CHAPTER SIX

 

Keep a constant watch. And pray that, if possible, you may escape these horrors and stand before the Son of Man.

(Luke 21:36)

 

I woke to a cold December rain pelting the panes of our bedroom window on the second floor of the manor. The room was still slightly darkened, an indication that sunrise was coming shortly. Rising from the bed, I realized what day this was and what was ahead of me.

Another warrant had been sworn out for John, but this time we’d received advance warning from a friend of Sir Thomas, who worked for the King’s legal counsel in London. My worst fears had become reality, yet again. It was obvious this time what had occurred, because Jeremy Tibbets had disappeared shortly before Christmas, and one of John’s pamphlets had departed with him. Everyone knew that it was he who had betrayed us. He had fooled us all—making us believe that he had been thrown out of his home by the new husband of his widowed mother. My, the yarns he had told. I now wondered whether he had even been responsible for the death of the previous stable boy. If so, he was a dangerous young man and I, for one, was glad he was gone.

Oh, well, I reminded myself, if John hadn’t been writing those things, none of this would have happened in the first place. But John was working for the Kingdom of Christ and, even though I feared for his safety, I knew in my heart that what he was doing was right, even if it cost us everything.

After receiving the message from his friend at Court, Sir Thomas had quickly dispatched a ship to Leiden with a message to John Robinson that John and I would be arriving as soon as possible. As of today, no return message had been received, but I knew Mr. Robinson would not fail us—he would be waiting for us on the other side of the North Sea. I was going to miss England. However, I still longed for home—America—and Leiden was just that much farther away from everything I had known. England was a great deal like home, but Holland was a different atmosphere entirely.

Oh, goodness, I remembered, I still haven’t told John my news about the baby. I guess that will have to wait now until we’re aboard ship. I certainly wasn’t going to worry him right now. He had enough to fret about. I’d told Grandmother Fionna and Lady Elizabeth yesterday, but had sworn them to secrecy until I could tell John myself.

I descended the stairs, absently-mindedly tapping my gold wedding band on the banister and fingering the golden orb through my dress. John and William were just coming in from outside.

“Well, my little sleepy-head is awake, it seems,” John said, smiling, as he wrapped his long fingers around my small ones.

“Good morning, sister,” William said, pleasantly.

“Good morning to you, William,” I replied. “Are we ready to go to the docks?”

“Just about, sweetheart,” John answered me. “We just have to finish loading your trunks. Are they ready to be brought down?”

“Everything is packed, and the trunks are at the foot of the bed.”

“Then all that’s necessary is for you to have a quick bite of breakfast and for us to get to the docks, where the Hart, Father’s swiftest ship, awaits us. William and I will get the trunks. We’re pushing our luck as it is. The King’s men could be here at any time, although I believe we have a few days, yet.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, brother,” William said. “The messenger really didn’t know how quickly the warrant would be processed.”

“Well, we shall pray that God will grant us time. Come on, brother, let’s get those trunks loaded.”

John and William started up the stairs, and I went into the dining room for breakfast. Seeing no one, I sat down at the table and filled my plate with eggs, bacon and toast. My stomach was a little queasy, but I knew that as soon as I filled it, the nausea would go away. I had been experiencing morning sickness for a few days and had learned by now how to alleviate it. It wasn’t too long before John came into the dining room to get me.

“Sarah, it’s time to go. Mother and everyone are ready to see us off. Of course, Grandmother won’t be down. I said my goodbyes to her a few minutes ago. She cried—I figured she would.” Some time ago, I had ceased to be Gayle. Everyone called me by my new name, now.

“I saw her last night, and she cried then, too,” I said. “I’m going to miss everyone so much. Especially, when the….” I stopped abruptly, turning around so John wouldn’t see my face. I never was very good at lying.

“When the what?” John snapped his head up.

“Uh, when….the holidays come round. Never mind. Forget I said anything. Come on, let’s get going,” I said, hoping to distract him from my blunder. I laced my arm through his and steered him out of the dining room and hopefully, into other thoughts.

When we entered the foyer, everyone was waiting. Lady Elizabeth was hanging on to Sir Thomas, weeping quietly. I knew why. She was going to miss the birth of her first grandchild. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled through her tears. Mary, Lizzie and little Thomas were sitting on the stairs. Even William, normally so stout and stuffy, looked as if he might cry.

Suddenly, we heard what sounded like a thousand horses thundering up the drive. Sir Thomas quickly rushed to the door and peered outside. Slamming the door, he spun around.

“God’s teeth!” he boomed. “It’s the King’s men. John, you and Sarah must hide, quickly!”

“Hide!?” John gasped. “Where are we supposed to hide? They’ll search the house, Father.”

“Well, we can’t just let them have you,” I said. “You know what happens to those who print pamphlets. Oh, John, what are we going to do?” I could feel my stomach twist into knots, and knew I was about to lose my breakfast.

A fierce pounding sounded upon the great oaken door and that authoritative voice we knew so well shouted: “Open up in the name of King James. We have a warrant for the arrest of John Keeney.”

“Go on, Father,” John said, with resignation. “Open the door. It’s no use hiding—they’ll eventually find me anyway.”

Again, the King’s man shouted: “Open the door or we’ll break it down! Now!”

“Go on, Father,” John repeated.

Slowly my father-in-law, with his shoulders slumping, opened the door. Immediately, the red-coated officer pushed his way into the hall and removed his hat. Water rained down upon the polished wood floor, forming small puddles that glistened in the light of the overhead chandelier.

I remembered the captain well. He was a lanky man, maybe thirty years old, with a face so red and raw from the winter wind that it looked as though he had scraped the skin off his long jaw with the hog-hair bristles of his shaving brush. He had a stressed-out look like the businessmen I’d seen pushing their way through the streets of modern-day Cincinnati. His dark hair was worn long and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather lace. Behind him, I could see about six or seven other men tending their horses.

“I have an arrest warrant for John Keeney,” he stated, looking at Sir Thomas. “Is he here?”

“No,” Sir Thomas spat out the lie rather too quickly. “He’s not here. You have come at a very….”

John stepped forward, gently pushing his father aside. “I’m John Keeney, sir,” he said, boldly. “Why do you invade my home, frightening my wife and family?”

Looking disgusted at the attempted deception, the captain turned to John and drew an important-looking paper from his inside coat pocket. Breaking the wax seal, which carelessly fell on the floor at his feet, he unfurled the document, straightened his stance so he looked like a popinjay, and began to read: “By order of King James I of England and Ireland, I hereby arrest you for the charges of writing and distributing seditious literature damaging to the state church of the land and to the Crown.” He rolled the document up, slipped it inside his jacket, and produced a set of shackles. “You will please come with me.”

At his pronouncement, Lady Elizabeth sighed and fainted into her husband’s arms. Little Thomas suddenly charged forward and kicked the captain in the shin. “You will not take my brother! I’ll not let you!” he shouted, as he pummeled the man in the stomach.

“Ow! Who is this little urchin?” the captain said, rubbing his injured shin and gently pushing the child away.

“My younger brother; please forgive his youthfulness,” John replied, turning to the child and kneeling down to his level. “Thomas, you will not treat the King’s man in this fashion. He is only doing his duty to King and country. Now, say you’re sorry.”

“No, I’ll not!” little Thomas shouted, crossing his arms and sticking out his lower lip.

“Thomas, say-you-are-sorry,” John insisted.

“Yes sir,” Thomas said, lowering his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Apology accepted,” the captain replied, absently. “Turn around, please, Mr. Keeney. I must shackle you.”

“Oh, is that really necessary?” I cried, “especially in front of his mother?”

“I’m sorry, madam,” the captain countered. “I cannot take any chances that my prisoner might escape. I have had a difficult time finding you, Mr. Keeney.”

“It’s alright, Sarah,” John said. “Go ahead, Captain.” John turned his back, and the captain placed the manacles on John’s wrists. Taking hold of the chain connecting the two rings together, he led John out onto the veranda and down the steps to a waiting horse. By this time, Lady Elizabeth had revived, and the family followed the men outside. Lady Elizabeth and Lizzie were weeping. But for some reason, I couldn’t cry. I stood stock-still, my heart racing, breath held tight, panic gripping the pit of my stomach, watching as my world slid alarmingly out of control. Shouting “Wait!” or “Stop!” would do me no good. Everything had a sudden, extra-keen edge to it. Sunlight gleamed like liquid gold, colors shone brighter and sharper, the grass greener, the sky bluer. My heart beat alarmingly against my breast, as though it might suddenly leap out and splatter on the ground in front of me. It was as though everything was moving in slow motion. Nothing seemed real. I was utterly stunned. I braced myself against the railing, trying not to faint. I could feel the golden orb growing hot with the heat of my body. If he dies, I’m going back, I promised myself. I can’t bear to stay here without him.

Time seemed to stop, as the soldiers moved ever so slowly, mounting their horses, and then turning them around. A solitary leaf, one of the last of the season, fell from the beech tree beside the house and slowly, slowly floated down to land at my feet. I stooped to pick it up, examining the tiny veins that ran through it. Looking up, I caught a glimpse of the King’s men, with John in tow at a snail’s pace, slowly riding down the tree-lined drive. John turned around in the saddle and looked back at me.

“It will be alright, Sarah,” he called. “Trust in the Lord, Sarah. Trust in the Lord, until I return. Remember our future is secure—settled in heaven!”

“Trust in the Lord,” I whispered, and fainted.

 

*************

 

When I came to, I was lying on the sofa in the keeping room. Lady Elizabeth was kneeling over me with a cold cloth on my head.

“Do you feel alright, Sarah?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, shakily. “What happened?”

“You fainted, my dear,” she said. “I suppose it was the shock of seeing John taken away.” Then I remembered, and the tears came, coursing down my cheeks.

“Oh, Lord Jesus,” Lady Elizabeth said, looking up at her husband. “Thomas, what are we doing to do?”

“Well, I’ll tell you what I’m NOT going to do,” William roared, rising from his chair. “I’m not going to sit here and let my brother be taken away to his death. I’m going after him. If I tail them tonight, I might be able to free him and get him to the docks.”

“Now, William,” Sir Thomas cautioned, placing a restraining hand on his son’s shoulder. “That’s a very noble thought, but it’s not right that both of you should suffer. There’s little chance you can accomplish something like this.”

“Well, I mean to try,” he answered, shaking off his father’s hand. “Nothing you say will change my mind. I’m going. Little Thomas, run and tell Mr. Bidwell to saddle a horse.”

“Tell him to saddle two horses, Thomas,” I said, suddenly sitting up. “I’m going, too.”

“What!” William said, turning to me. “You’re not going. You’ll only slow me down. You need to get to the docks and board that ship. I’ll bring John to you.”

“William,” I stood up and faced him squarely, my head still swimming. “I AM going with you. I cannot sit idly by and wait and wonder what’s happening. I have to do something, anything.”

“Mother, can’t you reason with her?” William begged, turning to Lady Elizabeth.

“Sarah, you can’t go with William—not in your condition.” Lady Elizabeth tried to reason with me.

“In what condition?” William barked sharply, looking at his mother.

“She’s with child, William,” Lady Elizabeth said.

“God’s blood!” William swore.

“William!” his mother gasped, obviously shocked at her son’s outburst.

“I’m sorry, Mother. But, that settles it, Sarah,” William said firmly. “You’ll definitely not be going.”

“I AM GOING!” I shouted, feeling the panic rising within me. “I AM GOING, and nothing you can say will keep me from going after my husband. You might as well take me, because I’ll only follow you! I swear, I will!”

Suddenly a small, tiny, Irish voice spoke from the doorway: “Let the bairn go after her husband.” It was Grandmother Fionna, leaning on her companion, Molly.

“I’m sorry, mum,” Molly apologized. “When we heard the shouting, I couldn’t restrain her.”

“Mother, she’s with child. She’ll hurt herself and may miscarry,” Sir Thomas said, crossing the room to stand before his mother.

“Tomas, I’ve carried a bairn or two before, and at this early stage, the stress of not knowin’ might do more damage than if she went ahead. There’s no reason why she canna go with Liam. Now, I say, let her go.” Fionna always used the Irish form of William’s name when speaking of her eldest grandson.

“It’s too dangerous,” William appealed to his grandmother. “I don’t think she should go. John would never forgive me, if something happened. In fact, he’d beat me to a pulp.”

“Do ye think so?” The tiny, gray-haired woman said, turning to face her grandson. “Well, I’m of a different opinion. And besides, the lass says she’ll only follow ye later, and I believe she will. She’s stubborn, she is, and she’ll be a whole lot safer in yer company than out of it, dinna ye think?”

“Well, alright,” William relented, with an exasperating sigh. “She can go. But you have to do exactly what I say, do you understand me?”

“Yes, William,” I said, as I rushed from the room.

“Sarah,” Grandmother Fionna called, stopping me in my tracks at the foot of the stairs.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, stepping back into the room.

“Dinna fash yerself,” she said, winking at me. “T’will be alright. God is a verra, verra good God. He will protect my grandsons, and my great-grandson.”

Smiling back at her, I charged up the stairs to get my heavier cloak and to put on another petticoat for warmth.

Descending the stairs a few moments later, I saw William kissing his mother farewell. He looked up at me and smiled that crooked little grin of his, so much like his brother’s.

“Well, sister,” he said. “I guess we’re off on another adventure, may God have mercy on our souls.”

“I suppose so,” I said, smiling back. “And He will.”

An hour later found us slowly following tracks in the muddy rut called The London Road. We’d passed through Downham Market a half hour earlier and the sun was just beginning to set in the west over the Fens. We went a ways in silence, broken only by slow hoof beats and a low wind out of the north rustling the grass tops. I was glad I had chosen to wear my warmer cloak. It also had a heavy hood that would keep the wind off my head. Both of us were absorbed in our thoughts and worries.

William, I knew, was planning next his move, when we finally caught up with our quarry. I was wondering how John was faring. He hadn’t been wearing anything but a light coat—he must be getting very cold, I thought. A few light flakes of snow began to fall, as we neared the turnoff to Southery. Suddenly the tracks we were following veered off into a copse of trees.

“I think they might be making camp over that rise,” William whispered, pointing to the west. “Let’s do the same back down there where the road goes to Southery. I saw a small stream there, where we can water the horses.”

Turning around, we proceeded back the way we’d come for a few hundred yards or so, until William led us off the road and down a small hill to a tiny, trickling stream. Darkness had brought with it a bitter cold. The air was icy next to the water, and I shivered in my cloak, pulling the hood up tighter around my face.

“Are you cold, Sarah?” William dismounted and tied his horse plus the one he had been towing for John (when and if we rescued him) to the limb of a myrtle bush.

“Not too much,” I lied, climbing down from my own mount. The fact of the matter was that I was freezing, but I would never admit that to my brother-in-law. Just before my journey through the time portal, I’d been diagnosed with hypothyroidism, which created intolerance to the cold. Fortunately, I’d been able to find some self-heal herbs here in England, which made my lack of thyroid hormone easier to tolerate and kept my thyroid functioning.

“It will be a cold camp tonight, Sarah. I’m sorry. We’ll just have to be satisfied with some of the bread and cheese that Mary gave me before we left.”

“That’s alright, William. I’m not very hungry.” My stomach was in knots anyway.

Reaching up, I stroked my horse’s black, velvety neck, absently running my fingers through his knee-length, sable mane. His breath had a clean, grassy smell. He was a big, black Friesian stallion with long, silky fetlocks. Dublin was a birthday present from John just this year. From an ancient breed of cold bloods—ancestors to the English Shire horses—Friesians were strong, enduring and loyal. I would miss Dublin, when we left for Leiden—if we left at all.

About an hour after we finished our meager meal, William said he was going to try to sneak up to the other camp and see what was going on. “You stay here with the horses,” he said.

“I’m not staying here alone.”

“All right, come with me then. Women!” he muttered, impatience creeping into his voice.

Quickly, I undid the laces holding my skirt together and let the garment drop to the ground. William’s eyes opened wide, until he noticed that I was wearing my old blue jeans, quickly donned before we’d left the manor. He shook his head in wonderment.

“I’ll never understand you, Sarah. You’re the strangest woman I’ve ever known.”

The night was pitch-black. Clouds obscured the moon, which I knew had come up while we ate our meager meal. I noticed many more small flakes of snow falling on William’s hair as he crept along in front of me. I tried to remember the lessons in “woodland walking” on silent feet that John had been trying to teach me. Heel-toe, careful now, heel-toe.

Presently, we began to hear voices talking, shouting and joking. Soon, we could see the light from the fire that burned brightly in the camp of the King’s men. Dropping to our hands and knees, William and I tried to get as close as possible. Squatting down beside him, I peered through the myrtle bushes, looking for my husband. Easily, I spied him sitting under the bare branches of a great beech tree at the edge of the camp. His hands were tied behind him. Looking towards the encampment, I saw seven or eight men eating and drinking merrily, while my husband suffered in his hunger. Anger boiled up within me, until I thought I would explode with it. Suddenly, one of the officers got up and approached John.

“Well, look at the little Puritan,” he said, kicking John’s foot. “Are you hungry, Puritan? Would you like to eat? Here, gnaw on this bone.”

The man tossed what appeared to be a chicken leg into John’s lap, knowing full well that he couldn’t retrieve it with his hands tied behind his back. I fumed. But to his credit, John said nothing, just kept his steely gaze focused on the man’s face.

“Humph,” the soldier said, stepping around John and going into the forest.

“He’s probably going to relieve himself,” William whispered into my ear. “As soon as he returns, I’ll make my way around the camp. When they settle down for the night, I’m going to affect a rescue. I want you to remain right here. Under no circumstances, are you to follow me. As soon as you see me release John, I want you to high-tail it back to the horses and meet us on the road. I’m going to try to do this quietly, and hopefully they’ll not realize he’s gone till morning. That should give us enough time to get to the docks in Lynn and get you both safely to sea. Wish me luck.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and disappeared into the dark forest. I hunkered down to wait, keeping my eyes pinned on the movements within the camp.

The officer that had gone to answer the call of nature returned, and one by one the soldiers rolled into their blankets. The captain banked the fire, checked John’s manacles, patted him on the head with a laugh, and retired to his own blanket. I saw John’s jaw clench in anger.

Night settled upon the camp and still, I waited. I heard the calls of the night birds. Time passed slowly, and my knees began to ache with the strain of stooping. I took a small sip of water, replaced the stopper, and rubbed my aching eyes, blinking away the tiredness.

Finally, when I had begun to think William might have abandoned me, I saw a slight movement behind the tree to which my husband was tied. John’s head snapped up and a hand came round his head to clamp securely over his mouth. John leaned his head slightly to the left, and then I saw him nod.

Presently, John’s hands come around in front of him. He rubbed his wrists and started to slowly rise. Just as I began to get up to get the horses, a red-coated captain stepped out from the bushes, roughly shoving John back down and hauling a squirming William from behind the tree.

“Well, well, well,” he laughed, sarcastically. “What do we have here? Trying to liberate your brother, were you, young man? Now we have two prisoners for the bishop. He’ll be mightily pleased, I’m sure.”

My heart sank to the depths of my soul, and a wave of despair washed over me. Now what am I going to do?

Soon, the captain had both William and John tied to the same tree. Fearing that I might be discovered, I hunkered down even more into the bushes. The soldier checked the bindings again on both men, looked around the camp, and ambled to his blanket. Within a few minutes, the camp became quiet and stillness settled down upon us. Sitting back on my haunches, I pondered my plight. Here I was, in the dark forest at night, virtually alone. The men in my life were prisoners of the King’s guard. I wondered what in the world I was going to do. Should I try to make my way back to the manor and bring help? Or do I follow the group in the morning and try to affect another rescue tomorrow night? I was certain that if I went back home for aid, I would lose valuable time and have to play catch-up with the group the next day, which would mean that we would be farther away from the docks, and we would have farther to go before we reached the safety of the ship. That could easily spell disaster. However, if I tried to save the men by myself and was caught, my poor baby would likely be born in prison. Asking the Lord to help me, I prayed for divine direction.

After a while, I realized that the only sure course of action lay in following the men and trying to rescue William and John the next night after they’d bedded down again. The soldiers certainly wouldn’t be expecting anyone else to attempt such a thing. They would think they’d caught the only perpetrator, remembering that the there was only one more brother, and he was much too young to try anything so foolish. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this would have to do.

My immediate concern, however, was my sleeping accommodations for the night. I would have to make my way back to our base camp and try to get some rest. William, John, Mary, and I had camped out before, but that had been in the forest behind the manor, where we were relatively safe. I had never before been alone in the woods at night, and the snow was beginning to fall in earnest. Only God knew what was prowling around looking to devour unsuspecting prey.

Creeping backwards from my vantage point, I slowly made my way back to the horses. They softly nickered upon my approach, and I shushed them. Rolling into my cloak, I tried to rest, but sleep alluded me for some time. Fear invaded every fiber of my being, and I found myself shaking more from fright than from the bitter cold. I could hear the noises of insects, and once I thought something approached the camp, because the horses snorted loudly and stamped their feet in warning. Thankfully, though, nothing materialized out of the trees, and the horses soon settled down. It had become noticeably colder, and I covered my head, wishing for all I was worth to be back in my nice warm bed at home with John by my side.

 

*************

 

Suddenly, my eyes popped open, and for a moment I didn’t know where I was. It was morning. The sun was up and shining brightly. I jumped to my feet, wondering what time it was and whether William and John and the King’s men had left me far behind. A light blanket of snow covered the ground and the backs of the horses tied at the picket line.

Shaking the snow from my cloak, I rushed to the road and into the bushes towards the other camp. It was deserted. Panic assailed me. Hastening back into the road, I noticed the tracks of many horses headed towards London. Not knowing how far ahead of me they were, I sprinted back to camp, tied all the horses onto one rope, got everything together, and began my trek, following the trail through the snow. Before long, my hands were aching from exposure and felt frozen to the reins.

Within an hour, I couldn’t feel my toes and began to worry about frostbite. Several times, I wanted to just lie down and sleep, but I kept willing myself to go on. It took about five hours of tromping through the swirling snow, ponying the two other horses behind me, but I finally caught up with the group of men, luckily hearing them before they saw me.

Apparently, they had stopped for a light meal up ahead. Slipping off the road, I tied the horses to some trees, wrapped pieces of my torn petticoat around the curb chains, so they wouldn’t jangle (like I saw William do the day before), and crept into some bushes to spy on the group of men. Thanking Jesus and Levi Strauss for my warm blue jeans, I munched on the remainder of our bread and cheese and wondered guiltily whether John and William had had anything to eat.

After about an hour, the group resumed their march. Waiting about 15 minutes, I retrieved the horses and leaving the curb chains wrapped in cloth, I followed their tracks for the remainder of the day. Several times, I felt like I was going to fall over, and my legs began to ache from riding astride in my side saddle. Eventually, I gave it up and mounted William’s horse. The regular saddle was much easier to ride. With my long hair stuffed into a woolen cap, anyone who saw me tonight would think me a young lad, not a lady attired in men’s clothing. However, I saw no one as I trudged along. My belly grumbled from the lack of nourishment, and my head ached terribly. The tiring journey was beginning to deplete my strength.

Eventually, after the sun had fully set, I began to hear voices again and knew now from experience that the group I trailed had again settled down for the night. Locating a small copse of trees, I picketed the horses, approached the camp, and squatted behind some bushes to wait. My stomach growled a number of times, once so loudly I just knew the soldiers could hear it. No one took notice, however, and I wiped a bead of perspiration from my forehead, amazed that in such piercing cold I could even sweat. I was intensely hungry, but all the bread and cheese were gone—I would have no supper that night. Suddenly, it occurred to me that I hadn’t been nauseated all day. Placing my hand on my still-flat stomach, I hugged the child within close to my heart, and prayed that I would be able to rescue its father and uncle.

It took an interminable amount of time, but finally the king’s men rolled into their blankets. I had completely lost feeling in both my feet from squatting so long—or is it the cold, I wondered. It felt as if the tip of my nose had fallen off. I was scared, and I was worried. I wished I had saved at least a small morsel of cheese, for my stomach was tied in knots, and the nausea was coming back with a vengeance. John and William were again positioned on either side of a large beech tree at the edge of camp, tied this time with ropes. I sat down to wait and passed the time by trying to name all the counties of Ohio in the good old US of A. I started several times at the scurrying sounds of tiny creatures through the tops of the trees and along the ground.

Glancing upwards, I glimpsed the moon shining large and generous through the bare branches above me, and I watched its slow progress across the night sky. It would be clear tonight—and it would be cold. Absently, my hand went to the golden orb under my shirt, turning it round and round.

Finally, I knew that the moment of truth had come. If I was going to do this thing, now was the time. The camp was quiet, and John and William appeared to be sleeping, their heads settled onto their chests. I reminded myself that they would not be expecting me, so I had to approach them very cautiously. William probably thought I had returned to the manor for help.

Slowly, on cat’s feet, I crept around the camp, until I came up behind the tree that sheltered my husband and his brother. Quietly, I reached out and placed my hand on William’s shoulder. His head jerked up, and he turned to face me, his mouth flying open. In the moonlight, I could see the lines of worry in his forehead. I must have looked like a ghost to him. Just then, I heard approaching footsteps crunching through the snow, and I stealthily crawled back into the bushes just as a red-coated soldier stalked past John and William, evidently on his way to answer the call of nature. My heart jumped into my throat and sudden fear clinched my stomach and made the bile rise into my mouth, threatening to spill out. I swallowed the fear and the bile in one bodacious gulp.

“Hey, Martin!” another soldier shouted. “Check on the prisoners. Wouldn’t want them sneaking away in the night.”

The soldier laughed and leaned down, tugging at the ropes that held my husband and brother-in-law to the tree. Pronouncing them taut, he continued on. After he had gone a good distance away, I left out the breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. My hands were shaking, and I felt as if I were going to faint. That had been a very close call. I had to be more careful. I slunk even farther into the forest and propped myself against a tree to wait—again.

Abruptly, I opened my eyes. I’d fallen asleep. What time is it? I wondered. Looking up at the moon, I saw that it had progressed some distance across the star-studded sky. Why, I must have slept for some time. William must think I had run away.

Slowly, deliberately, I made my way back to the tree and listened intently for even the smallest sound. Hearing nothing, but the crackling of the fire and the snoring of many men, I reached my hand out and lightly touched William on the shoulder again. He turned his head and seeing me, he grinned that lop-sided smile of his that always warmed my heart.

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, and he nodded his head. Reaching into my pants pocket, I retrieved the small knife I utilized to cut herbs in the field, thankful that I had thought to grab it on my way out of the manor. Quickly, I cut the ropes that bound William and handed him the knife. Making a gesture like riding a horse, I turned and sped away toward my own encampment. Quickly untying our mounts, I stripped the side saddle from my horse, covering his back with the saddle blanket, and led the horses into the road. William and John met me there. We mounted up and slowly made our way back through the deepening snow towards King’s Lynn.

When we were far enough away, William broke into a gallop and John and I followed him. We rode hard for a long time before stopping. Wet, snowy clods of mud flew at my legs. Hoof beats rang in my ears. The horses were lathered, and we were all wringing wet with sweat even though the temperature must have been below freezing. After leading us from the road down a slight hill to a small, frozen stream, William turned in the saddle and looked at me riding astride.

“Mother would cane you, if she saw you riding like that.”

“My back side feels like she already has.” I knew I would have blisters, long before we reached the ship.

“You are the most wonderful sister-in-law a man could have, Sarah Keeney,” he said, smiling broadly. “Don’t you think so, brother?”

“Yes, I do,” John said, moving his horse up beside mine and hugging me close. “But how did you convince my obstinate brother to let you come along?”

“I just told him I would follow him anyway, so he had to let me come for my own safety. However, your grandmother had a great part in it, too.”

“How’s that?” John asked, looking from one of us to the other.

“She practically ordered me to let her come.” William shrugged. “What could I do, brother? When Grandmother Fionna speaks, the earth shakes and the stars move out of their courses, you know that.”

“Well, she is a formidable woman and certainly knows how to get her way,” John laughed. “We’d better be off. We have a long way to travel before we’re safe.”

“William, we really don’t have to rush,” I said.

“Why not? We certainly don’t want the guard to catch us before we reach the safety of the ship.”

“We don’t have to hurry, because the king’s guard won’t be following us any time soon, I don’t imagine.”

“And why is that, Sarah?” John asked, puzzled.

“Because, you see, I cut their picket line before I left. Their horses should be grazing very far afield by now, I should think.”

“You actually cut their horses loose?” William said, incredulously.

“I saw it done in a movie once and thought it might buy us some time.” I smiled at my two companions, who seemed surprised that a woman would even think of doing something like that.

“You certainly are an amazing lady. I like her, John, let’s keep her.”

“I intend to, brother,” my husband said, squeezing my shoulder and gazing lustily down at my long legs encased in men’s jeans. Although such looks were allowed within the bounds of marriage, I still hoped William hadn’t noticed his brother’s actions.

After giving the horses just a little water (not too much, or they would get a belly-ache), we mounted again and rode a little less quickly onward. It took the rest of that day and part of the next to reach King’s Lynn, but finally we saw the docks and the Hart riding at anchor. It was about noon and none of us had had anything to eat since the day before. We’d ridden straight through, pacing the horses so as to not wear them out. Fortunately, we’d had water to fill our stomachs to keep the hunger pangs at bay, and we’d rested the horses several times along the way, allowing them to dig through the snow to graze on the tall grass that grew near the edge of the fens. I bowed my head and thanked the Lord that He had brought us safely home.

Riding up to the dock, John dismounted and helped me down from my own horse. William remained aboard and quickly grasped the reins that John threw up to him.

“Thank you,” John said, grasping his brother’s hand in a firm shake.

“You’re welcome, brother,” William replied. “But you really should be thanking your wife. If it hadn’t been for her, neither of us would be here.”

“Will you go home?” John asked his brother.

“No, sir! I’m going to Arthur’s for a while. I’ll get a message to the folks that everything is fine, though.”

John and I rushed up the gangplank and onto the ship that waited to take us to Leiden. Our trunks were sitting in front of the doorway to the cabins below. Captain Maynard came sauntering across the deck to greet us, looking only briefly at my strange attire. He was a stout man with a belt-length black beard. A parrot on a leash sat proudly on his right shoulder, quietly preening itself. When John stepped up to the captain, the brightly-plumed bird squawked: “Hello, there, Matie.” I couldn’t help but laugh, as Captain Maynard shushed him with a light tap on the beak.

“Caesar and I weren’t sure when you’d arrive,” Captain Maynard said, glancing sideways at his cohort. “However, we’re set to shove off. I’ve kept the crew in a constant state of readiness, just in case you were in a hurry when you finally got here.”

“Thank you, Captain,” John replied. “There was a time when I didn’t think we’d arrive at all.”

Waving to William, who had waited to see us safely aboard, John and I descended the stairs and found our cabin ready and waiting. My heart slowed, my breath steadied, and I relaxed into John’s arms.

“Cry if you like, Sarah,” he told me, holding me tight to his chest. “It helps.” So, I did—great racking sobs that tore through my being, but that significantly relieved the tension. Both of us practically fell into the bunk, fully clothed, and were asleep in minutes.

I awoke several hours later to the sound of retching. Looking across the room, I saw my husband bent over a chamber pot. I smiled—John never could sail. Even the rocking of William’s small sloop on the pond would send him throwing up over the side. I wondered how he was ever going to manage the crossing. Maybe the news I had to tell him would lighten his burden and take his mind off the motion of the ship. Thank goodness, we don’t have far to go, I thought, as sleep again claimed me.