Edith Layton (21 page)

Eric turned to Drum, his eyes ablaze. “Newgate!” he said. “Damn him! It’s cruel and it’s clever, because I swear I wouldn’t have thought of it, and it might have taken weeks to find her. But, by God, now we have it. Let’s not leave her there another second!”

He was on his horse and pounding down the street by the time his friend had swung up into his saddle. Eric didn’t look back. He rode off into the aging night with a grim but triumphant smile on his face.

Camille saw the great mass of the hulk rising up out of the lingering night long before the wagon
would reach it. It was hard not to see it, even in the night. The great ship dominated the little harbor, lights in its upper cabins glaring like the fiery eyes of some gigantic dark beast rising from the water. The huge man-of-war was like an enormous toad squatting in a small puddle, dwarfing everything around it, the cliffs beyond and the other ships before it. The ship had been a monumental engine of war, now it was a black monolith that all but blotted out the setting moon. The size of it took Camille’s breath away.

“It ain’t the
Eurydice!
” one of the boys breathed.

“That ain’t good,” another moaned.

There was a stir among them, a quiet agitation, quickly quelled.

“It don’t matter, none of them’s good nor worse,” Taffy, the boy who had befriended Camille, whispered. “S’ truth, the
Eurydice
’s for lads, but who’s to say it would’ve been better? Any of you know which one of them it is?”

Silence greeted his question.

“Aye,” he said, “it don’t matter. Whichever ship it is, we wouldn’t get but a glimpse of it. We’re bound for the lower decks, where you never see the light. That’s where they put the newest ones. They let you out sometimes to work, and they chain you up again at night. Do you live, and if you’re lucky, you get to move up a deck at a time. Never to the top, o’ course, ’cause that’s for the guards ’n officers. But when you gets high enough, and if you lives long enough, you walk in the sunlight every
day. Then you might be shipped out off to the antipodes or the West Indies or such.”

He stopped talking, because his voice was breaking. He scrubbed his eyes with his sleeve. Prison rat that he was, born in jail and seldom out of it since, still, the thought of exile was worse for him than the thought of death. He hadn’t known much of freedom or London, but it was obviously life to him.

“And no one’ll ever find you there,” another boy said with a thrill of horror, “because you don’t get no visitors there. No one never sees you again onct you set foot on a hulk. It’s like you’re already croaked.”

“Mebbe when you gets to the other side of the world, you could have someone write them,” a small voice offered with hope.

“If you ever gets there,” another said heavily.

The others nodded.

Camille could see them now and hear them better too. They didn’t worry about being overheard, because as they neared the ship, the outriders had gone to ride up in front of the wagon close together. They were talking, doubtlessly conferring about how to transfer the prisoners to the hulk when they got there. Dawn was near. She could see the sky turning milky above the cliffs, and what she finally could see of her companions saddened her in many ways.

No wonder the guards weren’t worried about them. They were a pathetic collection, the oldest lad perhaps fifteen, and all thin, ragged, and pitiful.

Still, a woman had to work with what she had.

Camille now could also see the long, winding, hilly road they were on and how it led down to the little harbor below. There was a sheer drop-off on the right, hedgerows and trees to the left. A little town lay in tiers in the cliffs above the harbor, a half-cup set in the hollow of the hills. She judged they had ten or fifteen minutes until they began their descent to the harbor below.

She looked at the boys in the growing morning light and took a deep breath. Fifteen more minutes of freedom. She only regretted that she hadn’t had a chance to give more than kisses to Eric. She’d been brave enough to fling herself into his arms that first time. Now she wished she’d been brave enough to have more of him. But it was better than nothing. She’d had his declaration of love too, so she had something to take with her, wherever she went, whatever happened.

Now she had to think of what would happen next. There was no more time to think or to pray. She looked at the boys and knew they remembered what she’d said by their watchful expressions as they gazed back at her. They all turned to look at her now, and Taffy’s eyes weren’t the only ones glittering in the growing light.

“Well, then,” she said.

She took a breath, nodded, and stood up in the swaying waggon.

She was ready.

H
e’d been riding up the twisting road fast as he dared, but when he got to the top and saw it all happening from afar, Eric almost flung himself off the horse and ran on foot to get there faster. He didn’t, but only because he knew that it simply wasn’t possible. He had to stay glued to his saddle, bent low, urging the horse on, and watching helplessly as he raced to the scene.

As rising dawn finally showed the sea below, he could see what madness it had been to be riding on such a treacherous road in the dark at all. The drop-off on the right side was sudden, sheer, and deep. He’d been told that, but nothing could have made him sit in an inn and wait for first light. At least now he knew how right he’d been to risk his
neck. The lumbering wagon far ahead had been his lighthouse, his beacon. He’d thought himself lucky to find something else moving on the dark road and had been following the bobbing lanterns on its sides for miles now, drawing closer all the time. He’d never guessed that the light that guided him had been the one he’d been seeking since he’d gone pounding out of London in the middle of the night.

But as the dawn came up, like the stage lights at the beginning of the first act of a play, the scene in front of him erupted into frantic action.

Eric saw a figure rise up in the back of the open wagon and then dozens more bob up beside it. He could hear a chorus of shouts and jeers coming from the motley crowd in the wagon even above the steady beating of his horse’s hooves. The commotion caused the heavy wagon to slow. Eric saw an outrider come galloping from the front of the wagon toward the back to investigate. There was another outrider on the other side, but he was unable to turn back because of the sheer cliff on his side and instead struggled with his horse as it reared when he tried to turn it.

Eric saw the action as though in shadow play against the rising sun. The first outrider approached the largest figure standing in the back of the wagon. As the rider closed on it, the figure raised an arm and swung a chain that hit him square in the face, sending him reeling back. She—Eric could now see it was a woman wielding the chain, because her hair was blowing in the wind
and the profile was unmistakably feminine—struck again as the rider recovered his seat. This time the unlucky rider was toppled from the saddle and went sprawling in the road. His panicked horse spun and raced to the front, almost colliding with the second outrider, who had managed to turn his horse at last. But he was again diverted from the activity in the back of the wagon as he tried to grab the reins of the runaway.

And then, like lice leaving a burning bed, the back of the wagon erupted, spewing what seemed like dozens of ragged little people who went scrambling over the sides and dashing in every direction, filling the road with frantic, fluttering shapes heading toward the hedgerows.

The woman in the back stayed where she was, along with some…children, Eric saw now in the growing light. She stood tall and faced the second outrider, swinging the chain on her arm like an angry cat twitching its tail, waiting for him to approach. Eric’s heart rose, filled to bursting with pride and fear for her as he raced nearer. An unholy grin creased his face in spite of his worry. Yes! Of course it was his Cammie.

Who else could be so bold, so brave, and so utterly reckless? She didn’t see that there was a man crawling over the front seat of the wagon, staying low, so he could grab her from behind. But Eric could see him. And he was finally near enough to fling himself off his horse.

He landed on the road in a rolling crouch and
came up running. He swarmed up over the back of the now motionless wagon and grabbed the creeping man by the collar. He jerked him to his feet so he could hit him properly. One blow was enough. Then Eric dragged the guard upright and shook him like a rat before he raised him high over his head and threw him at the approaching outrider. He leapt after the man he’d thrown and dragged the dazed outrider the rest of the way off his horse so he could pummel him too. Then, scarcely out of breath, the light of battle gleaming in his eyes, Eric turned and went for the driver of the wagon. But his sport was over, because that fellow had seen him coming and jumped out—on the wrong side of the road—and was now rolling end over end down to the sea.

For a moment Eric heard nothing but the sound of his own pounding pulse and harsh breathing. Then he heard early-morning birdsong and the faroff pulse of the sea—and his name called with tentative wonder.

“Eric?”
Camille cried in glad disbelief.

He put a hand on the wagon and vaulted up beside her, folded her in his arms, and hugged her hard, rocking her against himself.

“Cammie,” he said into her hair. “My Cammie,” he said thickly. He paused, put her a hand’s breadth away so he could look down into her eyes, and then dragged her back so he could kiss her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, and then her lips again.

Too soon for his liking, but because he remem
bered their danger, he pulled away, still keeping her close in his arms. He looked around to see if anyone else had plans to attack them.

The outriders lay still in the dust, either unconscious or shamming it. The scrambling children in the road were gone. Only three youngsters were left standing in the wagon bed, staring up at him.

Seeing how wide-eyed they were, Camille stepped out of Eric’s embrace—but not too far. She rubbed her nose on the back of her hand to keep from crying and said, “They were taking us to the hulks. That one down in the harbor. Dearborne arranged it. He took me to Newgate and then sent me here. Only I would not let it happen. These are
children,
Eric.”

She gulped a steadying breath. “So Taffy here”—she motioned to a thin boy—“he found a way to open the lock on my chain. They chained me to the wagon,” she added with a thrill of horror. “Taffy knows how to do such things.”

Eric saw the fine tremor that shook her when she spoke of being chained and put his arm round her.

“I loosened the rope on the others,” she went on, as she fought for composure. “And we waited and took our chances. But if you hadn’t come along…” She stopped and choked back a sob.

“You’d have done as well,” he said. “My God, you were wonderful, Cammie, you were a Valkyrie, a veritable Bodicea, an Amazon queen, a…”

“She was a bloody wonder,” a little boy standing nearby said with vast admiration.

“A
bloomin’
wonder,” another lad hissed at him, “or a
blinkin’
wonder. She’s a lady, remember?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, miss,” the first boy said humbly. “And he, the big one,” he said excitedly, “he were a bl-bloomin’ wonder too, weren’t he?”

“That you were, sir,” the boy Camille had named Taffy said. “Thank you.”

“So were you,” Eric said, bending down to scoop up the padlock to examine it. “How the devil did you get this off her?”

“Well,” Taffy said hesitantly, “see, she had a brooch on her…”

“When Dearborne made me change my clothing, I kept my brooch,” Camille explained. “I certainly wasn’t going to hand my pin over to him with my gown. Belle gave it to me for my birthday. So I fastened it to this hideous thing,” she held out the skirt of the shapeless gray gown she wore. “But I wore it on the inside, of course, where no one could see it.”

Eric’s hand tightened on her shoulder when he heard that. He knew, as she obviously didn’t, that the inside of her gown was perhaps the least safe place she could have hidden something. She didn’t realize how lucky she’d been that there’d been no time for her pin to be discovered—among other, more important things.

“So when Taffy said he could do wonders if he had a pick or a pin or a nail,” she went on, “I remembered the pin on my brooch and handed it to him. He had the lock open in a trice.”

“That’s how I got here,” the boy said with a mixture of pride and anxiety. “I’m a dab hand at it. There’s no lock I can’t fiddle. Nobody would of never nabbed me for it neither, only someone peached on me. Speaking of which, I guess we’d best pike off now.”

He looked out at the silent road. There wasn’t a child to be seen, and the men in the dust didn’t so much as twitch a limb. But Eric thought he saw an outrider’s closed eyelids flicker.

“Aye,” he agreed with a nod. “Soonest gone, best for all.”

Camille gasped. “We can’t leave these boys here!” she cried. “They’re far from home and will be caught as soon as we leave.”

“Don’t worry none about us,” Taffy said, squaring his narrow shoulders. “We’ve many a trick betwixt us. We’ll do fine.”

“No doubt,” Eric said smoothly. “But we need help. Do you lads think you might stay on with us until all’s clear?”

“I s’pose,” Taffy said with just enough reluctance to save his pride, as the other lads nodded their energetic approval.

“Let me just make certain that we’ve left no one who needs help—little as they deserve it,” Eric said. He leapt down and went to examine each rigid figure in the road in turn. All were breathing. Though there might have been a few broken limbs, there was nothing dire. The fellow who had rolled down the hill was sitting on an outcropping far be
low. Someone would have to haul him up. That someone was not Eric Ford.

Eric stood and studied the prone figures in the road again. He watched carefully and saw one man lying especially rigid. Noting that the fellow’s breathing was regular and his color good, Eric went to him, bent on one knee, and whispered low, “Move a muscle in the next hour and you won’t have one to move with again. I’m not going far, and I’m meeting friends. Lots of them. After an hour you may get up and go. You may rest until then.

“You are well enough, but your fall affected your memory,” Eric told him, watching the closed eyelids fluttering. “Just as well. You’d be in very bad trouble if it were known that a woman and some children outsmarted you. So it’s best that you say a gang of their thuggish friends were lying in waiting on the road. Who could deny that? Besides, that is the only healthy thing to say. Anything else would be decidedly unhealthy, trust me on that.

“I do have friends,” Eric added, “in high as well as low places. You can lose your position or your life if you don’t take care to say what I told you, you and your mates. By the way, you never saw me.”

The fellow’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Now open your eyes so I know you understand.” Eric said. “Or you won’t be able to,” he added when the man’s eyes remained resolutely closed.

A pair of terrified blue eyes flew open.

Eric nodded. “I’ll remember your face,” he said. “Now go back to sleep. Then, in an hour, tell your associates how they can stay alive too and that I will remember them too. I have an excellent memory and many friends. Good day.” He rose and stalked back to the wagon.

“We’ll take the horses,” Eric told Camille. “Can any of you ride?” he asked the boys.

“Me,” Taffy said.

“An accomplished lad,” Eric said approvingly. “I can take a lad with me on my saddle. And you?” he asked Camille.

“I’ll take the other one,” she said.

“Then let’s leave,” Eric said. “We’ve friends to meet.”

They rode three of the horses and took the remaining two, which was lucky, because by the time they went back down the road they’d added more children to their party.

Their ragged band left the road soon after and went west over the meadows, through the fields, and into a forest.

“We must talk,” Eric told Camille an hour later, when they stopped in a thicket far from the road they’d traveled.

She got down and helped the boys down. “You can stretch or sit,” she told them, “but don’t go far.”

She needn’t have bothered telling them that, because they followed after her like a line of ducklings.

“No,” she said, turning to caution them with one raised finger. “I must talk with my friend the lieutenant now. You rest here and mind the horses. Don’t worry, I won’t go far.”

“Go far as you want,” Taffy said handsomely. “I’ll look after ’em, and keep watch too.”

“Lieutenant?” Eric asked, raising an eyebrow, when they’d walked until they were out of earshot.

“They need someone in authority,” she told him. “A lieutenant will be sure to keep them in line.”

“You’re their queen,” he said, smiling. “You could order them to the battlements and they’d go without blinking.” His expression changed. He dragged her close and held her tightly. “Oh, my love,” he said, his great chest rising and falling in a mighty sigh, “that was something I never want to experience again!”

She moved in his arms, and he immediately let her go. She might have problems with men right now, he realized. That was something they’d deal with later. His own fears of what those things had been were something he’d deal with later too. This was not the time or place.

She looked embarrassed and stared at her feet before she looked up again. He began to worry over what had happened to her, because his Cammie was never at a loss for words.

“Now,” she said, “what are we going to do?”

He was lost for a moment in the beauty of the sunlight reflected in her eyes, striking gold in their depths. Her hair was unkempt, her gown was a fright, and she’d never looked lovelier to him.

“I know we’re not meeting friends, as you told the boys,” she said, prompting him. “That was for the guards to hear, wasn’t it?”

He nodded, still lost in admiration of her.

“Where’s Miles?” she asked, her hand flying to her breast. “Is he hurt? I didn’t think—but if I was kidnapped—did Dearborne hurt him? Dear Lord, say it isn’t so!”

“No, he’s fine!” he said quickly, moving to hold her. Then, remembering, he drew back. “He’s fine,” he reassured her, merely taking her hand in his. “He’s on the Brighton road with a Runner, and that lawyer, Nell’s cousin, trying to keep up with them. Judging from the speed at which Miles was traveling, I doubt he can. Drum rode out down the Dover road. Ewen and Rafe have taken separate paths to the sea. We practically had to forcibly restrain Belle from joining the hunt and order Alexandria to stay home with threats of death if she stirred from the house. And if it weren’t for the fact that Gilly has infant twins and it would be hard for her to drag them with her, she’d be racing hell-bent down to the sea too,” he added to lighten Camille’s expression.