Chaos and noise reigned in the courtroom as English soldiers began chasing this new Raider, who was now on the balcony. The pretty young girls in their frilly dresses kept getting in the way though, and the young soldiers quite often tripped over a dainty foot. Then they had to comfort the girls because a few skirts were torn.
“Seize him!”
Through the opposite window of the courthouse came charging another Raider.
“So! You think you caught me, do you?” the new Raider said.
Everyone halted for a moment, even the two young men who were rolling on the floor with pretty girls.
“Seize him!”
“Which one, sir?”
“Either of them, both of them,” the admiral shouted.
One Raider made it out the broken window while the first one—or was it the second one—was caught.
“Unmask him!” the admiral ordered. The judges had sat back down, as had the admiral’s officer friends whom he’d invited to Warbrooke at his expense to witness his triumph. They were beginning to look amused.
The soldiers pulled off the Raider’s mask.
“Abigail Wentworth!” the admiral gasped.
The judges snickered and the officers laughed while the soldiers holding Abby let their hands slip over her body.
The north doors of the courtroom burst open. “We caught him, sir.” Four soldiers held another Raider. They stopped when they saw Alex, still wearing his mask, still standing in the witness box and Abigail wearing men’s trousers. They unmasked their Raider.
“Ezra Coffin,” someone said.
The south doors opened.
“We caught him, sir.”
By now the officers were howling with laughter, glad to witness the pompous admiral’s humiliation. The judges were trying to keep their dignity.
“Shall we release them all or hang them all?” a judge asked solemnly.
“Look out the window,” someone called.
Within minutes, only the judges, the admiral and Alex were left in the courtroom because everyone else had rushed outside to see the excitement.
Warbrooke was awash with Raiders. They were on rooftops, in the church steeple, upon damp-looking black horses. Two well-upholstered Raiders were on a porch, each churning butter, and one Raider about five feet tall was holding the hand of a three-foot-tall Raider and carrying on his hip a two-foot-tall Raider who was trying to remove his mask. Four English soldiers started chasing a Raider who had what looked to be a twenty-inch waist and thirty-seven-inch hips. One limping, suspiciously old-looking Raider was leading a cow wearing a black
mask.
The judges, after a few minutes at the window, returned to their seats.
“Release him,” they said tiredly and since there was no one else to do it, the last judge in line lifted his robe, took out a knife and cut Alex’s bindings.
“But he’s the Raider,” the admiral said. “You’re releasing him to defy me again. You can’t let him go.”
Alex pulled the mask from his face and walked out of the courtroom. Jess was waiting for him, wearing her red dress, just outside.
He smiled at her and put his arm about her waist. “Let’s go home.”
“Yes,” she said and clung to him.
Epilogue