Page 21 of Twin Flames
Rats scurried around in the dank corners and Cara shuddered at the thought of the foul underworld below, but they had no choice. It was make a run for it or face almost certain death of one or both of them tomorrow. Thomas and May’s sweet, innocent faces spurred her on. She wouldn’t let them down. She wouldn’t let George down. They were in this together.
There was one thought that terrified her more than all others. What would it mean for the future George and Cara who met in the bookshop, in present-day York, if he was executed now? Would their whole lineage and the five hundred years between the timelines be completely obliterated? She didn’t know. But she wasn't going to take any chances. However, she realised that there was little point trying to figure it out now when she understood so little.
Swifty performed some speedy chicanery as if he escaped from prison every day. George beckoned for her to follow Swifty as the boy’s head disappeared. Cara eased herself down into the narrow black hole, her heart hammering so fast she thought the inmates must hear it on the other side of the prison. But no, all was silent. She dropped into the dark emptiness below, trying not to think about the potential horrors that awaited.
‘Here, my lady—take my hand. Let me help you,’ whispered Swifty.
The soles of her dainty shoes hit the slimy bottom of the cellar before her ankles were submerged. The sludge coated her skin, and she winced as she moved. She had tied the skirt of her dress into a knot so her movement wouldn't be hampered and to keep it dry. They would need to make their way through the streets of London if they were to have any chance of beingon the road to Willow Manor before the guards informed the authorities and the king learned of their escape.
George jumped down after her, and she grabbed his hand to help him to keep his balance as he lowered himself into the dark, slippery sludge. Swifty inched back up the wall like a black widow spider to check all was still clear above. He didn’t want to alert the guard unnecessarily. If they were fortunate, it could be hours before anyone realised they were gone. They broke into a laboured trot through the cellar. The stench accosted Cara’s nostrils again and she pinched her nose in an effort to block it out. It was impossible. She gagged. The urge to vomit was intense, but she must keep on moving. Their lives depended upon it.
All the years of studying the Tudors hadn’t prepared her for the reality of these dreadful, lung wrenching conditions.
The cellar was long and winding with a network of poorly formed tunnels which made it easy to take a wrong turn. Cara prayed Swifty had a good sense of direction or they would be lost in seconds. They pushed forward as fast as they could for what seemed like hours. Her heart beat fast, and her breathing was shallow. She feared she would faint as the warm stench overpowered her senses. Progress was slow until she glimpsed a crack of light ahead. She was close to retching all the way. None of them had said a word.
Swifty whispered, ‘Now let’s go very slow and quiet, so the guards don’t hear us or we’ve had it.’
Cara let out a strangled gasp as she tripped. George reached out to steady her.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Ew. Something ran over my foot. I think it was a bloody rat.’
‘Lord, it is intolerable in here. It’s so bad it’s even got you swearing. Are we nearly at the exit, Swifty?’
They continued on until they reached a light-filled crevice which was partly covered by a piece of wood. They could see the dark brown sludge clearly now. Swifty lifted the wood carefully with George’s help and one by one, they squeezed through and crawled out to the street above. They gulped the fresh air into their lungs and caught their breath.
There was one guard, slumped on a chair, fast asleep, to the far side. They were in luck: no one else was in sight. The alleys were deserted, and the half-moon shone yellow in the sky like a glowing chunk of cheese.
‘Let’s make a run for it and get as far away from here as we possibly can,’ whispered George.
Cara removed her now heavy, sodden shoes and clutched them in one hand.
‘I wish I could dump these,’ she said.
‘Hold on to them for now, my love. If we can get you a fresh pair, we will. You can’t go all the way to York barefoot.’
‘I can’t wait to breathe in the fresh York air and see the children’s faces.’ Cara was desperate to get back to Willow Manor to be reunited with Thomas and May. She was surprised to experience this new maternal instinct. She’d certainly never felt anything like it in her present-day life.
‘Hey! Wait there!’ An officious voice boomed.
‘Let’s go,’ shouted George and off they sprinted, narrowly missing a barrage of arrows which hit the mud and clay wall near to where their heads had been just a few seconds earlier.
‘Which way to York?’ Cara whispered.
CHAPTER 6
Hampton Court Palace, 1535
Cara sat on a window seat as she embroidered exquisite jewels on to the border of a rich silk curtain commissioned for the queen’s bedchamber. Anne Boleyn paced back and forth across the parlour like a prowling cat. The restless movement grated on Cara’s nerves, but she was careful to maintain a pleasant expression. Miserable faces were not welcome at the palace.
All was not well at court. King Henry VIII was due back later in the day, and Anne had received word from one of her informants that the king was displeased with her and had been seized by a fit of foul temper. Again. What had begun as a fairy tale romance had quickly morphed into a bad dream. All those in the royal couple’s inner sanctum suffered. Henry and Anne argued frequently, and the queen was distraught much of the time. She’d lost her influence and was under suspicion no matter how much she tried to appease the king.
Lady Cara Cavendish had become Anne’s most favoured lady-in-waiting after being summoned to serve at court,alongside her husband, Lord George Cavendish. George was a long-standing loyal advisor and beloved companion to King Henry. Both Cara and George preferred to be with their children at Willow Manor, the family residence in York. But refusing to serve the king and queen was tantamount to treason. Cara had joined George at the palace two years earlier. Nobles did not get to come and go as they pleased but rather must fit in with the court. Cara was only occasionally given leave of absence to visit dearest little Thomas and May, in York.
Anne quizzed Cara, her black eyes darting from side to side in her pale face. ‘When do you think the king will be here?’
Cara could see the queen was tormenting herself again.
