For nights Genevieve could not sleep, or restlessly slipped in and out of half-sleep where fearful images chased through her mind. Eventually, worn out and desperate for deep slumber she sipped a glass of foxglove wine as a fleeting release from her misery. Lying back, with her head upon the pillow, drained and exhausted, the bitter-tasting drink acted swiftly: Giddily, she whirled into the Great Hall. It was full of jostling, shifting people she did not recognise, could not touch, nor wanted to.

*Might one offer a word in confidence?' Lady Wexcombe asked.

*Please do,' Genevieve answered.

*I experienced a touch of nausea when I set eyes upon you dancing with Gabriel. In polite society it is essential that a lady keep her virtue, at all costs. One false step means endless ruin.'

*But Gabriel is my brother, so I'm not sure I get yer drift.'

Floorboards creaked.

Instantly awake, she held her body rigid. Hours must have passed. Darkness had crept around. Had she imagined the sound? Might it have been the screech of violins in her dream? Fuddled with sleep, she tried to order her thoughts. *Thurstan? Is it he, come to murder me in my bed? Here I lie with no hope of protection from others. No weapon close at hand.'

Set upon her bedside table the candle flickered blue, signifying the presence of a ghost in the chamber. Through the gloom swam the stony, arrogant gaze she had come to dread in her early childhood. In her mind's-eye, she imagined Wakelin stepping up to the ivory-inlay cradle, in his arms something wrapped in rags. *Could it be Eppie, his dead sister?' She blinked hard in an attempt to be rid of the apparition, to no avail.

Throwing off the bed linen, she tumbled down the three wooden steps and fell against the body of the grim phantom. Tugging hard on the rope around his leather jerkin to regain her balance, she cried, *You're real!' This unexpected revelation had a profound effect on her. She shook uncontrollably and laughed wildly with relief.

*What did you think I were?' he asked grumpily.

Her emotion changed to one of frustration, almost anger. *Why did you want to scare me out of me wits? I was sure you were dead. I've had nightmares about you for months.'

*That ain't no surprise. Don't you find it quiet, you and him rattling around in a great big place like this?'

So thrilled was she to see him that her words spilled out rapidly. *Quiet is hardly how I'd describe my time here so far. Betsy drove Lady Wexcombe to distraction with her woeful tales, like how, at the poorhouse, she was given two rations of butter by mistake and locked in a cupboard as her punishment. We had a ball. It was dreadful. For weeks I've had to listen to Lady Wexcombe ranting on, saying as how modesty is everything in polite society.'

*Then she wun't think much to you stood before me in yer nightdress.'

She stroked his cheek, burnt from the river fire. *Don't say you've got yourself into more fights?'

*I've worse scars than this, though I won't show you where. It wun't be polite.'

*Wakelin, you don't know how good it is to see you!' She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fondly.

*Geroff buzzing around me, ya bugbear.'

A thought stuck her. *Mrs Bellows locks the house at night. How did you get in?'

*Me usual way of course; through the tunnel.'

It was then she noticed that the wainscot had been pushed aside.

*How did you know I slept in this chamber?'

*I've been watching the house.'

*Where've you been all this while? What happened to you the night the bodysnatchers came to the church?'

*Thurstan did for me. Luckily he didn't hang around to see if he'd finished me off proper. I got word to Fortune. She fetched me meat n' ale, regular like, so I got by.'

*You must be careful. Colonel Catesby is searching for you.'

*As if I didn't know. Why else d'ya think I'm skulking around in the dead o' night?'

*Mam and Sam are wed? Have you heard? While I'm thinking, Jacob said the folk that came to live in our cottage after us dredged a deer from the arsenic well. Did you have o't to do with it?'

*Why'd I?' he answered shiftily, quickly changing the line of conversation. *Which room's Gabriel in?'

*Two doors along.'

He swiftly let himself out and knocked insistently on Gabriel's door.

Curious as to what he wanted, she grabbed her shawl and sidled into the hallway.

Gabriel was groggy with sleep, although he must only have been dozing in his chair because he still wore the same clothes he had worn all day: a grey banyan over his waistcoat, a white shirt, and deerskin breeches. Around his neck a cravat was tugged out of place. *Wakelin? What are you doing here?'

*I've been shot. The fly maggots did a good job of grubbing out me dead flesh, so I'm back in me boots, as ya see.'

*You disturb me in the middle of the night to tell me that?'

*Course not. I'm here to say I'm starving and could do with some food. I've brung me sack.' He held it up for Gabriel to see.

*Help yourself. Genevieve, would you mind ringing for Mrs Bellows and let her know, otherwise she might clonk Wakelin on the head with a frying pan, mistaking him for a burglar.'

*Thanks,' Wakelin said appreciatively. *There's summat else I wanted to ask you. I rode here on a nag what I pinched from the knacker's yard. I reckon I'd have got here faster with that horse riding on my back. It's a miserable, head-hung beast with all its ribs showing. If I'm caught I'll hang for horse thieving. But then I'm gonna hang for stealing Eppie, so what's it matter? Ownee, I was thinking you might let me have a lent of one of your mounts? I've a fair bit o' riding to do.'

Gabriel was more than accommodating. *Please, Wakelin, empty my kitchen, take all my horses. Only, let me get to my bed.'

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE.

TRAPPED IN THE TUNNEL.

Something about seeing Wakelin roused Gabriel and Genevieve to seek out one another. Despite the chill of the autumn morning, fog rising off the woodland's marshy places, they rode together to the Crusader Oak.

Ever since they had met as children, the oak offered a sanctuary where they could escape. Stepping into the secret entrance always felt like entering the door to a magical world. As adults, the tree had taken on a deeper, spiritual resonance. It was the centre of their universe, its weary arms sweeping through the dappled light to heaven, its roots stirred by a breeze in the underworld, the realm of the faerie.

Fresh cushions had replaced old, a new tin of biscuits offered sustenance. Resting together, high in the tree's hollow, its sacred womb, they at once felt comforted, touched by the silence within their minds and bodies.

Save for a wren, inconspicuous and skulking, its warble vibrating as clearly as the plucked strings of a violin, the woodland was utterly quiet. So, the thudding of hooves as a horse was ridden hard towards the tree, sounded especially loud.

Genevieve stared out of the window. *How did you know we were here?'

Wakelin pulled sharply on the reins. *Mrs Bellows.'

She could tell by the stern look upon his face that something was wrong.

He spoke anxiously to Gabriel, who was peering inquisitively at him over the top of Genevieve's head. *When I was sick I heard that Thurstan was in hiding. So, soon as I were on the mend I tried to find out where he's at. That's why I needed this berra nag.'

*Are you saying that you've tracked Thurstan down?' Gabriel asked.

*Where?' Genevieve persisted. *Tell us!'

*I got to thinking, if I was him, which I wun't wanna be, no way, who would? Anyway, if I was and I wanted to lie low, I'd hunker down at the caves.'

*When Genevieve and I arrived home Dick told Colonel Catesby there was a possibility that Thurstan might be there. Though the yeomanry searched, they found no trace of Thurstan or his gang.'

*How come? I've seen Thurstan with me own eyes.'

*Maybe Catesby wasn't telling the truth?' Genevieve said. *I've always doubted his incorruptibility. It wouldn't surprise me if he's still on good terms with Thurstan.'

*Could be,' Gabriel said. *When Dick offered to accompany Catesby he was pretty insistent that he didn't.'

*The caves ain't a place Thurstan would choose to stay, but he's a desperate rat. From the snatches of conversation I've overheard, Thurstan's mind ain't all there, not that it ever were to my way o' thinking and Rowan's life is in danger.'

Urgency mingled with excitement in Gabriel's voice. *Rowan is alive?'

*You deaf? I've just said ain't I? Anyhow, from what I've seen, things have turned nasty, and it's my reckoning they's gonna turn nastier. We need to round up yer best pigeon-shooters, the more of us the berra.'

Gabriel leapt down the hollow of the tree, and rapidly unhitched his horse. *Many of my labourers have succumbed to the sickness which is sweeping the countryside.' The bridle jingled as he turned his horse's head. *The longer we delay the worse it will be for Rowan.'

*Gabriel, stop!' Wakelin bellowed, watching him gallop away. *We ain't a weapon atwixt us.' He was further riled by Genevieve's look of determination as she remounted. *No way, Eppie. We need to go quiet, the caves in't no place for a loud-mouth like you.'

*What is it about men, always reckoning they have the right to tell women what to do? All my life you've pestered me like I'm some stubborn chicken what's laid its eggs in a hedge. Pa was the same with mam, thinking he was better than her.'

*Ah, give over grizzlin'.' He hastened after Gabriel. *Do as I say!'

As a child there had been wilfulness in Genevieve's character that made her determined to do whatever he told her not to do. This had not changed in womanhood. Crying an encouragement to Goddess, she followed.

This was an extraordinary journey. Sped by the dread that they might be too late to save Rowan, it was strange to see people going about their ordinary day-to-day lives. Busy in his smithy, Ebernezer paid them no attention as they rode past. He dipped a red-hot shoe in water and held it against a horse's hoof, steaming. Children were leapfrogging headstones in the graveyard.

In Litcombe it was market day. Fog coiled around the houses. Shouts cut through the blind streets: *Get yer hot *taties here!' *Buy a dish o' eels!' Carriages rattled past as though invisible. People coughed.

*So,' Wakelin asked Gabriel, as they slowed their pace through the town, *how'd life in jail suit ya?'

Clearly worried, Gabriel had not spoken a word throughout the journey, nor did he appear inclined to indulge Wakelin in his cheery banter.

Not long after, they left the road, just beyond where Jenny was buried, and headed into the forbidding forest. Frozen into stillness, trees seemed to listen as the horses picked their hooves over fallen branches and around rocks that littered the ground. Dead crows dangled from branches, forewarning unsuspecting travellers to keep their distance.

Wakelin spoke quietly to Genevieve, as though afraid to raise his voice. *The caves have a fearful reputation with townsfolk. Few venture there. Them what do never return.'

She knew he spoke truthfully, but also knew that he was doing his best to impart a mood of terror. It riled her.

By now the fog had lifted and the sun shone strongly, giving them no cover from furtive observers.

A river murmured. The scent of pine trees filled the air. This would be a pleasant ride were it not for the dread of the unknown, of what lay ahead.

Gazing around, Genevieve shivered. Who knew what, or who, might be lurking behind the thick, rustling wall of leaves?

Frequently, Wakelin glanced about anxiously as though expecting them to be jumped upon by Thurstan's gang. *We're getting close now. Go as quiet as silverfish. Eppie, this is me last warning. There's sights you're better off not seeing.' Exasperated by her frowning face, he threw up a hand in frustration. *Gabriel, can't you tell her?'

Turning his horse's head, Gabriel waited for her to draw level. *Maybe you ought to wait here?' He knew by the look in her eyes that he was wasting his breath.

Goddess descended a slippery dell. *I've seen many a ghastly sight in my life,' Genevieve said crustily. *Nowt shakes me.'

*Don't she get on yer wick with all her rattling? I ain't sorry she's your sister, and not mine.' Wakelin slewed in the saddle so that he could gaze at her over his shoulder. He could not refrain from grinning. *Here's summat that might give ya the quivers.'

In a clearing before them lay a body, partly covered by leaves. By the look of Kenelm, still wearing his soldier's uniform, he had been dead for some time.

*Now see why you shouldn't have come?' he asked.

She bit her lip, stunned into quietude.

*When you two bumpkins have done with staring at Kenelm, come and tether yer nags alongside mine. We'll hoof it from here.'

Every sound, the scurry of creatures in the undergrowth, the whirl of a disturbed pheasant, was heard with startling clarity, enhancing their jumpiness.

It was not long before they alighted upon another body, slash-like bruise marks from a constricting rope shining dark around swollen veins.

*They're going down faster than Ed's skittles; Molins weren't hanging around here yesterdee.'

A carriage used by the Resurrectionists rested at a tilt. Still tethered before it, the horses had starved to death in their traces. Empty seed plumes quivered faintly as Genevieve thrust aside grasses. Pinecones and twigs sprinkled upon his corpse, Fulke was dressed in his coachman's cape, the whip still clutched in his gloved hands.

Without further word, they pressed on, aware of the need for increased vigilance.

Rocks loomed, mysterious, above the treetops. They were the rocks Genevieve recalled seeing in the distance, several years ago, when they had trudged to the marl pits.

Swooping crows uttered ugly, raucous cries, warning of their approach.

Gabriel stared up in trepidation at the cliffs. *Do we have to go up there?'

*It's your choice,' Wakelin answered. *If you ain't got the guts, stay here.'

Gabriel's frown matched Genevieve's.

Higher and higher they climbed, the rocks rising steeply, culminating in craggy crests.

Circumspectly, they trod along a sinuous ledge, wide enough only for them to walk in single-file. They scrambled where the outcrop had worn almost to non-existence. To keep their footing, they clung to stunted, curly trees that grew in crevices.

Every now and then tunnels opened up.

*It's higher than I imagined.' Gabriel was unable to disguise the panicky rattle in his throat. *There must be an easier way.'

*Stop screeching like a kicked hog,' Wakelin berated. *I figured you'd prefer to go the back way, especially if you wanna keep that tongue of yours and the head it flaps in.'