Part 34 (2/2)

Ben didn't wait for the Polish captain's latest smart retort.

With a snarl he leapt to his feet and, with a rapid one-two, smashed him full in the face.

Stanislaus hovered for a second and then toppled backward.

Ben was tempted to grind his face into the mud, to drown the b.a.s.t.a.r.d there and then, but he could see the figures approaching and was, in any case, far more concerned with his friend Sal Winter.

Swiftly, he knelt down and lifted the woman's head from the mud. She was already ghastly pale but managed a flicker of a smile as she focused on Ben's face.

'Sal-'

Winter shook her head and wagged a fat finger in Ben's face.

'It's over, my lad,' she whispered. 'The sea shall claim me at last.'

Ben stroked the blood-matted hair from Winter's eyes and shook his head sadly.

'You must promise me... you must promise me that you will avenge me, Ben,' gasped the old sailor. 'Avenge me...

with style.'

She smiled and then the smile froze on her face. Her one rheumy eye rolled upward.

Ben sat for a long moment before the voice from the sh.o.r.e broke his reverie.

'Come! Come! They are almost upon you!'

Gently, he let Winter's head fall to the wet ground. Then, with a final look at the unconscious Stanislaus, he raced across the mud towards the land, little caring whether he hit another pocket of quicksand.

As he reached the firm sh.o.r.e, another musket ball whistled by him. He had escaped just in time.

Three men were waiting for him as he scrambled across the s.h.i.+ngle. Two were little more than boys, dressed in ragged, disreputable clothing. The third was an old man with a leathery face and the most appalling body odour Ben had ever encountered.

Even in his desire to thank them for saving his life, Ben couldn't help but avert his nose from the fearful stink.

'Ben Jackson?' said Nathaniel Sc.r.a.pe, extending a hand.

Ben was too astonished to shake it. 'How do you know my name?'

Utterly dejected, Frances Kemp ascended the stairs that led to the room above the inn and made her way sluggishly down the corridor. Her heart was leaden in her breast, and her every movement spoke of her misery.

In her hand she carried a rolled parchment in which she had written down in great detail all that her dear Thomas had told her about General Cromwell's movements.

She carried the paper lightly, unwillingly, secretly hoping that some strange breeze would blow it away and she would be free of her treachery. But she reached the door unscathed and knocked lightly upon its panels.

Sir John Copper opened the door himself and ushered her inside.

Without a word, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the parchment from her and took it to the lamp on the table.

He angled it to the yellow glow and rapidly scanned its contents. Then, with a smile of triumph, he turned to Frances.

'You've done well, my dear. Very well. The nation owes you a great debt.'

Frances looked him in the face. Her eyes were lifeless and rimmed with tears.

'May I go now?' she said, her voice broken with emotion.

Copper examined her amusedly. 'So soon? Come. Sit with me a while.'

He kicked at a chair, sending it sc.r.a.ping across the floor.

Reluctantly, Frances sat down in it, her head sinking on to her chest.

Copper sat down next to her and, to Frances's surprise, took her hand.

'You must not take on so, Frances. What you have done is only right and proper. You owe your allegiance to His Majesty.'

Frances raised her other hand to her face and wiped a heavy, salty tear from her eye.

'Even if it means betraying the one I love?'

Copper gave a good-humoured chuckle, like a kindly uncle dismissing a child's bad dream.

'Oh, la.s.s. Y'are scarcely out of the cradle yourself. What you feel for this... Roundhead is no more than a schoolgirl's fancy.'

Angered, Frances pulled her hand from Copper's grip but he immediately took hold of it again, his strong fingers pressing hard against her knuckles.

'You're hurting me,' she protested.

Copper suddenly pulled hard on her hand, swinging her off the chair and on to his knee.

Frances immediately tried to get off but his arm was snaking around her waist, hugging her closer.

'Leave me be!' she cried. 'I shall... I shall...'

'You'll what, girl?' snarled Copper. 'Cry out? For whom?

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