His eyes moved to Jane and the king and she held her breath. Perhaps the officer would not trouble himself to check to see that all of them held passes. Her stomach tightened as she recalled that Henry had no pass. She and the king were nearly past the officer now, and he was making no move to stop them. But it could be a trap, she thought. The cavalry could easily close in around her and the king, and it would be futile to fight. She felt the eyes of the men on either side of the road following her.
She forced herself to look into the officer’s face, and gave him a bright smile, trying to still the beating of her heart. He swept his hat from his head and bowed.
“Your servant, Mistress.”
She nodded in reply. The smile froze on her face as the officer’s hand went to the pommel of the saddle.
“Hold, fellow.”
The king reined in the horse. John Petre halted ahead, and Henry of necessity stopped as well. They were surrounded now, their way blocked by the mounted cavalrymen ahead and behind them.
The officer glanced at the king and then at Jane.
“I’m sorry to trouble you, Mistress, but I’m obliged to ask if you have a pass for your travels. These are dangerous times for a lady to be abroad without good reason.”
“I—yes,” Jane stammered. “My—my cousin bears my pass.”
She looked to where Henry sat on the roan. Why, oh, why, had she not carried her pass herself?
Henry rode forward, his face pleasantly bland.
“This is the lady’s pass,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “And here is my own.”
Jane held back a gasp of surprise.
The officer glanced at Jane’s pass and then at her.
“You travel to Abbots Leigh, Mistress?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s quite a ways from Staffordshire. What might take you so far?”
Jane strove to keep her voice calm. “I go to see a friend, who is shortly to be brought to bed of her first child.”
She knew her face was flushed, and hoped that the officer might interpret it as embarrassment at having to speak of something so indelicate.
“I see.” His eyes flickered down the paper. “Well. I know the hand to be Colonel Stone’s.”
He glanced at Henry’s pass, and then at Henry.
Please, God, Jane prayed. Please let us go on.
The officer shook his head and spoke to Henry. “Well, I suppose Colonel Stone thought he had good reason, though was she my cousin, I’d not risk her safety on the road just now, even with a manservant along.”
“Your concern is much appreciated,” Henry said smoothly. “But I assure you, I’ll let no harm come to the lady.”
The officer brushed away a fly that threatened to land on his face, and shrugged, apparently satisfied.
“Then I’ll detain you no further. And I bid you good day. Mistress.”
He bowed again as the king clicked to the mare, and now other officers were nodding and bowing to her. She forced a smile as they rode forward. And then they were past the soldiers, and ahead of them lay the sparkling water of the River Avon, and the bridge over it.
NOT FAR ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RIVER, WITHY AND JOHN PETRE’S way southeast parted from the road towards Long Marston, and they took their leave. Jane, Henry, and the king rode on some way in silence, as though fearing they were not truly alone. It was not until they had continued half a mile or more, the open country stretching away on either side of them, that the king finally laughed out loud in relief, and Henry and Jane joined in.
“I’ve never been so frightened in my life,” Jane cried. “I’m glad we were a-horseback, for sure I would never have been able to stay steady on my feet.”
“Amen to that,” said the king.
“Henry, what on earth did you show him?” Jane asked.
“Why, a pass, cousin,” Henry smiled. “Yours was easy enough to copy, I found.”
The king whistled. “Then were you cool, indeed, sir, while the rogue examined a forged pass. But all’s well that ends well. Now that the danger has passed, I have a great hunger, I find. Would it be agreeable to halt for a rest?”
Their saddlebags were packed with a roasted chicken, bread, cheese, and fruit, and they spread a blanket beneath a tree and ate while the horses grazed. Jane felt the tension leave her. She squinted up at the sun slanting through the golden leaves above and breathed in the sharp autumn air, and the king smiled to see her pleasure.
“Well, despite everything, this feels almost like a holiday. An adventure toward, and a fair companion.”
Jane felt herself blushing, but smiled back, and noted the look of surprise, not altogether happy, on Henry’s face.
IT WAS NEARLY DARK WHEN THEY REACHED LONG MARSTON, A VILLAGE of small thatched cottages, and Jane was relieved that they had no trouble finding the home of her mother’s cousin John Tomes and his family, a substantial half-timbered house near the river. As the king took the horses to the stable, the Tomes family appeared to greet the visitors.
“Cousin Jane! Cousin Henry!” Amy Tomes’s round face shone as she welcomed them into the warm parlour. “It’s a weight off my mind to have you safely here. I wondered if you might choose not to travel, what with the grim news from Worcester.”
“Any trouble on the road?” John Tomes’s expression was grave.
“No,” Henry replied. “Plenty of soldiers, but they let us be. And of course we had Jane’s man Jackson with us.”
“A likely-looking lad!” Amy’s blue eyes twinkled at Jane. “He’s just come into the kitchen, and the cook and the maid are already elbowing each other out of the way to stand next to him. I think we’ll bed him down in the stable, away from the field of battle!”
She laughed merrily and Jane felt a twinge of unease. She had reckoned on staving off Roundhead soldiers, not round-heeled kitchen wenches. But at least her cousins accepted the king as her servant without a second thought.
Upon hearing that Richard Lane had been arrested after the battle, John Tomes produced a printed list of prisoners of war.
“It only names officers,” he said. “But perhaps you’d like to see it.”
Jane read over the names—seven pages, closely printed—from Robert, Earl of Carnworth, down through colonels, majors, captains, lieutenants, cornets, and ensigns, and finally “a list of the king’s domestic servants”, including his apothecary, surgeons, and secretaries. Next to many of the names was the notation “wounded”, or “wounded very much”. She shivered, thinking of Richard.
“Richard’s probably well,” John Tomes comforted her. “If they’ve got organised to print a list of the officers, no doubt more news will come soon.”
“Look at this, if you want something of a lighter cast,” Amy urged.
Jane struggled to maintain a neutral expression as she read the heading on the broadsheet, “A Mad Design or Description of the King of Scots Marching in His Disguise.”
“Silly, isn’t it?” Amy asked. “I pray it may be otherwise, but I fear His Majesty must surely have been slain at Worcester, or we’d have heard of his being taken.”
AFTER SUPPER, JANE WENT UPSTAIRS TO THE SMALL ROOM THAT AMY had made ready for her. It was cosy, a fire dancing in the fireplace, and the soft feather bed and plump pillows called to her. But weary and aching though she was, she longed to see the king before she slept. From the