So with a shake of head, he compelled his boots back to the tavern, ordered another ale and sat.
Not feeling quite so alone.
But odd emotions roiled.
Anger that she’d not told him.
Dread that she may be hurt.
Mortification that he’d not realised it was her until those amber eyes.
Pride for the same reason.
An anomalous lust.
The door opened once more, but this time Roberts strode in, gaze gleaming and chin determined.
He caught Hugh’s eye, nodded, and as he made his way up the stairs, Hugh followed suit.
Time for work.
As the leaderof the Ravens rose to his feet, grumbles amongst the men waned, tankards of ale were lowered, and all eyes shifted to the head of the table.
Hugh hunched in his chair and watched as Roberts contemplated each member of the Brotherhood of Ravens, one by one, as though assessing their mettle. Meeting the wintry stare with one of his own, Hugh presumed he’d passed muster for it continued on.
Except for two older men, the faces were the same. He’d nodded at Forsyth upon entering and debated if he was Rainham’s infiltrator? Or was it one of the youths with grim gaze or even Darnell with his laconic ways? Perhaps Hugh shouldn’t have held that knife to his cheek…
This establishment was a better meeting place than the last as jugs of ale sat on the table while a laden fire dissipated the damp from the river. A connecting door led to another room, and a three-sectioned bay window overlooked the Thames night, a few lanterns bobbing on moored boats.
Roberts shifted. The fire sparked.
“Our two brothers sent to Derbyshire,” he began with voice stern, “will soon silence the government infiltrator who seeks to betray the good men there. I say they’ll have him before this sennight is out.”
No, they wouldn’t.The man had changed names and moved on.
Roberts nodded slow to the fists thumping the table. “Aye, they trained us as soldiers and soldiers we shall be.”
“Here’s to Roberts!” shouted Cleavers above the clamour, a finger scratching behind his eyepatch.
“Not me, my brothers.” Their leader raised his tankard also, lids hooded. “We drink to our Lady T!”
Pewter clanked against pewter as Hugh’s mind spun in turmoil – Ross’ list of ladies’ surnames. All beginning with T. Who the hell was she?
“The time has come,” Roberts said softly, spreading his arms, neck corded. “Men of the north are rising up and we will be part of that revolution, will greet them as they sweep down the country. Nottingham Barracks will be taken, then Newark from the river and the arms depot there.” With nostrils flared, he smiled. “I’m told we’ve a hundred thousand men to our cause – to see this land a republic.”
Raucous cheers and slaps of congratulation abounded.
Roberts twisted to pace the floor. “I want two of you in Newark. To train them on use of the arms they seize.” He paused, gaze shifting to Hugh. “Davies?” And he raised a brow, grey eyes glittering like a wolf’s – starved and savage.
Hugh gritted his teeth. “Aye, I’ll go.”
“Darnell, you’ll go with him. I’ll send detail–”
A knock interrupted and the grubby lad in sailor’s slops poked his head around the door. “Message fer Roberts?”
Their leader strode over, snatched it and read it, marched to the fire and consigned it to the flames.
Hugh clenched his fists beneath the table. What he would have given to see that message…
