“My name is John Harris,” the man insisted as we passed by. “And this is my son!”
The watchman waved for his sergeant, who was closer to the gate. The sergeant peered at the man and shook his head. “Not him!” he shouted. “Let ’em go.”
Martha and I wove through the jumble of carts, horses, and people, and out the gate with barely a second look from the guards. They were looking for Will and Tree not two ancient widows.
As soon as we were past the gate, we hurried to Helen’s door. I knocked softly, not wanting to call attention from her prying neighbors or some meddlesome passerby. Helen’s maidservant answered.
“What d’you want?” she asked. “If it’s bread, go around the back.”
I pulled down my scarf to reveal my face. “I am Lady Bridget Hodgson. I am here to see Mrs. Wright.”
The maidservant looked at me in shock before ushering us in. “I’m sorry, my lady,” she stammered. “It’s just that the clothes…”
“Do not worry,” I replied with as much of a smile as I could manage. “I wore them so none would know me, so I cannot fault you.”
When Helen joined us in the parlor, I could tell that she was no less worried than we were. “What has happened?” she asked. “Stephen never returned last night.”
“He is safe at my house for now,” I replied. “He was wounded, but if he can avoid infection, he will be fine.”
Helen’s entire body relaxed at the news, and I wondered if Stephen might be more to her than an ordinary manservant. If so, the risk she took by sending him after Will was far greater than I had realized, and I found myself filled with gratitude for her generosity.
“Do you know what has happened to Will and Tree?” I asked. “The constables are searching for them, so we know they have not been captured, but beyond that—”
“Both are safe and well,” Helen replied. “They are still in the city, but I have them hidden.”
A sob escaped Martha’s lips, and I said a prayer of thanks. Why God had chosen that day to change His killing ways, I did not know. But I also would not believe that He had truly stayed His hand until Will and Tree were safely out of York.
“How do you know they are safe?” I asked. “If Stephen is with me—”
“Stephen took my man Ezra with him,” Helen said. “He came back last night without Stephen.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Things did not go as planned,” Helen said. “Stephen and Ezra went well armed, with pistols and knives. They thought the guards would recognize they were overmatched and surrender.”
“And they didn’t,” Martha said.
“No, and there were more of them than we expected. One drew his sword, and then the shooting began. After that all was chaos.”
“At what price?” I asked. I knew did not want to hear the answer.
“Two guards are dead. Two wounded. When the shooting stopped, Stephen told Ezra to take Will and the boy to my tenement as we had originally planned. Then they parted ways. Ezra hid Will and the boy, while Stephen found his way to you. Thank you for helping him.”
I let the news wash over me, and my feeling of relief that Will and Tree were safe grappled with my horror at the price of their freedom. I realized I was going to be sick and dashed to the kitchen. I found a waste bucket and cast up all that I had eaten that day. When I had purged myself, I felt someone helping me to my feet. I turned to find Martha looking into my eyes with compassion so complete it overwhelmed me. I collapsed into her arms and began to sob.
“Two men are dead,” I said, once I regained my breath. “Because of me, because of my decision, because of money I paid, two men are dead. They did nothing wrong, and I killed them.”
“And two others—also innocent, mind you—now have a chance to live,” she replied calmly. “There was no other way to save Will and Tree, or else we would have chosen it. Two people were going to die, either Tree and Will or two guards you’ve never known. Tree and Will are yours, and you owed them your protection. You had to do this.”
Martha returned to Helen, while I stayed in the kitchen considering what she’d said. I thought of the guards who had died so that Will and Tree might live. They had committed no sin. They were not Joseph’s comrades, nor were they party to his schemes. For all I knew, I had delivered their wives. I fell into prayers for the dead, the wounded, and their families, but soon enough my mind turned to Will and Tree, and my prayers for forgiveness became prayers of thanks. After a few minutes—or so it seemed—peace welled up within me. God was inscrutable, but He had decided that Will and Tree should not hang, and for that I was grateful.