Page 29 of Dark Tides
“No family at all?”
“I have a sister and her children. Poorly treated and poorly lodged. A sinner, like us all, but God knows more sinned against.”
The men fell silent.
“Anyway,” Ned said more cheerfully. “You’re safe now. The minister keeps his faith, Mr. Russell will never betray you.”
“He’s a good man,” William confirmed. “But I think we’ll take to the woods for the summer season; it’s weary work staying out of sight, living in a town but not being part of it. Hearing them practice the drills against attack and knowing they don’t know the first thing to do. They’ve not even built palisades! An enemy troop could march right in.”
“You can hide in the woods near me and I’ll keep you supplied,” Ned offered.
“Near you, or deeper into the forest,” William said. “Maybe even back to the coast. Anywhere that King Charles can’t send men to find us.”
“It’s been more than twenty years since we beheaded his father,” Ned said. “Surely there must come a time when the king offers pardons.”
“Not him!” Edward exclaimed. “This is a man who dug up his dead enemies and hanged their corpses. Cromwell himself! Our commander and the greatest men that ever served their country? Dug out of his grave and executed for spite. What good does he think that does? Raising the dead to slight them? It’s superstition like a fool, it’s little more than witchcraft.”
“Stupid,” Ned replied, whose sister had once been swum as a witch. “I can’t abide that sort of thinking.”
JUNE 1670, LONDON
As soon as James had gone, Sarah ran upstairs and brought her grandmother down to the parlor. Tabs laid the table and brought in the dinner—a venison pie from the nearby bakehouse, and a plate of oysters.
The family bowed their heads as Alinor gave thanks for the food. “And may my brother have as good a dinner and be as light of heart as we are tonight, in the new land that is his home.”
“Amen,” everyone said. Alys glanced at her mother. They had always named Rob when they said grace, but now Rob was gone and his widow took up her fork and waited to be served.
“Are they starving you at Mr. Watson’s?” Alys asked her son as he sliced the pie and gave himself a good portion, oozing with dark rich gravy.
“No, they set a good-enough table, and us counting house lads eat with the family, but there is nothing in the world like your small ale and shell bread, Ma.”
“Madame Piercy takes nothing but tea and bread and butter at dinnertime,” Sarah volunteered. “She says true ladies have no appetite. We girls go out to the pie shop every day.”
“Then how will you ever save your wages?” her mother demanded.
“Ma, I can’t. Between ribbons and dinners, I can’t make it stretch.”
“When I was your age, I only bought ribbons from the Chichester fair and that never more than once a quarter.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “But I’m surrounded by shops, Ma! It’s like poaching was for you. Everywhere I turn, there is something to pick up.”
Alinor smiled. “Don’t you believe her! Your mother would havesold her soul for cherry ribbons,” she said. “And surely you’ll earn more when you’re a senior milliner, Sarah?”
“Yes,” the girl confirmed. “And I’ll bring it home, I promise.”
Alinor turned to Johnnie. “And is Mr. Watson pleased with you?”
“He’s pleased with nothing,” Johnnie answered. “With the court so much in debt and the king such a spendthrift, all he can see, all anyone can see, is more taxes ahead. Taxes for all the City merchants to pay for luxuries at the court.” He turned to his mother. “D’you want me to look at the books with you tomorrow?”
“I’d be glad of it,” she said. “If you’re not too tired. You do look pale, my boy.”
“Ah, don’t fuss,” he said, grinning at her. “I was out drinking with the other lads last night and I have a headache from bad wine.”
“So, does he not get scolded for spending his wages on drink?” Sarah demanded. “Ribbons are forbidden, but drink is all right?”
“He’s a boy,” her grandmother teased her. “He can do as he wishes.”
“You’ll never get a husband if you’re such a shrew.” Johnnie winked at her.
