I picked it up, reloaded.

Powder, paper, ball.

Fire.

There were only ten of the King’s Men left now. Charles had joined the fray, on the other side of Lord Ashcombe. He was a skilled swordsman, a warrior in his own right from an age even younger than Tom and I were now, and he fought well. The Covenanters recognized him and howled in glee, finally seeing their prize within reach.

But as they focused on the king, they left themselves open, and Lord Ashcombe, Tom, and I took full advantage, taking them down so quickly they had to swing their attention our way once more.

Powder, paper, ball.

Fire.

But still they pressed, and still we fell. Numbers ten and nine of the King’s Men went down in hard fighting. Eight, seven, and six just seemed to disappear, and we had to close in tight to fill the gaps. Five and four fell to Covenanter spears, and then there were only seven of us in total and more than twenty of them, and surely we were dead.

So… why were the Covenanters running?

All but four of them turned and fled. Their companions looked startled to be left alone all of a sudden, and the King’s Men cut them down until there were none. The remaining score of Covenanters sprinted toward the woods.

Then, through the ringing in my ears, I heard the thunder of horses. And I saw, galloping down the road from London, a score of lanterns swinging in the dark.

King’s Men, upon warhorses, rode into view, chasing the fleeing Covenanters to cut them down.

Sally had sent us reinforcements from Berkshire House.

How I adore that girl, I thought.

And then it was over.

We howled. No longer screams of pain or horror, but jubilation—sheer, unbridled joy. The battle was over.

And it was the most real thing I’d ever experienced.

The terror I’d felt had burrowed deeper than any before. So, too, did the exhilaration when I realized that no, I wasn’t going to die after all. I understood then, how soldiers spoke of the ecstasy of war, not just the fighting but the moment after, when you’re still alive, victorious.

I hugged Tom, and the soldiers, and even Lord Ashcombe. The king, too, embraced us all, joining us as we thrust our weapons high and howled our defiance into the night. We’d held the circle. Held it long enough, just enough, so we got to live. It was the most extraordinary, most joyous thing I’d ever felt.

And I would pray, every night, until the end of my days, that I would never have to feel that way again.

CHAPTER 50

“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?”

I heard the words, but their meaning didn’t even register. It took a hand grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around to bring me back to earth.

“Well?” Lord Ashcombe said.

I was still in a bit of a daze, so he looked me over.

“You’re wounded,” he said.