The moon cast a pale silver light across the moorland. Dry-stone walls stretched away into the darkness like ancient scars upon the land, while the lane wound between them towards Haworth.

For a while, nobody spoke.

The only sounds were their footsteps upon the damp earth and the distant call of an owl somewhere across the valley.

William was the first to break the silence.

"Well," he said with a grin, "I'd say we've all had worse evenings."

Margery gave him a look.

"You find humour in everything."

"It keeps a man warm."

"It keeps thee talking."

"And that's no bad thing."

Thomas laughed quietly.

"No."

William nudged him with his elbow.

"So."

"So?"

"The banns."

Thomas smiled despite himself.

"They've not been called yet."

"They will be."

"If nobody objects."

William waved a dismissive hand.

"Who would?"

Margery answered before Thomas could.

"There are always those who cannot bear another's happiness."

William fell silent.

Thomas looked down at the lane beneath his feet.

He knew she was right.

Yet tonight...

Tonight, for the first time in many months, hope seemed stronger than fear.

They had walked perhaps half a mile when William stopped.

"Did thee hear that?"

Everyone froze.

The night became strangely still.

Thomas listened.

Nothing.

"Probably a hare."

William nodded.

"Aye... perhaps."

They continued.

The lane narrowed where high stone walls pressed close on either side.

Ancient ash trees leaned overhead, their branches weaving together until little moonlight reached the ground below.

Margery drew her cloak tighter.

"I don't much care for this stretch."

"We're nearly through it," Thomas said.

Another twenty yards.

Then...

A lantern burst into life ahead of them.

Its yellow glow seemed almost to appear from nowhere.

Two figures stepped slowly into the lane.

One held the lantern high.

The other rested a short sword loosely against his shoulder.

Both had their faces hidden behind dark linen scarves.

Neither moved.

Neither spoke.

Until...

"Stand where you are."

William instinctively stepped in front of Margery.

Thomas's heart began to pound.

The man with the sword pointed towards them.

"The purse."

Silence.

"We've no wish for trouble."

The second man shifted his grip upon the heavy cudgel.

"Then hand it over."

Margery felt the weight of John Hargreaves' purse beneath her cloak.

The money for the banns.

Thomas saw the brief movement.

So did the man holding the lantern.

"There."

He raised the lantern higher.

"The old woman's hiding it."

William took one step forward.

"You'll get nothing from us."

The man with the cudgel sighed.

"So be it."

Before Thomas could move—

The cudgel swept through the darkness.

It struck William across the shoulder with a sickening crack.

William cried out as he fell heavily into the mud.

"William!"

Thomas lunged at the swordsman...

​

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