"I hate you," I informed my husband as I half-walked, half-swam through the chin-high water.

"Me, too," Adaira agreed without hesitation.

Wasn't it nice to have such a sweet and agreeable sister-in-law?

"Be silent, you two! Unless you want to be overheard and captured?"

I hated it when he was being reasonable. Especially when he happened to be right.

Glancing up the riverbank, I could already see the top of the British army banners fluttering in the wind, accompanied by the sounds of trumpets and drums.

"It's time," Mr Ambrose announced and held out a hand with several broken-off reeds. "Down!"

Very, very reluctantly, I took the proffered reed. "Do you think this river is at least cleaner than the sewer?"

"What do you think?" Adaira glanced at the brackish water.

"Fiddlesticks!"

No more procrastinating. Sticking the reed into my mouth, I squinted my eyes until they were almost closed, clamped my nose shut and submerged into the water.

Ssshlurp.

That sound didn't exactly give me confidence in regards to the water quality.

Just you wait, Mr Rikkard Ambrose! Just you wait! You're going to pay for this, with lots of fancy clothes and solid chocolate!

My husband, unaware of the danger that awaited him, took my hand and guided me through the murky water and down the river. As we slowly waded through the water, the dull thudding of approaching army boots pounded against my eardrums, louder and louder with every second that passed. My husband's hand gently squeezed mine, and, instinctively, my grip on him tightened.

Maybe he won't need to buy me clothes. He can just pay in solid chocolate. And hugs.

There was a huge, dark shadow ahead. From what I could make of its form, I judged it to be the bridge that led to the city gate. If we could get past that, we could follow the river away from the city. And, more importantly, away from the two armies.

Just then, I felt something brush up against my skin. Then again, and again. Apparently, we had slipped into another forest of reeds. Mr Ambrose gestured upwards, and it didn't take me long to understand.

Slowly, carefully, we rose to peek above the water.

It was impossibly hard to resist the urge to drag in a breath of (relatively) fresh air. But, with the thunderous sound of marching feet getting louder and louder, I didn't want to risk making a single sound. Because the footsteps getting louder also meant they were getting closer.

Slowly, carefully, I parted the reeds and scanned the riverbank.

There they were. Lines upon lines of soldiers, slowly but steadily advancing towards us. Suddenly, the first line of soldiers stopped and lifted their rifles.

"Under the bridge!" Mr Ambrose hissed. "Now!"

I didn't need him to say it twice. Ducking my head beneath the water once again, I dived straight towards the large stone support on which the bridge's arches rested. Only when I came up for air again, deep in the massive stone monument's shadow, did I stop and wait with bated breath. My husband, Adaira and the others surfaced beside me and did likewise.

"Fire!" came a shouted command. "Bring those filthy rebels down from the walls!"

Bam!

Bam, bam, bam, bam—

The thunderous explosions of thousands of guns were nearly enough to deafen me. Judging by Adaira's expression, she didn't fare much better.

"Where are the cannons, you layabouts? Bring the cannons!"

The sudden shout sent a chill down my spine. I was already moving to dive beneath the water again when Mr Ambrose gripped my arm.

"Don't move! They're not going to shoot at the bridge!"

"How do you know that?!"

"Because this is the only way into the city. Why do you think I said to hide here?"

I relaxed marginally. "So...what now?"

"Now we wait until the battle starts and they're all occupied. Then we continue down the river and get the hell out of here."

"And if we get caught? Or hit by a stray bullet?"

I should have long been used to Mr Rikkard Ambrose answering my questions with nothing but silence. Yet, in this instance, I didn't really appreciate it very much.

A long moment passed. Then, in stark contrast to the cold water, I suddenly found a warm hand resting on my shoulder.

"I will get you out of here alive," an icy whisper entered my ear. "You will see our son again, no matter what."

The unspoken words Even if I have to die hung in the air.

"Don't you dare do something stupid like sacrificing yourself for me!" I hissed. "Do you hear? Don't you dare!"

"You're welcome to sacrifice yourself for me," Captain Carter offered cheerfully. "Painful though it would be to lose you, dear future brother-in-law, I think I could survive the agony."

We both ignored him. Adaira, on the other hand, did not. Two delicate fingers pinched the captain's ear.

"You wouldn't mind if my brother died? Would you care to repeat that?"

"Ehem. You must have misunderstood me, dear."

"That's what I thought."

"Shh!" Mr Ambrose's hand came up to silence them both before they could say another word. "Quiet!"

Adaira closed her mouth and huddled farther into the shadow of the bridge. I followed suit, guessing what was to come.

A moment later, the noise of the troops outside quieted down. Then, suddenly...

"Fire!"

Boom!

If the sound of the guns before had been loud, it was nothing compared to the ear-splitting roar of the cannons that tore the air apart and shook the whole bridge. Instinctively, I pressed myself more tightly against Mr Ambrose and closed my eyes. A moment later...

Crash!

"Again! Take down that gate!"

Boom! Boom!

Crash!

The bridge shook again, and, this time, the sound of splintering wood was different from before, as if something had just given way. Several large bits of wood slammed into the water, sending ripples across the river.

"Chaaarge!"

Thousands of soldiers roared in answer. Trumpets sounded and boots made the earth shake as the British vanguard raced towards the gate. In answer, the rebels sent down a hail of bullets and curses at their enemies. Over the cacophony, I nearly missed my husband's next words.

"Now! Move!"

He gave my hand one last squeeze. Then he once more clamped his nose shut, put the reed into his mouth and dived into the water. I didn't hesitate for a second before following. Outwardly, I might complain about repeated baths in unspeakable sludge, but, deep inside, I knew I would swim through pits of hellfire if it would get me back to Berty.

Taking a deep breath, I dived into the darkness.

The slimy, icky darkness.

Maybe pits of hellfire would have been preferable to this.

Kicking my feet, I swam forward through the murky water. On either side of me, I could vaguely make out Karim, Adaira and the captain swimming along. Or maybe those figures were British soldiers, fallen off the bridge and bleeding out in the water. I didn't really want to know.

Another explosion rocked the world, and the only thing that kept my eardrums intact was the fact I was underwater. Then came another. And another. Ignoring the pain in my muscles, I struggled against the water and propelled myself forward. I didn't know how long I swam like this. I only knew that the sounds of the battle slowly became more and more distant until, finally, they were nothing but faraway echoes. Just then, I felt someone squeeze my shoulder and, glancing sideways, saw the vague outline of a figure gesturing upwards.

I didn't waste a second. Kicking my feet down, I propelled myself upward until my face broke the surface of the water and I finally dragged in a big breath of fantabulously fresh air. Or at least that was what I thought until I smelled the gun smoke. My head whipped around to stare at the city, still far too close for my liking.

"Let's get a little farther away, shall we?" I panted.

With a splash, Mr Rikkard Ambrose resurfaced beside me, making me yelp. "Agreed. Everyone, move."

As quickly and quietly as we could, we made our way downstream, until we reached a rocky outcropping that jutted out into the river. With my wet and clammy fingers, I only barely managed to pull myself up out of the water. Dragging my soggy form into a niche that kept me out of the city's line of sight, I collapsed onto the stone, completely exhausted.

Slap!

With a wet sound, Adaira hit the rocky surface beside me. Dragging in deep breaths, she lay there unmoving, like a dead dog.

"Never. Again." The voice coming out of her mouth was little more than a croak. "Never. Ever. Again."

"I certainly hope not."

That deep rumble of a voice could only come from one person. Glancing over, I caught sight of Karim. But he wasn't lying flat like the two of us. No, he was crouching on the stone, looking at the distant city and the smoke rising into the sky.

I swallowed. In all the chaos, it had almost slipped my mind—this was his homeland that was being fought over. His people who were being attacked and killed.

Karim's fists clenched and unclenched. "Do...do you think they can win?"

There was silence for a moment. Then...

"Maybe not today," came a familiar cold voice from behind me. "But in the future? Certainly."

We all turned around and looked at Mr Ambrose in surprise.

"You really think so?" I enquired, wondering why he sounded so certain. "The British Empire is the most powerful one on the entire planet. You should know that better than anyone."

"I do. I am also powerful." Out of the corner of his eye, he cast a scathing look at Captain James Carter, who was sitting beside Adaira and holding her in his arms. "And yet, as I've recently learned, I can't prevent some things when people are stubborn enough. It's detestable."

To his great displeasure, none of us looked particularly detested. Karim in particular. As for Adaira...she was grinning from ear to ear.

"Enough of that, you!" Mr Rikkard Ambrose sent her a chilly glance, which only made her grin wider. I think she was finally starting to realise the same thing I was: we had survived! We had actually all survived! We were safe and— "We're not out of danger yet. There may be British reinforcements coming at any time. What if they spot us?"

My eyes widened. Bloody hell, he was right!

I really hated it when he was right.

Groaning, I dragged my aching body to its feet and stumbled across the rocky outcropping until I reached the top and could see the landscape beyond. It was mostly empty and devoid of life. People in the countryside had clearly fled from the British, and apart from the army around the city, there wasn't a single person in sight. But...

Far in the distance, I could see another cloud of dust approaching.

"We have to go." Taking a step back, I checked to see if I still had a knife or a gun on me—and found nothing. Not that it would have done much good in the face of the approaching reinforcements. "We have to go now!"

Before the last word was out of my mouth, Mr Rikkard Ambrose was already on the move. And he was heading straight towards the river we had just climbed out of.

What the...?

It was only then that I noticed several fishing boats half-buried in the mud, abandoned on the bank of the river. They had probably been left behind by fishermen who had fled before the British Army. Unfortunately, the very same fishermen had torn the boats' sails to pieces and broken the oars, most likely because they didn't want their belongings to fall into the hands of the British.

Unfortunately, they had not counted on one of those Britons being Mr Rikkard Ambrose. My dear husband didn't give a fig about other people's plans to keep their possessions out of his greedy paws. Grabbing one of the fishing boats, he started to drag it out of the mud and towards the edge of the water.

"Well?" he called over his shoulder. "Don't just stand there! Come over and help me!"

"What's the point?" I demanded, but still moved forward to tug at the stubborn boat. "Without sails or oars, how are we supposed to move this thing?"

"That matter shall soon be taken care of," was his curt reply. "Karim?"

"At once, Sahib!"

The big Mohammedan marched over to another boat and reached for one of the deck planks. A moment later, I could hear the sound of wood splintering.

"Here." A moment later, the bodyguard appeared at my side and deposited a broken-off plank next to me in the boat. "Your oar." Then he held out another to Adaira. "And yours." Last but certainly not least, he held out half a boat mast, as thick as two men's arms, to Captain Carter. "And yours."

The captain's lips twitched. "Why do I get the feeling that I'll be doing most of the rowing?"

"Because you will," Mr Ambrose responded with his customary tact. "You have to be good for something, after all."

And, before his little sister could whack him over the head for that comment, he jumped into the boat that was now free of its muddy prison. Ever since our little dip in the sewers, I had been itching to push Mr Rikkard Ambrose into dirty water. This was as close to a chance as I was likely to get in the near future, so I grabbed the stern of the boat and shoved. With a grinding sound of wood on gravel and dirt, the boat slid off the shore and into the water.

"Everyone aboard!" My husband commanded, already sitting on one of the rowing benches, makeshift oar in hand. "We have no time to waste!"

"You don't say," I muttered, glancing at the dust cloud on the horizon, which already seemed dangerously close. "I would never have guessed."

"I would," Captain Carter piped up from behind us. "I'm really good at guessing, particularly when I'm at risk of being caught and court-martialled."

"Something which could still be arranged," growled Mr Ambrose. "You are about to mysteriously vanish from your post. I don't have to use my influence to get you off scot-free."

Adaira sat down on the bench behind him, where she was perfectly placed to give her brother a good whack—which she promptly did, because she was an Ambrose and didn't waste time. My husband jerked, and the boat wobbled.

"Actually, I think you kind of do," I informed my poor husband and gave him a commiserating pat on the shoulder.

He did not look amused.

Slamming his makeshift oar down into the water, Mr Ambrose let his icy gaze sweep over the lot of us. "Paddle!"

None of us were inclined to argue.

Quickly, we all took up our places. Mr Ambrose and I on one side, Karim and Captain Carter on the other. Only Adaira, who had never rowed in her life, got to sit idle. Well, if you considered sitting at the rudder and steering the boat according to Mr Rikkard Ambrose's barked commands "idle".

"Left!" my dear husband growled, and, grumbling, Adaira followed his instructions.

"Yes, we have." Over my shoulder, I glanced back at the smoking city behind us, then turned back to smile at my husband. "Which leads me to wonder why you are so grouchy."

A muscle in his cheek twitched. "I am not 'grouchy', Mrs Ambrose."

"Hm...no. No, you aren't."

"Indeed."

"You're really grouchy." Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Captain Carter and lowered my voice. "Perhaps because you're not too happy that all of us survived?"

"No comment."

I smirked.

"Now, now. Do cheer up, Mr Ambrose, Sir. Would you really have been happier if he had died?"

"Certainl—"

"If he had died and you had to comfort a crying Adaira?"

His mouth snapped shut.

There was a moment of silence. Then...

"No. No, I suppose not."

"There you go, Mr Ambrose, Sir."

"Mrs Ambrose?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Stop making sense and be quiet!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"And row faster! We have no time to waste."

An image appeared in front of my inner eye. An image of a smiling face that, in spite of being pudgy and toothless, was the most beautiful face in the world to me.

"Yes, Sir!" Eyes flashing with determination, I tightened my grip on the ship's plank. "The faster we get back, the better!"

Across the boat, our eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between us. As one, we sped up our pace.

"Eh?" A startled voice came from a certain captain. "What are you—"

Mr Rikkard Ambrose's glare silenced him instantly.

"Shut up and row!"

----------------------------------------------------------

My dear Readers,

In case you were wondering, the title of this chapter is not a misspelling of "Perilous Siege", but a little pun. There is something called "Siege Perilous" in Arthurian legend, which does not have anything to do with a dangerous siege, but instead a dangerous seat, since "siege" was once an old English word meaning "seat" or "throne". It was a seat that would kill anyone who sat in it, except for the one who was worthy. Kind of like a more dangerous version of the sword in the stone in chair form. I just thought it would be a funny title for this chapter. Blame the myth nerd in me ;-)

Countdown: Seven chapters till the end!

Yours Truly

Sir Rob