Ana Seymour - Moonrise

Sarah took a step toward the child and knelt down to put an arm around his thin shoulders. “They won’t hang him, Benjamin. The parson’s no thief, and they’ll figure that out soon enough, I reckon.”

“He had chains on his hands.” The boy’s eyes were wide.

“It’s what they do to prisoners, Ben. But they’ll take the chains off when they set him free. Now, does your mother know you’re down here in the green?”

The boy looked down and shook his head.

“Then you’d best run along home so she won’t worry. You can’t help the parson any by staying here.”

She straightened and looked around at the group. “I guess there’s not much reason for any of us to stay. I’ll talk to my uncle and have him send word to his solicitor.”

Mayor Spragg seemed relieved to see the situation come to a temporary resolution. “Yes, indeed. As long as there are king’s men in town, we should all be safely back in our homes.”

After an encouraging push from Sarah, the boy, Benjamin, took off at a brisk run, and one by one the rest of the group dispersed until just Sarah and Anthony were left. Anthony had a puzzled look on his face.

“What did your mayor mean about being safely back in their homes? Surely the people of Wiggleston have nothing to fear from representatives of the king?”

Sarah gave a humorless laugh. “We never used to be afraid, but now that the king’s collectors have tripled the tax, people are wary. Most of them simply don’t have the funds to pay such amounts.”

“The tax has tripled?”

Sarah gave Anthony a look of exasperation. “You fine folk carry on with your parties and games in the palaces of London and think you are ruling the country, but you have no idea of what is really going on in the rest of England.”

Anthony looked around him. He could now see that many of the brick houses that had appeared so neat when he first rode into the village were in a ramshackle state of repair. “When were these new taxes imposed?”

“Months ago. They tell us that the king has run out of money to fight wars with the Dutch over slaving stations thousands of miles off in Africa and the New World. But what is that to us here in Yorkshire? We don’t have anything against the Dutch. We’ve traded with them for years.”

Anthony was silent. This mission was proving to be more educational than he had anticipated.

“I’m sorry to vent my feelings on you, Lord Rutledge. I realize that the arrest of Parson Hollander has nothing to do with you.”

He felt an uncharacteristic flush of guilt. “Perhaps we should be getting back to Leasworth. You said that you wanted to talk with your uncle.”

“Yes. I don’t want the parson to spend one hour more than necessary in that awful place.”

* * *

“Sarah, I can’t let you do this.” Jack’s normally smiling face was grim.

“I don’t have any other choice. I can’t let the parson stay in prison for something that I did. My only other alternative would be giving myself up to the tender mercies of King Charles’s justice. And you’ll remember, Jack, just how that ended up for our father.” Sarah was curled up like a kitten in the corner of a large sleeping couch. She looked to Jack like a girl of twelve. It was impossible to picture her mounted on a spirited stallion and brandishing a sword.

“I know you’re my big sister, but it’s time I took on some of my burdens as a man in this family. If it has to be done, I’m the one to do it.”

Sarah pushed herself up out of the deep cushions. Jack could almost see her hair stand on end as she glared at him. “Do you think I’ve kept you out of notice of the king these four years past just to let you give yourself up now? The king can extend Father’s death warrant to you with a snap of his fingers. And then what would I be left with?”

“That’s assuming I would be caught, sister dear. And though you may not have noticed, I now ride as well as you do, better perhaps.”

“I swear, Jack, if I have to get the servants to help me tie you to your bed, I’ll not let you do this thing. Uncle Thomas would agree with me. He’s always supported me in my attempts to keep you out of the king’s way.”

“Uncle Thomas doesn’t know that his niece is the moonlight bandit,” Jack reminded her sharply. “Besides, I thought you were going to get his solicitor to look at the case. Perhaps we won’t have to do anything at all.”

“Uncle Thomas has already sent word to Mr. Montague.”

“And...?”

Sarah’s head drooped. “He says he doesn’t hold out much hope when they caught the parson red-handed with some of the stolen jewels.”

Jack was silent for a moment, then said firmly, “Perhaps you are right that we’ll have to do something. But if there’s to be fighting involved, I’m the one who will be doing it.”

Sarah sank back into the cushions with a sigh. “My head hurts, Jack. It’s been a very long and unsettling day. Why don’t you go on back to your Mistress Thatcher and let me alone? We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Jack wasted no time on sympathy. “There’s nothing to talk about, Sarah. You’re not going to ride in single-handedly and break Parson Hollander out of the gaol. The whole idea’s crazy.”

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