Read Online Traitor's Blood (Civil War Chronicles) by Michael Arnold - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Arnold
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arms and paced further into the room. ‘I am afraid, John.’
Colonel John Kesley rose from the chair, slipping his legs into breeches hurriedly discarded during their lovemaking. Still barefoot, he padded over to her. ‘Why? Tell me.’
‘I want to be with you, you know that. But you say we cannot be together – properly I mean – until this war is over. How will you ever overcome the king’s forces, my love? How can you?’
Kesley reached out, placing comforting hands on his lover’s slender shoulders. She was dressed like a man, boots, breeches and shirt, yet she still sent a wave of longing through him. ‘How? We build an army,’ he said. ‘An irresistible fighting force. Professional and vast.’
‘But
how
?’ She punched his chest in frustration. ‘Do not mock me, John, I beg you. Please, tell me how there is to be such an army. I fear for my life. For yours. You told me the king’s cavalry are unbeatable. How can my lord Essex begin to challenge them?’
‘He can pray,’ Kesley said. It was his stock answer to a question she had asked half a dozen times.
This girl had beguiled him from the start with her skin like milk and cloud of golden hair. She had dazzled him with her delicate Gallic accent and gorgeous, sapphire eyes. As he watched her now, strutting away from him, he knew she was angry. He made a decision. ‘And he can purchase.’
His lover turned, her eyes raking across him. ‘Purchase?’ she repeated the word. Kesley smiled slightly. ‘Do you mock me still, John?’
Kesley held up a placating hand. ‘Hold, my love. Hold.’ She relented, and he stepped forward, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of honesty. ‘I do not mock you. I speak plain, upon my honour.’
‘How so?’
The colonel trod across the creaking boards to take a seat by the window. He gnawed on a fingernail. The Frenchwoman had followed him, hooked upon his words, and he took her by the wrists, urging her down on to his lap. ‘The enemy have wealth,’ Kesley began slowly. ‘They have gold and plate to sell, and with it they will swell their ranks. And yet they are bereft, for they lack the single most valuable object of all.’
‘Which is?’
Kesley thought for a moment, considering his words. ‘At the turning of the year, we saw that war approached. We put plansinto action. One of those plans was to ensure that the king would not use his wealth to procure an army so powerful it would swallow us whole.’ He paused, staring out towards the dark outline of the distant hills.
‘Like that man in – where was it – Cambridge?’ Melisande said. ‘You told me of his daring capture of the university silver.’
Kesley nodded. ‘Aye, precisely like that. We must lay our hands on as much of the king’s riches as we can. But impressive as Captain Cromwell’s success at Cambridge was, it was a mere drop in the ocean.’
‘How do you mean, my love?’
Kesley stared at her, his eyes serious. ‘A loyal agent managed to relieve the queen of her most precious possession.’
His lover looked at him, askance. ‘The crown jewels?’
Kesley gave a bark of laughter. ‘No, dear. This is a jewel so rare, so precious, that every other gem is like clay by comparison.’
The girl fixed her eyes on the soldier’s handsome face, her jaw dropping slightly as she absorbed his words.
Kesley leaned back, satisfied with the effect of his revelation. ‘A gem. A ruby. I have not seen it myself, for it is kept locked in a strongbox, but they say ’tis large as a goose egg.’
She gazed at him, studying his expression for a sign of amusement. ‘I do not believe it. You still jest, John.’
‘On the contrary. The gem is real, hidden for centuries in the bowels of Whitehall, they say. Knowledge of its existence was entrusted to just a handful of each reigning monarch’s closest confidants.’ He grinned, wide and triumphant. ‘But, in these times, who is to be trusted? One of those confidants is our man.
Colonel John Kesley rose from the chair, slipping his legs into breeches hurriedly discarded during their lovemaking. Still barefoot, he padded over to her. ‘Why? Tell me.’
‘I want to be with you, you know that. But you say we cannot be together – properly I mean – until this war is over. How will you ever overcome the king’s forces, my love? How can you?’
Kesley reached out, placing comforting hands on his lover’s slender shoulders. She was dressed like a man, boots, breeches and shirt, yet she still sent a wave of longing through him. ‘How? We build an army,’ he said. ‘An irresistible fighting force. Professional and vast.’
‘But
how
?’ She punched his chest in frustration. ‘Do not mock me, John, I beg you. Please, tell me how there is to be such an army. I fear for my life. For yours. You told me the king’s cavalry are unbeatable. How can my lord Essex begin to challenge them?’
‘He can pray,’ Kesley said. It was his stock answer to a question she had asked half a dozen times.
This girl had beguiled him from the start with her skin like milk and cloud of golden hair. She had dazzled him with her delicate Gallic accent and gorgeous, sapphire eyes. As he watched her now, strutting away from him, he knew she was angry. He made a decision. ‘And he can purchase.’
His lover turned, her eyes raking across him. ‘Purchase?’ she repeated the word. Kesley smiled slightly. ‘Do you mock me still, John?’
Kesley held up a placating hand. ‘Hold, my love. Hold.’ She relented, and he stepped forward, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of honesty. ‘I do not mock you. I speak plain, upon my honour.’
‘How so?’
The colonel trod across the creaking boards to take a seat by the window. He gnawed on a fingernail. The Frenchwoman had followed him, hooked upon his words, and he took her by the wrists, urging her down on to his lap. ‘The enemy have wealth,’ Kesley began slowly. ‘They have gold and plate to sell, and with it they will swell their ranks. And yet they are bereft, for they lack the single most valuable object of all.’
‘Which is?’
Kesley thought for a moment, considering his words. ‘At the turning of the year, we saw that war approached. We put plansinto action. One of those plans was to ensure that the king would not use his wealth to procure an army so powerful it would swallow us whole.’ He paused, staring out towards the dark outline of the distant hills.
‘Like that man in – where was it – Cambridge?’ Melisande said. ‘You told me of his daring capture of the university silver.’
Kesley nodded. ‘Aye, precisely like that. We must lay our hands on as much of the king’s riches as we can. But impressive as Captain Cromwell’s success at Cambridge was, it was a mere drop in the ocean.’
‘How do you mean, my love?’
Kesley stared at her, his eyes serious. ‘A loyal agent managed to relieve the queen of her most precious possession.’
His lover looked at him, askance. ‘The crown jewels?’
Kesley gave a bark of laughter. ‘No, dear. This is a jewel so rare, so precious, that every other gem is like clay by comparison.’
The girl fixed her eyes on the soldier’s handsome face, her jaw dropping slightly as she absorbed his words.
Kesley leaned back, satisfied with the effect of his revelation. ‘A gem. A ruby. I have not seen it myself, for it is kept locked in a strongbox, but they say ’tis large as a goose egg.’
She gazed at him, studying his expression for a sign of amusement. ‘I do not believe it. You still jest, John.’
‘On the contrary. The gem is real, hidden for centuries in the bowels of Whitehall, they say. Knowledge of its existence was entrusted to just a handful of each reigning monarch’s closest confidants.’ He grinned, wide and triumphant. ‘But, in these times, who is to be trusted? One of those confidants is our man.
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