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“Ready,” Ned said, his voice low, and then as he heard the order come down the line, he told them: “Forward!”
They ran as fast as they could down the road, the officers on horseback churning up the dust before them, and saw ahead of them the royalist army, pressing on the barricade, turn around white-faced at the sudden shock of a charge coming from behind them. There was a rattle of fire from their muskets; but the royalist cannon, facing towards the village, was useless against their charge. The barricade under attack set up a cheer of defiance. The rear of the rebel troops, coming up fast, broke through the hedge beside the royals and fell on them, who were now encircled but for the west. Then the Monmouth cannon roared out. Ned got his troop in the shelter of a hedge, commanded a fusillade of shots, and advanced onto the lane. The royalists scrambled over the barricade they had been attacking, and tried to get behind it for shelter.
“Push on!” Ned told his men. “Forward!” and brought them onward and onward until he heard the finest sound in the world—the bugle sounding the royalist retreat.
Incredulously, Ned, who had fought a royal army in three battles more than forty years before, watched the regular army under command of the French Earl of Feversham fall back from an attack by plowboys and traders. The rebels yelled gleeful abuse, and Ned didn’t stop them. William Hewling, the young volunteer, danced in the road with green handkerchiefs like a morris man. Ned laughed, ordered his men into position, telling them to maintain fire, and went to find Monmouth for orders.
“They’re retreating.” He grinned. “We’ve won.”
Monmouth recognized Ned, though his face was blackened with soot and mud. A light rain was starting to fall and the summer dusk was cool.
“Ferryman! We’ll go after them,” he said.
“No!” Colonel Venner dismounted from his horse and patted its heaving side. “Let them go. We should march on London, not chasethem around the west country. Half of them’ll desert after this, anyway. This is the turning point for us.”
Monmouth looked undecided. “A victory now…”
Ned agreed with the colonel. “It’s only the vanguard of the royal army. Not their full force. They’ll draw back to reunite with the main army. It’s a trap for us to go after them.”
The duke nodded. “You’re right. Beat the drums,” he ordered. “Break camp. Prepare to march.”
“On London?”
“On London!”
REEKIE WHARF, LONDON, SUMMER 1685
Alys was having her breakfast with her mother at the little worktable, the glass door was open to the balcony, and the sound of the gulls fishing in the flowing river came into the bright little room.
“I dreamed of Rowan last night,” Alinor remarked to her daughter.
Alys folded her lips and would not ask about the dream.
“I suppose she and Ned are still with the Duke of Monmouth,” Alinor went on. “Do you pray for him, Alys?”
“Not as a rebel,” Alys said. “And in the church when they pray for the king and the destruction of his enemies, I say “Amen.” There’s always someone watching, you never know who might speak out against us. We’re not so well established, even now, that we don’t have enemies.”
“Will you ever feel safe?”
“Will you?”
Alinor took a moment to reply. “A woman’s never safe.” She glanced at her daughter. “You know that, as well as me. And I suppose that’s why I like Rowan so much. She’s been close to death, like me, andsurvived it. You’re no longer fearing the unknown. When they put me on the mill wheel to test me for a witch, I knew I was drowning. When I came back to life, and saw daylight through the water, I knew the worst was over. I’d faced death in the dark water. I’ll never fear it again.”
Alys was bitter. “It should never have happened. I should have spoken up. James Avery should have stopped it.”
“Perhaps—but it’s left me without fear. Like Rowan.”
“Ah, her! Who knows what she thinks: she barely speaks! Who knows what Uncle Ned sees in her?”
Alinor smiled at her stubborn daughter. “I think he loves her dearly.”
“Not him! He pitied her in slavery and then got himself stuck with her. She’ll leave him as soon as she sees a better life. Probably with another man.”
“Johnnie was very taken with her, I thought?”
“Johnnie!” Alys was outraged. “Johnnie has a better sense of what is due to him than to look twice at a girl out of the woods of the Americas with nothing but impertinence!”
“And courage,” her mother pointed out.
