Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,82

the servant sat frozen with shock. The sound of running feet came towards them, and the door burst open. A frightened maidservant stood there, her hands to her mouth, and her eyes wide.

As they stared at her, she was thrust roughly aside, and two men burst into the room.

Without speaking, they grasped Gregory and Hubert roughly, and hauled them to their BOSON BOOKS

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feet. As they struggled to free themselves, more men appeared. The terrified maidservant was knocked roughly aside, and lay where she fell, curled into a protective ball.

Overwhelmed, Gregory and his servant were dragged from the room and out into the street. There, astride his horse, and looking remarkably unruffled, sat William Monchesny. He looked down at Gregory with a triumphant sneer.

"Well, Master Gregory, we are pleased to find you at home!" he said. "You are cordially invited to the Tower."

"Your cordiality seems a little forced, Sir William," said Gregory, standing stiffly upright between his captors.

Monchesny grinned.

"My men are eager to have you accept the invitation," he said. "They are sure that you will have an interesting tale to tell."

"Why should that be?" said Gregory, coolly.

"Because, Master Gregory," said Monchesny. "Someone saw you with your friends, on your way to Westminster in the most amazing hurry. Now why should that have been, I wonder, when all the excitement was here on your doorstep?"

He gestured to his men, and wheeled the horse round. The party began to make its way to the Tower, marching briskly. A man marched on each side of Gregory, and his servant was similarly guarded behind him. Night was falling swiftly, and they walked along through increasing darkness. The emptiness of the streets was in contrast to the usual evening bustle, and there were no parties carrying torches to light the streets. The clanking of the soldiers’ short swords, the horses’ hooves, and their own swift breathing were the only sounds.

In the dark, one of the men walking beside Gregory’s servant slipped on something on the ground. The man saw his chance. A push sent the soldier completely off balance, a kick to the other side doubled up the other man, and, before anyone in front could work out what was happening, Hubert was running.

Unlike the soldiers, Gregory’s servant was familiar with the streets and alleyways. He ran at top speed toward the river, doubling back as the opportunity presented itself.

Behind him, he heard the angry shouts of the soldiers, and then Gregory’s voice, yelling encouragement. There was the sound of a blow, and Gregory’s voice stopped abruptly, but Hubert ran on without a pause. He would go back to Westminster, and to the house where the Yechiels were waiting. Somehow, he would find a way to free his master.

Somehow, they would get a message to the King.

He reached the river and, without hesitating, waded into it and struck out. There had been no further sounds of pursuit, he realised. He turned his head towards the river bank, and trod water, listening with all his might. The shouting had faded, perhaps muffled by the houses between him and the others. No, he decided, it had stopped. They were not BOSON BOOKS

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searching for him. Perhaps Gregory was the prize they sought, and they thought that a manservant was not worth wasting time on. Well, he thought, striking out strongly, he would prove them utterly wrong.

Gregory, his heart thumping, was held firmly in the grip of his two escorts. The others had started to run after his servant, but came back within a minute.

"It’s no use running after him," said one of them. "He knows this place far better than any of us."

Monchesny grunted.

"You’re probably right," he said. "It’s this fellow we need, not his servant. He’ll cause no problems too intent

on

saving his own skin to bother about what happens to his master."

He chuckled and nudged the horse back into a walk. The small party of men continued on their way to the Tower. Since the men fell automatically into a march, apart from their hands on his arms, Gregory found he could ignore them and think instead about what he might be able to do. Hubert, he knew, would make for Westminster, and tell the Aaron and the others what had happened. If the man got there without mishap, a message would no doubt go to the King, in time, telling what had happened in the City, and how he himself had been taken. Meanwhile, he would have to see what plans there were for