Page 51 of The Swindler’s Daughter

“Why didn’t you stick a rag in her mouth?” I hissed as I threw one leg over the sill.

“Because I’ve never shoved anyone into a wardrobe before! Run. I’ll follow.”

I trusted that he would do just that and didn’t look back as I made my way around the house. I stepped into the lane, doing my best to appear as though I was a servant with places to be and no time to spare.

I brushed past someone in my hurry and my hood fell from my head. I tugged it back into place and kept walking, confident that the boys would follow me without appearing as if they were following me.

A commotion erupted behind me, and the maid’s frantic shouts of “Thieves! Thieves!” forced me to pick up my pace. I started to run past the parsonage, but the side door creaked open and a voice hissed from the darkness beyond. “This way!”

I didn’t have time to debate. My instinct told me to trust the offer, so I did. I ran toward the door, Rowan and the others following close behind. We slipped inside, one after the other, the door closing as soon as Oliver was inside.

The only light came from small windows high up in the walls. There were no candles lit, so all I could make out of our rescuer were the robes of a parson.

“Follow me,” he said, leading us through the little chapel and into the back rooms that served as his home.

“Why are you helping us?” I had to ask.

“My parishioners confide in me. They tell me their troubles. I’ve heard stories of the magistrate’s corruption and greed. I’ve also heard stories of a band of do-gooders who are fighting back.” He reached the rear door and put a hand to it before turning to look at each of us. “I know right from wrong. And the magistrate is wrong.”

His words reverberated in my mind and heart, giving me courage, reassuring me that my path was the right one.

A pounding came from the front of the parsonage, making me jump.

“Father Tucker!” someone shouted. “Open the door!”

“I’ll stall them as long as I can, but it won’t be long. Run.” He opened the back door.

We didn’t pause for thanks or goodbyes. We did as he said and ran, grateful that the parsonage bordered the forest. I thought perhaps we would make a clean getaway, but when I glanced back, I saw one of the constables burst from the back door of Father Tucker’s home.

I ran faster, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“There! In the trees!”

12

As I crashed through Murrwood Forest, my skirts held out of my way, I wondered how it had all gone so wrong. Everything had been going so smoothly. How had we missed that there was a servant in the house? I didn’t know and I couldn’t worry about that right now because I had much more urgent problems to worry about, like how I and the others were going to outrun the constables.

John and Oliver were somewhere up ahead. Rowan was staying close by and I knew that I was slowing him down.

The constant shouts of “Halt!” and “You there!” continued to ring behind us as the constables fought to close the distance. I wouldn’t be nearly as terrified by their pursuit if one of them didn’t have a crossbow that he’d been using liberally.

“How much farther?” I huffed, knowing there was a certain spot they’d chosen where they believed we could hide. It had all been part of the plan. Hope for success. Plan for failure.

Rowan suddenly grabbed my arm and yanked me to the right just as an arrow flew by my left arm. Panic started to claw at my chest. “They’re going to shoot us,” I yelped. I’d run from angry men before, but none had ever shot at me.

“No, they’re not,” he said as he spun back, nocking and shooting his own arrow before turning back and cresting the hill with me. The other side was steep and covered in leafy vines. We both crouched to slide down. My right thigh was going to be bruised, I was sure of it.

All I could see below was a dry riverbed and then a steep incline on the other side. We’d never make it up the embankment in time but we had to try. I stumbled to my feet when we reached the bottom and headed for the other side but Rowan caught my hand.

“This way,” he hissed in a whisper, pulling me along the hillside we’d just slid down. I was certain that the constables were going to reach the top of the rise and see us at any moment, but then Rowan stopped. He put his bow over his shoulder and grabbed a handful of the leafy vines that blanketed the incline beside us. He pulled them aside and urged me toward the gap he’d created. There was a crevice behind the vines and I scrambled inside, yanking on Rowan’s hand to be sure he followed.

He folded himself into the space beside me, dropping the vines over the gap to conceal our position as we sat in the dim, earthy space. Then we waited, our breath huffing in and out, the sound somehow muted by the dirt around us but loud at the same time. Our breathing was too loud. Surely it would give us away.

Soon after, the shouts of the constables could be heard, calling to one another. Their confusion rang in their voices, and frustration made them louder. “Find them!” one finally screamed in anger. “Fan out and find them! I will not lose them. Not again!”

My heart pounded, worried they’d start looking behind every bush and boulder, but their footfalls and voices swiftly faded as they hurried in different directions, determined to track us down.

I let out a shuddering sigh and Rowan let out his own gusty breath of relief, then the shadow of him turned to look behind us. “John?” he called quietly.