North Side of the Tree. Maggie Prince

Читать онлайн.
Название North Side of the Tree
Автор произведения Maggie Prince
Жанр Книги для детей: прочее
Серия
Издательство Книги для детей: прочее
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007393176



Скачать книгу

id="ub3bfdfca-0a8d-5a61-a52f-8962fcfac672">

      North Side of the Tree

      MAGGIE PRINCE

       Dedication

       For Chris, always

       Map

       Epigraph

       In transposing Beatrice’s story into modern English,the tone and content of her original narrativehave been preserved throughout,and her exact words wherever possible.

      It is the late 1500s. Queen Elizabeth I is on the throne of England…

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Chapter 26

       Chapter 27

       Chapter 28

       Chapter 29

       Chapter 30

       Chapter 31

       Chapter 32

       Chapter 33

       Chapter 34

       Keep Reading

       Glossary

       Acknowledgements

       Praise For Raider’s Tide

       Also by Maggie Prince

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Chapter 1

      I walk the Old Corpse Road again. In the dawn light the woods are full of birdsong and the waking voices of sheep. Around me, oak and hazel trees are turning to red and gold and ruin.

      I am on my way to visit my sister who is living at Wraithwaite Parsonage in order to avoid being killed by my father. I move carefully amongst the trees, because this is the way he may be coming home, tired and edgy from a night’s robbery on The King’s Strete, some miles to the east of us.

      I do not wish to meet my father, but I am not in a position to criticise him, because I too have a secret. I am a traitor. Three people know it, and their silence is all that stands between me and being burnt at the stake.

      I reach the rockface that makes the Old Corpse Road such a quick but difficult short-cut to our neighbouring village, and climb the steps cut into it, breathing in the earthy smells of autumn. Stunted yews and clumps of heather grow out