Knight's Captive by Samantha Holt Page A

gulped. She didn’t think Henry would but
the strong set of his brow and the way his muscles seemed to strain against his
linen shirt certainly made him appear intimidating. She suspected it was the
only reason the crowd hadn’t pushed forward yet.
    She tugged her skirt free from where someone had
trampled on it and fought to clamber over the wall. It wasn’t high but the
crush of bodies prevented her from doing it easily. As she put one foot over,
she had to fight to free her leg and hop over the other side. She hastened to
Henry’s side and caught his glare.
    “Antonia, ‘tis not safe,” he hissed.
    “I can help,” she said.
    However, when she looked to the crowd that he
was keeping at bay with a mere sword, she gulped. She had thought perhaps the
voice of a woman would calm them, but now her thoughts seemed foolish. These
people wouldn’t listen to her—particularly not a Spanish woman. Angry words
simmered through the air and though she couldn’t hear them all, she recognised
many of them as insults.
    Henry snatched her arm as the same man took
another step forward. Grip tight on her sleeve, he dragged her behind his body
and placed himself between her and the crowd. She glanced down at the young man
he’d been shielding to see blood trickling down his face. She kneeled and drew
a handkerchief out of her sleeve to press it to his head. She longed to ask him
who he was, what he was doing, why Henry was risking his life for him but the
noise around her grew in intensity.
    Antonia swallowed as the crowd seemed to bulge
and wash forward like waves on the beach. Several more bodies spilled over the
wall, and Henry took a step back. She fought the need to close her eyes when a
group of men began inching forward.
    A crack ricocheted through the air. Her heart
bounded against her chest and she waited for something awful. Henry toppling forward perhaps or collapsing to his knees. But a puff of smoke drifting lazily into the sky told her the shot had been far
away at the rear of the crowd. Many dispersed as soon as the sound rang out
between the buildings.
    Henry snatched her arm and hauled the young man
to his feet. “Make haste.”
    He led them around the building while the crowd
was distracted. Another crack made her jump, but Henry urged them forward. They
ran behind the church and paused when they came to the cliff edge. “Follow the
path down to the beach.” He pointed along a narrow strip of dirt that had been
worn into the grass. “Stay hidden until I find you. Look after this lad,
Antonia. He has had a knock to the head.”
    “Henry, you’re not—”
    “If someone is shooting at the crowd, I cannot
leave them.”
    “But you might get hurt—killed even!”
    He gave her a look that told her he would not be
denied his duty. And she couldn’t help admire him for it. He would lay his life
on the line for those who had wanted to take it from him only moments ago.
    “Be careful,” she whispered as he turned away.
    Henry paused to give her a nod and a slight
smile before he made his way back to the church. His royal blue cloak billowed
out behind him and his hair ruffled in the wind. Her heart panged in protest of
watching him go. However, the young man at her side forced her to turn her
attention away.
    “Come then.” She began the walk down the narrow
pathway, aware of the drop on one side. “I’m Antonia, what is your name?”
    “Richard,” he stuttered.
    “What happened?”
    “I was caught bringing food to the prisoners.”
    She paused and eyed the boy who couldn’t be much
older than six and ten. “Why?”
    He glanced around as though fearful of being
overheard. “My mother was Catholic.”
    Antonia tugged his arm to keep him moving. If
one of the men decided to follow them, she didn’t think they would be able to
defend themselves. Once they’d made it onto the beach, she pointed to one of
the many caves that littered the cliffs. “We shall wait here,” she said and led
the way.
    Once