Free The Rebel’s Daughter by Anita Seymour

to
budge.
    Indecision left Henry stranded in the middle
of the courtyard while grooms, kitchen maids and footmen rushed
between the house and the outbuildings, their arms full.
    “ Churchill’s men won’t have got this far west so soon.” Lumm
leaned his shoulder further into the reluctant animal’s side. “Like
as not, they’ll be militia patrols. Surly, tough men, but none too
bright.”
    Hendr y’s first instinct was to run back
into the stable and hide in the hay-loft, but rejected the idea as
cowardly. He had no idea where his mother was, or even if she knew
the soldiers were on their way. Would she hide or face the
soldiers?
    The clink of bridles and the rhythmic
pounding of hooves told Henry he had left his decision too late.
The soldiers were here.
     
    * * *
     
    “ Welcome
to The
Dove .” The
barrel-chested landlord greeted Helena and Bayle at the entrance,
before leading them through a low-ceilinged hall, its uneven walls
covered with mottled yellow lime-wash.
    A narrow, uneven staircase stood at one
end, curving to the upper storey like a series of elbows at odd
angles.
    Bayle negotiated their accommodation while
Helena stood fidgeting under the suspicious stare of the landlord’s
wife, a brown-faced woman with mousey hair peeking out from under a
grubby white cap.
    “ Do they
have rooms for us?” she asked, when Bayle rejoined her.
    “ For
you, certainly.” He guided her to a table in the corner of the
room, amongst a motley collection of tradesmen and merchants. “The
one he offered me is at the front.” He kept his voice so low, she
had to bend forward to hear him. “I cannot see the horses from
there, so I’ll sleep in the stable. We don’t want anyone depriving
us of them in the night.”
    They had arrived too late to
avail themselves of the evening meal; instead they were served a
supper of soup, sliced ham and potatoes fried in bacon fat, coarse bread and
strong ale. The food was hot and appetizing; the soup reminiscent
of a meaty stew and the bread was still warm.
    “ Are you
sure about spending the night in the stable?” Helena asked, her
voice reduced to a croak by the smoke from tallow and lard candles
on the table in front of them.
    “ I’ll be
happier there.” Bayle spooned food hungrily into his mouth. “The
hay there will probably be fresher than the mattress you’ll be
sleeping on.” He glanced over his shoulder at a florid man with
stained teeth who appeared to be holding court.
    “ I can
guess what he’s talking about.” Bayle tore a chunk of bread off a
loaf and chewed. “Everyone I’ve spoken to claims to have seen
king’s men rounding up rebels.”
    “ Did you
believe them?” Helena nibbled the heavy bread, picturing her mother
and Henry at home in the dining hall eating roast leg of lamb and
potatoes. Then she remembered. They will have left Loxsbeare by
now .
    The man kicked his stool aside and
advanced toward their table.
    “ He’s
coming over,” Helena gasped, ducking her head to avoid his
gaze.
    “ Heard
about them rebels have ye”?” He rolled his eyes toward the front
windows. “They’re being hanged by the roadside wherever they’re
caught. The royal army has run out of wood to build the scaffolds.”
He wiped a dirty hand across his dirtier mouth and fixed Bayle with
a penetrating gaze through bloodshot eyes.
    “ Can’t a
body eat his dinner in peace!” Bayle swung his head in the
stranger’s direction and made what Helena deduced was an obscene
gesture with one arm. “I’ve been on the road all day with a whining
lass. I don’t need you prattling on about rebels who should have
known better.”
    The man backed away rapidly, muttering to
himself.
    When she was sure they weren’t
being observed, Helena widened her eyes, and mouthed Whining
lass ?
    Bayle ’s lop-sided grin appeared but
instead of a response, he speared a chunk of bacon with his knife
and popped it into his mouth, masticating noisily.
    They finished the rest of their