The Rebel’s Daughter Read Online Free PDF
Author: Anita Seymour
his
revenge on the nephew he hated.
Jonathan glanced across at Monmouth, whose
head was bent over Geoffrey’s plans, a frown on his handsome face.
Was his resolve still strong? Jonathan’s brother, Edmund seemed to
think so, but then for years Edmund had been straining against his
domestic tethers in search of adventure.
Now, they were cornered, unable to get to
Bristol, let alone London, with that Frenchman out on the moor
biding his time.
“ We
shall do it.” Monmouth snapped the spyglass shut for the third time
in as many minutes. “That Huguenot would never expect it.” He
handed the spyglass over his shoulder without looking to see who
took it.
“ We
march tonight at midnight, with strict orders to maintain total
silence. Every man is charged with dispatching the man beside him
with a knife, should he utter a sound to betray our presence.” He
looked into each of their faces in turn, gave a curt nod, then
clattered down the tower steps, the others following.
“ How
many of the men do even have knives?” Jonathan muttered. Sighing,
he pushed himself away from the wall and set off back to the inn
and his flea-ridden bed in the hope of a few hours’
sleep.
Chapter 3
Henry leaned against a wooden
stall and watched his sister through a crack in the half-closed
door , as she
stomped over clumps of wet hay scattered across the
yard.
“ She
doesn’t know I’m here, does she?” Bayle said from behind
him.
Henry jumped and swung round, having
thought himself alone. “No, she’s going toward the
kitchens.”
Bayle half rose in a stance that preceded
a bow, halted by Hendry’s impatient gesture that sent him back down
again. Henry sported more manure on his clothes than a cowshed, and
had hay sticking out of his shirt. This was hardly a time for
formalities.
“ I
suppose I cannot avoid her forever.” Bayle hooked his foot round a
stool and dragged it toward him, gesturing Henry to sit.
“ What
does she want?” Henry asked, straddling the stool.
“ She
read something about Colonel Percy Kirke in the Gazette . When asked, Lumm said he knew
nothing about the man, so he warned me she would search me out
instead.”
“ Who is
he? This Kirke, and what do you know about him?”
Bayle picked up a small tool and applied it
to a piece of leather.
“ The
Queen Dowager brought Tangier as part of her dowry when she married
King Charles.”
“ I know.
Father told me about Tangier, though I don’t recall much. It’s a
far-off place he said, very hot, and with savage
people.”
“ No more
than our own,” Bayle said under his breath, then continued, louder.
“Kirke maintained the garrison there, in command of the regiment.
Their emblem was a Paschal Lamb, which earned them the nickname
“Karce’s Lambs”.
“ A
strange emblem for fighting men,” Henry mused, frowning.
“ I
believe the Lamb is from the house of Braganza, and
signifies Christian men against the
Infidels.”
“Don’t the
Moroccans and Berbers call us infidels too?” Henry asked, aware he
was being provoking. However, at least his present audience
wouldn’t threaten him with a whipping for insolence.
“ I
believe so, Master, though if you don’t mind, I won’t argue the
point with you just now.” He twisted the softened leather round his
fingers, snapping it gently. “As I was saying, Kirke has a fearsome
reputation. His men are brutal, taking pride in their
savagery.”
“ How do
you know that?” he whispered, wishing now he had not
asked.
“ I grew
up with a man who served with 'im. He’s been dead these two years.”
He shrugged, as if this fact made a difference. “Karce’s a drunken
brute, in charge of a drunken regiment, who would kill a man merely
to test the edge of his weapon.” Hendry’s horrified gasp was
smothered too late. “Don’t listen to me, Master,” he rushed on.
“Who knows the truth of it? When a man’s belly is full of cider
he’ll say anything.”
“ And
these
revenge on the nephew he hated.
Jonathan glanced across at Monmouth, whose
head was bent over Geoffrey’s plans, a frown on his handsome face.
Was his resolve still strong? Jonathan’s brother, Edmund seemed to
think so, but then for years Edmund had been straining against his
domestic tethers in search of adventure.
Now, they were cornered, unable to get to
Bristol, let alone London, with that Frenchman out on the moor
biding his time.
“ We
shall do it.” Monmouth snapped the spyglass shut for the third time
in as many minutes. “That Huguenot would never expect it.” He
handed the spyglass over his shoulder without looking to see who
took it.
“ We
march tonight at midnight, with strict orders to maintain total
silence. Every man is charged with dispatching the man beside him
with a knife, should he utter a sound to betray our presence.” He
looked into each of their faces in turn, gave a curt nod, then
clattered down the tower steps, the others following.
“ How
many of the men do even have knives?” Jonathan muttered. Sighing,
he pushed himself away from the wall and set off back to the inn
and his flea-ridden bed in the hope of a few hours’
sleep.
Chapter 3
Henry leaned against a wooden
stall and watched his sister through a crack in the half-closed
door , as she
stomped over clumps of wet hay scattered across the
yard.
“ She
doesn’t know I’m here, does she?” Bayle said from behind
him.
Henry jumped and swung round, having
thought himself alone. “No, she’s going toward the
kitchens.”
Bayle half rose in a stance that preceded
a bow, halted by Hendry’s impatient gesture that sent him back down
again. Henry sported more manure on his clothes than a cowshed, and
had hay sticking out of his shirt. This was hardly a time for
formalities.
“ I
suppose I cannot avoid her forever.” Bayle hooked his foot round a
stool and dragged it toward him, gesturing Henry to sit.
“ What
does she want?” Henry asked, straddling the stool.
“ She
read something about Colonel Percy Kirke in the Gazette . When asked, Lumm said he knew
nothing about the man, so he warned me she would search me out
instead.”
“ Who is
he? This Kirke, and what do you know about him?”
Bayle picked up a small tool and applied it
to a piece of leather.
“ The
Queen Dowager brought Tangier as part of her dowry when she married
King Charles.”
“ I know.
Father told me about Tangier, though I don’t recall much. It’s a
far-off place he said, very hot, and with savage
people.”
“ No more
than our own,” Bayle said under his breath, then continued, louder.
“Kirke maintained the garrison there, in command of the regiment.
Their emblem was a Paschal Lamb, which earned them the nickname
“Karce’s Lambs”.
“ A
strange emblem for fighting men,” Henry mused, frowning.
“ I
believe the Lamb is from the house of Braganza, and
signifies Christian men against the
Infidels.”
“Don’t the
Moroccans and Berbers call us infidels too?” Henry asked, aware he
was being provoking. However, at least his present audience
wouldn’t threaten him with a whipping for insolence.
“ I
believe so, Master, though if you don’t mind, I won’t argue the
point with you just now.” He twisted the softened leather round his
fingers, snapping it gently. “As I was saying, Kirke has a fearsome
reputation. His men are brutal, taking pride in their
savagery.”
“ How do
you know that?” he whispered, wishing now he had not
asked.
“ I grew
up with a man who served with 'im. He’s been dead these two years.”
He shrugged, as if this fact made a difference. “Karce’s a drunken
brute, in charge of a drunken regiment, who would kill a man merely
to test the edge of his weapon.” Hendry’s horrified gasp was
smothered too late. “Don’t listen to me, Master,” he rushed on.
“Who knows the truth of it? When a man’s belly is full of cider
he’ll say anything.”
“ And
these