Andrew Swanston - The King's Exile

Then he ran on up the path and down to the slaves’ quarters. He knew before he reached the huts that they were deserted. There were no voices and no smells of cooking. The slaves had taken their chance and escaped. Despite the attack on the Lytes’ estate, he hoped they would survive in the woods. They had suffered enough. He ran back to the cart and set off for the Lytes’ house.

It was midday when the horse, hot and tired from being urged on at a pace he was not used to, pulled the cart up beside the Lytes’ parlour. Thomas jumped down and ran into the house. There was no sign of Adam, but Mary was there, reading a book and sipping a glass of wine. She looked up when she heard him.

‘There you are, Thomas. I was worried. Where have you been?’

‘Mary, my apologies. I thought it best not to tell you in case you tried to stop me. I’ve been at the Gibbes’s estate. There are five bags of gold outside. Could someone help me bring them in?’

‘Certainly, although if they smell like the last bag of gold that came here, it won’t be me. Fetch one of the men from the kitchen.’

When the bags had been unloaded and put in an empty storeroom, Thomas returned to Mary. ‘Is Adam here?’ he asked. ‘I must be off at once and could do with his help.’

‘Adam has gone to Bridgetown. The Assembly meets today to confirm Sir George Ayscue as governor. Why do you need help?’

‘Tobias Rush is dead. I believe my sister and nieces are under guard at a house on Long Bay. They will be killed if I don’t rescue them by nightfall.’

‘Your sister is here?’

Thomas nodded.

‘Then we must waste no time. Long Bay is a good ride from here. Saddle two horses, Thomas, while I change my clothes.’

‘Mary, this will be dangerous. I can’t possibly allow you to come. Let me take someone else.’

‘Nonsense, Thomas. I won’t hear of it. And a woman’s touch might be just what’s needed. Now go and prepare the horses.’

Thomas had heard that tone before. He went to find two good horses.

By the time they had covered half the distance to Long Bay, Mary had heard about Rush’s death and what he had said about Margaret and her daughters. There was no certainty that they were at Long Bay but it was all they had. And Thomas suspected that Rush, perversely, had for once told the truth in the expectation that he would kill Thomas before he could act upon it. It was just the way his devious mind would work.

She suggested a plan. ‘Long Bay is a wild spot. I didn’t know there were any houses there. That’s probably why Rush chose it. I’ll approach the house from the front, knock on the door and pretend to be lost. I’ll distract the guard while you look for a back entrance. Get inside and find your sister. If she doesn’t faint when she sees you, keep her quiet somehow. And the girls. No screaming and no shouting. Get them out and run. I’ll keep the guard busy as long as I can.’

It was a hasty plan; the guard might be impervious to Mary’s charms, there might be more than one of them and Thomas might not be able to keep at least one of the girls from screaming. They’d probably take him for a thief and call for help. After all, it was nearly four years since they’d seen him. But there was no time for a better plan. If the guard really was under orders to kill them, it would have to do.

Long Bay was well named. A narrow strip of sand perhaps four hundred yards long, it curved elegantly beneath a steep cliff facing out to the Atlantic. Waves swept up the bay, entirely covering the sand, only to wash quietly back to the ocean. It was a lonely place and at first they saw no houses.

They rode along the cliff top almost the length of the bay before a cottage appeared, partly hidden by a stand of trees and no more than ten yards from the cliff edge. Rush had chosen well. It was a good place to hide, easy to defend, and he had probably used it before. Thomas tethered his horse and made his way through the trees to the other side of the cottage. From there he would creep along the cliff top to the back, hoping to find an easy way in.

When Thomas had disappeared into the trees, Mary rode up to the door of the cottage, dismounted and knocked loudly. She had undone two buttons on her dress and hitched it up above her ankles. She hoped the guard was one for the ladies and when a tall young man answered the door, she thought she might be in luck. Dark-haired, brown-eyed and with a scar down his left cheek, he looked promising. Mary decided to play all her cards at once. She gave him a dazzling smile and smoothed her hair with a hand. ‘Excuse me, sir. I was out for a ride and seem to be lost. My horse is a little lame too. Could you direct me to the road for Oistins?’

The guard also thought his luck was in. A pretty lady, lost and alone, and in need of help. Just the thing to cheer him up. ‘Why don’t you come inside, miss, while I take a look at your horse?’ he offered.

‘That is most kind of you, sir, but I must be on my way. If you could just give me directions.’

The guard had noticed the buttons and the ankles and was not to be put off so easily. ‘Come now, miss, a glass of wine will do you good. Step inside for a minute.’

‘You’re too kind, sir. But would you look at the horse first? I’d like to be sure he’s sound.’

‘Very well, miss. I’ll do that.’ He shut the door, carefully locking it behind him, and walked over to the horse. He examined each hoof in turn, ran his hands up and down each leg and patted it on the rump. ‘I’d say he’s sound, miss. Can’t see anything wrong.’

‘Oh, good. He seemed to be favouring a front leg. Perhaps I was mistaken.’

‘Must have been, miss. Now shall you have that glass of wine?’

Before Mary could reply, there was a shriek from inside the cottage. The young guard, wine forgotten, ran back to the door. The lock delayed him but a moment and he was inside within seconds. Tobias Rush had a way of making a man move very fast.

While Mary had been distracting the guard, Thomas had slipped round the cottage and found a back door. He tried the handle but of course it was locked. The shutters of one window were slightly open. He peered through them and, easing his hand in, managed to reach the catch and push them fully open without making any noise. The window was low enough for him to pull himself up and tumble inside head first.

The room was empty. He tried the door. It was locked. He was locked in the cottage in an empty room and had no idea how Mary was getting on, or how many guards there were. There was no time for thought. He would have to act. He stepped back to the window and launched himself at the door. It creaked but held. He tried again. This time the lock broke and he fell through the doorway. Three terrified faces looked down at him sprawled on the floor and one of them screamed.

He got to his feet and held his finger to his lips. ‘Margaret, it’s me. There’s no time to explain. We must go.’ Margaret peered at him. Thomas? She peered again. Older, sturdier and with a faint scar on his cheek, but it was Thomas. Recovering some of her wits, she shepherded the girls to the window.

‘Out, girls, quickly.’ Margaret pushed Lucy through the window and was helping Polly up on to the window ledge when the guard burst in, his pistol drawn. Polly jumped and Margaret turned to block the window. Thomas stood in front of her. No more than ten feet from the guard, he braced himself for the shot. The guard raised his pistol and fired. As he did so, he was pushed hard in the back by Mary, who had followed him inside. The shot went wide, merely grazing Thomas’s arm. The guard lunged past him and got his arm around Margaret’s throat. He moved behind her. ‘Move an inch and she dies,’ he threatened. ‘Either of you.’