Ambergate (5 page)

It was a long time ago. It was before I committed my crime. I was at the Orphans’ Home by then
.

In the end I must have dozed through the night in the watchtower. When light came eventually from somewhere above me, I had
to move out of my hole because of the pain in my arms and legs.

A long day followed the long night. I was back, tucked in beneath the staircase, and dozing again, when I heard the key turn
in the lock outside. It wasn’t Aggie, but Doggett. She looked all around, then she saw me in the light from the open door
and gave a great giggle.

“You look like a mouse in there, Scuff! You can come out. The soldiers have gone. Aggie sent me to fetch you.”

She sank down on the bottom step of the stairs and spread her skirts, pretending to catch her breath, as if it was such an
effort to come for me.

I didn’t come out at once: I could scarce believe I’d escaped.

“Come on, stupid!” she said, impatient. “Aggie is preparin’ the supper tonight. We are to have a feast, she says, but with
what, I don’t know. And why we should celebrate, I don’t know neither.”

It was still daylight: a windy evening, with shreds of gray mist blowing between the trees. As we went down the slope toward
the Hall, Doggett looked at me with her sly, sideways glance. “What was it you did, Scuff?”

I stared back at her, startled.

“Your crime,” she said impatiently. “Come on, I know those soldiers were lookin’ for you. Number 102, they said.”

She seized my left arm, dragging the sleeve back to expose
my scar. “You forget I come from the Capital too. I know all Homes brand their orphans. They’re too useful to lose. And I’ve
seen your mark before, though you always try to hide it.”

I couldn’t say a word. Eventually she had to give up pestering me with her questions; I thought she sulked.

But as we reached the stable yard, she said, “Those two young men—they was good-lookin’, wasn’t they?” I was astonished to
see a dreamy look on her plump, sallow face. “I wish they could have stayed longer. One was the Lord Protector’s son—fancy!”
She flicked her greasy plait and smiled. “I’m going to find myself a husband one of these days. I’ll leave Murkmere—go back
to the Capital!”

“You can’t! What will Aggie do?”

“She’ll manage.”

“I’m never leaving Murkmere,” I said, and I haven’t forgotten the pitying look she gave me then.

“You think you’re safe here?”

“Aggie will protect me, I’m sure she will,” I said.

“Aggie pretends we are her friends, that we’re all equal here. But we can never be more than servants to them, Scuff. They’d
sacrifice us if they had to.”

We were merry at supper: it was the relief, I think. Certainly for me, it was. And Aggie had baked a cheese and leek pie,
which we finished between us. “Better than Miss Jennet’s cat’s piss soup,” Doggett said to me in an undertone.

Only Miss Jennet was grave. “I wish I’d been up and about when the soldiers came,” she kept saying, for Aggie had told
her—but not why they had come. “I can’t understand why they should be investigating us after all this time. The Lord Protector
sent them, you say. Were they suspicious of Jethro’s absence?”

I sang to her after supper to distract her. Since Aggie had taken over the running of Murkmere, I often sang. Tonight I sang
“So Sing Success to the Weaver,” for Miss Jennet had been a spinster herself once and it was her favorite song. All the same,
her worried frown came back when I’d finished.

We cleared the supper dishes and Aggie went to lock and bolt the outside doors, which was usually Jethro’s task at night.
I could hear her quick, light footsteps echoing through the darkness of the Great Hall as she made her way past empty tables
and dusty tapestries to the big double front doors.

In the kitchen I bade Doggett and Miss Jennet goodnight, took a tallow candle, and went to my chamber. The wind was up, rattling
the windows, and when I went to fasten them more securely, I saw the night sky was filled with stars. The wind had blown the
mist away.
I must say my prayers
, I thought.

But as I knelt on the hard floorboards by my bed and clasped my hands together in the familiar way, the words wouldn’t come
I fingered the red thread amulet around my neck and tried to picture Him—the great Eagle head in the room with me, rearing
out of the dim tallow light. But what could I see in the black eyes? Anger. Blame. Contempt. He would never forgive me for
what I’d done.

A knock at the chamber door made Him vanish. Miss Jennet came in as I rose from my knees. She had not yet undressed for bed,
and her eyes looked very wide awake.

She set down her candle on the chest by the door, and said in a low voice, “Dog has told me why the soldiers came to Murkmere.
They came for you, didn’t they?”

I nodded dumbly, shocked at Dog’s betrayal.

“Don’t blame Dog,” said Miss Jennet, as if she knew what I thought. “I only had to ask in the right way. She’s not good at
keeping secrets. Both you and my niece are better at that.”

“I’m sorry…,” I began miserably, but she raised a hand. “Did you really think you could keep such a thing from me? Haven’t
I the right to know? We’ve lived with each other these past three years.” She seemed reproachful, sorrowful, rather than angry.

“What I did was a sin,” I faltered. “I could never bear to tell it…”
I never had the courage
, I thought, and looking at her shadowed face now, my courage failed me again.

“I don’t mean that,” she said, sighing. “I don’t want to know what you did. It’s safest that none of us knows. I mean not
telling me why the soldiers had come here.”

“We didn’t want to worry you,” I said. “You were poorly.”

She twisted her hands together. “I thought it was Jethro whom they’d come about, Jethro whom they suspected. Never you.”

“But the soldiers have gone. Why does it matter?”

“You think it’s over so easily?” She shook her head. “You poor, foolish child. They’ll be back. I’ve heard of that man
Mather. He’s merciless in hunting out his victims. You may have hidden from him this time, but next time he’ll find you. Then
we’ll all be in trouble.”

I sat down on the bed, my hands to my face.

“I’ve never been to the Capital,” she said quietly, “and never want to. In such a place committing a crime must be easy enough,
though surely your tender age should be considered. But the Lord Protector is ruthless in his efforts to cleanse the country
of those he perceives as possessing criminal potential, particularly at the moment with all this unrest.”

“I’ve not told anyone here of my crime, ever,” I whispered.
Nor of my past before it, for I wanted to forget
. “You’ll all be innocent of the knowledge.”

“That’s as may be, but the very fact that we are sheltering you makes us complicit in your guilt. Do you not see that if you
stay here, then Aggie is in danger, let alone the rest of us? And Aggie is my responsibility, the only child of my late sister,
and I’ve brought her up as mine own.”

You love her
. “What will they do?”

“Aggie will certainly lose Murkmere,” said Aunt Jennet grimly. “It’s her livelihood, and ours. We’ll be destitute. The villagers
will never accept us back. They think of us as the enemy now that we manage Ministration land. Why do you think so few joined
us when the Master died? They’re suspicious and frightened. We have some friends there still, it’s true, but there are plenty
that will betray us for money.”

She sat down on the bed at a distance from me, and her voice was harsh. “But that’s the very least. Worse could happen if
the soldiers return and find you with us. We could be
taken to the Capital and imprisoned. We could all die, in the end.”

I had a horrible, sick feeling in my stomach, which might have been the meaty stink of tallow in the room, but I knew had
been caused by what she said. “What do you want me to do?”

“Do you always wait for other people to tell you what to do?” she said, in sudden anger.

I hung my head. “I suppose you want me to leave?” I said, from under my hair.

“I don’t want it, but I can’t see any alternative.”

A little gasp escaped me. “But this is my home.”

“You’ll find another.” Her voice shook suddenly.

“But where?” I said, desperate. “Where can I go?”

She put a sealed parchment on my lap. “Listen, child. Leave at first light. Take food with you, and water. Go to the address
I’ve written on the outside of the letter. Relatives of mine—a cousin and her husband—live in Poorgrass Kayes, at the rivermouth.
They will take you in and give you employment. I’ve written requesting as much, but saying nothing of this matter. I’ve given
you an excellent reference.”

Beneath my hair I stared at the paper, and the seal caught the candlelight like a drop of blood. “Is Poorgrass far from here?”
I brushed my hair aside and looked up at her pleadingly, hoping for a change of heart. My heart sank as I saw her resolute
expression. She had risen from the bed and was pacing about the chamber, her gaunt shadow leaping before her.

“It has to be far from here, don’t you understand? You don’t want to be arrested, do you?”

I stared back down at the paper, gulping. There was a long silence broken by the sound of her restless footsteps, while I
tried to master myself. At last I asked in a tiny voice, “How do I find this place?”

“Follow the river, don’t go by road. There’s a causeway through the marshes—the old river road. Follow it all the way to the
river mouth. Pray you find it, and let’s hope there’s a god somewhere to hear you.”

I touched my amulet, for she wore none. Her eyes met mine, and I thought I saw pity in them. “You are braver than you think,
Scuff. But remember—on your journey—know your friends.”

“Can I say goodbye to Aggie?” I whispered.

Her face froze.

“Please, I beg you.”

She shook her head violently, and wheeled around to the door, jerking her shawl over her shoulders.

My voice cracked. “Won’t you say goodbye to me, Miss Jennet?”

She paused, half turned as if to speak; I saw her eyes glitter with tears as she took her candle, then she hurried from the
room.

I wouldn’t let myself cry: it was only the tallow that made my eyes smart. I wouldn’t let myself think either, in case I thought
of the fearful things that might be waiting for me in the Wasteland, and of my unknown employers in the port, when—and if—I
ever reached it. I moved stiffly about the room, collecting my warmest shawl, my cloak, and my bonnet, and laying them on
the foot of the bed ready for first
light. In the pocket of the dress I’d made from old curtains, the letter crackled. I wondered whether to undress or not: I
couldn’t seem to make up my mind.

I was still standing, undecided, when from below the dogs began to bark again.

My heart rose in my throat as if it would choke me. They have come back for me, I thought. There is nothing I can do, nothing;
and I did nothing.

It must have been only moments later that Aggie burst in, wild-eyed, fully dressed but disheveled, as if she’d hastily thrown
more clothes on top of those she already wore. “What are you doing?” She saw my cloak and shawl on the bed. “Put those on,
hurry!”

“Miss Jennet…”

Aggie spoke rapidly. “She’s gone down to speak to the soldiers. She’s asked Jukes and Pegg to take you to the door in the
boundary wall, the door near the tower.” I stood, rigid with fear, as she threw the cloak around me, then the shawl over my
head. “Quick, Scuff! I must get back to Aunt Jennet.”

“What will she say to the soldiers?”

“Nothing about you,” she said sharply. “She has a speech all ready, and she’s taken two dogs with her to protect her.” She
tugged hard on my arm, pulling me back into life. “Come on!”

The soldiers were at the front of the house, so we fled down the back stairs, as we had the night before. There were
some sconces still left lit. The dogs that slept in the scullery were howling with frustration, clawing at the other side
of the old wooden door as we ran past, into the kitchen.

Jukes and Pegg loomed out of the shadows by the dying fire. Jukes, already wrapped in his cape and without the footman’s wig
he insisted on wearing each day, was a stranger with straggling hair and unsmiling face. Pegg, short and burly, glowered beside
him at the interruption to his sleep.

“You have the key?” said Aggie urgently, above the clamor of the dogs.

“Aye, Miss.” I saw it in Jukes’s hand, a great rusty piece of iron. “I hope it turns, Jukes. That door’s not been unlocked
for years.”

“I’ll do my best, Miss,” he said, lugubrious; while Pegg, always a rude, uncouth man, scowled at me as if I was scarce worth
the bother of saving. Shaking his head at the folly of it all, he turned to the back door that led out into the stable yard,
with a brusque gesture indicating I was to follow.

“Come, girl,” said Jukes, jerking his head at me as he went out after Pegg.

I stared at Aggie, full of fear. “They’ve no lantern!”