Chapter Twenty

‘Oi, Miss Dauphin, wake up.’

She wasn’t sleeping; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept. Lifting her head from her knees she saw the wan face of Lieutenant Walker peering at her through the bars. The seasick marine was the closest thing to a friend she had left in the world and she knew he’d come to warn her.

‘So soon?’ she said, rubbing her eyes. Outside, a thin light filtered into the brig from the open hatch, bringing with it a sharp cold and the tell-tale cry of gulls.

‘Docked an hour ago,’ Walker said, confirming her fear. ‘There’s men here for you.’

She tried to smile, but couldn’t muster one through her exhaustion and hunger. ‘At least I’ll get out of this stinking brig,’ she said, though she knew gaol would be no improvement. ‘I’ve not visited London since I was a child, and even that I don’t remember.’

‘You’ve not missed much.’ Walker unlocked the door and held it open for her. ‘Filthy and full of disease. Even I’d rather be at sea.’

‘There’s no better place.’ Pushing herself to her feet, Amelia braced herself against the hull as she hobbled towards the door, coming to a halt before the lieutenant. She studied his pinched and hungry face and thought that, but for the toss of a coin, he could have been one of her own men. ‘Have you no desire to be a free man, Lieutenant Walker? To sail where you will, not where your master sends you?’

‘I’ve a desire to see my Mary again, and not to swing from the end of a rope.’ He stood aside so that she could pass. ‘I’m an honest man, miss. And loyal to His Majesty.’

‘It’s a shame, then,’ she said, making her slow way to the steps, ‘that His Majesty is not more loyal to you.’

Walker followed, helping her to climb the stairs. ‘Them’s treasonous words.’

‘For the poorest man that is upon the Earth has a life to live, as the greatest man.’ She turned halfway up and looked him boldly in the eye. ‘Have you not heard as much said?’

Walker cast an uneasy glance towards the hatch. ‘No, and I don’t want to hear it neither.’

‘We are all born free, Lieutenant, and rich men have no right to make us otherwise. For that notion, my father died.’

‘And so will you, if Lord Morton has his way.’

‘Little good will it do him.’ An icy wind swirled down the steps, making her shiver. ‘Let him kill until the seas run red, but he cannot kill an idea. The poorest man that is upon the Earth has a life to live, as the greatest man. It is a simple truth and I will happily die for it. Many better than me have already done so.’

A shadow fell across her as she spoke, and looking up she saw a figure silhouetted black against a white sky. ‘Your death is certain,’ said a cold voice. ‘All that remains is to determine its method.’

Morton. Amelia didn’t answer, concentrating on getting up the steps without crying out. Once on deck, she had to squint against the light even though the sky was a uniform white with no sign of the sun. She’d been too long in the dark and her eyes watered in the sudden brightness. Furious, she dashed a hand over her eyes, afraid that he might think she wept. ‘What? No trial? In this free land of England, do you have no courts?’

Morton smiled, his face florid in the cold wind. ‘The trial is over. You were found guilty. Hanging is the penalty for piracy, but treason requires a different fate. Raising a flag against your king …?’ He cocked his head. ‘The crowds do love a quartering.’

Fear and bile rose in her throat. ‘Death is death,’ she said, forcing her voice not to shake. In the distance she could hear the shouts of dockers, a familiar sound strange in this alien world. Her gaze left Morton, raced out across the vast city of London that crouched beneath a haze of smoke. The air was acrid with the stench; it made her think of Sainte Anne, of how it had burned at the order of this man. Of how her father had died at his hand, hanged in this faceless place. Of how Overton had died, how they had all died for the sake of the simple right to breathe free.

Walker moved to stand next to her. At his side there was a dull gleam of metal, his sword knocking against his hip as he walked. In a flash, it was in her hand and with a cry she launched herself at Morton. The blade connected with his face and he roared, falling back. She saw a stripe of scarlet across his cheek, lifted the blade for another blow, but someone had her wrist, twisting her arm until she dropped the sword. Then she was on the deck, boots kicking her ribs and back, hands pulled painfully behind her.

‘See to Lord Morton!’ someone was yelling. ‘See to his lordship!’

From where she lay, she could see blood dripping onto the deck. Not enough to be fatal, but his blood nonetheless. She watched it seep into the wood and swore to herself that, somehow, she would spill it all. One day, she would make him pay for all that he had done to those she loved.

Iron bound her wrists and she was hauled upright. The pain in her ribs made it hard to breathe, the edges of her vision turning grey. Morton had a cloth to his face, covered in ruby blooms. ‘Vile creature,’ he spat, backing away. ‘Get her out of my sight.’

Someone pushed her from behind and she stumbled, landing badly on her injured ankle. Pain jolted up her leg and she cried out, pitching forward into a sudden, absolute darkness.