I could hear her whispering, “Hail Mary, full of grace.” It was not until our solitary candle had burned down and all was quiet that we heard a tapping at the door of the priest’s hole.
    â€œMaster Jeremy,” came a whisper.
    I opened the door to find Molly, a terrified look on her face, and her brother Alf beside her.
    â€œOh, Master Jeremy, they’ve taken your father and everything they could lay their hands on, including the joint of beef I was going to serve you for dinner,” she wailed, putting her apron to her eyes.
    â€œDid they hurt Father when they laid hands on him?” demanded Susanna.
    â€œThey pushed him about somewhat, but he were walking by his self when they took him,” said Alf, his burly frame fairly quivering with outrage. “And I heard the captain of the men—a shifty-looking lot he were—boasting that Cromwell himself had promised him this house.”
    â€œYou and Miss Susanna must away from here,” said Molly, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Alf will help you.”
    â€œI give you thanks for your offer, Alf, but we both will ride to London.”
    Alf shook his shaggy head. “Cromwell’s men, the Roundheads, took the horse, but there be another way to get to London. I make weekly deliveries of vegetables there,” he explained. “You can ride with me in my wagon.”
    â€œWould that not be dangerous, what with highwaymen infesting the roads?” I asked.
    Alf laid a finger alongside his nose and said with a sly look, “Ned and me have a bargain.”
    At my puzzled look, he said patiently as though to a child, “He be a cousin of mine. I pay him what I can when I go to town. He’s never robbed me yet.”
    â€œAlf will see that Miss Susanna comes to no