Jane Hardstaff - The Executioner's Daughter

First published in Great Britain 2014

by Egmont UK Limited, The Yellow Building,

1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

Text copyright © 2014 Jane Hardstaff

Chapter illustrations © 2014 Joe McLaren

The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted

First e-book edition 2013

ISBN 978 1 4052 6828 8

eISBN 978 1 7803 1388 7

www.egmont.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont cannot take responsibility for any third party content or advertising. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet.

For Mum and Dad

Cover

Title page

Copyright First published in Great Britain 2014 by Egmont UK Limited, The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN Text copyright © 2014 Jane Hardstaff Chapter illustrations © 2014 Joe McLaren The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted First e-book edition 2013 ISBN 978 1 4052 6828 8 eISBN 978 1 7803 1388 7 www.egmont.co.uk A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont cannot take responsibility for any third party content or advertising. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet.

Dedication For Mum and Dad

1 Basket Girl

2 The Prisoner

3 The Song of the River

4 Escape

5 River Thief

6 Two-Bellies’ Revenge

7 The Queen’s Uncle

8 Keeping a Secret

9 A Hand in the Darkness

10 The Ragged Man

11 Truth and Lies

12 Leaving

13 Salter

14 Bread First Then Morals

15 Frost Fair

16 Salter’s Scam

17 Ice River Ride

18 Dragon’s Heart

19 The Queen and the Little Swan

20 The Riverwitch

21 Snatcher on the Shore

22 Ghosts in the Walls

23 A Trick

24 Drowning

25 The Great Wave

26 Friends

27 Bluebell Woods

A note from the author

Acknowledgements

About the Publisher

She’d never get used to beheadings. No matter what Pa said.

Peering through the arrow-slit window, Moss tried to catch a glimpse of the fields beyond Tower Hill. All she could see were people. Crazy people. Spilling out of the city. Scrabbling up the hill for the best view of the scaffold. Laughing and shouting and fighting. Madder than a sack of badgers. She could hear their cries, carried high on the wind, all the way up to the Tower.

‘Get your stinking carcass off my spot!’

‘Son-of-a-pikestaff, I ain’t goin nowhere!’

‘What are you? Dumb as a stump? Move your bum, I said! I’ve been camping here all night!’

‘Then camp on this, coloppe-breath!’

She shook her head in disgust. Execution Days brought a frenzied crowd to Tower Hill. The more they got, the more they wanted. Like a dog with worms.

Of course, London had always been execution-mad. If there was a monk to be drawn and quartered or a Catholic to be burned, the people liked nothing better than to stand around and watch. Preferably while eating a pie. But you couldn’t beat a good beheading. That’s what the Tower folk said. Up on the scaffold was someone rich. Someone important. Maybe even a Royal. That’s what people came for. Royal blood. Blood that glittered as it sprayed the crowd. It made Moss feel sick just thinking about it.

‘Moss!’

Pa was calling. She could hear his cries below, faint among the bustle on Tower Green.

‘Moss, MOSS!’

He’d be panicking by now. Well, let him panic. She’d sit tight. She’d wait. With luck, he wouldn’t find her. Judging by the rats’ nest in the fireplace, no one had used this turret for months. No prisoners, no guards and no one to find a girl somewhere she shouldn’t be.

Moss scraped her tangle-hair out of the way and pushed her freckle-face to the narrow gap. Up here, she was ten trees tall. She could see everything. On one side Tower Hill. On the other the river. And, in between, the Tower of London, planted like a giant’s fist in the middle of a deep moat, lookouts knuckled on all corners. It was said that the Tower was strong enough to keep out a thousand armies. Bounded by two massive walls, it guarded the city, arrow-slit eyes trained on the river. It was a fortress, a castle and a prison. Moss had lived here all her life. And in the summer the reek of the moat made it stink like a dead dog’s guts.

‘Moss!’

Pa’s voice was closer.

‘MOSS!’

Too late she heard his feet pounding up the twist of steps. Now there was no way out. She scowled and scrunched herself into a corner.