Rebecca was Idris Parry’s idol. Before going to the meeting place, Idris had hidden outside the old gamekeeper’s hut, where he had waited patiently for over an hour until Rebecca had come and fetched his bundle before riding off with it. On the first night Idris had been fortunate enough to see Rebecca return to the hut, still wearing the disguise. Perhaps he would not have known her identity otherwise.
Now there was nothing to do but go home and sleep for the rest of the night while Rebecca and his dada and most of the other men from round about were out having fun.
But Idris stopped suddenly and crouched down at the side of the path. His ears sharpened and his eyes darted about. He had spent enough nights outside, trespassing and poaching, that he knew when there was someone else out too and close by. There was someone now. He had been walking carelessly. He had to look about to get his bearings. He was close to the lane leading to Mr. Williams’s farm.
It did not take Idris more than a few minutes to move around silently until he saw who it was. It was one of the special constables from Tegfan. Idris had seen him there with the others, talking with the earl—with Rebecca. What a joke that had been! But what was the man doing here? Was he hoping to catch Mr. Williams going out with Rebecca? Dada had said that Mr. Williams could not go because his legs were bad.
And then Idris heard footsteps coming from the farm and ducked down well out of sight. If it was Mr. Williams, then he was too late to go with Rebecca anyway. But it was Mr. Harley—up here courting Miss Williams, although she liked Mr. Rhoslyn better.
And then Mr. Harley stopped and spoke quietly. “Are you still there, Laver?”
“Yes,” the constable said equally quietly.
“I have to hurry back to the house to alert Wyvern,” Mr. Harley said. “Perhaps he can round up more constables in a hurry. I don’t believe I am mistaken. It must be tonight. Follow her if she leaves the house. Don’t let her out of your sight. I’ll wager she will try to warn someone or, better still, try to go after them to warn them. I’ll catch up with you as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” the constable said. “Two people went down a while ago—a man and a lad. It would seem a strange time to be going out to be sociable.”
“Yes, indeed,” Mr. Harley said. “I’ll be back, Laver.” And he strode off downhill.
That would have been Dada and Mrs. Evans going down, Idris thought. But who was going to leave the house? Who was going to lead Mr. Harley and the constables to Rebecca and her followers? Miss Williams? But Miss Williams did not hold with the gate breaking. Of course, she was sweet on Mr. Rhoslyn, and Idris knew who Charlotte was. Was Mr. Harley using Miss Williams to lead him to Rebecca?
Rebecca would be sent to the other side of the world for the rest of his life and would be chained and whipped and made to work harder than hard if he was caught, Idris had heard his dada say. And the same thing would happen to Dada, though not for quite so long a time. And to Mr. Rhoslyn and Mr. Harris and Mr. Owen and Mrs. Evans. Idris felt panic like a heavy and giant hand against the back of his neck.
And then Ceris Williams appeared. She had a shawl clasped about her shoulders with one hand while the other hand held up her skirt at the front so that she would not trip over it as she hurried along, head down. She sped downward, bathed in moonlight as one of the gaps in the clouds spread overhead. The constable moved like a shadow after her.
Idris’s mind had calmed. He knew where Rebecca and the other men were going. He had heard Charlotte tell them in a low voice which direction they would be taking. Idris was not sure of the exact gates, but he could guess. He could get there before the pursuers. He could save them in time.
He could do something for Rebecca after all.
He got to his feet and sped off across the hill, still in his bare feet. It was perhaps fifteen minutes later, far too late, that he suddenly realized that his mind had not been working clearly after all. If it had, he would have thought of tripping noisily and cheerfully after Miss Williams and chattering to her loudly while warning her quietly that she was being followed.
But it was too late. He sped onward.
And what was going to happen when Mr. Harley went looking for the Earl of Wyvern? But Idris could not afford to start worrying about that.
Rebecca was being extra cautious tonight. It had been arranged that the special constables in the area would be sent to hide out in certain tollhouses south and east of Tegfan. But the operation was not very well coordinated. Although all the landowners were cooperating together, none of them had been appointed overall leader. The constables’ billets were scattered about, and some of the men liked to follow their own initiative rather than take orders from men who seemed to know no better than they did where Rebecca might turn up next.
So one never knew if one was going to ride up to a gate west of Tegfan only to find oneself peering down the barrel of a gun.
He had the safety of a few hundred men to consider—and at least one woman. He had seen Marged almost immediately tonight, though she had kept her distance and had not once met his eyes. He could not afford to think of Marged until the night’s work was safely completed, or to consider whether he would take her home tonight. Or make love to her.
He put the image of her and the decision to be made firmly from his mind.
All went well at the first gate. There was no one there except a gatekeeper with a heavy limp who informed Rebecca that she could have his gate and his house and welcome to them provided she did not lay a hand on him.
“Bloody gates,” he said, shaking his fist at the one he had been employed to tend. “More trouble than they are worth. I take more abuse here than my wages make up for. And the house is so drafty that I might as well sleep in the middle of the road.”
He caused a general burst of laughter from those close enough to hear when he offered to help pull everything down. But no one was fool enough to put a club or an ax in his hands.
The second gate was a different story. It was closer to Tegfan. The gatekeeper had lived in Glynderi for a while. Charlotte warned all Glynderi people to make sure that their faces were well blackened and that they kept their distance from the house until the keeper was gone. But that was a warning that was given each time to the people who would be working close to home.
There was another problem. The spies who had been sent on ahead to scout out the house and surrounding area, as they always did, came back to report that there were two constables with guns inside the house.
There was a murmuring among the men close enough to Rebecca to overhear the report. It seemed they would have to retreat and come back another night.
“We can find another gate, Mother,” one of the daughters said loudly enough to put heart back into the men. “There are plenty of them close by.”
“We have destroyed one gate tonight, Mother,” another said. “It is enough to cause serious annoyance. We will follow you another night.”
Rebecca raised her arms and silence fell. This was the moment for which Geraint had taken on leadership. Soon perhaps all the remaining tollgates would be manned by armed guards. If they turned back now, a few hundred unarmed men discouraged by two men with guns, then they were beaten. And yet the safety of every last one of them was in his hands.
“My children,” Rebecca said, “we have been asserting our right to freedom—freedom of movement within our own country, freedom from oppression by the owners of the land, who would bow us down to the ground with the burden of taxes in various guises. There is a gate on the road below us that your mother finds disturbing. It will not be easy to remove because it is guarded by two men and two guns. Are we to be daunted?”