When he held up his light to examine the cellar, he was tempted to extinguish it again. Bobbing about on the dark waters were several small kegs which he feared might contain gunpowder—he was going to have to be very careful moving about amongst such volatile material. Hanging from pegs on the wall were a number of arquebuses, above which a shelf held tin boxes of black powder with which to fire them. Breaking open a straw-filled wooden box, he discovered shot.
There was no time to get help before the waters receded. If he didn’t disable this arsenal himself, many lives besides the queen’s could be lost. Could he make it look as if the flood, and not a human hand, had done the damage?
His body buzzing with tension, he loosened the weapons, and rammed one up against the shelf, precipitating both it and its contents into the water. He didn’t worry about the gunpowder—by the time that dried out, all the conspirators would be behind locked doors.
Hearing a noise coming from the other end of the cellar, Kit decided he’d done enough and hurried back to the door he’d come through, making sure to lock it behind him. It was only as he was scrambling out of the tunnel entrance beneath the roots of the ancient tree that he wondered if it would have been wiser to prime and take one of the guns with him.
Now, if he were discovered, he had nothing more than a gardener’s knife with which to defend himself.
Chapter Twenty-Four
To Alys’ relief, Sir Thomas proved a master of organization. He entreated Kate to chivvy the guests back to their beds, informing them there was nothing they could do. Hannah offered her chamber for the servants who had been flooded out below, but Kate made no such offer. Alys’ room, unfortunately, was too small to accommodate anyone but herself.
The servants, arrayed in a motley mixture of night and day clothes, set to with a will to rescue what they could from the flood, particularly in the kitchen and storerooms.
Fortunately, the waters receded rapidly but left behind an unpleasant odor. All besoms and brushes had been called into use, and every leather bucket and empty chamber pot in the house was being constantly filled and emptied outside. Soon the stone-flagged floor reappeared, glistening under the light of many candles and lamps.
The strongest men were deployed to rescue the contents of Selwood’s cellars. Sir Thomas and Avery, both stony-faced and frowning, were supervising operations here with surprising vigor—Alys hadn’t realized they valued Selwood’s good wines so highly. She put on her pattens and, throwing a cloak about her shoulders, hastened into the kitchen to manage the relocation of the cellars’ contents.
Someone had removed the curfew from the kitchen fire, which had been stoked into a blaze and Alys encouraged the servants to dry themselves by it when they needed a rest. She ordered space cleared in the dairy, so the old cheeses and dry goods from the cellars could be placed on shelves. The ale barrels were rolled into corners, and the cades and bottles of wine were stored along the walls and under the dairy table. Kate was nowhere to be seen. A relief, as she would only have countermanded Alys’ orders, and created chaos.
She was just wondering how much more was to come when someone stopped in front of her. Looking up, she discovered with a yank of the heart it was Kit. He grimaced at her as he shifted a barrel in his arms. “Where to, my lady?”
So, he had not taken her advice and left. But she couldn’t dispute with him here. Shock stole her breath, and her eyes were drawn to the way his wet shirt clung to the strained muscles of his chest and outlined the mounds of his biceps as he held the heavy barrel.
When she made no response, he carried his burden down the passageway towards the servants’ privy.
“I don’t think that’s a good place—”
“Needs must where the devil drives.” Kit glanced back over his shoulder. “It can always be moved again in the morning.”
She stared at him as he came back, grinning and wiping his hands on his sodden hose. He must have been working hard down below, for his fingers were filthy with slime, and his brow was beaded with sweat. She felt a fleeting sense of gratitude that he’d come to their aid, and ventured a smile as he passed her on his way back to the cellars.
Activity was slowing. Confident her helpers would be able to find room for the remaining items, Alys repaired to the kitchen and put another log on the fire, then stuck a poker beneath it to heat. One by one, the household staff gathered around the flames for a final warm through. Bidding them have a care on the slippery floor, she filled a jug with ale and mulled it with the poker, then passed it around. People settled down behind the long kitchen table or on benches by the fire, and accepted their reward.
Kate, now fully-dressed, chose this moment to come into the room, and everyone stood to greet her. She ignored them, and swung away, grim-faced, towards the cellars to join Kirlham and Avery.
How typical of Kate not to thank anyone. But perhaps she could be forgiven—some of their stored foodstuffs would be inedible, so she had a right to be angry at such a disaster. But what could have caused so large a body of water to hit the house, and then recede?
“How now, my lady. Can some of that ale be spared for me?” Kit settled next to her, so she was now trapped on the bench in front of the table, stuck between him and Bessie. She tried wriggling to one side, but it was impossible to avoid the pressure of his knee against hers. She scowled at him, but he just took a swig from the jug
