*Indeed, and what is to say that Dunham is not one of these agitators? Hired to assassinate you and your son? It is apparent to me that he intends to stir revolutionary tendencies. I insist, as chief magistrate, that he be executed.'

Ice-cold, a shiver ran down Eppie's spine. A sigh of horror escaped on-lookers. Thurstan's friends whooped.

*Before a court I would have no solid grounds on which to arraign the man,' du Quesne reasoned.

*We need not trouble ourselves to involve the king's court,' Thurstan answered.

*I would need a jury of twelve steadfast men to cast a verdict of guilt.'

*And so you have them.' Thurstan turned to itinerant workers who had stayed to witness the novelty of the mill's transportation. *Onus probandi. Why bother with the burden of proving Dunham's guilt when the facts speak for themselves? You would willingly see this scoundrel swing, would you not, my fine gentlemen? Let us agree, a guinea a piece for your services?' He dipped into his purse.

*That we would, sir!' went up the enthusiastic chorus.

*Exactly what I like,' Thurstan said, *a swift judgement.'

Eppie gaped at Wakelin's petrified expression amidst the ecstatic countenances of his captors.

Rain fell, intensifying. In the breeze, the ladder beat rhythmically against the mill like blood throbbing through veins.

*First I must speak with Gabriel and this wretch. I need to get to the bottom of this confrontation.'

*You are far too irresolute, Uncle.' Thurstan gestured at the stunned faces of the workers with his open palms. *Surely you cannot entertain the thought of these languid labourers laughing behind your back, declaring you to be a coward?'

Du Quesne's face turned a grimy shade of purple. *How dare you make such an accusation?'

Smiling condescendingly, Thurstan spoke in a voice as smooth as polished stone. *To prove you are a man of uncompromising disposition, I demand that you forfeit Dunham's life for his attempt to kill your son. He must be hung, this very morning, for all to see, from the scaffold at The Fat Duck. By this act you augment your leadership and convince these heathens that you are a force to be reckoned with.'

Tom sprang to his friend's aid. *Sir, you can't hang Wakelin for a trumped up charge.'

*You don't want to be too hasty in your decision, your worshipfulness,' Jacob added.

*At least listen to what Wakelin has to say,' Bill put in. *He's a good lad at heart.'

*I will have an end to this wheedling!' In a low, strangely resonant voice, du Quesne said, *So be it.'

Wakelin threw off his captors and ran.

Leaping onto his horse, Thurstan spurred it on and was quickly after Wakelin.

Wakelin felt a kick between the shoulder blades so hard that it seemed almost to dismember him. He was left sprawling and gasping in pain upon the ground.

Having made his decision, du Quesne's mind cut off from the fate to which he had condemned Wakelin and back to the task in hand. *Cordwainer, the oxen are restless.'

In a mass stupor, labourers drifted away with the mill, their murmuring voices like the hum of so many flies. Tom, Edmund, Samuel, and others loyal to Wakelin stood in a huddle, unwilling to leave him.

Eppie remained unmoving, staring as Thurstan's friends hauled Wakelin over, shaking and whimpering, and forced him into a crouching position. His head of cropped hair sunk to the ground between hunched shoulders, he looked as though he were awaiting decapitation.

*First, Dung Heap, I insist on a little fun to while away the time.'

Behind her, as she ran towards Dusty, Eppie heard thuds and roars of delight as Thurstan, laughing sardonically, hailed a torrent of kicks upon Wakelin.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX.

TRESPASSER.

Unbeknown to Eppie, labourers, encouraged by Cross-Eye's earlier triumphs, had taken bets as to whether Dusty could drink a pint without taking her lips off the tankard.

To her consternation she found the donkey, its breath smelling strongly of beer, asleep beside the brewery wagon.

She would have to run to the manor.

She was past the carriage shed, almost to the manor house when she skidded into Mrs Bellows who emerged from the dairy, reeking of ripe cheese. *Not you again? His lordship made it quite clear that he does not want you near his home.'

*I need Gabriel.'

*Yes, and we all know where that leads don't we, young lady. Trouble. Be off.'

Eppie streaked up the stairs and along the corridors, Mrs Bellows' bluster echoing off the wainscoting as she relentlessly pursued the trespasser. *Stop this instance! Do you hear?'

Charging into Gabriel's chamber, Eppie slammed the door with such a force that it sent papers on a table fluttering to the floor.

Nerves sparking, she crept forward, wary that she had entered the room of a sick person.

Disturbed from his ablutions, one leg sticking up, Prince Ferdinand eyed her charily.

*Hello, pussy.'

Eppie assumed Gabriel was sleeping, though in an odd position, with his elbows raised and palms pressed against his face.

*Master Gabriel!' Mrs Bellows cried, thumping on the door. *This simply will not do!'

*Eppie, what's that rumpus?'

*Puffing Bellows is mad at me. It's all right, though, I've locked her out.'

*Why've you come to see me when you've been told not to?'

She was heartbroken at his words. *Don't you want me no more?'

*Of course, only, coming home, it's been a shock having all the ghastly things slapped in my face at once.'

Mrs Bellows rapped repeatedly. *Sir! Sir!'

He rubbed his aching forehead. *She sounds like a woodpecker shrieking through the woodland.'

*Sir! You know your father's rules. And whatever will he think of you having a girl in your room?'

Gabriel raised his voice as high as he could without it hurting. *At the moment I couldn't care less what he thinks.'

*Well, I never!' Timbers vibrated as she rampaged away.

*When I was young and became upset, I remember mother telling me to keep my hatred in my fists, not in my head. That way I could beat my pillows without the hate crushing me. It doesn't work. My abhorrence of father is always inside, ripping me apart.' He drew in a shaky breath. *I've been lying here, thinking about the fearful things that have happened, about the one thing I wish I could change back to the way it ought to be, and know I can't. It is sinful, I know, but sometimes I long for my life to end, so that I will have no more sorrow.' He gazed at her steadily. *Someone always holds me back.'

*Who?'

*You. You are the only reason that I am.'

*I dunno why you reckon I'm so special. But oh, Gabriel! You have to help me! Thurstan said Wakelin has to go to the gallows for tugging you off the ladder. They're going to do it now!'

*That's ridiculous. I slipped.'

*Will you come and talk to your father? Wakelin won't be able to speak up for himself; Thurstan's beaten him to pulp.'

*What can I do? Thurstan and father are a law unto themselves.'

*We must do something to help him. Since the accident, Wakelin's shown me nothing but kindness. Please come! They might've got the pumping mill in place by now and be on their way to The Duck.'

Gabriel limped into the yard.

Waiting with the horse at the upping stock, Clem cast him a concerned look. *I don't reckon you ought to ride out, sir.'

*I'll be fine.' Gabriel uttered short, agonising gasps as he mounted.

Eppie raced off down the lane, scrambling and slipping at the woodland edge.

*Wait!' Gabriel cried, as he rode after her. *Climb up and ride with me.'

She would not listen, could not listen. Her mind whirled. Were they already too late?

Massed before Miller's Bridge, she descried a clamouring crowd of cottagers and mounted riders. The brewery wagon stood before Dank Cottage.

Flip tore eagerly into the parlour to tell Martha what was happening.

Rushing into the lane, she flung out her arms and moved in a stumbling way towards the wagon, her voice thin and threadlike as Eppie had never heard it before. *Pray, do not do this! Please, God, my son!'

Eppie stepped quickly around the horses to Martha's side.

Gabriel rode forward in silence, the cottagers parting around him. Steadying Wayward beside the brewery wagon, he gazed upon Wakelin's prone body, disturbed to see the injuries his cousin had inflicted on the man; his face was puffed, both eyes closed, blood stained his shirt where it had streamed from his nose. *How can you call this justice, when the so-called felon is so senseless he cannot even rise to his feet to plead his innocence?'

*All the better for him,' Thurstan answered caustically. *He won't feel a thing.'

*Of what do you accuse Dunham?' Gabriel asked.

*Attempted murder,' Thurstan replied.

*The man has not even been given the opportunity of a fair trial. He meant me no harm.'

*Then, might I enquire as to how you acquired those bruises?' his father asked.

*It looks to me like Dung Heap has had a good attempt at reshaping your face.' Thurstan cupped his hand to his mouth and spoke to Cudbert, though purposefully audible for all to hear, *I can't say I blame him.'

*Father, I demand that you release Wakelin.'

*No!' Thurstan yelled. *Dunham will hang. The law must be upheld.'

*What law?' Gabriel scoffed. *It is your own vagarious notion of the legal system of which you speak. You have a cruel, crooked nature, Thurstan. Everyone here is well aware of the chilling frequency with which you condemn even women and children to hang for the most minor of offences.'

*Have a bite of care for what you say, boy,' du Quesne growled.

His mouth drawn up in a sneer, a look of malice in his eyes, Thurstan snatched a coil of rope from the wagon. Tying one end to the tackle of the innkeeper's horse, he flung the other high over a branch. Leaping onto the wagon, he slapped Wakelin hard in the face until he came to a semblance of wakefulness.

Despairing moans went up from the villagers, realising that Thurstan intended to use the oak beside Miller's Bridge as a gallows tree.

*On your feet!' Thurstan demanded of Wakelin.

Reluctantly, shakily, he rose.

Thurstan tightened the noose about Wakelin's neck.

Her mind holding itself in readiness for what she must witness, Eppie gripped the lip of the wagon, needing its support.

Wakelin cast a bewildered look about him. His eyes, wide and blank with terror, fixed upon his mother. Fumbling with the rope, he tried to free himself. He lacked the strength.

Unwilling to watch, Samuel turned away and tugged Martha by the arm, trying to draw her away from the terrible scene.

She would not leave her son's side. Her eyes dark with horror, she groped at Thurstan's wrist as he ran to speed the horse. *I beg you, sir! You must not do this!'

*Unless you wish your son to struggle in agony for several minutes,' he told her pitilessly, *I suggest you hang onto his legs to shorten his suffering.'

Pulling hard on the bridle, Gabriel shifted Wayward sharply sideward. Swinging his leg over the saddle, he scrambled onto the wagon. Briskly loosening the noose, he thrust it over his own neck. *If you are intent on hanging Wakelin, you must first hang me.'

Pride swelled in Eppie's heart for Gabriel's brave words and deed.

*What idiocy is this?' du Quesne cried. *You disgrace me to the dust, boy.' Sombrely, after a moment's thought, he declared, *There will be no hanging.'

Villagers raised their voices to the sky in exultation. Tom and Edmund ran to help Wakelin clamber down.

Thurstan stormed up to his uncle. *I will not have my stripling cousin getting the better of me.'

*Silence!' du Quesne thundered. *I have spoken.' He turned on Martha. *I want you and your despicable family out of my cottage. Tonight!'

Eppie and Gabriel looked on, aghast.