The Lost Voices
Praise for The Lost Voices:
"Another great work by a very talented author who loves his period works and characters from his great plots. He writes with verve and intent to deliver the imagination something unexpected and greatly appreciated... Brilliant..."
~ Gavin, Readalot Magazine reviewer
On Capture
A man is not always taken because he is guilty.
Wilding’s cart rolled into Leeds at dusk.
Robert barely lifted his head as they hauled him down. The blows along the road had done their work.
Inside Moot Hall, the air was colder.
“What’s this then?” the bailiff asked, keys clinking at his belt.
“Robert Rushworth,” Wilding said. “Taken for thievery. Warrant’s signed.”
The parchment passed hands. The seal was enough.
“Come on you.”
They dragged him across the stone floor, each step echoing through the hall. At the back, a door opened onto darkness.
The cell stank.
Iron rings lined the wall. Two were already taken.
The bailiff shackled Robert to the third.
Cold metal. No movement.
Outside, Wilding’s voice carried.
“And the reward?”
“He’ll stand at York. Next session. If he’s found guilty—he hangs.”
A pause.
“Then you’ll be paid.”
Silence followed.
Robert lowered his head.
It was not the cell that held him—
but the moment he understood:
he had not been caught—
he had been delivered.
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