of the long braids that no w hung down her back. "I will, general, because I
must. Bu t when this is over, we will refashion
things, will we not?"
She smiled because she could not answer the question that
referred to their agreed future. "Come, I will go first and spy out the
land. My presence on the cliff top will require little explanation if there are
watchers."
They followed her down the steps that for once held no
terrors for her. What power did ghostly imaginings have over the reality of the
executioner ' s axe, the pile of straw, stained by
the severed head? That would be their fate. There could be no other if they
were discovered, unless it was the
hangman's noose in Winchester jail.
She cracked open the heavy stone door at the stairs' foot,
listened, and heard only voices carrying faintly from a distance. They would
surely not guard the cliffs or keep a watch on the blank side of the house that
faced only the unfriendly sea? The expanse of springy turf stretched to the
cliff edge, offering no shelter, only the possibility of a headlong dash. But
there was no one in sight, no patrolling soldier with pike and musket.
" 'If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly.' " She shot a smile over her shoulder,
and Edmund again pulled a braid.
" Ginny
was always more inclined to mind our tutor than I, Peter." He was doing
his part, no wounded passenger but a whole man, not one weakened by loss of
blood and captivity, a man undaunted by the prospect of the open cliff top and
the goat's trail on slippery sand leading to an unknown, battlestrewn future.
She heard his resolution, and it stiffened her own. "You
must run. We cannot help you until we reach the path . "
"I know it. I have strength enough."
Ginny ran then, crouching low as if she could thus be
invisible on the wind-swept headland, paying no heed to the two behind her, knowing
that she could not afford to slow her pace. She was the hare to their hounds,
and they could keep her pace . . . would keep
her pace until it was possible to hide beneath the cliff overhang and regather
strength.
The path was there, invisible to all but the accustomed eye.
For others there was simply the sea stretching to a horizon, broken only by the
Needle Rocks. Ginny paused for the barest second to hitch her skirt into her
belt. She kicked off her sandals and tucked them also into the belt, leaving her legs bare from the knee down. Peter and Edmund
were behind her as she slipped over the cliff, her feet seeking purchase in the
sand. She grasped the tendril of a scrubby bush with her uppermost left hand,
steadied herself, and reached with her right to help Edmund who sat down
abruptly, his slithering fall prevented only by her feet barricading the path.
She moved down in the ungainly manner of a crab, allowing Edmund to slide the
few feet necessary to give Peter room to come over the cliff and onto the path.
Edmund's face was sheened with the sweat of pain and effort,
his breathing labored. Peter, unwounded but affected by the days of fearful
inactivity, also needed time to recoup. They could afford a few moments, and
Ginny stood sideways on the path, her bare feet gripping the sand as she
listened for the hue and cry that would tell them they had been spotted. There
was nothing but the call of the gulls.
" You
can manage with one hand, Edmund, " she
whispered, again with that reassuring, teasing smile. " For this once, you need have no fear
of returning to the house with torn
britches."
"Maybe not, but I have no desire to face the world with
a scraped and ill-covered posterior , "
he retorted. "I shall contrive, never fear, if you will but move
yourself."
Ginny went down the incline backward, one hand on Edmund's
ankle to control the speel of his descent , as
Peter crouched above, protecting the injured shoulder as best he could. When
they reached the cove, Edmund's color had changed to an alarming waxen yellow,
and the eyes that had been bright before were
must. Bu t when this is over, we will refashion
things, will we not?"
She smiled because she could not answer the question that
referred to their agreed future. "Come, I will go first and spy out the
land. My presence on the cliff top will require little explanation if there are
watchers."
They followed her down the steps that for once held no
terrors for her. What power did ghostly imaginings have over the reality of the
executioner ' s axe, the pile of straw, stained by
the severed head? That would be their fate. There could be no other if they
were discovered, unless it was the
hangman's noose in Winchester jail.
She cracked open the heavy stone door at the stairs' foot,
listened, and heard only voices carrying faintly from a distance. They would
surely not guard the cliffs or keep a watch on the blank side of the house that
faced only the unfriendly sea? The expanse of springy turf stretched to the
cliff edge, offering no shelter, only the possibility of a headlong dash. But
there was no one in sight, no patrolling soldier with pike and musket.
" 'If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly.' " She shot a smile over her shoulder,
and Edmund again pulled a braid.
" Ginny
was always more inclined to mind our tutor than I, Peter." He was doing
his part, no wounded passenger but a whole man, not one weakened by loss of
blood and captivity, a man undaunted by the prospect of the open cliff top and
the goat's trail on slippery sand leading to an unknown, battlestrewn future.
She heard his resolution, and it stiffened her own. "You
must run. We cannot help you until we reach the path . "
"I know it. I have strength enough."
Ginny ran then, crouching low as if she could thus be
invisible on the wind-swept headland, paying no heed to the two behind her, knowing
that she could not afford to slow her pace. She was the hare to their hounds,
and they could keep her pace . . . would keep
her pace until it was possible to hide beneath the cliff overhang and regather
strength.
The path was there, invisible to all but the accustomed eye.
For others there was simply the sea stretching to a horizon, broken only by the
Needle Rocks. Ginny paused for the barest second to hitch her skirt into her
belt. She kicked off her sandals and tucked them also into the belt, leaving her legs bare from the knee down. Peter and Edmund
were behind her as she slipped over the cliff, her feet seeking purchase in the
sand. She grasped the tendril of a scrubby bush with her uppermost left hand,
steadied herself, and reached with her right to help Edmund who sat down
abruptly, his slithering fall prevented only by her feet barricading the path.
She moved down in the ungainly manner of a crab, allowing Edmund to slide the
few feet necessary to give Peter room to come over the cliff and onto the path.
Edmund's face was sheened with the sweat of pain and effort,
his breathing labored. Peter, unwounded but affected by the days of fearful
inactivity, also needed time to recoup. They could afford a few moments, and
Ginny stood sideways on the path, her bare feet gripping the sand as she
listened for the hue and cry that would tell them they had been spotted. There
was nothing but the call of the gulls.
" You
can manage with one hand, Edmund, " she
whispered, again with that reassuring, teasing smile. " For this once, you need have no fear
of returning to the house with torn
britches."
"Maybe not, but I have no desire to face the world with
a scraped and ill-covered posterior , "
he retorted. "I shall contrive, never fear, if you will but move
yourself."
Ginny went down the incline backward, one hand on Edmund's
ankle to control the speel of his descent , as
Peter crouched above, protecting the injured shoulder as best he could. When
they reached the cove, Edmund's color had changed to an alarming waxen yellow,
and the eyes that had been bright before were
Similar Books
The Bitter Road to Freedom: The Human Cost of Allied Victory in World War II Europe
William I. Hitchcock
