ground. Cromwell changed tack.

'Is this not a sight to behold!' cried Cromwell, returning 'But still there is more to do. The battle has fatigued thee, I from the field hospital sooner than he ought, with his neck know, but I must return to the Eastern a.s.sociation. The war haphazardly dressed. At once, he declared Parliament's is not yet won. I am relying on thee, Phillip, to remain here centre and right to be in a h.e.l.lish state and, thrashing his and hunt down any of the king's men who linger.'

horse, swept behind the enemy to his men's a.s.sistance.

Jackson sighed inwardly. He was exhausted. All he How much longer the fighting had continued, Jackson wanted now was to bathe and sleep. He looked down at his couldn't be sure. If he closed his eyes he saw only aching feet and nodded. 'I am, as always, at your service, anguished faces and glittering swords. He let his eyes roll sir.'

back and gazed up at the darkening sky, the summer scents 'Not mine, lad. The Lord's,' said Cromwell with a smile, of the moor stirring around him. Then, with a groan, he sat clapping the young captain on the shoulder.

up, eased off his boots and pulled down his stockings which 'Take your men and circle a few miles hereabouts, but tax were blackened with leather stains and mud. A leg of roast them not too severely. Bring back Rupert and I'll make a chicken was thrust into his hand and he ate ravenously, general of thee.'

pausing only when he saw Cromwell striding towards him Jackson watched Cromwell disappear into his tent. He out of the darkness.

was right, of course. There might still be a few Royalists 'Your wound, sir?' said Jackson, wiping greasy hands on hiding in the surrounding countryside. Perhaps even Rupert his tunic.

himself. It was worth sacrificing a few hours to find them.

Cromwell shrugged lightly. "Tis little. A scratch. A far Wearily, Jackson pulled up his stockings and forced his greater wound was Valentine Walton's boy. I have written sweat-soaked boots on to his feet. Within half an hour he to the father, G.o.d grant him mercy.'

had rounded up a dozen unwilling soldiers and had begun Jackson nodded sadly. The boy's death that day had been to trot away eastwards.

a great blow to them all.

He felt curiously drawn towards the fires of Crook 'But the victory is ours, Phillip. By G.o.d it is!' cried Marsham with its great ruined castle. On that fine, balmy Cromwell, his heavy face suffusing with pa.s.sion. 'Of twenty July night, the old black towers were virtually indistinguishable against the wine-dark sky.

96.97.Sad, tired eyes gazed across the moor towards the cheery 'What ails thee, Ralph?'

orange glow of Cromwell's camp. Sir Harry Cooke rubbed a Grey glanced down at the decrepit main hall in which the wounded hand against his brow and sat down heavily men were huddled.

against the crumbling castle rampart. Routed, by Christ.

'They're out of sorts, Sir Harry,' he said with a sigh.

Routed!

Cooke grimaced. 'We've suffered a great defeat, Ralph. I He boiled with frustration. Why did the King allow his would expect no less.'

armies to be led by such incompetents? Rupert, the arrogant Grey shook his head slowly. 'No sir, 'tis this place.'

fool, had calmly taken supper though Cooke had warned of 'This old ruin? What of it?'

impending attack. 'They have not your sensibilities, your Grey ran a finger across his beard. 'The men are afraid, Highness,' he had insisted through clenched teeth, 'and care my lord. They feel there is some evil at work here.'

little for the lateness of the hour.'

Cooke snorted.

And then stupid sulky Newcastle, retiring to his carriage 'They say they would rather face Cromwell than the to smoke a pipe!

Devil,' Grey continued.

Cromwell's men, sitting in their corn fields, had begun 'Much the same thing,' laughed Cooke, his portly frame singing psalms, their rousing, pa.s.sionate voices drifting shaking. 'Come, Ralph, we're too old and wily to believe in through the summer haze.

such nonsense.'

'Is Cromwell there?' Rupert had asked anxiously. Aye, he Grey made a little signal with his hand. 'There is a man, was there, as they had discovered all too soon, caught sir...'

unawares, their senses dulled by inertia.

A slight figure stepped out of the shadows, his uniform Cooke and six or seven of his men had eventually fled the caked with mud and gashed at the sleeve.

carnage, skulking to the old castle like disgraced dogs.

'This is Will Todd, my lord,' said Grey, ushering the There were men stationed on the far ramparts, looking youth forward. 'A local man. Tell Sir Harry what you told down into the tiny settlement below. It was important they me, Will.'

were not seen. Cooke knew from experience that loyalties Todd shifted uneasily, like a guilty child.

were uncertain in this conflict and that the inhabitants of 'I was born in Crook Marsham, my lord. But my family Crook Marsham might welcome them with open arms, only went to York some years ago, my father being a skilled to betray them to Cromwell's militia. Better to hide out in mason and work there plentiful...'

the old ruin where no one was likely to pry and then slip 'Yes, yes...' said Cooke impatiently.

away at some more opportune moment.

'This castle has stood since William of France came here Ralph Grey, his fine-boned face drawn and weary, and has been a ruin all that time.'

shambled along the battlements towards Cooke, who 'What mean you by that?'

sensed he was troubled.

98.99.'Only a few years after the castle was built there were within minutes, the cold stone walls were plunged into queer tales about the place. People spoke of the dead rising midnight blackness.

at night and all manner of things...'

The high, roofless castle beams loomed above them like 'Phantasmagoria,' said Cooke, waving his hand the ribs of a long-dead beast. Cooke glanced about him in dismissively.

the whispering night at the deeply shadowed niches and Will Todd clenched his fists uncomfortably. 'Sir Brian, the empty fireplaces which might contain all manner of secrets.

Norman who built the castle, went mad. They say his wife He shivered and, drawing his cloak around his shoulders, came back from the grave to haunt him. After that no one made his way stiffly down the stairs to his men. He looked would live here. No one.'

at their troubled faces as they drifted into sleep. Despite his Cooke eyed him severely. 'And this prattle of yours has bl.u.s.ter, he rather wished Will Todd had not told him those put the men into a ghastly humour, eh, Todd? I should have tales about the old castle. He screwed his eyes tightly shut.

you horsewhipped for spreading such discontent. You're no better than a gossipy old woman.'

Jackson let his horse trot quietly along the well-trampled 'I never meant...' pleaded Todd weakly.

path that led to the castle. His men trailed in a silent, weary 'No, but the damage is done. We would do better to go to procession behind him, their shoulders bowed with fatigue.

our beds and forget these tales of yours. Off with you, now.'

Jackson himself found that the gentle rocking motion was Todd made a little bow and clattered down the stone lulling him into sleep when a hissed whisper startled him staircase to the ruined hall. Grey turned to his superior.

awake.

'Don't you feel it too, sir?'

'Captain!'

'Nay!' barked Cooke. 'And, mayhap, if your mind were Jackson turned. A soldier behind him, obviously more turned more towards soldiery than witchcraft we should alert than his comrades, was pointing towards the castle.

not have been trounced on the moor today!'

'What is it?'

Grey flinched and stepped back.

'There's someone there, sir. I swear it. Down there, by the Cooke sighed and looked at Grey more kindly.

gates.'

'I am sorry, Ralph. We lost many good lads today. If any Jackson strained his eyes. Was that a figure - no, two -in man is out of sorts then it is I. To your bed now, old friend.'

the shadows by the castle's st.u.r.dy entrance? He sat up in Grey bowed slightly and disappeared down the steps, his his saddle but whatever had been there was lost in the deep boots echoing hollowly around the stones. Cooke rubbed blue shadows.

his tired face with his injured hand and looked down at his 'I see nothing,' he said wearily. 'But we'll stop here and men as they wrapped horse blankets around themselves.

rest awhile.'

The tiny fire they had lit was flickering into extinction and, 100 101.

His men flopped gratefully from their saddles and led crashed down. This time, Cooke screamed and felt the air their horses to a little circle of trees. Within moments they vomiting from his lungs in an unstoppable screech.

were stretched out on the hard ground, asleep.

The night exploded around him like a dam-burst. He sat Jackson himself stayed in his saddle for a time, gazing up, shaking with fear and grief, looking about him like a over at the darkened battlements some five hundred yards startled animal. Dark ruins. Sleeping men. Warm night distant. The night was warm, silent, expectant.

breeze. He sighed. They were still in that d.a.m.ned castle.

He rubbed his face and neck, already feeling the sweat Sunlight streamed through the children's hair as they growing clammy on his flesh. Ralph Grey was asleep nearby, jumped and capered about. Harry Cooke watched their his blanketed form undisturbed.

smiling faces and felt himself laugh silently. His daughters, Cooke let his head sink on to his chest. Why had he Bridget and tiny Mary with her big brown eyes, so happy dreamed about them tonight? It was two years now since and content in the gardens, hiding in the old stables and they'd been taken from him, and by brain fever, not the amongst the fragrant bushes.

sword of some treacherous Roundhead. He thought once Then the sky seemed to darken. A solid, warty face again of his daughters' golden ringlets and their clear, loomed out of the shadows, casting gloom over the happy smiling faces.

scene. The children turned and screamed, running to their Something moved on the battlements.

father for protection. Cooke held out his arms but his Cooke craned his neck and got to his feet, groaning with daughters seemed to make little progress, as though they effort. He picked his way through the sleeping soldiers and were wading through mola.s.ses.

dragged himself up the stone steps to the battlements. The The ominous face seemed to swell, blotting out the night was silent now, save for a distant rustling as if the sunshine. Cooke narrowed his eyes and glared at the breeze were stirring the blossom-laden branches of distant apparition. It was Cromwell.

trees.

Of course, it was always Cromwell.

He could see no one on the walkway. As he turned to Now there were soldiers in the garden, faceless make his way back into the ruined hall, there was a soft Roundheads in dull, pewter-coloured armour. Light flashed giggle from the shadows. Cooke seemed to recognise it at on their swords as they raised their weapons high in the air.

once and spun round.

Cooke tried to scream but could feel only a silent 'Who's there? Come out!'

tightening in his chest. Mary looked up at the shimmering Now he could hear a gentle voice ringing in his ears.

blade and shot a desperate look at her father. The Some sweet lullaby he remembered his wife singing to the Roundhead stepped forward, his dark figure a hazy children. The sound seemed to buzz around his head, silhouette against the white light of the sun. The sword making him swoon and tremble. It was beautiful. And so sad.

102.

103.

Two shapes detached themselves from the walls and turning into glistening maws. He began to thrash at them stepped out before him. There was no moonlight to reveal desperately. p.r.i.c.kles of yellow light shimmered over the them in detail but Cooke recognised them at once. He sank apparitions' surfaces as they blurred and shimmered into to his knees and cried out.

one, drawing Cooke's screaming body into them. Grey got Bridget and Mary walked towards him, their perfect, to within a few yards of the horror and then flung himself heart-shaped faces smiling delightedly.

back against the walls.

'Papa! Oh, Papa!'

'Get out! Get out!' he screeched at the men below. 'For Their voices were like a balm to his grief.

Christ's sake! Or we're finished!'

'Oh my little pretties!' he cried out, his voice cracking Cooke was merging with his daughters now, forming a with emotion. He stumbled towards them across the column of blazing light in which shapes seemed to twist like walkway.

monstrous embryos.

'Sir Harry!'

The men hesitated below. Grey shielded his face from the Cooke looked down. Ralph Grey and two other men were intense light before him and bellowed at the soldiers.

gazing up at him in horror.

'We are bewitched! Go! For your souls' sake!'

'Sir Harry, this is the Devil's work!'

The terrified men scrambled at the heavy doors and flung Cooke fell to his knees again, gazing appealingly at the them open. Outside, the night was strangely calm. They ran little figures before him as if willing them to be real.

at full pelt away from the castle, lungs and legs searing with 'But my daughters...' he said desperately.

pain.