What else am I fit for if not to rule?'

Polly thought with sadness that the question was about to be answered with some finality. 'And what will you do now?'

'If I am rescued? Well, I fear we must know each other a little better before I impart all my secrets. But I shall not forget you, my dear. Nor the ray of hope you have afforded me.'

There was a heavy, distinctive thump against the doors.

Charles extended a thin finger. 'You see, our friends the guards have d-dropped off.'

Polly jumped from her chair and carefully opened the double doors. Ancrom and Sam were slumped inside, mouths open slackly as they slept.

'Right,' cried Polly to herself and dashed back to the window. She raised the candle and pa.s.sed it three times across her face, then set the candlestick down and turned back to Charles.

He had risen from his chair and seemed to be betraying some signs of excitement at last. His thin legs in their black stockings and breeches were trembling slightly.

'These friends of yours,' he said. 'They are in the castle, too?'

Polly nodded slowly, a trace of her former suspicion returning. 'Yes. They're to be released once I've got you out.

That was the bargain.'.

Charles tugged at his tunic and then ran a nervous hand over his beard. 'I wish you well, madam. And your friends.

When all this unhappy business is c-concluded...'

'I know,' said Polly. 'I'll come and ask for the Order of the Garter.'

Charles's reply was lost in the sudden tumult that erupted from the corridor beyond. In a moment, the double doors were thrown wide and Copper, Whyte, Moor, and three other men raced into the room. Copper looked quickly about, located Charles, and gave a low bow. 'Your Majesty. Come! Come!

We must hurry.'

The King nodded and dashed across the room. Moor threw a heavy cloak around his shoulders, which all but swamped the little man, and then hurried him out without a backward glance. 'Now, Chris, we must away,' said Copper. 'They'll discover us in a shot.'

Whyte nodded and turned to Polly with a grateful smile.

'Thank you, Polly. We could not have done this without '

'Never mind that,' said Polly. 'Where's the Doctor and the others?'

Copper made an apologetic tutting sound and walked slowly towards her. 'Of course, my dear. Your friends!

Quickly, this way.'

He held out his hand to usher her out after the King. Polly gave Whyte a quick grin and hopped over the sleeping Roundhead guards.

At once, Copper raised his dagger and prepared to plunge it down into her neck.

'No!' gasped Whyte, appalled. He thrust out his arm and knocked the weapon away. Copper glared at him furiously but, before Polly could turn, he had cracked her across the head with his gloved fist.

She crashed to the floor like a felled tree.

'You fool!' hissed Copper. 'We cannot let her live! She knows us!'

Before Whyte could reply, they heard shouts and the angry clang of a bell.

Both men exchanged fearful looks. 'We're discovered!'

cried Whyte.

Copper dashed across the room but Whyte hung back, gazing anxiously down at the prostrate Polly.

'Chris! Come! We must fly!' shouted Copper.

He fled from the room.

Whyte lingered a moment longer, his face a picture of regret. 'Farewell, dear Polly,' he murmured. 'I am sorry.'

Then he turned and hared from the room.

Oblivious to the clamour, Polly lay sprawled in a heap, a livid bruise developing on her skull.

Half running, half stumbling, Frances Kemp made her way through the dirty, snow-covered lanes towards the baker's shop she knew so well.

Her lovely face was pinched with the cold but had an altogether more haunted expression, which the severity of the weather could not explain.

Despite the gloom of the encroaching night, several friends of her family stopped and tipped their hats as they recognised her, but Frances ignored them all, keeping her head low and bustling forward, oblivious to the icy water splashing at her skirts.

This time, the door to the bakery was already slightly ajar but Frances paused some feet away, listening to the sound of her own breathing, the hammering of her heart in her ribs.

She knew Thomas would be inside there now, waiting patiently, listening out for her soft tread upon the doorstep.

But how could she face him now? How could she when her heart was filled with the poison of treachery?

Frances put her hand to her head, as though trying to stop it from spinning. She hardly knew where she was. First, her new friend Polly, who had been such a comfort to her, had been spirited away, and then she had been forced to wheedle the secrets of the King's confinement from her beloved.

She walked on, her little feet crunching through the snow, and pushed gently against the woodwork of the door.

Thomas was revealed at once. He was standing in profile and Frances's heart seemed to leap into her mouth as she saw him. How handsome and n.o.ble he looked.

He turned as she entered and his face was suddenly wreathed in smiles. He dashed across the room and swept her into his arms, holding her so tightly she thought he might crush her.

She ran her hands through his long hair and smiled simply.

'Put me down, put me down,' she cooed gently.

Thomas shook his head. 'Nay, Frances. What say I carry you like this throughout all our lives?'

He chuckled at the thought. Frances tapped him lightly on the shoulder. 'But I should hate to make my husband into a crook-back, Tom!'

Thomas set her down and cupped her face in his hands.

'Why, you're no weight, my pet.'

He frowned and brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. 'But you look pale, Frances. Are you ill?'

She shook her head and sat down, deliberately avoiding his attempted embrace.

'Nay, Tom. I'm tired, that's all. Father has been very bad again.'

Thomas sighed angrily. 'That man. He storms around that inn like a loosened bear.'

Frances rested her weary head on one hand. 'Nevertheless, he is my father, Tom. And we are stuck with him.' She turned suddenly and clutched his hands in hers. 'But tell me, my love, what have you been about today?'

Thomas shot her look of mock indignation. 'What's this?

Taking an interest in my affairs again?'

She laughed lightly. ''Tis true I've always regarded your politicking with... indifference...'

'Disdain!' cried Thomas.

She inclined her head slightly, in agreement. 'But if we are to be married then I will want to take a far more active part in your work than has heretofore been possible, Tom.'

Thomas dragged a chair to her side and sat down. 'If we are to be married? Where does this indecision come from?'

Frances tapped him lightly across the chin. 'You know what I mean, you scoundrel.'

They both smiled and gazed deeply into each other's eyes.

Then Thomas looked down and shrugged.

'Well, Franny. If you really want to know, my day was taken up with nothing more exciting than trying to find the funds to pay our troopers' back salary. I'm afraid that the reality of power is far less glorious than you might imagine.'

Frances looked up into his earnest-face. 'And did you find the money?'

'Enough for now, I think,' he murmured with a frown.

'And enough to appease Sir Thomas Fairfax. But we'll only really be able to release funds when the King is dead.'

A chill gripped Frances's heart like the fingers of a ghost.

'Must it come to that?'

Thomas nodded gravely. 'I can see no other outcome.'

They sat in silence for a minute. Then Frances cleared her throat. 'But how is the trial to be administered? Surely these things will take much organisation?'

Thomas nodded quickly, 'Oh, indeed. And that is to be my task in the coming weeks. The general is soon to address a meeting of the rump of this Parliament to decide who is to sit on the trial, who is to judge and all other matters.'

'Oh?' said Frances lightly. 'And when is this to be?'

She listened in respectful silence as her lover explained, and played directly into the hands of her father and Sir John Copper.

'Wait, wait!' cried Oliver Cromwell, sucking his fingers and almost bouncing in his seat with excitement. 'The right! No, no. The left! The left!'

The Doctor stood before him, his hands held out in fists and a broad grin on his face.

'Are you sure, General?' asked the Doctor slyly.

'Oh, don't make me doubt myself again, Doctor. I can't bear the suspense. No. It is in your left hand, I know it.'

Slowly and deliberately, the/ Doctor opened his left hand, revealing it to be quite empty. Cromwell groaned disappointedly but then let out a small gasp of astonishment as the Doctor opened his right hand, also empty.

Cromwell smote his forehead. 'But _?'

At once, the Doctor leaned forward, reached behind the general's ear and produced the little spiral seash.e.l.l he had spent most of the morning apparently making disappear.

Cromwell clapped his hands together. ''Tis wonderful!

I've seen tricks before, Doctor, but nothing like yours.'

The Doctor kept smiling but was sighing inwardly. His repertoire wasn't too large and Cromwell's appet.i.te for distraction was eating up every trick he knew. But anything was better than revealing more of the future, the Doctor had decided. It was simply too dangerous. And when Jamie had gone into one of his 'trances' and started talking about flying machines and mechanical men the Doctor had stepped on his toe to shut him up and launched into his series of party tricks.

Cromwell sat forward eagerly and looked over at Jamie.

'What say you, McCrimmon? Is not this Doctor of yours quite an extraordinary fellow?'

Jamie glanced ruefully at his companion. 'Aye. He is that.

Ask him to do the one where he makes the two visitors vanish, will ye?'

Fortunately, Cromwell didn't hear this as Thurloe came gliding into the room.

'Ah, John,' cried Cromwell happily. 'Come see what this Doctor can do. 'Tis a fine distraction from...'

He tailed off as he saw how ghastly pale Thurloe appeared. He clapped his aid on the shoulder. 'What is it?'

Thurloe shot a quick glance at the Doctor and Jamie, then bent to whisper in Cromwell's ear.

Quietly, the Doctor put away his seash.e.l.l and stepped away from the chair, keeping his gaze fixed on Cromwell the whole time.