Part 27 (1/2)

What else am I fit for if not to rule?'

Polly thought with sadness that the question was about to be answered with some finality. 'And what will you do now?'

'If I am rescued? Well, I fear we must know each other a little better before I impart all my secrets. But I shall not forget you, my dear. Nor the ray of hope you have afforded me.'

There was a heavy, distinctive thump against the doors.

Charles extended a thin finger. 'You see, our friends the guards have d-dropped off.'

Polly jumped from her chair and carefully opened the double doors. Ancrom and Sam were slumped inside, mouths open slackly as they slept.

'Right,' cried Polly to herself and dashed back to the window. She raised the candle and pa.s.sed it three times across her face, then set the candlestick down and turned back to Charles.

He had risen from his chair and seemed to be betraying some signs of excitement at last. His thin legs in their black stockings and breeches were trembling slightly.

'These friends of yours,' he said. 'They are in the castle, too?'

Polly nodded slowly, a trace of her former suspicion returning. 'Yes. They're to be released once I've got you out.

That was the bargain.'.

Charles tugged at his tunic and then ran a nervous hand over his beard. 'I wish you well, madam. And your friends.

When all this unhappy business is c-concluded...'

'I know,' said Polly. 'I'll come and ask for the Order of the Garter.'

Charles's reply was lost in the sudden tumult that erupted from the corridor beyond. In a moment, the double doors were thrown wide and Copper, Whyte, Moor, and three other men raced into the room. Copper looked quickly about, located Charles, and gave a low bow. 'Your Majesty. Come! Come!

We must hurry.'

The King nodded and dashed across the room. Moor threw a heavy cloak around his shoulders, which all but swamped the little man, and then hurried him out without a backward glance. 'Now, Chris, we must away,' said Copper. 'They'll discover us in a shot.'

Whyte nodded and turned to Polly with a grateful smile.

'Thank you, Polly. We could not have done this without '

'Never mind that,' said Polly. 'Where's the Doctor and the others?'

Copper made an apologetic tutting sound and walked slowly towards her. 'Of course, my dear. Your friends!

Quickly, this way.'

He held out his hand to usher her out after the King. Polly gave Whyte a quick grin and hopped over the sleeping Roundhead guards.

At once, Copper raised his dagger and prepared to plunge it down into her neck.

'No!' gasped Whyte, appalled. He thrust out his arm and knocked the weapon away. Copper glared at him furiously but, before Polly could turn, he had cracked her across the head with his gloved fist.

She crashed to the floor like a felled tree.

'You fool!' hissed Copper. 'We cannot let her live! She knows us!'

Before Whyte could reply, they heard shouts and the angry clang of a bell.

Both men exchanged fearful looks. 'We're discovered!'

cried Whyte.

Copper dashed across the room but Whyte hung back, gazing anxiously down at the prostrate Polly.

'Chris! Come! We must fly!' shouted Copper.

He fled from the room.

Whyte lingered a moment longer, his face a picture of regret. 'Farewell, dear Polly,' he murmured. 'I am sorry.'

Then he turned and hared from the room.

Oblivious to the clamour, Polly lay sprawled in a heap, a livid bruise developing on her skull.

Half running, half stumbling, Frances Kemp made her way through the dirty, snow-covered lanes towards the baker's shop she knew so well.

Her lovely face was pinched with the cold but had an altogether more haunted expression, which the severity of the weather could not explain.

Despite the gloom of the encroaching night, several friends of her family stopped and tipped their hats as they recognised her, but Frances ignored them all, keeping her head low and bustling forward, oblivious to the icy water splas.h.i.+ng at her skirts.

This time, the door to the bakery was already slightly ajar but Frances paused some feet away, listening to the sound of her own breathing, the hammering of her heart in her ribs.

She knew Thomas would be inside there now, waiting patiently, listening out for her soft tread upon the doorstep.

But how could she face him now? How could she when her heart was filled with the poison of treachery?

Frances put her hand to her head, as though trying to stop it from spinning. She hardly knew where she was. First, her new friend Polly, who had been such a comfort to her, had been spirited away, and then she had been forced to wheedle the secrets of the King's confinement from her beloved.

She walked on, her little feet crunching through the snow, and pushed gently against the woodwork of the door.

Thomas was revealed at once. He was standing in profile and Frances's heart seemed to leap into her mouth as she saw him. How handsome and n.o.ble he looked.

He turned as she entered and his face was suddenly wreathed in smiles. He dashed across the room and swept her into his arms, holding her so tightly she thought he might crush her.

She ran her hands through his long hair and smiled simply.

'Put me down, put me down,' she cooed gently.

Thomas shook his head. 'Nay, Frances. What say I carry you like this throughout all our lives?'