Chapter 47
Under a heavily armed guard, Ashby’s raggle-taggle prisoners entered the Great Hall, Jonathan, Daniel, and Kit in front and behind them, Sarah and Agnes.
Sarah clung to Agnes’s arm, still weepy with grief for her aunt.
Ashby had arranged his men down each side of the Great Hall, the two lines closing behind the prisoners as they walked the length of the room.
Tobias Ashby himself waited on the dais, with Turner behind him. Next to her brother, Leah Turner held the two children by the hands.
‘Henry!’ Agnes lunged forward.
‘Aunty Agnes!’ Henry wailed and struggled to release himself from Leah’s grip.
Daniel caught her by the waist.
‘Not now,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Your time will come. Sarah, see to her.’
Sarah took Agnes in charge, with an arm around her shoulders.
Henry yelped and fell silent as the fingers of Leah’s hand tightened on his shoulder.
Daniel stepped forward before Ashby could speak. He was damned if he would stand there meekly allowing this man to play God with their lives.
‘I stand here in the presence of these witnesses and accuse you of the murder of Margaret Truscott,’ he said.
Not a muscle twitched in Ashby’s face.
‘Forgive me if I misunderstand, Lovell, but the only reason Mistress Truscott was taken into my custody is because you and your fellow conspirators made her complicit in your plans,’ Ashby said, his gaze travelling along the line of prisoners.
‘Guilt by association. As for her death, that is unfortunate but my physician tells me that Mistress Truscott’s health was poor. ’
‘She would not be dead had you not dragged her through the mud and left her to die in a cold cellar,’ Daniel responded. ‘But then your crimes go back a very long way, don’t they, Ashby?’
Ashby waved a hand. ‘We are here to talk about your crimes, not mine, Lovell. Turner, shut this man up.’
With a nod from Turner, two burly soldiers stepped forward, taking Daniel by the arms. A third man delivered a punch to his abdomen that drove the breath from his body. Daniel went down on his knees, gasping like a landed fish as he struggled to suck air into his lungs.
Through the roaring in his ears, he heard Kit’s laconic drawl, tinged with the edge of his French accent. ‘Mon Dieu, Ashby, you have not mellowed with age. You may as well tell us what you plan to do with us. I have no great desire to prolong this interview longer than necessary.’
‘I command you in the name of the King to release us,’ Jonathan Thornton said, his voice carrying up into the blackened rafters above them.
‘The King?’ Ashby replied. ‘There is no king here. I see only five miscreants who will be dead before the sun crosses midday.’
Jonathan’s gaze flicked to Turner. ‘The days of this regime are numbered,’ he said.
‘The King will return and at such time everything claimed by the Committee of Safety or whoever it is who claims jurisdiction in London will return to its lawful and rightful owner. This is not the time or the place to dispute the authority of the rightful King of England or his servants and agents.’
‘Who are you?’ Ashby demanded. ‘I know the others but you are a stranger to me.’
Jonathan straightened. ‘Sir Jonathan Thornton, one time Colonel of the King’s Lifeguard,’ he said.
‘I can assure you that when the King sits once more upon his throne, the fate of those standing before you today will be of some interest to him. You have crimes enough to answer for without adding the murders of innocent people to your list.’
‘What crimes?’ Ashby sneered.
Daniel struggled to his feet, holding his ribs as he struggled for breath.
‘The death of Margaret Truscott and the cold-blooded murder of my father, Thomas Lovell, to name but two,’ he said. ‘I would wager there are others.’
He looked up at Ashby, seeing the twitch of a muscle in Ashby’s jaw that betrayed the man’s uncertainty. ‘I have waited for ten years to look you in the eye and make that accusation, Ashby.’
‘Is this true?’ Jonathan asked.
‘Thomas Lovell took up arms against the forces of Parliament. He refused to surrender when called upon to do so. An example had to be set. It was war, Thornton. You know how things were.’ Ashby licked his lips.
Glancing at Jonathan, Daniel saw no emotion in the man’s lean face. Jonathan Thornton was not a man to cross.
‘Yes,’ Jonathan said at last. ‘I know how things were. I saw innocent men die for nothing more than wearing the wrong uniform. That does not make it right.’
Ashby dismissed Jonathan’s words with a wave of his hand. ‘Enough talk, Thornton. Do you have my gold?’
Jonathan shook his head. ‘No.’
Ashby frowned. ‘No? I saw the hiding place. Something had been there until very recently.’
‘And you have no proof that it was there when we went looking for it,’ Jonathan said. ‘You can hardly accuse us of stealing something that was not there in the first place.’
Ashby frowned. ‘This is wordplay,’ he said. ‘You are thieves, all of you.’
‘And hanging us will not give you what you want,’ Jonathan said.
‘But it will give me the satisfaction of seeing you all dead,’ Ashby responded. ‘I’ve had enough of this. Turner, see the prisoners escorted to the courtyard. We will hang them from the walls.’
Turner stepped forward. He caught the eye of his burly sergeant. ‘All you men are dismissed. Return to your quarters and await further orders.’
Ashby stared at his captain. ‘What? That’s not what I ordered. Back here, all of you.’
But Turner’s men continued to tramp toward the door of the Great Hall without a backward glance.
‘Turner. Enough of this nonsense. Summon your men back, now.’
Turner did not move. His shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh and he looked up past Ashby’s shoulder to the high windows with their panes of coloured glass.
‘No,’ he said.
Ashby’s eyes widened. ‘No? What do you mean, no?’
Turner returned his gaze to Ashby. ‘I meant no.’
‘I will have you tried for mutiny,’ Ashby raged at Turner.
Turner shook his head. ‘I don’t think you will. Thornton is right — it is time for a king to rule once more in England. I am taking my men and riding north to join General Monck. I received word from a friend who is with him that he is moving on London. The end is coming.’
‘Monck? A traitor?’ Ashby stared at his captain.
Turner swallowed. ‘In a few months Charles Stuart will once again sit on the throne of this country and there will be a price to pay for those who resisted him, particularly those who participated in the killing of his father. A wise man knows where his allegiances need to lie in times like these and Ashby, your days are numbered.’
The colour drained from Ashby’s face. ‘You were there too.’
Turner’s eyes narrowed. ‘But I did not command the guard at the King’s execution. You did.’
Turner waved a hand at the prisoners. ‘I suggest, if you have any sense left, Ashby, you let these people depart with the children and whatever it was they came here to retrieve.’ He glanced at Jonathan and his lips twitched. ‘If indeed they did find it. I for one see no evidence that they did.’
‘Septimus, what are you doing?’ Leah Turner dragged the two children forward to confront her brother.
Turner shook his head. ‘It is time to return home, Leah. You are not needed here anymore.’
She glanced at Ashby, ‘But Tobias and I … we had an understanding … ’
Ashby glanced at her as if noticing her for the first time. His lip curled. ‘An understanding? I think not, Mistress Turner. Why would I want a dried-up old maid such as you?’
Leah looked from one man to the other. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It was not supposed to be like this. Tobias should be the Earl of Elmhurst, with me by his side.’
She flung Lizzie to one side, tightening her grip on Henry. From her skirts, she drew a knife.
‘Sweet Jesu,’ Kit muttered.
Agnes screamed and lunged forward again, to be caught by Jonathan. ‘She will hurt the child, Agnes. Keep your peace,’ he said.
A shot rang out in the room, reverberating off the ancient walls and setting a pigeon high in the rafters fluttering in alarm. Septimus Turner fell to his knees, looking up at Tobias Ashby with surprise in his eyes before falling forward.
From where she huddled on the floor, Lizzie screamed.
Ashby threw aside his useless pistol and Daniel saw his moment. He took the dais in a couple of leaps, wrestling to free Turner’s sword from its scabbard. Ashby, seeing what he intended, grabbed Henry off Leah. The child struggled in his grip, reaching out for Agnes and screaming her name.
Ashby slapped the child hard across the face and Henry’s protests died to a quiet whimpering and he stopped struggling.
Daniel gave Agnes a quick sideways glance. She hung in Jonathan’s arms, her eyes wide with fear.
‘Daniel … Henry … ’ she sobbed.
Daniel weighed Turner’s sword in his hand. It was an Army issue back sword, an inelegant weapon compared to his Spanish rapier, but it would do the task.
‘Put the child down and face me like a man, Ashby,’ he said. ‘Only a coward would use a child as a shield.’
Ashby’s gaze flicked around the room. He let Henry fall to the ground and took a step back, drawing his sword.
Daniel could do nothing for either Henry or Elizabeth as Leah once more swooped on both children, even as Kit began to move.
She moved away from the two men and the body of her brother, the light from the windows glinting on the honed steel of the knife she held.
Daniel considered his opponent. Ashby was older and heavier, but he had a better sword and experience on his side.
Daniel knew he was not the swordsman his brother had been before his right hand had been crippled, but close-quarter fighting on the decks of ships had taught him some interesting manoeuvres.
Ashby clearly expected him to move first, and when he didn’t the silence hung in the room with an almost palpable presence. Agnes’s choked sob echoed around them and Ashby, wearying of waiting, lunged.