THE PLOT





by





Lee Edgar






















CHAPTER ONE



THE PLOT



Why do I always get the dirty jobs? If it isnt helping with the cooking or mucking out the stables, its keeping a look-out for the others. I guess it is because I am the youngest member of the gang.
I was beginning to get worried. The others had been gone for about three hours and it would have seemed very suspicious to any casual passers-by if they saw a lad of eighteen looking after a whole bunch of horses in the dark - not that too many people were likely to be wandering around on the heath at such an early hour in the morning. I shivered as I hopped from one leg to the other, desperate to keep warm as the mist slowly descended and probed my body with its long, cold fingers.
Nervously, I looked in the direction from which I expected the others to return and wished they would hurry up. The Cardinals messenger had assured us there would be no trouble. Many of the best landed gentry in the country were involved in the plot in some way - from Bristol to Sheffield. Our own little band arrived only the previous day from Lincolnshire to play our pre-arranged part but some of the others had been working on it for months. That nights action was to be the culmination of over a years plotting.
Nothing can go wrong, Guido had agreed. They wont even know whats happening until its too late.
Some of the other members of the gang had not been so certain, but the job has been made to sound so easy.
Its all very simple, he added. All you have to do is to create a diversion near the Cathedral so I can get into the cellars and wait to set light to the gunpowder under the place where the King will sit.
Simple? If Id had even half an inkling of what was going to happen, I would have stayed at home.
It was beginning to turn colder and damper. The mists, commonplace in early November, were starting to close in, making everything seem eerie. I felt a chill run through my bones. Was it just the cold or some kind of foreboding of what was to come?
Its just my imagination playing tricks, I tried to reassure myself, none too convincingly.
The horses shifted nervously. Had they sensed something I hadnt? One or two of them pricked up their ears and I suddenly became fully alert. Was that a dog barking? Or just my vivid imagination playing tricks? I strained to hear. Yes! That was definitely a bark somewhere off to my left. The hounds were out! Something must have gone wrong. I began to panic. Perhaps the others had been caught and the Kings Militia were after me. Up till then, there had been little trouble but it suddenly looked as if it had arrived with a capital T.
I leaped onto Flash, a present from my late grandfather, who had hoped I would take up farming as he had done. His farm at Hellaby had not been a small one and the land was good, but soil was not in my blood. The only reason I might have stayed there was the horses we had bred for the Squire. But after my father had died when I was just sixteen, I had foolishly yearned for the open road. Leaving the farmstead in the very capable hands of my older brother, James, I had left home to make my fortune. James was now tenant farmer for Squire Fretwell whereas here I was, dogsbody for a gang of mercenaries in the pay of the Cardinal. No fortune, no lands and, by the sound of it, half the hounds in London heading for me.
I was undecided. How long should I wait? Were the others running towards me, depending on me for mounts? Or had the leaders been caught in the cellars of the Houses of Parliament? What should I do? The hounds were getting closer and I didnt know whether to be thankful that the fog hid me, or wish it was clearer so that I could see what was going on. Eventually, a man came running out of the trees.
Get going, the newcomer shouted frantically. Its over.
I wheeled Flash round and Carlos began to climb onto his own mount. Suddenly, a shot rang out and I was horrified to see him pitch forward in the saddle with a cry of pain.
Go! he called. Leave me.
I c...cant. You must come, too. I reached over and grasped the other horses reins and gave Flash his heels.
The heat from the musket ball made itself felt as it passed within inches of my head and we went for our lives. Several more shots were fired but none came near us as we galloped into the mist and darkness, relief flooding over me at our narrow escape.
Eventually, we stopped just to the north of the village of Finchley and I took a quick look at Carlos, examining his wound.
How is it, young Jack? mumbled the older man as he lay across his horses neck.
I took my hand away. I had never seen so much blood in all my life. It looks bad, Carlos. Does it hurt?
It hurts. You had better go on alone. Can you find the way back to Twigmoor?
I expect so but Im not gong to leave you. We must find somewhere to rest up and Ill bind your wound.
His breath came with difficulty. Im done for, Jack. Save yourself now. Go and warn Old Tom and then go into hiding until its all over. Theres nothing more we can do for the plot.
I ignored him and climbed back onto my own mount. What happened back there?
We were betrayed. I dont know who it was but someone gave us away to the Militia.
Are...are the others caught?
I could just make out Carlos as he nodded weakly in the darkness. Every man.
Then we must get you to safety.
Ill never make it back to Twigmoor. It is three days journey.
Then I will find somewhere safe to leave you.
Carefully, I nudged the mounts forward again and began to climb the long hill towards Barnet. It was deathly quiet. Past the outskirts of the village and into the market place we crept. I didnt know what it was that made me look back down the hill but what I saw brought me up sharp. Lights! And only a few hundred yards behind us. Barnet village was clear of the mist which hugged the valleys, and the lights behind us made an eerie sight on the edge of the low-lying fog bank.
Were being followed? Carlos guessed.
Looks like a dozen or more, I replied, panic starting to rise once more. Somehow, they must have worked out which way we were headed.
Have they seen us yet?
I dont think so. Theyre still in the mist. We must hurry.
We trotted forward as quietly as we could, but not quietly enough. The noise of the horses hooves on the cobbles awoke a couple of mangy dogs in a yard and the noise of their barking seemed deafening in the stillness of the night. Letting Flash have his head, I galloped almost flat-out through the market place, Carlos in tow, until we reached the fork in the road at the top of the hill.
Go left, Carlos yelled.
But Twigmoor is north.
We must lead them away, divert them from our real direction until we are safe from them, else they will follow us right to the hideout.
That made sense and so I obeyed, taking the road towards the market town of St.Albans. The pursuers had sensed what the noise of the dogs indicated and were now following about a quarter mile behind us and the ground was damp from the previous days rain so our tracks would be easy to follow. We galloped headlong for about half an hour but I knew Carlos could not keep up the punishment for much longer and, in addition, the horses needed rest. The following lights, however, would not give in. We had to lose them somehow.
The solution came upon us quite unexpectedly. On the outskirts of London Colney, we came across a farm by the river with a field full of horses. With the kind of suicidal acrobatics which can only come with desperation, I leaned out and slashed with my dagger at the rope which held the gate closed and, nudging Flash into the field, I rushed toward the the shadows of a group of horses it contained. Startled by this sudden noise and with a rider bearing down on them and shouting in the semi-darkness, they panicked and scattered. It was not many seconds before one of the horses saw the now-open gate and the others were quick to follow, just at the moment that the pursuers reached the gateway.
Pandemonium broke out. The first two riders fell from their rearing mounts and the others were confused. The owner of the herd, raised by the ruckus and suspecting horse thieves, let rip with a blunderbuss and the soldiers, thinking it was Carlos and I who were shooting, returned the fire. In the confusion, I eased the horses quietly down into the River Colne and trotted silently upstream.
After about a mile, the stream became quite narrow and I felt happier about getting out of the water. Dropping from the saddle, I stood listening for a few minutes whilst the horses got in a well-earned drink and rest. Carlos was breathing badly and I suspected the shot had damaged his lung as well as his shoulder and chest. There was nothing to be done in the darkness so I led the horses to a muddy place where cattle had trodden down the bank and we scrambled from the water. At the far end of this field was a gate and we went through it onto a narrow, stony lane. I was now completely lost but we had at least put quite a few miles between ourselves and the Militia. A discolouration in the eastern sky suggested that dawn was not far away, making capture almost inevitable if we stayed around that area. So, keeping the lighter sky on our right, we wove through the web of small lanes and cart tracks in a generally northward direction. When dawn finally broke, I guessed we were somewhere north-east of St Albans near the pack horse road to Welwyn. With the dawn came a steady drizzle but I eventually found shelter in an abandoned barn near Sandridge. Carefully, I helped the groaning Carlos to the ground and laid him on a pile of old straw.
Leave me here, he murmured. I cant take any more.
I gently peeled back the leather jerkin and looked at the mess. Carlos was right. It was just not possible that he would be in a state to ride any more for a long time, if ever. I padded the wound as best I could and covered him with his own cloak.
It was a bad un, Jack. They knew we was coming.
Who gave us away, do you know?
Dunno. It werent none of the regular lads, Ill swear to it. I reckon if you ever see another of the gang in the future, thatll be the one who was the traitor.
We should have kept out of it, I said, more to myself than to Carlos. My old grandfather once said when I was very young, “Always steer clear of religion and politics, theyll only get you into trouble. I wish now I had heeded his advice. What was it all about, anyway?
Guido said its because the Cardinal and his Catholic colleagues dont want The Book made available in English.
I was puzzled. But surely everyone knows there are plenty of copies about on the black market.
There are, Jack, but its not official. Anyway, the King doesnt really want it released. Hes just giving in to the Puritans in a last ditch attempt to remain popular and to make it seem as though Protestantism is doing the country a favour.
But why doesnt the Church want the Book released?
Im not absolutely certain but perhaps it is that they are afraid it will prove theyve not been telling the truth all these years.
It cannot be as simple as that.
Most things are. He coughed badly and I had to wipe away some of the blood from his chin. Did you ever go to church, lad?
I nodded. When I was a boy. The Squire said all his people must go.
Gave them no choice, eh? A bit hypocritical that.
I suppose it is. Id never thought of it that way. All the services were mostly in Latin and I didnt go any more after leaving home. There didnt seem any point.
All Church folk arent bad, Jack. Ive met a few good ones.
Only one or two?
Carlos nodded painfully. Most of the others was hypocrites. All dressed up smart a-Sunday but cursing and swearing all week as well as womanising.
He seemed to need rest after that effort so I got to my feet, unsaddled the horses and then stared out of a crack in the wooden door into the falling drizzle.
You got a girl, young Jack? he called faintly.
I shook my head. I once knew a girl in Essex but I havent seen her in two years.
She pretty?
I smiled to myself. I suppose so. She has fair hair and blue eyes.
What about legs?
I looked around sharply. I dont know. Ive never seen her legs.
No, youd be too young yet for legs. Carlos tried to laugh but finished up coughing again. It was a pitiful sound and I shivered inside at the thought of being alone. When I took a look at him sometime later, he was sleeping though his breath was harsh and rasping. I tucked him in as best I could, lay down in the hay and was soon fast asleep.

~~~~~~~

I awoke at what I reckoned must have been around midday, feeling very hungry. I looked up at the leaking roof and listened to the dripping sounds all around me. The horses were quietly munching away at the hay in the corner and everything seemed so peaceful - somehow unreal. Getting stiffly to my feet, I looked out of the doorway. The rain had virtually stopped but the sky was still grey and overcast. We had to leave if we were ever to reach home. Eventually, I turned, dropped to my knees beside Carlos and eased back his cloak. He was dead and, from the coldness of his face, I calculated he must have been gone an hour or more.
We had never been what most would call friends. Nevertheless, I felt tears in my eyes as I retrieved my cloak and then covered his face with loose straw. There was nothing more I could do. Getting to my feet, I put my head out of the barn door and inspected the lie of the land. The barn was situated only a mile from the village, but no-one was in sight.
Sadly, I saddled the horses and collected our few belongings together and, with a last backward glance, I set off northwards. In Knebworth, I was forced to sell the spare horse so I could buy food and, striking north from there, I eventually came to Baldock and spent the night in a comfortable bed at the Inn of Jeb Harpur.

~~~~~~~

COME the morning, I put as much distance as I could between myself and London. That days journey was totally uneventful and the evening saw Flash and I heading north out of Lincoln on Ermine Street. Rather than stay overnight in the city, I had opted to press on into the night and try to reach our hideout under the cover of darkness. The woods seemed particularly dark that night and the Black Head Ponds were still except for slight ripples from the breeze.
There was no moon and the low wind made curious rustling in the dry autumn branches as I edged towards the old house more by feel than by sight. It would not be long before winter came and made the trees brittle while snow softened the landscape. Dismounting quietly, I led Flash quietly to the small clearing in front of the Hall and waited for a long time in the deep shadows of the trees, looking for any tell-tale signs that soldiers had arrived before me but all was quiet. Old Tom had lit the candle in the attic room as an “all-clear sign so I gently led my mount across the back lawn, down the hidden ramp and into the stables.
Guido had chosen Twigmoor Hall as his northern headquarters because of these underground stables and I carefully turned the wheel that closed the outer door. Relaxed, I spoke softly and soothingly to the still-nervous Flash as I unsaddled him and gave him a rewarding meal of oats and water. Old Tom was likely a-bed by now, I thought, so I quietly collected the candle and climbed the stairs which led to the back of the scullery. It was as I softly closed the door and turned to go upstairs that I found myself looking down the barrels of three muskets.

~~~~~~~








THE CAPTAIN







Before I could even think about the possibility of escape, two of the Militia men had grabbed me by the arms and I was thrown roughly into a chair beside the scullery table.
So. You must be young Jack, spoke a deep voice out of the darkness.
As the harsh words fell on my ears, the Captain of the group stepped forward into the small circle of light from the flickering oil lamp on the table. His uniform was that of the Kings Militia and he had the royal emblem upon his sword sash. However, there was something about his bearing which made me shiver. Here was none of the suave facade well-recognised among the close echelons of power at the palace. This man was a hardened fighter and his men were battle-scarred professionals.
Now weve got you all, he sneered. I wasnt sure whether I believed him or not but, at that moment of time, I had no option but to go along with him. And what made you think that we wouldnt catch you, too?
N..not me, sir, I blurted out, desperately seeking the escape that was not possible. Im just the stable boy.
He laughed unpleasantly. We know all about you, young Jack, and of your little plot over the last few days and when we get you back to London, well see you burn along with your friends.
B..b..burn? I stammered. I had hated fire ever since our old barn at Hellaby had once caught alight and burned my father and three of the squires best horses to death despite the frantic efforts of the rest of household to save them. In my mind, I clearly heard again the pained cries of the horses and felt the stutter returning that I had tried long and hard to overcome. I cowed deeper into the chair at the thought of such a death.
The Captain must have sensed my fear. You wouldnt like to burn with them? Anything less would be too quick for traitors like you.
I..I...
You want to tell me something?
My mouth clamped tightly shut. I was not afraid of death.
Its not a nice way to go, he said quietly. He touched my shirt, holding the lamp quite close so I could feel its heat. First, the flames get your legs. Then your clothes catch alight and your hair. Ive known men take a very long time to die, constantly in agony.
God, no! Anything but that.
There is, however, another way. His face was now mere inches from mine, his breath smelling terrible and his eyes seeming to be afire with the reflection from the oil lamp. Tell me. Who was it who paid you to commit such treason?
Treason? I had never thought of what we had done as treason but I suppose that, upon reflection, killing the King was just that, even if he was a Protestant. What should I say? The Cardinal had many friends and I knew I would never be safe if I gave him away. The Captain moved the lamp nearer to my face and, in my imagination, I could already feel the flames licking at me.
I c..cant. Hell k..k..kill me.
I wont tell him if you dont, the soldier reasoned. Now you just be a good boy and tell us who it is who paid you and well let you go free. We dont want the small fry, you see, we simply want the man at the top. His voice hardened. Now who is it?
The heat from the lamp was already starting to scorch my hair and the skin of my face was stretched tight from the nearness of the flame. Fear gripped my heart at the thought of burning alive.
I am going to go either way, I told myself. If I keep quiet, I am going to die in the most horrible way imaginable and I can only guess at what humiliation would be in store for me in the meantime. On the other hand, if I speak, the Cardinals friends will hunt me down resolutely, that I know for certain. My brain worked frantically. One of the other members of the gang may have talked already. Perhaps they already know half the story so I cannot risk telling a deliberate lie. It would just make it worse for me. One thing is certain - I certainly cannot hope to stall them for long.
The Captain reached behind him and took out his horn of powder. He held it up so that I could see clearly what it was and then sprinkled the gunpowder liberally over my head, face and clothes. I was securely held so that I could not hope to shake off any of the offending powder and even got some in my mouth and up my nose. The lamp would now only need to be moved an inch nearer and I would be ablaze from head to foot.
Well, the Captain said. Im waiting. And Im not a patient man. He gave a horrid little laugh which was taken up by his men.
Of all the soldiers I had ever encountered, these were by far the worst. They smelled foul and obviously were prepared to do exactly what had been threatened. The Captain held a pinch of powder over the flame and let it fall. The lamp flared briefly and I could feel the powder on me about to erupt into flame as I shook with terror.
The C..Cardinal, I screamed in terror. It was the Cardinal.
The room fell almost silent, the only sound being the puckering of the flame in the lamp. After what seemed an age, the Captain straightened and turned towards the door, motioning for his men to follow. Relief washed over me in waves as I lay back in the chair, drained of all energy. As he passed through the doorway, the Captain turned to look back at me, hesitated, and then gave orders to the nearest soldier. Kill him!

~~~~~~~


I got slowly to my feet and tensed myself as the soldier cocked his musket. After all I had gone through to have it end like this. However, my fear evaporated with the removal of the lamp and, already, I could feel courage growing again in my bones. Suddenly, I realised that I still held my leather food pouch in my hand so, as the soldier raised his weapon to fire, I threw it with all my might at the lamp which had been placed on the table beside the doorway. The soldier must have had some of the Captains powder spilt on him because, as he grabbed for the falling lamp, his sleeve became a blaze of fire and the others rushed to his rescue.
I knew I had only seconds in which to act as I leapt for the door to the secret passageway, slamming it shut behind me. Two musket balls shattered the oak door panel beside my head as I dived down the stone cellar steps and landed in a heap at the bottom, shaken but intact.
The repeated banging on the door upstairs reminded me of pursuit, so I hurriedly jumped to my feet and ran for Flash. As I reached my mount and started to drag out the saddle, I heard noises outside and realised I could not use the way I had come in and so would have to have to leave my trusty steed and escape down the labyrinth of tunnels connecting the Hall to the safety of the woods. Hearing the door upstairs splinter, I ran for my life down one of the low tunnels.
It was dark, damp and cold and my feet kept slipping on the muddy floor. It got narrower as I neared the end and I had to crouch until, at the head of the tunnel, I took a deep breath, scrambled on all fours up the steep slope and out through one of the many hidden trapdoors which came up in various parts of the grounds. Searching frantically around, I soon found what I was looking for and waited for what seemed an age before I heard movement below me in the tunnel. With all the strength and rage I could muster up from the humiliations of the last hour, I threw the heavy rock into the tunnel mouth and was satisfied to hear the shout of pain it produced. In the confusion resulting from the blocked tunnel, I ran for the safety of the trees. There was some feeble attempt at pursuit in the darkness until, gradually, everything became quiet once more as I waited, hidden in the undergrowth. After about half an hour, two shots rang out and, a few minutes later, I heard a number of horses gallop off into the night.
Was this all some kind of a trick, I asked myself? Had they really gone, or were some of them still in the house, waiting for me? Carefully and quietly, I climbed a large oak tree that overlooked the clearing surrounding the Hall and settled myself down for the rest of the night. It was bitterly cold, but I dare not move too far until I knew precisely what had happened. Several times, I almost fell from my perch as I fought against both the bitter cold and the almost overwhelming desire to nod off.
After what seemed like days, the sun rose and gradually passed the mid point of the sky. Still, I watched and waited although not a sound came from the house. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that, after all, the men must have gone back to London. Stiffly, I climbed down from my lofty perch and, with the agony of limbs and muscles which had not moved for hours, completed a full circle of the woods surrounding the house.
It was obvious from my thorough search that the Militia were not in the woods as the house and clearing remained silent except for the sound of the odd bird which had neglected to followed the example of the swallow and flown off to warmer climates. Slowly and carefully, I crept through the kitchen garden on all fours, hiding behind unready sprout plants where I could. I focussed long and hard on every window but there was no sign of life in the Hall. Everything I owned was in that house so, if I was going to be a fugitive for the rest of my life, I was going to have at least some belongings with me. Flash and I were going to go somewhere where we could not be traced, neither by the Kings Militia nor the Cardinals vindictive henchmen.
Slipping in through a secret door from the garden, I listened carefully for a long time but all was still. With my heart in my mouth, I pushed open the door and straightened up in the kitchen area. The door to the hallway creaked a little as I opened it but no shots came by way of return, no shouting to raise the alarm. There was no sound from upstairs as I gently prized open the cupboard door beneath them and rummaged around until I found what I was looking for.
Although catching on slowly on the Continent, I had been told, Flintlock pistols were fairly rare in England. Still in the early stages of development, they were heavy and awkward. They were also highly inaccurate when discharged. Nevertheless, this pair which belonged to Old Tom were the only means of defence I had. Now that I was armed, I might at least take two of them with me.
I carried the pistols carefully into the kitchen and primed them on the table as I had seen Tom do it before setting off on a search of the house. Systematically and carefully, I checked every room but the house was totally deserted. As quickly as I could, I gathered together the few things I had, scrounged around for what valuables I could carry. It seemed a pity to leave the old Hall, but I had no idea if or when the Militia might return to check. Consequently, I lit a candle and made my way to the cellar.
I stopped dead in my tracks. What I saw made me feel very sick indeed. On the floor was Old Tom, his head half blown away and, next to him, Flash. I almost cried aloud. They had shot my horse. Somehow, that was worse to me than the death of the aged housekeeper. I had known the old man only a year and we had never been at all close. But Flash and I had grown up together on the farm.
Hate rose within my whole being. Hatred for the treacherous Captain. Hatred for the King who had sent him. Hatred for the Cardinal and his Church. Hatred for everyone who had played their part in bringing me to this accursed place. One day, I swore to myself, I will be in a position to formulate a Plot of my own. I didnt yet know how I would do it but I know for a fact that I was going to get my own back on every single one of them.

~~~~~~~








ESCAPE







Three weeks later, I was feeling very sick. I had never been able to sail well and, after fifteen hours in a heavy swell, the North Sea was playing havoc with my insides. On leaving Twigmoor, I had decided that the most prudent course I could take was to lay low for a while. Making my way north-eastwards on foot, I had crossed the Humber to Kingston. That part had been easy despite the fact I had to jump into a ditch and hide each time anyone came near.
Finding a boat to take me where I wanted to go had been more difficult, especially one where the skippers silence could be bought. I knew that many would expect Yorkshire to be my natural hiding place, so I plumbed for the not-so-obvious and headed south, the last direction in which I would be expected to go. It had cost me about all I had found of value from the Hall to get onto the boat and now here I was, off the coast of East Anglia in what seemed to me like a howling gale.
The crew seemed to take it all in their stride, as if waves breaking over the bows were quite natural. The Skipper himself seemed to spend all his time in bed with a bottle and the First Mate had not uttered a word since boarding although it was obvious he knew his job. To me, the boat was in constant danger of capsizing, but the Mates quiet confidence had a slightly soothing effect on my nerves. I wished it would have the same effect on my stomach.
Whilst waiting for the right boat, I had listened to the talk at the inns along the quayside and had overheard plenty of talk about the shallows off the shores of Essex. When the tide is not just right, some sailors had said, many an unwary boat has been lost on the sands. Run aground by storms, they would keel over, high and dry, and the returning tide would then flood over the listed boat. Hands and boat would be lost. In the poor visibility that day, it was impossible for me to see if our boat was near land or out near the sands so I only hoped the Mate had a better idea than I. All through the night, the little boat managed to hold up its head into the wind which, I surmised, had probably come straight from Denmark. I have been told that December is never a good time of year to be at sea anywhere, but especially not on the North Sea with a north-easter blowing broadside on. I do not begin to understand the complexities of tides and channels for my blood came from the land. I know horses, not sea and winds, and all those creakings and groanings of timbers were alien to me.
The dawn brought a change of wind. It was now blowing directly from the east and the waves looked to be bigger than barns as I huddled with some of the sailors behind the wheelhouse. We were all soaked to the skin and freezing cold and I was continually wondering how they stood up such conditions. I guessed they probably had little choice in the matter. I could not see land but, from the nervous glances of the crew, it was obviously not far off our starboard beam as the boat was being relentlessly pushed slowly inland by both the wind and the waves. By noon, the wind had risen to a strength I would not have thought possible and it was just a half-hour later that I sensed rather than saw that we had turned west and were running ahead of the wind, straight for land.

~~~~~~~


BY mid afternoon, it was already getting dark, but the waves had abated somewhat. It soon became clear to us all that the Mate had turned the boat into one of the rivers north of London and, as if in confirmation, a little while later the keel grated onto the shingle of an estuary. We got stiffly to our feet and the sailors set about dropping sail and anchor and tidying up the mess. Everyone seemed to ignore me so I looked around at the almost-still waters barely-discernable in the poor light. About a quarter of a mile on our left, there was a faint light and I suspected that the boat had run aground on the south bank of one of the tidal rivers. I did not know the area well but guessed that, from that point onwards, I would be safer with land under my feet. The Mate was busy trying to rouse the Skipper from his drunken stupor so I decided to fend for myself rather than be stuck there for hours. I also did not know whether I could completely trust the crew not to give me away if and when the boat reached London.
Uncertain as to the future, I took the first opportunity of a relatively clear foredeck to grab my small bag of belongings and to slip chest-deep into the icy water to head in the direction where I guessed the nearer bank must be.
The water seemed to go on forever. With the dropping of the winds strength, a thick mist had descended onto the water, engulfing everything in a ghostlike shroud. The surface had a slightly luminous sheen to it whilst the sky was jet black. Totally disorientated and close to panic, I looked wildly around for some sort of clue as to the direction I should take.
I finally got a hold of myself and stood still and felt the water. It was moving slightly from my right to my left so the tide was probably still on the ebb. It was difficult to tell direction from the depth alone, which had remained constant from my leaving the boat. The light I had seen earlier had been on what I felt sure had been the southern shore but, strain though I may, the light was no longer visible in the mist. That, nevertheless, was the way to go.
After what I calculated must be half a mile, the water began to get shallower. Suddenly, I heard the movement of a boat nearby and stood stock still. The sound came from a little way in front of me but I dare not call out. It could be a trap set up by the Skipper or Mate of the boat I had so recently abandoned, so I made my way to the right, upstream. Gradually, the water shallowed until, finally, I found myself on a point of land jutting out into the estuary. There was no obvious sign of life, although several small fishing boats were beached with what appeared to be crab nets inside. Perhaps I had heard simple fishermen, out changing their lobster pots, or something. Exhausted, I chose a boat a little away from the others, curled up in the sails and fell asleep. I probably would not have slept so peacefully that night if Id had any sort of premonition of the events which were to follow during my stay in Essex.

~~~~~~~


I awoke to the lapping of waves against the hull of the small boat I had chosen to sleep in. I sat up and looked around. The mist cast a grey shroud on the mornings incoming tide. There was still no sign of human life, just four boats on a beach of silvery sand with seabirds everywhere, wheeling and diving into the quiet waters of the estuary. It was too misty for me to see across to the other side and, though I reckoned I could see about quarter of a mile, there was just empty water. The wood behind me was not impenetrable but the trees lined the beach as far as the mist permitted visibility.
I started to explore. One thing I did know was that I had to find food. Having not eaten since boarding the fishing boat at Grimsby, and remembering that what I had eaten at Kingston-on-Hull was now spread all over the surface of the North Sea, I was decidedly hungry. In the absence of a coin to toss, I decided to try what I estimated to be, by means of a lighter patch of sky behind me, westwards.
I went inland, up the estuary, and followed the beach and its line of trees. In places, the trees fell back from the waters edge and there was a section of salt marsh between beach and tree line. After about a mile, the trees began to thin and the marsh to widen until I found myself on a headland with the river on my right and perhaps quarter of a mile of marshy ground on my left. The trees were also thinner at that point, suggesting that the marsh ran, at least partly, through the trees so I was forced to retrace my steps.
I arrived back at the boat place an hour or so after leaving it and I could hear voices. I scurried for the trees and crouched behind the low-lying bushes a few yards inside the wooded area. The voices were accompanied by rowing sounds and, gradually, out of the mist appeared a fishing boat being rowed by two men in thick, warm clothing. The boat trailed strange pots not unlike those I had seen earlier so this was possibly the boat I had heard going out on the ebb tide soon after abandoning ship.
The two men jumped out and pulled the boat up the beach to join the others and, carrying their catch, the men strode off in the opposite direction to my recent route of exploration along the beach. The men seemed as if they knew where they were going so I decided to follow them at a safe distance. Where there were people, there was food. The mist enabled me to follow at a distance where their voices could be heard, but not close enough to hear what they were saying. Soon, they turned inland through the trees following a narrow, well-beaten path.
Gradually, I lost sight of the estuary behind me as the wood closed in and I hurried forward, desperate not to lose sight of the fishermen I was following. After less than a mile, the trees began to thin again and then, quite abruptly, they ended in a wide area of marshland. The men ahead were carefully picking their way across what seemed to be a relatively dry patch and it seemed that I had landed on a sort of island, cut off from the mainland by this wide strip of salt marsh.
I was later to discover that the place was called Ramsey Island and was off the south side of the river which was locally known as Black Water. I felt I could not attempt to cross the marsh until the two innocent-looking fishermen had reached the far side, as I would surely have been spotted and I did not want to be discovered until I had some idea where local loyalties might lie and whether or not any of the locals were in league with one or the other groups of those who could be seeking my life. It seems illogical to me, upon reflection later, to think that communication could be that good, but I was taking no chances. I had been tricked and lied to so much that I felt I could trust no-one.
I did, however, know that somewhere in Essex were the Thurleys and the Langtons, friends and fellow traders of horses with my late father. Horses bred in Yorkshire fetched a good price when sold in the south of England and the livestock market at Chelmers Ford was a good place to trade. My father had been able to trust Bill Thurley and Harry Langton to offer a fair price, where the horses could be resold, after training, at Rumford to gentlemen in the City.
I reminisced as I watched the fishermen making their way across the marshes. Bill Thurley, a jovial, overweight man with a ruddy complexion, was my favourite. When I was a lad, Bill often picked me up and threw me into the air, catching me again and swinging me around and around until I was giddy. I also remembered that Bill had a quiet wife, Margaret, and three children, all younger than myself. A brief picture of Elizabeth Thurley flashed across my mind, making my heart beat faster for a moment.
Harry Langton was a shorter, but older, man. His farm was far grander than Bills for he was more of a professional horse breeder as well as a shrewd buyer of North Country horses. It was his wife, Gertrude, whom I remembered best. “Auntie Trudy, I was allowed to call her and they had a son, Simon, who was just a year older than I was.
All these thoughts were running through my mind as I prepared to cross the marsh in the wake of the fishermen. I also realised with sadness that these were memories from more than two years ago, from before my father died.
When the fishermen had finally vanished into the mist and reeds, and I was certain not to be heard wading through the marshes, I followed, pushing aside the tall grasses and reeds as I went. I tried to tread the same path as the men who had trodden carefully, perhaps due to deeper water on each side of the track. I was determined not to get any wetter than I already was. As I reached the far side and once more trod on firm ground, I noticed that the mist was beginning to thin although the fishermen were nowhere in sight. About half a mile southward, the treeline started again, thinner than on the island, but thick enough to prevent my seeing any great distance. Beyond that, there was a slight rise in the land which ran visually in a straight line from east to west. I suspected that the only way I was going to get a good look at the lie of the land was to head for that high ground and take stock of precisely where I was.

~~~~~~~


THE view from the top was quite breathtaking. To the north, from whence I had come, was the open estuary of the Black Water with the low hills of northern Essex rising beyond. I smiled to myself for a moment at the memory of Simon Langton when he had once told me of the trips he and his father had made to the old Roman capital of Colchester during the time when the plague had closed the local markets to all visitors who valued their lives. On the near side of the water was a denser part of the wooded area which identified the island where I had come ashore. To the right, or eastward, the land seemed simply to dissipate into the sea - a seemingly barren, featureless zone devoid of any signs of life.
I suddenly remembered then that the Thurleys home at Moor Hill had been on land similar to where I was at that moment, with marshy ground between the low hills and the sea. Perhaps fate had brought me aground not too far from my ultimate destination.
Well, I said out loud to myself. Waiting will get me nowhere.
So, with anticipation in my heart, I finally headed southward across the plateau of low hills, striding confidently into the future.

~~~~~~~









MOOR HILL





After walking only a few yards, I stopped dead in my tracks. There was an odd noise which I could not identify so, crouching down, I strained my ears to locate the source and direction of the strange sound. Soon, I could see the source. About a dozen persons were slowly walking along the ridgeline just a matter of yards in front of me dressed in the habits of what looked like monks and their voices were the chanting of prayers. It seemed as if I had stumbled upon a pathway leading to some kind of religious shrine. It was an unknown order to me. Although by no means an expert on religious orders, I had seen many different sorts of garb during the gangs meetings with the Cardinals men and the thought of such a connection brought a shiver to my spine. I dare not be seen by them. If a report were to somehow get back to the Church, I would be hounded mercilessly.
When the men were a safe distance away, I rose from my hiding place amongst the bracken. The monks were headed eastward, towards the sea, and, although I was unable to see a destination of any sort, I made a mental note to ask the question as soon as possible. As quickly as I could, I crossed their well-trodden path and continued southwards across the wide peninsula and eventually came to the spot where I could see also water to the south. It must be the River Crouch, I surmised, the river which could be seen from the Thurleys farm. Encouraged, I kept on heading southward until I could see the church tower at the small hamlet of Asheldham. From that point, I knew the way well. Keeping clear of the village itself, I crossed the brook and headed for the farmstead on the edge of Moor Hill where I hoped there would be a warm welcome.
As I approached in the evening glow, I could see that things had changed. No longer did it look homely and well looked-after as it once had. The stable doors now hung empty and it was obvious that fire had recently gutted the barn to the north side of the house. The house itself was still intact but was in need of considerable repair. There was no light to be seen and I was just beginning to think that the farm had become deserted, when a young lad of about twelve came out of the chicken shed. I watched from a distance as he went into the main house where a frantic ruckus suddenly broke out. What was it? Robbers? Militia Men? Alarmed at what might be happening to the boy, I ran for the door and literally burst into the kitchen, my dagger in my hand. Everything went very quiet.
By the pale light of a small log fire, I could see it all: the dark, dismal room which had once been a hubbub of family activity; the tatty sheets at the windows where silk curtains had once hung; the wooden table in the middle of the room empty except for a small loaf of stale bread; and, crouched at the stove, Margaret Thurley - now looking a hundred years old when she could be no more than forty. The lad, John, stood frozen with an empty bowl and a broken egg on the floor at his feet. A child of five or six sat in the corner, her thumb in her mouth.Baby Dilly, I thought. How she had grown in those couple of years. My heartbeat raced. On the far side of the room was a girl who, despite her dishevelled appearance, was very striking with a kind of hidden depth of beauty. Elizabeth, just seventeen but already a woman.
Weve nothing left for ye to take, muttered Margaret Thurley. Yeve had it all between ye.
No, mother! challenged the brave Elizabeth. We are giving in no more. Her eyes were ablaze, reflecting the flickering of the fire in her wide, staring eyes. Her hand went instinctively to a heavy iron saucepan on the scullery table as she advanced purposefully towards me.
I suddenly saw the funny side of it. I had been thinking that they were being attacked and they were thinking I was the attacker. I burst out laughing as I replaced the dagger in my belt. None of them laughed back. Instead, they stood immobile. Margaret, the spoon still in her hand, stood with mouth agape. John, halfway to the broken egg on the floor, frozen in a bending position. Elizabeth, with saucepan half-raised and with fire still in her eyes. Dilly, unsure of everything, starting to whimper.
Dont you recognise me? I asked, without stopping to realise what such a revelation might herald. Im Jack, Jack Bosvile. From Hellaby.
Elizabeths pan hit the flagged floor with a resounding clang, precipitating a full flood of tears from Dilly. Instinctively, Elizabeth turned and picked up her younger sister and attempted to soothe her.
Margaret straightened from her stove and peered at me in the semi-darkness. Is it really you, Jack? Is it our young Jack back from the grave?
I had no idea know what they may have been told, but they obviously did not know the whole truth. I dont think I could have died or else I might have remembered something about it.
Come and sit ye down, Jack, Margaret said eagerly. Yell stay for supper, I reckon.
I was starving, but as supper for the whole family looked as if it might consist of just one small loaf of stale bread and a smashed egg, I lied. Its all right, Mistress Thurley, Ive not long eaten at the inn.
Afraid of what I might hear, I hesitated to ask the one glaring question which clammered to be answered; the whereabouts of big, jovial Bill. As if reading my mind, Margaret said, I expect ye heard about Bills accident?
Accident? shouted Elizabeth, jumping to her feet, her eyes wide and staring, her fists clenched at her sides. Dad was murdered. Everybody knows it, but theyre afraid to speak.
Dilly started crying again.
Murdered? I queried as I sat down heavily on the oaken stool near the door. John had silently closed the door behind me and I reached out my arm and encircled the young boys waist with it. He had obviously not eaten well for some time and this, at twelve years old, was the man of the family.
Yes, murdered, Jack Bosvile. And by your friends. Elizabeth now had tears of anger and pent-up frustration streaming down her cheeks which caused pale streaks on her grubby skin.
Now dont you listen to her, young Jack, soothed Margaret. You cant be held responsible for everything Catholics do.
I sighed. So they knew at least part of the truth. I never was a Catholic, of course, but I had aided and abetted mercenaries who were in the pay of the Cardinal. W..what have you heard? A..about me, I mean.
Just that you left a good home in Yorkshire to join those murdering Jesuits, shouted Elizabeth. She faced me from a yard away, her beauty distorted by her anger. Youre not welcome here, Jack Bosvile.
She turned her back on me and went into the bedroom with Dilly, who was still in tears. John broke free from my grasp and followed silently. Margaret came across the room, a sad figure and a shadow of her former self, and sat down at the table facing me.
Placing her gnarled and reddened hands over mine, she said; Forgive her, Jack. Shes still very bitter about her fathers death.
I looked into those sad eyes and wished the clock could have been put back two years and things could be different, for both of us. However...
H..how did it happen? I finally asked. Please tell me, if you can.
The room was quiet for a long time and I felt as if I dare not speak and break the spell.
It was just a year ago, she eventually said, looking down at our hands clasped together on the table. Bill had gone to Rumford as usual with the last batch of horses. Your James had brought them down to Chelmers Ford the month before as usual and had gone back home. Bill...Bill sold the horses but didnt come home. After a while, we got worried and some of the men went looking for him. They...they found his body near Latchingdon. Hed fallen from his horse, they said.
The pause was for several minutes, this time. She then looked me straight in the eyes. Your brother said youd gone to Twigmoor, with Guido Fawkes. Is that true?
I was suddenly ashamed of the effect my actions must have had on these good people. I quietly explained about my fathers death and the sudden need to get away, there being nothing bad about my motives. I explained that I had never actually killed anyone, good or bad, though some members of the gang had reputedly done so.
I dont even own a sword, I told her honestly. My short dagger is all I have ever been trusted with and that came from my father.
I suddenly remembered the flintlock pistols in my small bag of belongings. I had never fired them and Tom would certainly never use them again. Occasionally, I remembered, I had been allowed to handle them, unprimed, and the one time I had fired a musket at a tree in Twigmoor Woods, it had nearly broken my shoulder and the flash had half blown my ear off. The effort had produced a great deal of mirth for a month afterward.
For some reason, I felt the need to tell Margaret everything - so I did. Everything from my first riding to Twigmoor with young Cal Miller from Micklebring, a friend since childhood; of his death in a raid at Lincoln; of the gang and of the unity of purpose we had once had; of the Cardinal and his henchmen; of the Plot. Margaret stared right into my eyes as I told her of my escape from Westminster; of the death of Carlos; of the Captain and his deceit; of Old Tom and of Flash.
And ye came to us? she whispered. Why?
I shrugged. You and Bill were the only people I felt I could trust completely. I am totally sick of all that has happened - all the killing and the chasing. Why cant it stop? I then thought of her dead husband. Elizabeth will be right. Bill could never have fallen from his horse by accident, he had been virtually born in the saddle. But why would anyone want to kill him?
She was silent for a long time. I had asked the very question she was afraid to ask herself and I felt sure that she would not like the answer she would find within herself. I leaned over and kissed her forehead and stood up.
Dont go, she pleaded, reaching out with her hand and grasping mine once more.
I glanced toward the bedroom door. I must. I am not welcome here.
Please, she implored. We need you.
I hesitated for a long time. The offer was certainly tempting. It would be a place to hide out until the searching died down. In addition, I might even be able to earn back some of my self-respect.
On one condition, I said eventually. I must earn my keep, help to get the farm back on its feet.
In my heart, I desperately wanted to stay, to help, to right my wrongs, to be near to Elizabeth. Granted, I did have scores to settle, but they would wait.
The farm will never be the same, Margaret said sadly. Even your James does not call here any more. I think he is afraid. The King does not like the Catholics much because they supported bloodthirsty rulers like Queen Mary, but he also dislikes the kind of Christianity we have because it is not popular. Puritanism does not inspire men to fight so he will not protect us.
England in a three-cornered fight, I thought with a shudder. How terrible! High Church Protestantism as the Royal religion of King and Court with Catholicism still around, exerting a strong influence in many circles. And now Puritanism spreading among many. If England is not careful, it could lead to Civil War.
Who were the monks I saw today? I suddenly asked, explaining my fear at seeing them.
Pilgrims on the way to St Peters, I expect, she replied, surprised at the question. They have a tiny chapel built on the old Roman fort at Othona, just past Bradwell-Juxta-Mare.
My Latin was limited, but I knew that “Juxta Mare meant “by the sea. So, I thought, out on those flat salt marshes was a meeting place of monks and, perhaps, more sinister religious activities.
My look must have startled her. Its quite innocent, I expect.
Like the death of your Bill? I snided.
What do you know of my Dads death? demanded Elizabeth from the open bedroom doorway.
I began to stammer, caught off balance. I..I..I..
Jack is staying with us for a while, said Margaret in a soothing manner. And thats final, she said with a straight back, stifling disagreement from her grown-up daughter who stared defiantly at me long and hard before going outside without further comment. Margaret and I sat together in silence for a long time, the crackling of the fire the only sound.
Ill get in some wood, I said finally, standing up and leaving her sitting, staring at the table.
Margaret Thurley had given up, defeated, and the once lively and cheerful farmers wife had as good as died. Just the shell remained, hopeless. I slipped quietly outside and headed for the woodshed.
I suppose these are yours, said a voice behind me.
I turned slowly and swallowed. Elizabeth stood, holding out the two flintlock pistols she had taken from the bag I had dropped near the doorway upon arrival. Both pistols were aimed directly at my head and I had no way of knowing in the semi-darkness whether or not they were still primed. Was the powder still damp from his wading in the river? Were the flints still in place above the flash pans? With a double click, she cocked both pistols. Bill had taught Elizabeth and I to shoot rabbits when we were young together and I knew that, even with such unpredictable weapons as these, she was unlikely to miss from a distance of less than six feet.
How many Christians have you killed with these?
Any semblance of her beauty had evaporated and in front of me was a young woman after revenge for her fathers death. Whether she had found the right person or not did not seem to matter to her. I was part of the system which was responsible and, therefore, I deserved to die. It was not murder in her eyes, it was merely an execution and I knew that there was nothing I could say or do under those circumstances which would make any difference.
Arent you going to say anything? she goaded. Or are you a coward like the others?
She moved a step nearer to me and the muzzles of the pistols seemed like the mouths of cannons, even in the poor light. This was worse than Twigmoor. If I had died there, it would have meant something. Now, to be shot for a crime that not only I did I not commit but also loathed...?
Somehow, I knew I dared not move. Go ahead and shoot. I did not have anything to do with the death of your father but, yes, I did try to kill the King.
Elizabeth gasped. She had not been expecting such a confession. However, the cannon were still steady, only a foot or so from my face.
Elizabeth. What are you doing? came the sudden voice and we both turned to see Margaret standing in the open doorway framed by the faint light from the dying fire.
I reached up to grasp the barrels of the pistols but I was not quick enough. There was an explosion and pain inside my head as I fell, headlong, down a deep black well of silence.

~~~~~~~






RECOVERY







Imprisoned in the dense darkness at the bottom of the well, I heard voices - women's voices which seemed to come and go like the wind on the Yorkshire Moors. If this is heaven, I thought cynically, where is the light? If this is hell, where is the heat?
All was still very cold and black but, gradually over an indeterminable period, the voices became stronger and, after what seemed like years but must have been mere days, the voices began to take form. There was also a mans voice which came and went with them. As if in a dream, the sentences were disjointed and meaningless. On the fourth day, I awoke. It was still black but I could hear birds singing - robins, I surmised. It was if I was back in Twigmoor - winter in Twigmoor, with snow about and birds eating crumbs and scraps Old Tom had thrown onto the back lawn.
In those dreary days, I would lay in my room, unable to go out because of the weather, and listen to those birds. Old Tom had been an expert on wild life, having once been a gamekeeper before he had been set upon by poachers and laid up for several weeks. In the meantime, his squire had sacked him and evicted him from his cottage due to his inability to work for the period of his incapacity. It was injustices such as these which had inspired characters such as Robin Hood some four hundred years previously. Tom used to tell us long, and probably tall, stories about this famous outlaw who had apparently gained fame from stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. How much of the tale was true, I had no idea, but the injustices still remained and the issues were identical. It was little wonder that other gangs like our own had formed - initially to right wrongs but, inevitably, greed for power crept in sooner or later. Will the world never be different?
I thought back to the sermons I had heard at church in Braythewell as a child. “God is Good, the vicar had preached. Maybe so, but many of his supposed representatives were far from good - so much bad and greed had been seen in the name of religion. Of course, in reality, it was probably not always religion that was to blame. To many, God had become the vehicle for gain and profit, whether financially or for power. Power is a strong motive which can drive men insane and I had seen much of this during my two years in the Plot gang. I still liked to think we had not been thieves but moralists, revolutionaries like Robin Hood.
An odd voice suddenly came to my ears. It was not Toms. It was a strange voice which spoke of blindness and disfigurement. It came together with another voice from the past. Suddenly, I had it! Harry Langton from Cricksee. I tried to sit up but firm hands pushed me down onto the bed.
Now dont ye go getting up yet a while, said Margaret. Ill tell ee when yere ready.
I relaxed again, still puzzled by the darkness. What are Margaret, Harry Langton and this other strange man doing down this dark well with me?
Uncle Harry? I ventured.
Yes, Jack. Im here, said the quiet voice. Doctor Shauney wants to have a look at your face. Please keep your eyes closed while he removes the bandages.
Why? Whats wrong? I asked, my heart in my mouth, afraid that I already knew the answer.
Theres some temporary..er..malfunction of your eyes, said the strange voice and I lay still while kindly hands unwrapped many bandages from my head. The blackness lessened to a dull grey glow.
I c..can see light! Again I was held down as the last of the bandages was removed and, as the cool air reached my skin, I could feel an intense pain building up in my face. I tried to raise my hand to feel the skin but it was held firmly.
Lie still, Jack. Harrys words carried authority enough for me to stop struggling.
The blindness is not total, I overheard the doctor whisper to Harry. But it will be a long time before he recovers sight, if sight does return at all. The chances are slim, you know.
So that was it! At least partial blindness. My skin felt stretched and sore on my face but, after some further examination, I felt a soothing cool lotion upon my face and the bandages were reapplied.
You are a very lucky young man, you know, said the doctor. Another inch nearer and you would not be alive at all.
What happened? I asked quietly once that the pain had abated. Why am I still alive?
The pistols had no shot loaded or the undertaker would be here instead of me.
I thought back to my hurried priming of the pistols at Twigmoor. In my panic and haste, had I really taken it for granted that they were loaded properly? What if I had met someone in the house, or I had been forced to defend myself on the road? I had been disarmed to all intents and purposes.
The powder ignited, the doctor explained gently; and burned some of the skin from your face. Im afraid your looks will never be the same again.
But what of my eyes?
They are not as bad as I first suspected. We doctors know little about eye surgery. It is easy to assume that damage is total and we are glad to be proved wrong occasionally. I dont know how much you will see again because there is definitely some damage. But your initial reaction to light is a good sign.
What has happened to Elizabeth?
Shes not here so you have nothing more to fear from her.
Where...where is she? Why I still had feelings for this girl whom I had seen grow from a child, I did not know. She obviously had none for me.
She has gone to live with Mr Langton as his maid to pay for your medical expenses. He is paying for them all, you know.
I struggled to sit up. Servant? For Uncle Harry? He wouldnt.
He gently held me down. Times are hard here, Jack. Harry is a very influential man in these parts now and, if she plays her cards right, she will make a fine wife for young Simon. Its what Harry has always wanted. Simon is in the army now - in the cavalry - and his father is very proud of him.
So, Simons wish has finally come true. I thought back to the weekends during the summers, when we played soldiers as children. Simon had always been the cavalry and I the infantry.
You are in love with her arent you, Jack? the doctor said quietly.
I sighed. Is it that obvious?
Im afraid so.
I tried to analyse how I felt about them all. Do you know, doctor, for some strange reason, my regards for Elizabeth are now stronger than ever. But I know she will never return my feelings. Not only does she think the worst of me, I am now disfigured by the burns from the powder.
He patted my shoulder. Time will tell, young Jack. You still have plenty of life ahead of you - plenty of time to change her mind.
Do you really think so?
Never give up hope - I dont. I felt him stand up. You must rest now. Ill call and see you tomorrow. Goodbye for now.
Goodbye, Doctor. And...thank you.
I heard the doctor leave the room. There was a brief conversation in the hall and soon I could hear the ponys hooves in the lane.
Margaret entered the room. Now then, Jack, I have some soup. Can ye sit up a bit?
Thank you, Margaret. Tell me, theres something I must know. She sat on the bed. Elizabeth obviously knew something about my exploits over the last couple of years. How did you all get to hear?
The spoon touched my lips. An army Captain called about two weeks ago. A horrid, hideous man and he was looking for ye, he said. He told us that ye had killed two of his best men while they were taking ye to London for a fair trial. He also said ye had been wanted for other murders but when I said we knew nothing and had not seen ye for over two years, he did not believe us and burned down our barn.
He lied, dont you see? I said between mouthfuls. Certainly one soldier will have a burned arm and another a bump on the head, but they all rode from Twigmoor that night and no one was left in the Hall, dead or alive, except Tom and Flash.
Another thought struck me. If they had located the Thurleys, then they must have been to my home in Hellaby. What lies have been told there to make my family reveal a possible hiding place for me? Have they harmed mother? Or James? Or burned down Squire Fretwells barns? It was too horrible to contemplate. One thing was certain. If lies had been told, then I was not likely to be welcome in Yorkshire.
Im afraid Elizabeth began to believe the men a little, Margaret was still saying. Then she tried to put two and two together and jumped to the conclusion that it was your people who were responsible for Bills accident.
You know that cant be true, dont you, Margaret? I swear I have never killed anyone in my life. I could certainly never have harmed Bill - he was always like an uncle to me.
I know that, Jack. I never believed it for a moment. But Elizabeth took her fathers death very badly and the struggle weve had ever since. Weve had a bit of help from Harry, thank goodness, but Im afraid weve had to sell all the horses simply to survive.
Things must have been terrible. But why does Elizabeth thing it was Catholics who killed Bill?
Early last year, the priest found out that Bill had bought a Bible in Rumford. Not a hand-written one as seen in the local church but a printed one, in English, and Bill would read to us from it after supper. Elizabeth thinks the High Church found out and thats why he had his accident. Although a lot of people have Tyndales Bible, it is still not officially accepted here.
But I heard through the gang that the King was planning to have an English Bible authorised. Surely if that is so, there is no point in banning the existing one.
Ye have a lot to learn about life, Jack. Ye see, if the King has not yet authorised the Bibles usage, then it cant really exist, officially. Bill said it is the reason for so many becoming Puritan - they can read for themselves and bypass the Church teaching. The Church is not so much worried about the reading of the Bible as the lack of money that will be collected on Sundays if everyone begins to read the Bible at home.
Yes I can see that. Does this persecution mean that no-one has a Bible around here?
There was a long silence and I began to think I had gone deaf as well as blind. Margaret?
I still have Bills Bible here, she finally admitted. When they didnt find it with him when he died, they came here looking for it. Six priests arrived one afternoon and looked everywhere. They asked me nothing and told me nothing. They just looked and went away. They didnt find it because Bill had hidden it well. When you are fit enough, I will get it out and read to you.
I was touched by her trust in me. Thank you, Margaret. Id like that very much. I was able to finish the soup Margaret had brought and she then left me. However, I found that I could not rest. My mind was whirling. I must find out what is happening at home. I must talk to Elizabeth.

~~~~~~~

GRADUALLY, I recovered my strength, Margaret having been marvellous. She looked after me and kept a fire going while the winter winds and rain beat outside. Each day, John would practice his reading and I would smile to myself at the lads poor pronunciation. We had been very blessed as children. Squire Fretwell had insisted that all the youngsters in his parish should know how to read and write properly. Classes had been arranged and Miss Eyre, the teacher, had come over from Bramley village. There were eight in my class. James had been the oldest and I the youngest and the learning had been very useful ever since.
The doctor arrived less and less to visit until, one spring morning, as he was leaving he said; I can do no more for you, Jack. You and nature must do the rest. Your face has healed well, although youll never win a prize for beauty.
We both laughed at the thought.
Im going to take off the rest of the bandages now. Keep your eyes closed for a while and then open them gradually. I feel inside me that you will perhaps never see perfectly again, but... Well, time will tell.
Carefully, he removed the pads which had kept me in total darkness for so long. The faint grey light I had seen before was still there. I tried to open my eyelids but the light was too bright after so long. Finished, the doctor checked me for the last time, grasped my hand in his own and then was gone. It was so quiet in the house. I could hear John in the garden with Dilly and chopping which could only have been Margaret with her unceasing energy. I sat up in the big bed and looked away from the brightest light where I suspected the window to be and, slowly, opened my eyes. Even that diffused light hurt at first but, gradually, my eyes became accustomed to it. As they did, I discovered that I was in one of the back bedrooms. It was, in fact, the room I had stayed in one of my visits as a young lad. The outline of everything was very blurred, but I could see!
Over the next hour, my eyes became accustomed to the strange light and I found that I could fairly clearly see things close up, say within six to eight feet, but beyond that, everything was a blur. Hesitantly, I stood up and shuffled across to the window. The frame, I could see clearly, but the garden was a jumble of blurred shapes. Eager to become a normal part of the household, I carefully picked my way downstairs, one step at a time and, suddenly, I was in the kitchen where it had all started.
Elizabeth must be of great service to Harry Langton, I thought as I saw the fuel box full of wood, the larder which had food in it and the table which was clean. I then wondered just what it was that Elizabeth was having to do to pay for it all. To what depths had she been forced to plunge on my behalf?
I stood in the open doorway and looked out. The smell of spring was wonderful and bird songs were in the air and the sound of Dilly playing was music to my ears. In my eagerness to get outside, I forgot about the raised threshold and fell headlong onto the veranda outside the door with an almighty crash, bringing the whole family running.
Margaret helped me to sit up as I looked around at the three faces and grinned. I can see you.
We all laughed until our sides hurt. It was then that I could see why Bill had married Margaret and why I loved her like a son. When she laughed, the sun shone from her face. She was no longer young and the events of the last year or so had aged her prematurely but there had been life there. From henceforth onward, I was determined to do all that I could to keep aflame whatever life there was left. It hadnt been long that I had been cooped up but Dilly looked older somehow and was no longer sucking her thumb. Bored with adult company, she scuttled off to play with the dog who was barking out of jealousy at all the attention he was not getting. I could also see that John had filled out a little, food was doing him good. I vowed there and then that the family would never want again.
For some weeks, I worked around the home, with John to assist. Together, we fixed the doors, windows, roof and even mended some of the broken furniture. But what brought the greatest hilarity to us all was the repaired fence. I could see well enough to knock the nails in but not enough to get a straight line and the fence turned out the shape of the dogs hind leg.

~~~~~~~

THROUGHOUT that summer, I regained my full strength, even venturing into Asheldham village one day to see Bills blacksmith friend. He was a big man and expert at his job as he wielded the big hammer with great skill. He had been born deaf and dumb but that didnt hinder his ability to produce the best horseshoes and ironwork in the district. He had never been given a name. Everyone simply referred to him as “Smith and the name seemed to fit. He didnt recognise me at first, but John did his best with sign language. What a pair we were as we tried to communicate - one deaf and dumb and the other half blind - but we finally managed.
On my second trip into the village, one sunny morning, Smith took me around to the rear of his forge and into a small paddock. There were several horses inside, including a mare with a black yearling and he led me through the gate whereupon the mare and foal came to him. It was clear from his signs that he wanted me to have the yearling. I couldnt believe it, a horse of my own again. Tears came to my eyes. How could I ever thank him? But it seemed that my tears of joy were thanks enough. We both worked together all afternoon at making a bridle for “Jet, as I insisted on calling him and, as evening fell, I walked Jet back to Moor Hill. It would be some time before I would be able to ride the horse but, with John and Dillys help, much training could be accomplished in the meantime.

~~~~~~~

AS Autumn approached, my thoughts again turned to Elizabeth. The summer months had kept us all too busy to think of anything but the work in hand, but now the house was shipshape and the barn rebuilt enough to store the small amount of straw which had been grown that summer. We had also learned to grow vegetables and the late crop, though meagre, was harvested and in storage for the winter. Though the farm was not even close to its earlier prosperity, it was now capable of holding its own and, through selling off a few things, Margaret had kept us all in basic necessities.
One Sunday afternoon, chores completed, I set off for a walk. What took me southward could only have been some kind of instinct for, an hour later, I stood on the road overlooking the Crouch with the small hamlet of Cricksee nestled in front of me. The water and village were only a vague outline, but the sign which read “Cricksee Hall was clearly visible at five feet. Little had changed, I thought as I slipped quietly down the long, tree-lined drive towards the big house. By the dark shadow, it looked as if Ivy still grew along the front wall and birds still nested under the eaves though many would be soon leaving in search of warmer climates. The smell of horses was everywhere, masking the slight whiff of salt from the estuary and the perfume from the roses. Gingerly, I crept closer, not even daring to wonder what I might find.
At the gate to the walled garden, I hesitated. For a long time, I stood there, listening to the gulls circling in search of food. It was useless, I thought. Why on earth was I here? I was just about to leave when I heard it. It came loud and clear from the other side of the wall and I found myself rooted to the spot. It was the sweet sound of singing and, although I could not see the source, I could hear Elizabeths voice as she collected late roses from the suntrap where Simon and I had played hide and seek so many years previously. I stood for quite a time just listening to that lovely voice but dared not enter, fearing the worst if she saw me. Eventually, I turned to go but, unfortunately, my way was barred. I felt the slight prick of a sword blade at my throat. My poor eyes followed the line of the blade to the jewelled hilt and then up the arm of the soldier before me who was dressed in the full uniform of Captain in the Kings army.

~~~~~~~






SWORDS AND PISTOLS







I felt the perspiration of uncontrollable fear burst from me as I stood, immobile, staring at that uniform and what it represented. Had my escape all been for nothing? How had I been traced? My mind whirled as the possibilities raced through my mind and became jumbled with the feeling of terror that was beginning to make my whole body tremble violently. I tried desperately not to let my fear show through but I was gradually losing the battle with myself as the implications began to sink home. What was this really all about? There had to be more to it than just retribution for the escape of a mere youth from London. Why had they taken all this trouble to trace me, and what did it have to do with Bills death? More importantly, what was this Captain about to do to me?
And what have we here? demanded the familiar voice. A peeping Tom, no less?
I almost cried out as relief flooded over me and, had it not been for the sword at my throat, I might well have fallen in a dead faint. The voice was clear but, in the poor light, it took me several seconds to confirm what my ears had told me and identify the face I had not seen in a long time.
Simon, I blurted out to the friend of my childhood. Its me, Jack. Dont you recognise me?
It was a stupid question. Simon had not seen me for three years and, added to that, my face did not look the same as it had. The cavalryman looked into my brown eyes as I quietly reminded him of a certain incident from our childhood - one which only the pair of us knew about.
Good Lord, Simon said, removing the sword from my throat. It really is our Jack. Father said you were at Moor Hill when I arrived home on leave this morning and told me about your accident, but what are you doing out here?
I hesitated, not knowing the best way to express reasons for which I was not certain himself. Before I could speak, Simon grasped my arm and led me through the garden gate. Instinctively, I tried to draw back but the pressure was strong and I could not find the words to explain to my friend the reasons for my reluctance to face Elizabeth at that moment of time. Simon Langton had the clear thinking of a Captain but lacked the deeper understanding of a General.
Elizabeth had stopped singing and was walking toward us.
Hello, Simon, she started when we were close, a beaming smile on her beautiful face, framed by her long, fair hair which was tied behind her head with a pale blue ribbon which almost matched her eyes.
Seeing Simons companion she hesitated and, at a distance of three feet, I could see her eyes widen as she dropped her bowl of roses onto the pathway with a resounding crash.
Jack! she cried. Oh what have I done?
Her hands reached out to my face but she could not touch. Instead, she fell to her knees and gripped me tightly round the legs, her head against my knees, tears flooding from her as she sobbed her heart out. Unprepared for this sudden outburst of emotion, I looked up at Simon who had a sly grin on his face as he slid his sword back into its sheath with practiced ease and then walked off towards the house. An owl hooted in the woods as I stood, immobile, in the failing light. As far as I could see, the garden looked immaculate, a great change from the wilderness where Simon and I had played soldiers as boys.
I did not know what to say, I had not planned it like this. In fact, if the truth were known, I had not really planned a meeting of any sort. I placed his hands on Elizabeths shoulders and gently raised her head.
Her eyes looked into mine as she shook her head. What can I say? I had no idea.
Your mother explained, I excused her, not being able to explain even to myself why I was being so charitable to someone who had tried to kill me for no good reason. I can understand how you must have felt. Me, a supposed thief and a murderer and probably in league with your fathers killers. But thats not all strictly true, you know.
I realise that now, she said, standing up so that her face was now very close to mine. But I was so confused.
She was confused? How did she think I felt just then as her sweet perfume reached me and my heart began to beat treble time?
Dont fret, I said, trying to shrug it off with a degree of nonchalance I didnt realise I was capable of showing. Youve done me a favour and Ive only just realised it.
Elizabeth looked puzzled. How do you mean?
Well, its a long story, I said slipping my arms around her slim waist as she rested her warm body against me, her head on my chest. But it does mean that if Simon, who knows me as well as anyone, didnt recognise me, then there will be plenty of others who will not do so either.
Before I could begin to explain further, Harry came flustering out of the house and declared that a celebratory drink was in order. Elizabeth looked up at me and smiled as Harry went back inside and, before my eyes had left the vague shape that had been his retiring back, her lips briefly touched mine before she slipped from my embrace. Her laughter was like water trickling from a waterfall as she skipped ahead of me towards the house, leading me by the hand.
I was led into the parlour and sat down with Elizabeth who held my hands in hers. Simon stood, brandy in hand, leaning on the mantle piece, his riding boot on the brass fender which gleamed in the light from the oil lamps. In his smart uniform and polished boots, he looked as if he was enjoying every minute of his soldiering. More than a little confused by this sudden change of circumstances, I simply smiled up at him, though I could not clearly see his response. I desperately wanted to tell them all my story as I had Margaret because they obviously did not know very much of the period of my “adventures. However, this did not seem to be the best time. This was an occasion for rejoicing, not gloom.
Some time later, I managed to get alone with Simon. What are you doing with yourself? Or is it some closely-guarded secret?
No, Simon laughed, some of the boy still there in the way he playfully slapped me on the back. Its not a secret. There has been a plot to blow up the King but most of the gang have been captured. The problem is, one or two of the fellows escaped - hardened criminals, I hear. I dont know what all the fuss is about myself, this isnt the first attempt to assassinate a ruling monarch and I would be naive if I believed it is the last. However, we have orders to shoot them on sight if we ever catch up with them.
What happened to those who were caught?
Some were publicly burned, he said simply. Others hung, drawn and quartered January last. They were just Catholic fanatics from Spain but we cant have foreigners going round trying to blow up our King, can we?
He burst out laughing at his own wisecrack and I tried to sound impressed but found that I could not. The other members of the gang were never what I might have called close, but we had all lived together for two years.
Simon, I said eventually. Are we still friends?
Of course. Why do you need to ask?
I need a favour.
Anything for you, Jack. When we were boys, we swore to share everything, to be friends for ever. Nothing has changed.
I want you to give me sword lessons.
The young soldier looked amazed. You, the horse wonder, need sword lessons?
Yes, Simon. Its very important to me for very personal reasons that I hope I can explain fully one day. Will you help me?
Im here on leave for another two weeks. Ill do what I can in that time. He laughed again. Ill arrange it with father.
No! I said quickly, placing my hand on Simons immaculately-pressed sleeve. No-one else must know. It must remain our secret, just between the two of us. Will you promise to tell no-one? I had not the slightest idea why I wanted this to remain between the two of us for the time being but, somehow, I knew it was important.
Very well, Simon said. But it has taken me two years to learn.
Then I must learn in just two weeks. I need to know everything.
But cant you use the musket? Its far easier to use and once they get this breech-loading business perfected it will be the weapon of the future, you mark my words.
I looked down. I cant see, Simon. Everything further away than you is blurred so I could not see to hit anything, even with one of these new-fangled pistols. I need to learn to use the sword.
Do you have a sword? Simon asked after the implications had sunk in.
No, I said with a slight smile. But I know a man who does.

~~~~~~~


THE trip back to Moor Hill was relatively uneventful. I got lost twice but kept what appeared to be the last remnants of the sunset on my left and eventually ended up at home, much to the relief of Margaret who was beginning to get frantic with worry.
In due course, Harry and Trudy had seen me to their gate but of Elizabeth and Simon there had been no further sign. However, upon departing, Harry had given me an envelope which smelt of her hair. It was too dark to read it there, so I placed it carefully inside my coat and set off home.
It seemed funny to think of Moor Hill as home, but it was the only one I had and was likely to have for some time. Until I was ready.
That evening, by candlelight, I opened the letter from Elizabeth. It read:

My dearest Jack,

Words cannot express the sorrow I feel at what I have done. Whatever may or may not have happened in the past no man deserves to be treated as I have treated you. I hear that you have been very good for Mother. Tales are constantly returning about the transformation at Moor Hill. Here, at Cricksee Hall, life is wonderful. Harry and Trudy are so kind and, in the spring, Simon and I are to be wed. Isnt that wonderful? His career is earning him well and marriage is encouraged among the Kings guards.

I hope to see you again soon. Take care.

Your loving Elizabeth

I read the letter through several times and on the face of it had to agree, Simon would indeed make her a fine lady and the circles in which he would be mixing would be good for her. Her future was not of the farmers wife variety. This was what logic told me. However, my heart conveyed a very different message. A great pit had opened up where my stomach had been.

~~~~~~~

THE following morning, I felt sad as I went to see Smith, taking with me the flintlocks which had belonged to Old Tom. In sign language, I tried to explain that I wanted to exchange the pistols for a sword. By way of response Smith tried to explain back that the pistols were worth far more than a mere sword which was somewhat limited as to use. Eventually, with persuasion and appealing, the message got across and Smith nodded and wrapped the guns in oilcloth. Motioning to me to wait, he then went upstairs and, after some time and plenty of rummaging noises, he came down carrying a long package wrapped in parchment and placed it across my lap. I looked up at the big man and Smith nodded, promptingly. Carefully opening the parchment, I revealed the most exquisitely-carved sword case I had ever seen. Smiths signs conveyed that it had been his brothers who had fought many a glorious battle in France only to come home to Essex and die of the plague.
Carefully, I slid out the sword which was decorated on both sides. The hilt had an ornate guard and the handle was etched for a perfect hand hold. It was long, like those used in the cavalry wars with the French and it had a very slightly curved blade. Todays swords had become slimmer and somewhat easier to wield. However, with a good arm, this was a lethal weapon. The cutting edge was sharpened to a razor edge and Smith finally admitted by signs that he had painstakingly made it himself from the best steel that could be forged. I stood and held it out. I was no swordsman, but the balance was remarkable.
My eyes had said enough. The two of us shook hands on the deal and Smith clasped me on the shoulder and smiled. It was the first time I had ever seen the blacksmith smile. It was as if he seemed to sense that this transaction had been important to me and that something special and beneficial would result from it.

~~~~~~~

AT midday, I met Simon at the pre-arranged spot. Simon was no longer in uniform but in his old riding gear and his eyes opened wide as I produced my new sword. Simon weighed it carefully in his hand and whistled. Youre really serious about this, arent you? Lets see what you can do with it. Its an inch or two longer than mine so it will take more skill to use. Youd better get that right arm good and strong, Jack, if you intend to use this weapon.
Our eyes met as he returned the weapon, hilt first, over his left arm. I felt a degree of anger boiling away inside me as we started but I knew I shouldnt feel that way. After all, it was not Simons fault that Elizabeth had made the decision she had. However, during the next hour, my frustrations came out again and again as we practiced battle on the heath until we eventually collapsed, exhausted.
Less power and more science, Jack, Simon gasped as we drank ale together. In real battle, I would have killed you a dozen times over. Its not a saxon broadsword you have in your hands, it is a very delicate instrument. Treat it like you would a woman. Caress it, play with it, force it do your will.
I suddenly saw another side to Simon. As boys, we had never discussed girls - they had been a taboo subject to twelve-year-old budding soldiers. But I was beginning to get a glimpse of how Simon now felt about women. Was my Elizabeth soon to become some kind of a toy to be caressed, played with and compelled to do the bidding of her owner and master? Surely not.
My further frustrations came out in the rest of the day, but I learned fast, by watching Simons reactions to my own thrusts and movements. I knew that my friend was very good. Soldiering was Simons life and, like me two years earlier, he loved the adventure. I soon found out that sword fighting is not limited to movements of the hand and arm. It is the eyes you watch as feinting can trick the unsuspecting foe. My clear vision was limited to a range of a few feet and, somehow, the limited vision I had seemed to be concentrated within that area, much as hearing becomes clearer in a totally blind person, and I found that I could almost foresee what Simon would do next. Simons puzzlement at my initial ferocity turned to wonder at the speed with which his pupil was learning and he seemed to sense that there was a certain purpose in my actions. But Simon asked no questions and I offered no explanations.
Several times during that two weeks we spent together, sweating and grunting on the heath, I tried to picture Simon and Elizabeth together and, gradually, my earlier foresight of their marital bliss dissolved into realism. Simon was going to be away for long periods of time and it could be many years before he could earn the sort of status where he could have a wife accompany him on his travels. At the end of the two weeks, I had learned as much as Simon could teach. If we were ever to meet in battle, neither of us was sure of what the outcome might be.
Jack, Simon said whilst saying goodbye dressed in his full dress uniform, his horse at the ready. Youve been a good pupil. But remember, the eyes, watch the eyes - and science, not brute force and ignorance.
I clutched at his arm as we shook hands. Simon, I owe you.
Dont be silly, Simon said with the kind of sly smile he had always been able to produce when inwardly laughing at people. He placed his hand on my shoulder. If you want to do us all a favour, go to the house now, today. Its not me who Elizabeth loves, its you. Every day when Ive returned from here, its been “Hows Jack?, “What are you two doing together?
He stifled my interruption with his raised hand and continued as he put his foot into a polished stirrup and easily climbed upon his mount. Dont worry, I havent told her anything about what we have been up to. Its our little secret and Ive kept my promise to you. He smiled again. Go to her now and take her away.
With that, he saluted, wheeled his horse away and cantered out of sight.

~~~~~~~

WE were married at South Minster a month later. I had gone straight to her on the afternoon of Simons departure and she had agreed without hesitation. Simon had received his orders on the previous day and he had been ordered to lead a small group of settlers to the land of Virginia in the New World where an English colony was being established. I was sad that I would not see my friend again for probably some years. At my request, Elizabeth stayed with Harry and Trudy until the wedding. It seemed the best thing to do under the circumstances and it prevented talk which would otherwise be rife and could ruin the young girls reputation in the community.
The wedding was a relatively quiet affair. Many of the other local farmers would not come as Margarets Puritan inclinations were well known and rejected by High Church members who revelled in their pomp and circumstance. Margaret pleaded with us to stay on at Moor Hill for a while after the wedding as her health was not what it used to be and Moor Hill was quite a sizeable farm to manage alone. As I was not yet ready to begin my plot in earnest and was glad of the period of blissful respite, I promised that we would stay until at least Johns fifteenth birthday and, by then, the farm should be in a manageable position.

~~~~~~~

THAT winter was very mild and the wheat we sowed in the Autumn spouted early. By mid-March, it was clear to see that we were going to have a bumper crop. Elizabeth and I were very happy and worked long hours together in the fields, in the home and took produce to Maldon Market each week. Repeatedly, I had to revise his opinion of Elizabeths inner strength and fortitude. In spite of her great beauty, she had both the guts and the determination to see us both through any eventuality. I worked equally hard at the farm, but it was my wifes untiring efforts beyond those of my own which had produced the results.
Although we were living in her mothers home, Moor Hill had now taken on Elizabeths character and, with Margarets approval, her daughter was clearly the lady of the house. Several times, I had tried to explain more about my time of “adventure but Elizabeth did not to know the details, having long ago stopped believing that I was implicated in the death of her father.
From time to time, my thoughts strayed to St Peters. Someone had arranged the death of Elizabeths father and, it seemed, the most likely persons were members of the local Catholic community who had continually shown hatred of the familys Puritan ways. I smiled. If only they knew what I had once tried to do for their Church.
Our family began to read our English Bible regularly and that infuriated the priest even more. I once caught a couple of their lads trying to set fire to the field of corn and when I reported them to the priest, he implied that this was all that I should expect for being a Puritan. It was that event which prompted me to decide that, one day, I would hit them where it would hurt them most - in the pocket. At St Peters, there was a shrine to the first landing of Christianity and people attended the shrine and paid heavily for the privilege of visiting that place. One day, that vast accumulated wealth was going to... disappear.

~~~~~~~







REVENGE





That summer, I promised to take Smith to the annual market and horse fair at Chelmers Ford to buy a couple of steeds. It was my first visit to the town for nearly four years and I was filled with apprehension at the thought of mixing with crowds of people. Plus, I was more than a little frightened that, despite my changed appearance, someone might recognise me and give me away to either the Militia or the Cardinal. In spite of my initial trepidation, he and I left together early in the morning with young John between us on the wagon and arrived in Chelmers Ford by mid-morning. By then, the Fair was in full swing and, gradually, I relaxed as my mind went back in time.
Little had changed over the years. The conjurers were still there, the minstrels still had their audience as they sang ballads about love and life. However, I did notice that one thing was new. In a corner of the market place, a group of people were acting out a play, advertised by poster as being by a certain William Shakespeare.
I stood on the perimeter of the crowd, watching and enjoying the play when a familiar voice spoke beside me. You cant hide that Yorkshire laugh, young Jack.
Instinctively, I wheeled around to find myself face to face with Ben Leeming, one of the Plot gang. I panicked inwardly. What was he doing there? He had obviously escaped? But how? By giving the others away? Someone had and it hadnt been me. When being questioned by the Militia Captain, I had mentioned the Cardinal but some other person had already given away vital information about the Plot causing the others to be caught.
Ben, I said, smiling while I searched for the right words which would not convey my suspicions. You escaped.
Yes, by the skin of my teeth, he said. But no thanks to you. He gripped me by the collar. So you must be the traitor who gave us away and the Cardinal might have something to say to that. Hes not far away at Colchester so Ill take you to him now.
I knew that it was not I who had been responsible for the others having been caught and executed. However, I was powerless to argue as the man had with him two of the hardest, meanest villains I had ever seen in my life. One of the men whipped out an ugly-looking knife and I instinctively pulled free and drew out my sword with a clean action. Ben laughed and pulled out a flintlock pistol from his belt and cocked it. The crowd, by now, had realised that something was amiss and stood silent, watching the more exciting drama which was unfolding in their midst. Even the real actors on their small wooden stage had stopped to see what was going on.
Ben raised the pistol, pointed it directly at my chest and then pitched headlong forward. One of his henchmen was picked up bodily and then thrown against the other, landing them both in a tangled heap. Ben Leeming tried to rise, anger driving him to action but a giant hand smashed down on his head, knocking all the breath out of him. Smith stood smiling broadly at me as I shook my head in amazement.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ben groping for his pistol so, with a deft flick of my sword, I whisked it away from him. The bandit sat on the ground, his breath coming in short pants. Youll not get away with this, Jack Bosvile.
Angry with his treachery and infuriated by his threats, I put my face close to his and drew the back of my sword along the side of his neck. Next time I see you, Benjamin Leeming, it will be the sharp edge. Dont let me ever see you around here again, not you nor your men.
A sudden look of fear came to the older mans eyes. I may once have been just the boy of the gang but he now knew from the tone of my voice that I meant what I said. And tell the Cardinal that he has no place here either. I am not afraid of him any more. Soon, I am going to get him where it hurts the most and I am no longer alone.
Standing in front of him, I stuck Bens pistol in my belt and, with my sword point, cut the thong holding his bag of powder and shot and retrieved that, too. The crowd cheered and parted as we moved away but one lonely market constable turned up and attempted to bar our way. Smith just looked at him. That was all. He looked at the constable who tactfully moved out of the way.
We saw no further sign of the Cardinals henchmen that day. I purchased four fine Lincolnshire horses for Smith and then we set off for home. Twice, we backtracked to ensure that we were not followed but we were still in the village by nightfall. To save her any worry, I told Elizabeth nothing of our unexpected encounter nor of the detailed plans Smith and I had made on our way home.

~~~~~~~

IT was during early December, just two years after I had arrived in Essex, that Margaret Thurley died. There was no prolonged illness, no fits nor fever. It was just as if she had survived because it was necessary, had finally achieved all that she had wanted in life and was now content to go and leave things to we younger ones. Doctor Shauney came but could do nothing for her. The energy which had kept the family going after her husband had died, the spirit that had brought me back to health and had seen her eldest daughter through the first year of married life had simply faded away to nothing, expended itself completely. Before she finally passed away, she spent the most part of her last day alone with Elizabeth and, when I once interrupted them with some light lunch, Elizabeth looked at me with a kind of wonderment I had never seen in her face before. Margaret had finally accomplished what I could not, she had told her all my story.
Getting Margaret buried proved difficult due to local prejudices, so Elizabeth and I finally held our own service with John, Dilly, Harry, Trudy, the neutral Doctor Shauney and Big Smith in attendance. Harry read from the Bible whilst I quietly planned my revenge upon those who had taken away her spirit when they had killed her husband.

~~~~~~~

THE fogs and drizzle which had started the month gradually turned to frosts and, as the ground hardened firmly into winter, so did my resolve to take positive action against the Cardinal. Ben Leeming had said he was at Colchester so, it seemed reasonable, that is where any monies collected by the Church from exploiting its holy shrines would be taken. Because of that, it had not been too difficult to work out the route the Treasury Official would have to take when carrying the money deposited at St Peters back to the Cardinal at Colchester. There was little choice due to the geography of the area.
Smith and I, now fluent in our sign language, first toyed with the idea of attacking the treasury near to home, on the marshes. But, upon reflection, the population of Dengy was so few that subsequent identification and arrest would have become a simple matter for the Militia. We had also discussed the possibility of using a gang of some sort but Id had enough of gangs so, in the end, we agreed that it was safer to go alone, just the two of us, and to attack close to the market town of Maldon. We arranged to “borrow one of the fishing boats from Ramsey Island without anyone knowing and then sail upstream to Northey. From that island was a shallow causeway leading to land which was close to the route from Bradwell into Maldon.
On couple of cold but sunny days, I walked along the ridgeline to the top of Steeple Hill and closely observed the times and rate of the tides washing in and out of Lowling Creek. From my observations, I was then able to calculate when the water levels would be right for us to cross that narrow causeway safely. If we happened to be spotted returning to Northey, it would be anyones guess as to which way we could go from there. Any pursuit after the robbery would be cut off on the island as we returned to our hidden boat and then sailed downstream to freedom. We hoped that any subsequent enquiry would concentrate on the north bank and rule out Dengy locals. It would seem like a long way round to rob a convoy so far away from home when it would pass right by our doorstep during the early stages of the journey. That was the theory anyway. One useful thing I had learned from the Plot Gang was always to do the unpredictable.
I calculated that during the following week the tide would be right. Christmas had not long been confirmed by the Catholic Church as acceptable to Christians. Although accepted by all “in the know as a pagan ritual brought to England by the Romans and later added to by the Vikings, the Church had been unable to stamp it out entirely. So, on the premise that “if you cant beat them, join them, the celebration had become “Christianised amongst Catholics in the country and some High Church Anglicans had been pressured into following suit. Not everyone accepted it, of course, but it did mean that a good many pilgrims would be arriving in late December at St Peters. The return of the money would logically be scheduled for the twenty-seventh to arrive at Colchester on that afternoon - in time to be counted. Rather than follow the St Peters Pilgrim route, heavily-laden mules would be forced follow the coast road through Steeple and Mundon.
When the day arrived, Elizabeth realised that something was going on but, as before, she asked no questions. She simply finished reading with Dilly and then went out with John to collect the eggs as I slipped out after breakfast and rode Jet over to Smiths forge. Elizabeth was not stupid. She had a pretty good idea as to what was happening but she had been firmly brought up by her father to believe that some things in life lay in the realm of menfolk and that women are banished from interfering. However, it was with some anxiety that she kissed me and then watched me depart that cold winters morning.
Smith was ready as I arrived at Asheldham and clearly excited about the whole thing. I didnt bother to “ask how he had managed somehow to obtain two monks habits of suitable dimensions but watched as Smith put them into the saddlebags along with weapons and food. I was somewhat surprised to see that Smith had brought along the two flintlocks he had traded for the sword which was now hanging snugly by my side. I had the pistol I had taken from Ben Leeming at Chelmers Ford and, although it was little practical use to me with my poor eyesight, its very presence tended to be a deterrent to over-reaction in others.
Mid-morning of the day saw us rowing quietly up the deserted Blackwater Estuary on the incoming tide. Despite the bitter cold, we both perspired freely as we pulled against the ebbing tide. By midday, we had beached the boat on Northey, probably at the same spot where the Vikings had landed some eight centuries ago. Little had changed during the intervening period and the causeway to the mainland was still very shallow, it being low water.
We were in plenty of time and knew we would have until mid-afternoon before the incoming tide would prevent anyone crossing back to the island. It all now depended on how punctual the money train was.
A walk across a hundred yards of drying mud onto the mainland brought us to the coast road from Mundon. Nothing was in sight in either direction as we squatted down to wait in the trees beside the road, shivering as we observed the grey, snow-filled clouds above us. I had no means of being absolutely certain, but I calculated that there would probably be two treasury officials in the convoy with anything up to four guards in attendance.
After almost an hour, Smith touched my arm. He could see them and, a few moments later, we could both hear the drumming of their hooves on the frost-hardened track. An animated conversation was being held between the four guards and they suspected nothing. Surely, they presumably thought, horses of any proposed attackers would be seen even in the sparse copse where Smith and I crouched in wait.
They were caught totally off guard. One minute, there were a couple of monks walking towards them with heads bowed, chanting some incoherent prayers, the next minute we were level with them.
Greetings, brothers, one said sarcastically, obviously not a religious man. A couple of the others laughed while one crossed himself. When we were behind them, Smith and I turned together, pistols in our hands.
Stand firm! I called in my deepest voice and the column instantly stopped. The look of amazement on all six faces was almost funny to see, even if slightly blurred. Smith stepped forward and retrieved the swords from the two rear guards and tossed them into the ditch which drained the high fields alongside the road.
I stepped forward so that I could clearly see the face of the leader of the guard and ordered him to dismount. The man hesitated and my right hand went to my long sword which I withdrew. At the sight of such a weapon, the mans initial reluctance fled as he slid from his mount. I took his own sword from him and threw it into the ditch. Like the others, it instantly sank from sight.
I placed my blade against his throat. Tell your other men to dismount and to do the same with their weapons.
The guard hesitated for just a few seconds before he gave the order and the other three guards dismounted also. One, however, was a hero and he happened to be the one still in possession of a sword. He drew it as he dismounted in clearly a practiced movement. However, he was within the range of my concentrated vision and my scything blade swept it from his hand. At this distraction, the leader saw his chance but was too slow for Smith, who fired one of his pistols across the back of the guards horse. The hot ball caught him in the right shoulder, spinning him to the ground.
There was no further physical resistance. The two treasury officials tried to plead with us “in the name of the Lord but Smith did not hear and I did not want to hear. The religious intolerance of the Church had ruined part of my life and had brought severe grief to my wife. I felt no regret whatsoever as I made them all remove their riding boots and threw them into the ditch. In time, they would be able to recover them all, of course, but not quickly enough to give chase. Smith collected together the horses and mules while I watched over the prisoners who were cold and miserable. They had no boots in late December and were miles from anywhere. I smiled to myself as I realised that most of their fear was probably not for their lives, but for what would happen to them when they got to Colchester empty-handed. The Cardinal was going to be furious.
We rode two of the horses and pulled along the other four as well as the laden treasure mules as we trotted over the causeway, the horses feet splashing through the water as the tide began to flood. In the half hour it would take the men to collect their boots and follow on foot, the causeway would be too deep to locate accurately and they would risk drowning if they attempted to cross. Loading the bounty into our boat, I set loose the horses. It seemed a pity not to take the animals with us - they would fetch a good price. But, for one, they wouldnt fit into our boat and, secondly, they could be too easily identified during the course of any subsequent investigation.
We tacked northward first, out of sight of the pursuers because of the bulk of Northey and, when we had almost reached the northern shore of the estuary, we then turned eastward and ran downstream. We almost came unstuck because I had underestimated the strength of the tidal race so it took a little longer than anticipated to return to Ramsey. But we eventually reached there, found our own horses in the trees where we had left them and loaded the heavy money bags onto them. Leaving the fishing boat where we had found it, we then walked the horses through the marshland and onto solid ground. It was getting dark as we crossed St Peters path and pitch black by the time we reached Asheldham village.
We had not robbed the Church because we were greedy nor because we were desperate for money. Due to that fact, we had previously agreed not to touch any of the acquired money but to hide it in the graveyard of the local Anglican church to allay suspicion. One day, we might well need those funds for some special purpose.
As I arrived home at Moor Hill around midnight, little did I realise just how soon it was to be before I would be glad of some of our ill-gotten gains. The faithful Elizabeth had stayed up to wait for me and she smiled warmly and gave me stew as I sat down. She asked no questions but I could not miss the fleeting glimpse of apprehension that had been engraved in her face as I returned.

~~~~~~~


OVER the next few weeks, there was plenty to do around the farm, ensuring that everything remained watertight and weatherproof in readiness for the snow that, despite repeated threats from the sky, delayed until February. During that period of calm, I visited Smith a couple of times and tried to keep everything looking normal. Nevertheless, I gradually began to pick up snippets of news drifting back from the markets. Apparently, the Catholics blamed Anglican bandits for the theft and, it seemed, the locally-growing Anglican Church membership was overjoyed at a such a snub against the Roman Church. The Catholic community in Essex was openly ridiculed over the next few months and a very heavy guard accompanied any further movements of money. We had started a chain reaction, not of persecution as such, but of outright ridicule of the Roman Church. Religious edifices were looted all over Essex and property stolen. Of course, the Catholic Church blamed what they thought was an organised attempt by Anglicans to discredit their Church while Smith and I just sat back and laughed. No one suspected our small Puritan community.
What happened in that small area bore no comparison to the great Puritan upsurge which was taking place in areas like Yorkshire where people were not afraid to stand up for what they believed. In some ways, I longed to return home and learn how things were progressing. However, because of the stories which had probably been told about me, I was reluctant to take the chance of being rejected out of hand.
If only I could hold on to what Id got for a while, I would be happy as I continued to seek ways to further my Plot. Here, in Essex, there were a lot of disadvantages, religiously, but I was happy with my new wife and my adopted family and friends.

~~~~~~~









MORE REVENGE





Gradually, the snow turned back into rain and rain to sun as Spring burst from the ground in a mass of colour, painting the landscape with the kind of mixture of blues and yellows which makes a man feel completely different about life. Elizabeth and I had settled into a routine which suited us both and we were completely happy together. I once asked myself why I had married Elizabeth and I was forced to answer “because she was there. I suppose it had been taken for granted that she would marry either Simon or me and I had won the first prize. And what a prize. Elizabeth was everything a good woman should be, beautiful, kindly, hard-working, tactful, in fact, I wouldnt have swapped her for the world. In time, our love grew for each other into something much more than accepting the inevitable. Elizabeth once told me that her greatest desire was that, after a hard day at work in the fields or stables, I would come to her and hold her tightly for a moment to reassure her about everything. She never asked for anything more than that.
That particular spring became the turning point in both our lives and began a whole new phase that would bring our whole family a strange mixture of both happiness and grief. It all started one market day when I offered to go to Chelmers Ford for Smith. It proved to be a good arrangement because Smiths being a deaf mute did have its disadvantages at auctions. In the course of time, Elizabeth got to hear about my proposed trip.
Jack, she said, her arms around my neck and with a sly glint in her eye. Are you going to market tomorrow?
Yes, my love, I replied, wondering what was coming but half suspecting the truth. I am going to buy a couple of horses for Smith to train and we have found out that there is a good herd coming down from Nottingham to be sold.
Her smile broadened. While you are there. Could you buy me some cloth for a dress? She looked down at the stained clothes she had worn almost continually all the time I had known her. This one is now very old and, I think, beyond further repair.
I laughed with relief. I had thought she had wanted something more expensive like a new table or bed. Of course darling. What colour?
Im not sure, she said, holding me tight and rubbing her slightly-rounded belly against mine as she often did when she was happy. What do you suggest?
I suggest you come with me and choose your own, I replied, returning her squeeze.
Now how can I do that with the children to look after? she chastised playfully, dropping her arms as the reality of life brought disappointment.
Easy. Well leave John and Dilly with Smith for safe keeping and go together. Ill tell you what else, well stay overnight and see one of those plays by that man Shakespeare. I saw a bit of one last Autumn and it looked fascinating.
She threw her arms back around my neck. Jack, that sounds marvellous.

~~~~~~~


THE following day, we were both up early and approaching Chelmers Ford by late morning where we found the fair already well under way. We had left John and Dilly with Smith as arranged and Smith was going to start to teach John to forge metals while Dilly exercised the horses. Upon arrival, the two of us inspected the horses together like a Lord and Lady and noted possible purchases for the afternoons livestock auction. We then went for a stroll, arm in arm, along the bank of the Chelmer and ate lunch at the Inn beside the river. After lunch, I fed the ducks the scraps while Elizabeth lay back in the warm spring sun.
Jack, she asked quietly, her eyes still closed. How do you feel about having a family? One of our very own, I mean.
I recollect that I was quiet for a moment before answering. I hadnt really thought about it. Weve been so wrapped up in helping John and Dilly to grow up that I havent considered our own family. How do you feel about it?
Opening her eyes, she sat up, watching my face closely. I would love to have your baby, Jack. It will be something well have made together.
Anything for you, dearest. I leant over, kissed her gently and then wiggled my eyebrows. When shall we start? Tonight?
Well, its not quite like that, she mused, her fingers toying with the grass.
I sat up suddenly. Whatever do you mean?
She looked straight into my eyes. I..I think its too late.
You mean youre...
Yes, Jack. She smiled. I think “pregnant is the word youre looking for.
I jumped to my feet, excited beyond belief. We must celebrate. Im not going to buy any material for a dress. Im going to buy you a real dress, one like the fine ladies wear.
Oh, Jack. I do love you. She sat, her hands in her lap, beaming proudly.
I picked her up then and swung her round and round. Children stopped playing to observe these mad grown-ups playing silly games and laughing. We felt like royalty, going in all the smart shops along the Buttermarket and, eventually, I bought two dresses for her. One, a red velvet one for Sunday best, and also a new flowery dress for market days. In addition, at the shop at the end, I spent ten whole marks on a green riding cape with a fur hood. Elizabeth fell in love with it immediately and insisted on wearing it for the rest of the day. She looked superb and I was as proud a punch as I paraded her round and showed her off to all and sundry, not that anyone else was terribly interested.
At the auctions, I bought two fine stallions for Smith and arranged for overnight stabling close to our Inn. Later, we watched something called “A Midsummer's Nights Dream and curled up laughing at Bottom and the Asses head. Elizabeth enjoyed it immensely and I thought she looked so happy in her new cape sitting with her hands in mine, radiant in the evening suns glow.
It was as we were leaving the play that we almost collided with another Dengy family, a father and two sons, who had resolutely rejected us from the start. Their attitude made it quite clear to us that they believed Puritans were definitely lower class citizens. This particular section of the Catholic community was walking along about twenty feet in front of us when, without warning, they were confronted by a group of six soldiers. I could not make them out clearly, especially in the half-light, but I froze as I recognised one of the voices.
Elizabeth drew her breath in sharply and clutched my arm. Its him - the one who came looking for you three years ago - one of the men who burned down our barn.
I know that voice well, I said grimly. I have often dreamt about him and the revenge I intend to take.
It seemed that the family ahead of us were being accused of being traitors and members of my old Plot gang. Despite their repeated snubbing, I wanted to rush forward and defend them but Elizabeth drew me back into the shadows.
Not now, she said, very sensibly and with far more caution than I had. There are too many of them.
The shouting ahead of us got louder and eventually led to blows. It only lasted a few moments before the soldiers went off laughing, leaving the three men lying by the side of the road. The family was not badly hurt, but they were utterly amazed to see who had come to their aid as Elizabeth and I helped them up and assisted them to the Inn.
Why do you help us? said the father as the two of us stood in the street doorway.
Because we feel it is the duty of any good Christian, regardless of religious name.
But weve treated you so badly in the past, said the eldest son.
We would not turn our back on anyone, Elizabeth assured them. Remember the Good Samaritan?
I recognised the youngest as one of a pair who had tried to set light to our field some two years ago and the youth realised this as he looked at me and held his head in shame.
They shall hear about this in church on Sunday, the father said.
But its not praise we want, said Elizabeth. We simply want to be treated equally, as friends.
But our priest told us it would be a sin for us to change religions, said the eldest boy.
Were not expecting you to change religions. We just need understanding and kindness.
The father looked in the direction the soldiers had gone. At least now you know why Ive always hated Protestants.
Dont judge all Protestants by that scum, I said;Were not all tarred with the same brush. One day, the likes of him and his King will not be heard of again. I was surprised at my own bitterness, and even Elizabeth looked at me oddly in the glow from the oil lamp. There are plenty like us who are fed up of the way weve been treated by the Church; how weve been kept in ignorance and treated like serfs. In Hellaby, our squire treats his people fairly and, one day, the whole country will be like that.
Son, said the father, placing a hand on my shoulder. That is a grand dream but it wont happen in my lifetime.
Maybe not in mine either. But it must happen one day, for our children's sakes.
There was no more to be said so we all exchanged goodnights.
Jack, said Elizabeth, slipping her arm through mine. The trouble with you is, youre an incurable romantic.
Perhaps, I said thoughtfully. But tonight, there is something I must do. I want you to go to our room and wait for me. I shouldnt be long.
No, Jack, she said, holding both my hands in hers. I must come with you. This affects me as much as it does you and, directly or indirectly, Ive probably lost both father and mother because of that man. Besides, I cant just wait around for you when you might be killed.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, I replied with a smile. But I have no intention of getting myself killed. I patted her stomach gently. Not now that I am going to have a new family to take care of. But one thing is certain, I cannot live for the rest of my life with this possible threat hanging over us. He found you once, he could find us both next time so I must act now while I still have the guts.
Then Im coming with you, she insisted.
What can you do?
She smiled slyly. I could distract him.
In that new cape you could distract anyone. Even me. We both laughed at the thought. Now which way did they go?
They went toward the river, she indicated.
He must be staying at the inn by the bridge, though I hate to think how many of them there might be. I pondered for a moment. We must get him alone somehow.
Will all the soldiers be staying together?
I doubt it. The common soldiers will probably sleep in the stables or in the yard. Only the officers will have been allotted beds.
We walked across the road in the darkness and it was not difficult to find the soldiers. There were twenty of them in the yard behind the inn, in various stages of intoxication. Some sat and rudely banged mugs on the long table for service while others fell about drunk. Of the Captain there was no sign so we crept up to each of the windows of the inn until we saw him in one or the bars, apparently negotiating with a well-built barmaid the price for some transaction or other. The two of them apparently could not agree the terms because the buxom wench suddenly slapped his face and walked away, leaving him in a rage. The Captain stormed out of the inn and past his men, who roared drunkenly with laughter at his obvious embarrassment. It grew completely dark as he eventually walked away toward the stables area, some few hundred yards away. As he reached the door of the stables, Elizabeth slipped her hand from my arm and ran up to him.
Good evening sir, she said sweetly. Can you tell me the way to the Puritan meeting house?
The Captain turned in anger but then relaxed as Elizabeth lowered her hood to reveal flawless skin and long tresses in the dim light of the lamp he carried.
Well what have we here? he said with a sly smile on his face. Well, well, well. I think what you are looking for is in here. He indicated the stable door.
Oh, thank you kind sir, she smiled as he pushed open the door and they went through the doorway together.
This was a side of my wife I had never seen before and I gaped as I watched her deliberately and consciously flirt with this evil man. As far as I could tell, she was offering herself in the way I imagined a prostitute would. The Captain guided her into the empty stable and closed the door firmly as I slipped quietly up to the doorway and peered through one of the large cracks that were plentiful in the weathered stable door.
Is this where I can find what I want? I heard her tease softly, slipping her hand through his uniformed arm.
Oh yes. Youll certainly get what you need in here, the Captain sneered as he led her to the area of straw at the back of the stable and carefully removed her long cape. The light from the lantern cast an orange glow on one side of her face and she looked up at him as his hands reached out to undo the ties of her dress. Suddenly, he stopped, frowned and looked closer at her face, his alcoholic breath making Elizabeth wince. Dont I know you?
A fleeting look of apprehension crossed Elizabeths face.
I do know you, he said, his hands slowly going to her exposed white throat. Youre the slut from Moor Hill who is in league with those Jesuit murderers. Well, my girl, when Ive finished with you, youll wish that youd stayed well away from here.
With a sudden vicious movement, he firmly gripped the sides of her neckline and furiously began to tear at her dress as stark fear began to cross her face for the first time. He stopped dead. I imagine that it might have had something to do with the fact that the sharp point of my sword had pricked him behind the ear.
Is it me youre looking for? I goaded and the soldier turned his head slightly and squinted at me in the half light. Not the face, just the voice. Remember the voice.
A sudden look of fear passed over the Captains face as his hands dropped from Elizabeths clothing.
Dont worry I said, stepping back a little. I wont kill you in cold blood.
The Captains expression turned into a sly sneer while Elizabeths turned to one of severe apprehension. She still did not know about the lessons I had taken with Simon and, therefore, the thought of my giving the Captain even half a chance had begun to make her very worried indeed.
It was not a fair fight. Although a little sobered by his shock, the amount of alcohol the Captain had stowed inside himself during the early evening had slowed his reflexes considerably. Also his shorter sword was no match for my longer cavalry sword. Repeatedly, I could have struck the winning blow but, instead, I found that I was playing with him. Elizabeth stood stock still, her hands outstretched against the side of the barn wall, exactly as the Captain had left her, her new cape at her feet.
I was taught by a master, I admitted eventually. Not a piece of scum like you.
Comprehension slowly dawned on Elizabeths face. Now she knew where Simon and I had spent those days on his last leave in Essex and she visibly relaxed.
I learned well, I taunted him. And just for this one moment.
A look of fear came again as he hacked out wildly. I neatly sidestepped and the sword missed completely. Science, not anger. Thats what I was taught.
The fight lasted for perhaps a quarter of an hour until, apprehensive that the noise might bring others running, I suddenly slashed upward with a two-handed blow which connected with his wrist and sent his sword spinning away to land in the straw close to Elizabeths feet. She let out a little squeal. Blood had spattered all over the front of the Captains uniform and he now looked a sorry sight. He knew then that I was going to kill him and a look of utter panic came to his face but he was too proud to beg. I placed his sword point against the mans throat but found that it was not that easy.
He realised the reason for my delay and sneered. You darent do it.
It was then that he began to goad me. He reminded me of my earlier cowardice but I was unmoved. It was not fear which prevented me from killing him, it was just that I realised I had never actually killed anybody before. Nevertheless, I had to do it now else we would be hounded forever. I applied more pressure to the blade, drawing blood from his neck.
But who killed the sluts father? the Captain suddenly said and the barn became very quiet.
Elizabeth jumped to her feet, the Captains sword in her hand, and raised her arm. I saw it coming and grabbed her wrist firmly. No. Not yet.
Reluctantly, Elizabeth sat down on the saddle bench and bowed her head, the sword across her lap. To the Captain, I said; Go ahead. Speak.
He rose slowly to his feet and faced me. In exchange for my life?
For your life, I promised, partly thankful that I might not have to kill him after all.
Very well. Gaining confidence once more, he said, Who was it who had the most to gain from her fathers death? Who has prospered since? Who has been left alone while the rest of you Puritans have been punished? He spat out the word “Puritans. Who now has almost the whole market for horses in Dengy?
Understanding slowly began to come. Yes, I thought to myself, who had schemed to get Bills daughter married to his own son so that all the land in southern Dengy would come into his own familys possession? I stepped back, dead at heart. The Captain, realising the impact he had made, began to laugh. It was a hideous sound as he threw back his head to guffaw. I watched with a mixture of anger and betrayal. I knew I should kill the evil man but I had given my word. From now on, Elizabeth and I would become fugitives, on the run until, one day, we would be caught. Death for myself I could bear but for Elizabeth....
Suddenly, the Captains eyes became wide open and his jaw dropped. I stared in amazement as an inch of bloodied sword blade protruded from his chest. Elizabeth pushed again with all her strength and the blade came right through. He instinctively let out a long hiss as he slowly dropped to his knees. For what seemed like a very long time he knelt there, swaying, his eyes still wide and staring, as Elizabeth let go of the hilt of the sword and put her hands to her face. There was blood on her hands, her face and right down the front of her dress.
The Captain stayed erect for several moments before slipping sideways onto his back and the sword snapped under his weight, leaving the actual blade still inside him. Elizabeth looked shocked as I went across to her and took her by the shoulders. She looked up at me and said, What have I done?
Youve rid the world of a snake, I answered her quietly. Hell murder and plunder no more.
But I killed him.
Beth. You did the right thing, do you understand?
But I killed him, she repeated.
Lets get away from here before someone comes. We must get you cleaned up before we go back to the inn. Then Ill think of something.
Quickly, I picked up her cape from where it lay on the straw and slipped it around her shoulders. Together, we crept out of the stable barn, making sure that no-one had been alerted, and slipped through the darkness down to the river.

~~~~~~~


ON the river bank, under the bridge, I reached inside her cape and carefully cut away her bloodied dress with my knife. There had been a little blood soaked through to her underskirt and I also took this off and rinsed it thoroughly in the swiftly-flowing river. The stain would hardly show when washed properly and, with the cleaner parts of her ruined dress, I carefully washed off the last of the blood from her face and hands. Finished, I held her close until she stopped shivering uncontrollably then closed her cape carefully. Now dont you go opening your cape or you might get attacked again, this time by me.
She laughed nervously as the reaction of what had happened began to set in. I stuffed the damp underskirt inside my tunic and rolled the dress up as tightly as I could, the blood on the inside. Cautiously, we walked slowly back up the street, my arm around Elizabeths shoulders. I chose a route which would not take us past the stable again and soon we were back at the inn where the Captain had stayed. I peered into the yard and saw that the few soldiers left about were now deep in drunken stupor. So, creeping silently over to where a brazier glowed brightly in the middle of the yard, I pushed Elizabeths bloodstained dress into the hot coals and the last piece of evidence flared briefly and then was gone.
Back at our inn, we sat together, hand-in-hand on the bed, and reflected.
They will find his body, wont they? Elizabeth said eventually.
Yes, they will. But they will not know who did it, they have no way of knowing.
But who will be blamed for it?
I laughed. Probably the Catholics.
Thats what I mean, she said frantically. That poor family in the next room will get the blame for it. We must warn them.
How can we do that without giving ourselves away?
I dont know, but we must warn them somehow. I cant let them get into trouble for what I have done.
Very well, I agreed to calm her down. I will write them a note.
Hurriedly, I wrote out a brief message strongly suggesting that they should leave immediately but giving no reason. Creeping down the passageway, I slipped the note under their door and banged heavily upon it and then hurried back to our own room. I didnt realise just then the life-saving effect our prompt action was to have later.

~~~~~~~







DEATH AND VENGEANCE





The next morning, we awoke to the expected commotion. As casually as possible, I sauntered along the passageway and looked in the open door of the next bedroom and was glad to see that our Catholic neighbours had left early. Strangely, no-one bothered us at all as we went about the duty of packing and loading the cart. In fact, I was not even questioned when we collected Smiths new acquisitions from the livery stable. That, I thought very odd. We set off about mid morning and soon were well on the way home. However, it was clear that Elizabeth was not her usual self. At first, I simply put it down to shock of what we had done the previous evening but, by the time we arrived at Smiths forge in Asheldham to deliver the horses and collect John and Dilly, she was looking decidedly pale.
I decided to rest at Asheldham and Smith gave us roast mutton, something we had not eaten for many weeks, but Elizabeth barely touched her food and insisted on lying down immediately. I was becoming alarmed, especially when I saw blood on her new dress which could not have been there from the previous night. Smith immediately sent John for Doctor Shauney, who arrived breathlessly just before tea time. He spent a long time with her, eventually coming out looking a very worried man.
Is she going to be all right, doctor? I asked nervously.
The doctor put down his black bag and sat at the table, facing me. Its not good news, Jack. Mrs Bosvile is a very sick young lady.
Can I ask....the baby?
He shook his head slowly. Im sorry, it was too late before I got here.
Then...Elizabeth?
This was very difficult for him. She has lost a considerable amount of blood. And theres something else, something I cant put my finger on.
Does she know...about the baby, I mean?
He nodded. Im afraid so. She suspected it from the beginning and, now that the baby has died, her will to live seems to have gone with it. I guess she feels she has failed you.
But theres so much for her to live for, I said frantically. She cant die now.
I cant begin to explain it, Jack. Her condition appears to be related to some recent event. Can you explain it?
I paused for a moment. It could harm others if I gave you all the details, but she has been under some stress over the weekend. That was an understatement if ever there was one. She will be all right, wont she?
The doctor was quiet for a long time and I feared the worst. Son, Im not going to kid you on. I dont think that she has any chance at all unless the bleeding stops.
What can I do? What can any of us do?
Keep her as comfortable as possible, reassure her, if you can. And...you could try praying for a miracle.
I stood up and walked out into Smiths kitchen. I didnt need to communicate anything, my face said it all and Smith shrugged and looked as if his own world had also come to an end. After a few minutes, the doctor came out, put his hand on my shoulder and said; Well pray for her at Mass tonight, my son.
The rest of that day, I spent in a daze and whiled away my time sitting by Elizabeths bedside while she slept. Once, her eyes opened and she looked imploring, then faded back to unconsciousness before I could speak. I would have given anything to save her life. I kept thinking of everything that had happened. Her father, the Cardinal, the Captain, Harry Langton. Harry Langton, I suddenly thought, Harry Langton the traitor. Now there was a score to settle. Had he really killed Elizabeths father as the Captain had intimated? If so, why? Did his love of land and power mean that much to him, so much that he would kill for it?
That afternoon, I tried everything, even the prayer the doctor had suggested. It had been a long time and the words did not come easily but I spoke from the heart. I even offered Harrys life to God in exchange for Elizabeths. If she lived, I would take no vengeance on him. If she died... “Eye for an eye, life for a life kept coming into my mind. As the sun set, I walked out with Smith and watched the horses in the paddock. Gradually, I noticed that the quiet of the evening was being increasingly disturbed by a murmur of voices. Mass had just finished at the church and it seemed that the entire congregation was headed in the direction of the forge.
What should I do? I sighed. I neither had strength nor inclination to argue with these people as there was no fight left in me any more. I went to meet them, head bowed, but they ignored me and pushed into Smiths cottage. I was flabbergasted. They had all come to help and the doctor was there with them, as was the family we had warned at Chelmers Ford.
It appeared that there was a daughter, Sarah, in addition to the two sons and she immediately and efficiently set about ministering to Elizabeth. I felt redundant as, over the next hour, it seemed that the whole Catholic population of Dengy had come and started working at anything that needed to be done. The forge was cleaned out, some went to Moor Hill and collected the eggs and cleaned up generally. I could not believe it. If this sort of spirit could be mustered locally, what could happen if the whole country followed their example? By nightfall, everything which could have been done for Elizabeth had been done and, after much shaking of hands, the helpers gradually departed to their own homes. Only young Sarah stayed to look after Elizabeth.
The doctor looked in again quite late and pronounced no change. With a quiet voice, he gently said it was doubtful that she would last until morning and there was nothing more he could do for her. I did not feel bitter, because I felt it was as much my fault as anyones. I should not have taken her to market, I told myself. I should not have sought vengeance on the Captain. I should have made Elizabeth stay at the inn. Resolutely, I strapped on my sword, saddled Jet and set off southward to Cricksee Hall. If Elizabeth was going to die, she would not die alone.

~~~~~~~

AS I rode into the yard, Harry and his groom came out to meet me, lanterns in their hands, wondering who it was calling so late. Leaving Jet with the groom, I walked inside with Harry as Trudy came down the stairs, but I indicated to Harry that I wished to speak privately. Harry instinctively sensed that all was not well. Jack, lad. You look terrible. Come into the library and sit down. What is it? Is it Elizabeth?
I refrained from sitting and stared at him coldly. Shes dying, Harry.
Dying? How? Has there been an accident? Where is she?
Shes at Smiths cottage in Asheldham. Yesterday, she had some news which came as quite a shock.
Harry looked gravely apprehensive. Wh..what do you mean?
Its a long story, Harry, a very long story. But shes dying partly because of you.
Be..because of me?
Because of things she has heard about you. About your activities. About your reports to the King. About her fathers death.
He hung his head and said nothing.
Weve been talking to an old friend of yours who told us quite a story.
He was visibly shaken. How much do you know?
Enough, I said simply, shocked at my own ruthlessness.
So youve come here to kill me?
It did cross my mind, but Ive made a pact.
A pact? He stared up at me, suddenly looking a very old man.
With God. Your life for hers.
Is it because of her father?
I nodded. Partly.
Can I tell you about it?
It will make no difference.
I understand how you must feel. It will help me, though. I have told no-one else the real details and need to speak to someone about it. Id like it to be you.
He was quiet for a moment and so I sat down opposite him. The fire crackled in the grate and the wind softly blew the light rain against the window pane with a staccato patter.
It really was an accident, you know, he began. But that doesnt excuse me. He paused, searching for the right words. Bill found out. About me, I mean. Yes, I spied on them all, Catholics end Puritans. The King paid me well.
But you dont need money.
Everyone needs money at some time, Jack. I had become careless. A few losses at the markets, a couple of bad buys. And there was Simons education. It all cost money.
But was it worth kmlling for?
It didnt start out like that, Jack, he was quick to clarify. &'145;I was doing no-one any harm, just reporting events as they happened. But Bill saw me with the Captain one day at Rumford. He followed me on the way home and accosted me at Latchingdon, insisting on knowing what I was up to. What could I say? What could I do?
He paused again. This was difficult for him and I wasnt making it any easier. Mt was my wife who was dying, not his.
He was obstinate. He threatened to talk to others if I didnt stop spying. I wanted to stop but I couldnt afford to. He...he came at me with his bullwhip. He could be very angry, you know. I tried to get away and...he fell.
Fell? I couldnt disguise the sneer. Bill was born with horses.
I swear to God its true. He just fell from his horse awkwardly and his neck was broken and there was nothing that I could do. I...I should have reported it but I just rode away and left him lying there. When all the hue and cry went up, I kept quiet.
What happened then? There must have been some sort of an investigation.
There was. And the Captain found out about the argument somehow and he came and accused me. He has been blackmailing me ever since and takes half of all the crown gives me for...informing.
Why didnt you tell someone? Put a stop to it?
I tried. Believe me, I tried. But he would be dealing with the matter and I would not get a fair chance. Ive tried to help Margaret on the quiet but, with the money hes been creaming off, I dont have much left. If Elizabeth had married Simon instead of you, I would have owned his land and been in a better position to be able to help the family but then you came back and everything changed. Now I dont know what I shall do.
Later, I was to regret not having told Harry that the Captain wouldnt be bothering him any more, but I was not feeling particularly charitable that evening.
Now...are you going to kill me? Harry asked, matter of factly.
I sat silent.
May I see Elizabeth first? I may be able to help.
I was willing to try anything to save Elizabeths life, but surely it was too late for that. Doctor Shauney has examined her. He doubts she will last until morning.
Harry stood up suddenly. Then we have no time to lose.
With authority, he called for his groom to saddle his horse. Trudy came in, looking surprised.
I shall be gone a while, he told her and, donning his riding cloak, pushed past her into the rain and darkness. Trudy looked concerned so I held her briefly, then followed.
It took half an hour to ride to Asheldham and neither of us spoke on the way. Smith met us at the forge and took the horses as we removed our wet cloaks. Young Sarah came out of the bedroom. Evening Mr Langton, sir. Im sorry, Mr Bosvile, theres been no improvement.
I smiled as much as I was able. Thank you, Sarah. You go and rest for a while. Harry and I will sit with her.
Sarah went outside and sat with Smith in the scullery. I was sure that the big man was thinking he should have offered to go with me to Chelmers Ford instead of Elizabeth, but it wasnt his fault. Harry and I sat for an hour, saying nothing, and Elizabeths breathing was low, her face deathly pale. Suddenly, Harry went round to the other side of the bed and started speaking softly to her. At first, there was no response but then, gradually, her eyes opened. She recognised Harry and shrank back a little.
I spoke up. Beth. Your fathers death really was an accident. Harry has told me everything.
She looked from Harrys face to mine and then back again, not sure of anything anymore.
You must not die, Harry said to her, kindly. Not for me, Im not worth it. If you die, I will die.
She quickly looked across me, wondering what threats I had made.
Not by Jacks hand, said Harry quickly. Its just that I shall not be able to face life if you should die because what I have done.
Elizabeth said nothing but was clearly disturbed inside and, for the next two hours, she tossed and turned as if she was fighting with her inner self. Neither of us could prompt any verbal response until finally, just before dawn, she relaxed and slept. Eventually, Harry stood up and I said nothing as he departed and simply disappeared into the rain-filled dawn. The doctor arrived at eight oclock, examined Elizabeth briefly and was out in under five minutes.
The bleeding has stopped, he announced excitedly. The miracle has happened. He rushed off to tell the others and I went in to her. She lay still but some of the colour had already returned to her cheeks.
Sarah, I called and the girl came running. Cook us all breakfast. Were going to celebrate.
Tears of joy streamed down the young girls face as she ran to tell Smith and to ask where the food was. A while later, Sarah announced breakfast and I kissed my wifes forehead before closing the bedroom door quietly and entering the kitchen. Sarah placed a full plate before me. Would you like me to stay, Mr Bosvile?
Jack, I said firmly.
She looked startled. Jack?
My name. If were to be neighbours, Im Jack.
Yes, sir. The poor girl looked bewildered.
How old are you, Sarah?
Sixteen, sir.
Do you have work?
No, sir. Just chores at home. Theres not much work round here for a girl.
From now on you shall work for us. Ill pay you well.
Her big, dark eyes opened wide. I dont know what to say, sir.
Just say “yes.
Well. Yes, Mr Bosvile.
Jack, I reminded her.
She beamed. Yes, Jack, sir.
I smiled back. Go and look after your father. I will see you later.
Smith and I then ate well while Elizabeth slept soundly and peacefully. Sarah went, but returned again around mid-morning so as to be on hand in case Elizabeth woke and needed anything. By lunchtime, Elizabeth was awake and sitting up. Sarah was feeding her some soup and she even managed a brief smile between mouthfuls. Overcome with joy, I went outside and shook hands with everyone - the doctor, the farmer, even the parish priest who had arrived. It was then that the lone rider came to the forge. A strange feeling of apprehension came over me as the man rode up and asked for me by name. I walked over and looked up at him as, without speaking, he handed me a letter. I opened it carefully. It was from Harry.

My Dear Friend Jack,
I now know that Elizabeth will live and she will live because I have pledged my life for hers. She has her whole life in front of her whereas I am finished and by the time you get this letter I shall be gone I hereby bequeath to you all my stock of horses stables and farmland I leave Trudy the house and what little money I have left. I am sure you will do good by her and will tell her personally. I pray your mercy will prevent you from revealing the full details. Tell her I love her very much and that it is for the best.
Your friend,
Harry.

The outside of the letter had been witnessed by Harrys groom and his housekeeper.
I had not wanted it to end like that. Whatever I had felt against Harry, I had never wanted his death, his land nor his horses but now they were all mine. It was sad justice.
Where was he found? I asked the messenger.
His horse was discovered near Butt Cliffs and the note was fixed to his saddle. The current of the river is very strong there.
I offered the man some refreshment but he declined and was gone. I took a last look in at Elizabeth who was excitedly talking girl-talk with Sarah, and left for Cricksee, the second time in under twenty-four hours.
Ahead of me was the hardest job of my whole life.

~~~~~~~







RANSOM FOR A CARDINAL





As soon as I rode into the yard at Cricksee Hall that grey, dismal morning in May, Trudy instinctively knew something was amiss. She ran out into the drizzle without a coat or even a shawl and clutched at my hand. Jack, what is it? Is it Elizabeth?
I shook my head slowly. No. Elizabeth is on the mend.
Then...Harry? Wheres my Harry? She looked around frantically and seemed to sense the worst without my saying a word.
Climbing from my horse, I placed my arms around her and stood looking over her head while she cried on my chest. After some time, I realised that she was getting wet and so led her inside. The housekeeper appeared and I sent her for brandy.
How did it happen? she finally asked.
How could I tell her that her loving, loyal husband was a traitor to the local community? How could I say that the man she loved had been at least partly responsible for the death of Bill Thurley? How could I tell her that honest Harry Langton had accepted bribes, paid blackmail money and deceived them all - that he had killed himself to escape possible retribution?
He saved Elizabeths life, I simply said. He had a pact with God that if he gave his life, Elizabeth would live.
Strictly speaking, it was a lie, but not too far from the truth. Who could know what had gone on inside Harrys head in those last few hours?
He loved you very much, you know. I soothed. He wrote to me before he...he died and made a point of telling me so. He loved you and Simon before anything else, even his own life.
She sat up slowly. I could not tell her everything. Her household would never be bothered again by the Captain and she was unlikely to be bothered by any of his cronies as he would not have allowed it to get around that he was blackmailing someone who was being paid by the King for being a loyal subject.
He left me his will in a letter, but I dont know that I can abide by it.
But you must, she started. Whatever it says. Harry always knew what he was doing.
I doubted that very much but this did not seem to be the appropriate occasion to disagree as I carefully removed the letter from its envelope and read the relevant parts to her.
Trudy sat silently for many minutes before saying; You must do exactly what Harry wanted.
But your farm, your livelihood?
I have a little put away. Not much, but enough to run the house for the few years Ive got left. Anyway, I couldnt possible look after the farm and stables on my own with Simon away in the New World. Jack, you must abide by what Harry wrote.
I will do as he asked on two conditions. First, you must let me make you an allowance from any profits the farm makes. She protested but I insisted and we agreed a percentage. Secondly, if Simon ever returns to Cricksee, he must be given the opportunity to contest his fathers will or at least become a partner with me.
That seemed a fair compromise to both of us so I arranged to clarify the details later in writing, when she was more able to think of any other possible ramifications.
After ensuring that she was at least comfortable, I gave a brief resumée to her housekeeper, instructing her to contact me if any problem arose and then headed back through the rain.
On the way, I stopped at Moor Hill to find that the entire house had been cleaned from top to bottom and the hen house cleared out with eggs laid out in the kitchen ready to go to market. I felt I had much to be thankful for. I still had my wife and home whereas Trudy was alone for the first time in her life.

~~~~~~~

I finally arrived at Asheldham in time for tea and found that the now-redundant Sarah had just left to look after her men-folk and Elizabeth was sitting up in bed, smiling broadly to everyone. She did not yet know about Harrys death and I had no intention of telling her yet. This was an occasion for happiness. After tea, we small-talked about many things until Elizabeth showed signs of weariness. I kissed her several times and then left her alone to go to sleep. Quietly, I went out to the forge where Smith was fixing a shoe for a farmer from South Minster who wanted his horse urgently for market the following day.
The big man sweated in the heat from the furnace and I watched the strength and sweat of his broad shoulders for several minutes before he turned, somehow instinctively, and saw me. Nodding towards the jar of cider on the bench by the door, he indicated that he would not be long. I poured myself a long drink and sat staring out at the pouring rain through the open forge doorway. What a miserable evening it was outside, I thought, as I reflected upon the sudden change of circumstances. I would miss Harry, whatever hed done, but little did I know of the changes yet to come.
After a while, I pricked up my ears at the sound of running footsteps in the lane outside. Peering out into the rain, I saw the outline of a slight figure coming towards the door and I stood up in expectation as a young girl rushed in. Her light summer clothes were soaked and sticking around her thin body, her long, raven hair straggly and wet on her face.
Sarah, I said, alarmed by her appearance. What is it?
The young girl threw herself into my arms and clutched at me very tightly as Smith lay down the tools he was using on the anvil and sauntered across with puzzlement on his face. Gradually, the crying abated and I held her small, white face in my hands and wiped away the tears with my fingertips. She looked terrible, and when I say terrible, I mean terrible.
It...its father, she sobbed. Hes been arrested. And Peter and David, too. Theyve all been arrested.
The tear-rate trebled so I sat down on the bench and placed her upon my knee and held her tightly in my arms until the tears subsided once more.
Tell me about it, I said as some of her decorum returned.
Oh, Mr Bosvile. I got home from making your tea and started to make supper for father and the boys when the Militia arrived and said they were arresting them for some murder in Chelmers Ford. Father knew nothing about it, of course, but they had been given orders to arrest all Catholics from the area who had been to market that day. Oh, Mr Bosvile, what am I going to do?
I held Sarah close for a moment more and then gently kissed her forehead. It seemed to be my day for being big brother to everyone.
Where have they been taken? I asked eventually.
To the assizes, they said. The trial is to be tomorrow.
Leave it to me, I said soothingly. You cannot go home to an empty house so wed better get you out of those wet clothes before you catch your death of cold and then you can stay the night here, with us.
I tried the sign language on Smith and he nodded vigorously and went away to make preparations. Sarah and I sat together in front of the forge fire for some time, her clothes steaming from the heat, before Sarah would allow herself to be unentwined from me. Smith led her towards the back bedroom to sleep next to Elizabeth while I sat and thought about this new development. There was no way I could let her family be blamed for what I had been responsible for and I must also prevent Elizabeth from worrying any further. Accordingly, I went out of the forge into the night carrying a shovel, determined as to what should be done. An hour later, everything was ready for departure at first light.

~~~~~~~

THE next morning, it was dry. The spring sun was warm even so early in the year and the vapour rose from the damp ground as a low mist. With a tuck or two, Sarah had managed to fit into Elizabeths new market dress and she sat next to me on the wagon as we drove along the road to Chelmers Ford. In my concern for Elizabeths health, I had never noticed before just how pretty Sarah was. She didnt have the mature depth of beauty that Elizabeth had, of course. But her big, brown eyes and Celtic features conveyed a kind of deep sensuality that, I strongly suspected, would keep some future husband very warm at nights. But that would be later, when she could smile again.
It was nearly noon by the time we arrived in town and located the place where the trial would be held. We looked into the court as the prisoners were brought out to be charged. Sarahs father and brothers were there, as well as a score of other men. Even in spite of my poor vision, one character in particular stood out from the crowd, one I had never expected to see again. He stood tall and erect in his vestments and long red cape, looking straight ahead.
The trial was not a long one and, as the crime could not be pinned on any individual, the one verdict was pronounced upon all the prisoners - death by hanging, drawing and quartering. Sarah cried out and all the faces turned in her direction. Her father started to push towards her but he was brutally pulled back by his chains. The Cardinal was standing just a short distance away and he slowly looked up and his eyes met mine. He said nothing, he just stared. Despite my altered appearance, the Cardinal had recognised something about me. Was it the way I stood? The way I looked at him?
The defending counsel, out of his depth, asked what the ransom price was to be. Justice was to be seen to be done, but even the Crown was willing to take money instead, such was the current perversion of English justice. A cry went up as the ransom price for them all was announced - one thousand marks. Also, because of the doubt as to how many might have been involved, no person could be ransomed individually, it was all or none.
Sarah sighed and collapsed at my side and had to be assisted by the wife of one of the other prisoners as I pushed through the crowd and made my way to the rostrum. All the eyes in the courtroom were upon me as I lifted my bag and counted out of it one thousand Marks. A great commotion broke out among the justices. Who was this stranger with money? Why would he do this act of mercy to save Catholics? I might well have been arrested myself had it not been for my Puritan clothes. Persecution of Catholics was now open sport, but Puritans... Although still hated by many, the number of Puritans in Parliament was now on the increase and a constable had to think twice about arresting a Puritan. He also had to have a great deal more evidence.
The ransom paid, the prisoners began to be set free and wives and daughters ran to their men folk. There was a great deal of commotion and I caught sight of the Cardinal in between bobbing heads. He had a strange expression on his face. What a situation! I had had to pay to have him released in order to release my neighbours.
The judges hammer banged once more on the desk top and all fell silent again. Had he changed his mind about releasing the prisoners? On payment of the ransom, all may go free. Except one. He motioned and the Cardinal was pushed roughly forward, still in chains. For organising such a dastardly deed, you are not to escape punishment completely.
The justice looked at me briefly, still wondering who I was and whether I was out of my mind buying the lives of these peasants.
Your life has been bought, he continued to the Cardinal. But I cannot let you go free to carry on your devilish acts. You are to be deported from this country as soon as suitable transport can be arranged.
The Cardinal smiled at me as he was led outside. Perhaps we shall yet meet again.
I turned to find Sarahs father and brothers behind me and they shook my hand and thanked me warmly before following the rest of the crowd towards the exit. Sarah slowly came to me across the room, put her arms round my neck and held me tightly, standing on her tiptoes. I held her close for a moment and then took her arms from around me as her big eyes looked at me long and hard. I swallowed. I will have to watch this girl. That one look promised me far more than loyalty and devotion.

~~~~~~~

THAT night, a party was held in the village and just about everyone was present. Smith opened the big front doors of his forge wide and lit the furnace as youths cooked potatoes, still a bit of a novelty, while mums roasted meat over the fire. I smiled as children played games in the poor light and men talked of fine weather and good harvests while everyone came up and thanked me. I felt a fraud as I didnt deserve it. It hadnt been my money. but I couldnt tell them that, could I?
Elizabeth had been brought out on a settee and covered with blankets. She looked like a queen as neighbours showered gifts upon her, and she not fully understanding what was going on. In the fireglow, I reflected over the events of the last few years and chuckled to myself as to how I had come from being a lonely, broke fugitive to a landowner of some stature. I had finished with the Gunpowder Plot two years ago and had then started to plot for myself. So far, I had completed most of what I had set out to do. I had seen the end of the treacherous Captain, the Cardinal had been deported and the balance of the wealth of his Church was now buried just a few paces from where I stood.
In addition, the mystery over the death of Elizabeths father had been solved and, now, the only issue left to settle was that of the King who, by his high and mighty attitude, had produced the kind of national environment whereby the other circumstances had been allowed to fester. I had no idea how I was going to gain any success in this direction, but I somehow knew that, for the sake of others, I had to try, alone if need be. Tomorrow, I would have to have a heart-to-heart with Elizabeth about Harry and other, related developments and I would have to tell her before she found out some other way.
I found that the two lads of the family I had “rescued, whose surname turned out to be Wright, descendants of the village wheelmaker, were expert musicians. Peter played the fiddle, whilst David was a flautist of some dexterity and they entertained the whole village with renderings of local folk tunes. After a while, everyone started dancing. I had never danced in my life, having been brought up by strict Puritan parents who did not go in for “that sort of thing. But I could only reflect on the fact that it seemed to be the way these people showed joy, and such a thing cant be all bad. I watched, trying to remember the steps of the simple jigs, while old and young whirled around each other. After a while, a small hand slipped into my arm and Sarah snuggled up close as we watched the dancing from under the big oak tree in the middle of the green. In time, the music stopped briefly and families everywhere talked small-talk.
When the music started again, it was a simple jig where couples went through some quite easy moves. Sarah grabbed my arm and pulled me into the clear space at the front, and the people cheered and clapped as I tried to follow the other men, who all seemed experts at it.
Just watch me, Sarah shouted above the music and I watched her as she led me through the moves.
After a few initial mistakes, I had it off pat and I was excited to see her laughing face and eyes as she whirled around before my eyes, barefoot, her skirts flying high as she danced with vigour. Other, younger lads offered to dance with her, but I was a little embarrassed to find that I was getting all of her attention as we danced and whirled and danced and whirled while the men of the village surrounded us, clapping enthusiastically to the music. Whenever the music stopped, Sarah grabbed my arm and kept me to herself. I groaned. Someone, someday, has just got to invent a game where everyone sits down when the music stops. I glanced at Elizabeth from time to time but she was enjoying herself immensely, talking and laughing with the other girls of the village. After a while, the music slowed as energies dissipated and I managed to slip round to the paddock alone, where I hoped to get a little time to collect my thoughts.
I kept telling himself that I loved Elizabeth deeply and that nothing could change that. I could never do anything to hurt her now, not after what she has been through recently but, whenever I tried to form a mental picture of Elizabeth, a laughing, raven-haired gypsy kept appearing in my mind.
I must put a stop to this, somehow, I said to myself out loud. She is but a child.
I tried to convince myself that it was just hero-worship on her part and not real love, and that it would go away with time. But what was it I was beginning to feel for her?
I stood there for some time in the darkness, pondering the answer, listening to the sounds of the laughter and music in the background when I heard a slight movement behind me. I whirled round but it was too late. The shape leapt at me and I was caught off balance, falling heavily to the ground.

~~~~~~~









CRICKSEE HALL





My assailant fell on top of me, pinning me to the ground in my winded condition. With a supreme effort, I managed to grab my dagger and had it raised to strike when a nervous giggle stopped me. Dropping the knife onto the grass, I fought for breath as we lay together, her sweet natural perfume overpowering me as the warmth from her body came to me through her thin woollen dress. In the dark, she was no longer a child but a woman, and a tremendous desire was welling up inside me.
I love you, Sarah whispered in my ear.
And I you, I retorted as she playfully kissed me several times. But this wont work, you know.
But its fun, isnt it? she said. You do like me, dont you?
Sarah, I like you very much but this cannot be, not like this. I also love my wife and she needs me now so I cannot hurt her as I would if I were to take you now, please understand.
Her voice took on a cheeky note. You mean Im not good enough for you now that youre popular?
On the contrary. I love you and want you to stay, but as a friend of the family, not like this.
She rested her chin on her hands, her face inches from mine. By “this, I expect you mean sex.
For a second, I was shocked by her outspokenness. I wasnt going to put it quite that bluntly, but yes, I mean sex. I cannot and will not have sex with you, not now or at any other time.
My mind raced. Was it really me who was saying these things? And did I really mean them? Before Elizabeth there had been no-one and we had been faithful to each other since our wedding night, but now...?
She sat up astride me with her skirts almost to her waist and, even in the almost complete darkness, her long, bare legs looked unnaturally white and drew my eyes like magnets. It seemed like they were the only things in focus. She must have known that I could have taken her with very little effort. I knew it, too, but I also realised what the consequences might be of just a small movement followed by a few moments of raw passion. She would not resist. But could I? Thankfully, just as the desires of my heart were about to overpower the logic of my my mind, she rolled from me and sat up. I could hear her pulling at the tough grass in the darkness.
Sarah, I said gently, not wishing to hurt her feelings after all she had done for Elizabeth. It is very important to me that we remain friends. I need you right now. I need your help with Elizabeth. Please say youll do that.
She looked sad in the light from the moon which had just slid out from behind the clouds.
Just for me? I prompted.
She turned her face towards me and smiled. Of course, Jack. But you will always be my friend, wont you?
Yes, I promised faithfully. I will always be your friend, whatever happens. I paused and, after a moment of inspection, shuffled closer and touched her face gently. You are very lovely, you know.
She put her head on one side. Now youre teasing me.
Sarah, you are too nice a person to be teased. Over the last few days, events have made a woman of you but dont throw your life away on someone like me. One day, youll find a nice young man and youll love him, too.
She sniggered and began to pull furiously at the grass once more. Not from round here, I wont. All the local boys are sissies.
I smiled to myself. No, I couldnt imagine any kind of sissy impressing our Sarah. Maybe not from Asheldham or even Dengy. But there are plenty of other places to see and people to meet. One day, youll find the right one and hell come for you.
We both laughed at the thought as we got to our feet and stood very close. I took her pale face carefully in my hands and kissed her just once before we brushed the dew and grass from our clothes and walked back, arm-in-arm, to the fireside. The dancing had stopped and people were starting to disperse as Sarah gave me one last look and ran to sit with Elizabeth, who was beginning to look tired.
As I stood there, watching the departures and thanking folks as they left, Will Wright strolled over quietly and shook my hand. I will never be able to repay you, Jack.
I had not done it for repayment and told him so. But I knew that pride and honour would make the farmer insist on restitution of some sort. He held onto my hand. That land on the ridge, where I kept cows last year. Its yours. Its all I can give at present.
I knew the land he meant and it was the best of his land. Will had sold the last of his cows last autumn to concentrate on arable farming and the land now stood fallow. I cant take your land, Will. Youve worked long and hard for it.
Jack, its a matter of principle with me. If you dont take it, I shall not be able to hold up my head in the village any more.
It was an argument I had no answer for. Finally, we shook hands on the matter and looked at each other meaningfully. I wanted to say something about the Sarah situation, in case he got the wrong idea.
Will, I started. About Sarah.
The older man frowned. What about her? Shes working well, I hope. Cos if shes not...
No, no, I interrupted quickly.
How should I put it? If I revealed to her father every detail of what had happened that evening, it would appear I was telling him that his teenage daughter had tried to play the whore and I couldnt hurt him like that.
She works extremely hard for us and I have no complaints, I replied instead. I just wanted to say that she is a credit to your upbringing. Would you have any objections if Sarah stayed to help with Elizabeth for a while longer?
Of course she shall. He came close and whispered, Id trust her anywhere with you, Jack.
No, dont do that, I cried inwardly. Not trust. If I was to do anything now... I shuddered at the thought. I must try to live up to this mans deep trust. I must not hurt him now, not after this genuine show of friendship.
When I went inside, Sarah had just put Elizabeth to bed and I peeped in to find that she was already fast asleep. It had been a full day for her and, to be frank, I was surprised she had stayed awake so long. I kissed her softly and closed the door.
Sarah was waiting for me in the scullery and she looked across the room at me with those big, brown eyes and I felt a deep desire rise inside me. Her look confirmed that the same was happening to her. She began to edge towards me, all that we had recently talked out logically already forgotten, when she rushed up to me, kissed my cheek and was gone. So she had understood. But would it continue?

~~~~~~~

FORTUNATELY for both of us, it did. Sarah came each morning, looked after Elizabeth and did chores round the house all day, and then kissed us both quickly each night before going home. A week later, Elizabeth was well enough to travel home to Moor Hill so I thanked Smith for his hospitality and we waved our goodbyes. Elizabeth was nearly her old self again but Sarah still came the two miles across the fields each day to help around the house whilst I tried to reconcile all I now had and how it could best be managed.
On the day after the party, I told Elizabeth of Harrys death and subsequent happenings and, with more than a little embarrassment, also told her about Sarah. She laughed aloud at my honesty and put her tender hands to my face. I wouldnt have minded if it would have made you happy. As long as you smacked her bottom afterwards and sent her home to her daddy.
Elizabeth and I both laughed hysterically at the thought and said no more about it. I did love her so much. How could I ever have dreamt of hurting her?

~~~~~~~

THERE was something quite remarkable about how close the friendship of these two girls became over the next few weeks. It was fortunate they had that sort of relationship because, just a month after the party, Trudy Langton fell ill. Instantly, Elizabeth and Sarah leapt into action and worked together with a kind of unison that normally only comes with many years of practice. They were a perfect team. Elizabeth had had the experience of looking after her own mother when she had been ill and dying, whereas Sarah had the unstoppable vitality of youth to continue working long after Elizabeths strength had given out.
I did my best to cope with all the duties at Moor Hill - the horses, the other livestock, the stables, the barns, the land, and all the affairs of what was now quite a sizeable business. By the middle of that summer, it was very clear that I could no longer handle it alone. Smith assisted when he could, but he had his forge and his own small stock of horses to look after. Will Wright, on the other hand, had had a disastrous summer due to strong winds and rain that had all but destroyed his first years crop of corn.
It was early in the second week of August that Sarah rode alone, on horseback, to Moor Hill where I was clearing out the stables. Breathlessly, she ran in, barefoot and perspiring in the hot summer sun, her skirts tucked up inside her belt for easy riding. I poured a drink of cider for us both and sat down on the saddle bench beside her while she held my hand firmly. After pausing to get her breath back while I plucked pieces of twigs from her windblown hair, she informed me that I must return with her to Cricksee.
Is everything all right? I asked concernedly.
Oh, no problem as such. Mistress Langton is sleeping at the moment and Miss Elizabeth is mending some clothes which she found in the work basket. Its just that Trudy has asked that you be there tonight at tea time. There is something she urgently wants to discuss with you.
I put my arm around her shoulders. Sarah, you worry me, you do. Do you know, every time you come running, I start to think something dreadful has happened.
Oh, Jack. You are so kind. Why do you always want to worry about everyone elses problems as well as your own? Youve got enough to worry about without spending time helping others.
But others are deserving of help too. Now what would have happened if I had ignored your last plea for help, eh?
She put her head on my shoulder and played with my fingers. I wouldnt like to think about it. We all owe you such a lot.
Poppycock! I didnt do it to be admired, I did it because it was necessary and Id do it again if need be.
She looked up. Jack, I love you and I have a need.
I stood up suddenly and, caught off balance, Sarah fell in a heap in the straw, her arms and legs all over the place. She lay where she fell, her arms high above her head, her long, ivory legs beckoning me.
Jack, she said quietly. Give me a baby.
I turned away, embarrassed. Dont be silly, Sarah. How could I do that?
She giggled. Ill show you if you like.
I turned to her, forcing my gaze to remain on her face. Thats not what I mean and you know it. I know perfectly well how to...to do it.
Sarah sat up suddenly. Im serious, Jack. Please sit down here a moment. She patted the ground beside her. I promise not to seduce you.
Ill hold you to that, young lady, I said and sat down on the bench looking down at her face. Somehow, I had to keep my eyes off those legs.
Dont mock, Jack. This is not easy for me. She was suddenly too serious for my liking. I have talked a lot with your Elizabeth while we have been at Cricksee. There.. there is something she is deeply worried about, something she is terrified to tell you about.
I sat very still. Afraid of me? Why?
She was, of course, deeply upset at losing your baby. Not just for herself, but for you, too.
I know. We were both upset. But shell have others, when she is well enough.
She bowed her head. Thats what shes worried about, what she cant tell you. The doctor said...
I slipped from the bench and knelt with her in the straw as she looked me full in the face, her eyes wet with tears as she fought for the right words. ...The doctor said that Elizabeth will not be able to carry a baby again. Something went wrong, I dont know what. Doctor Shauney said he felt it was a certain fact. Her hands went to my face as tears trickled down her cheeks. Im so sorry, Jack.
In a daze, I stood up slowly and walked over to the doorway. The sun shone brightly in the late afternoon but I couldnt help but notice that one lonely cloud stayed stubbornly fixed over the sea as the birds chattered quietly and the horses grazed in the open field behind the house. Everything in the garden might be rosy, but inside the house... She crept up behind me, slipped her hands around my waist and laid her head on my back. We stood like that for a long time as I watched the seabirds over the marshes, the small boats out on the Crouch Estuary, the foals frolicking in the paddock. Why had having a child suddenly become so important to me? I could not be angry with Elizabeth, it was not her fault. And Sarah was just trying to help in her own sweet way.
Eventually, she pulled free. We must go, Jack. Elizabeth will worry. And after a moment. Im sorry if Ive added to your problems. Would you rather I went back home to my father?
Definitely not! I turned and gripped her face tightly in my hands. I must have hurt her for she winced. Dont you ever talk like that again. If you leave me, I shall be very angry. I love you as much as I do Elizabeth, just in... in a different sort of way. Dont you dare even mention leaving again or Ill... Ill spank you like a spoilt brat.
Her big eyes looked into mine for a long time before an impish smile came to her face. Yes, please, she said and slipped away before I could respond appropriately. Sarah leapt onto her horse and galloped off southward, her skirts billowing in the wind as I shook my head at her outspokenness. I smiled as I turned and saddled Jet to follow at a more leisurely pace. I must be getting old.

~~~~~~~

I arrived at Cricksee as evening fell. George, the groom and general handyman, took Jet from me while I went inside the house. Mary, the housekeeper, greeted me with “Good evenin, Mr Bosvile, sir as she took my cloak and then led me to where Trudy lay.
Elizabeth stood up as I entered, took my arm and kissed me warmly. Trudy has just woken up. Shell be glad to see you.
I went over and sat down on Trudys bed and she took my hand in hers. Her smile was very weak and I had never seen her looking so pale. She clearly would not live much longer.
Im so glad you came, Jack. I have something to say and I dont think time will wait.
She paused for breath. Her condition had deteriorated considerably over the last twenty-four hours and beads of sweat stood on her brow as she tried to find the strength and the right words.
Just take your time, Auntie Trudy, I cautioned her.
She smiled. You havent called me that in a long time, young Jack. But, of course, you are a man now, with a wife and responsibilities of your own.
We both looked at Elizabeth, beautiful in the glow from the fire.
Jack, its no secret that Im going fast. Its also no secret that I have nothing left, nothing but this old house. She looked around the room sadly. And a few acres of land.
She paused. There was no sound but the crackling of the logs on the fire in the grate. Jack. I want you to move in here when Im gone.
She raised her hand before I could protest. I have heard from Simon. He has found a girl in the New World. They are to marry soon and he intends to settle down there. He says there is a great future for any who cross the sea to live there - great open spaces, sun and sky. He made it sound so lovely. She looked sad for a moment. He asked if Harry and I could go out to him. Unfortunately, he doesnt yet know of his fathers death and its too late for me now. She paused again for breath. Jack, you are his friend. Please write to him and explain. I know you will be able to tell him what I am doing is for the best, this house and land must not go to waste. You and Elizabeth must live here as your home. All I ask is that you keep on George and Mary as long as you are able as theyve been with me a long time.
I had no heart to argue. I didnt need her house nor her land, but it was obviously very important to Trudy that I take over the house rather than let it rot or it be sold to strangers. Consequently, the few arrangements were made and Parson Philips came that evening and made out the necessary documents which we all signed. Parson Philips also conducted the funeral a few days later at the little church at Burnham where she was to be buried and most of Dengy was there, even those not of the Puritan persuasion. Unity was coming at last to the area and I was proud to have played a small part in bringing it about.

~~~~~~~

THE week after her burial, I held a meeting at Moor Hill. Smith was there, as were the Wrights, Parson Philips and the house servants from Cricksee whom Elizabeth had brought over in Harrys old pony and trap. Greetings over, I proceeded to lay before them my plans for the future and made several offers. I informed them officially of Trudys wishes and that Elizabeth and I were to move to Cricksee Hall as soon as possible, certainly before winter set in. George was to stay on simply as handyman and gardener as he was now getting too old to chase after horses. Mary would take charge of all household matters as chief housekeeper and was to hire a good cook so as to be able take it easier in the future. They could not believe their ears. No-one ever made things easier for servants, no matter how old they were. The room fell silent again.
I looked at Sarahs father. With your permission, Will, Sarah is to stay on as personal maid to Elizabeth.
Sarah beamed with delight and sought her fathers approval. Will nodded and she looked the happiest person in the world.
Will, I want you to sell me your land - all of it. I know of your problems this year and I guess that things must be bad right now and look even bleaker for the future.
Will Wright looked down and nodded gravely.
You will become my Estate Manager and you will have what has been your own land to work as well as the fields down to the marshes to look after plus the livestock. Take on what men you need from others who are in a bad position. Do you think that you can do that?
Will suddenly looked as if he had been granted eternal life.
I turned to Sarahs eldest brother. Peter, I would like you to take over our house at Moor Hill and be chief stable lad. Ive got three score horses now and more if Smith will sell me his.
I glanced at Smith but he hadnt got the message. I would “speak to him later. Peter had always taken an interest in horses and, recently, had assisted Smith with his small herd due to pressure of business at the forge.
David, I said the Sarahs other brother. I want you to be my shepherd. I intend to take on a small herd initially and pen them below Moor Hill. They can graze on the upper marsh slopes and on the hill behind the cliffs.
At last. Now for the King.
Parson Philips, if you want us to attend your church regularly in future, you must present your service in English, no more Latin.
But..but I cant do that. I...
Why not? We are able to read the Bible in English now and I want to hear it read in church so that we can understand it.
But the law...
Look. I really dont give a damn... sorry, parson... if the King hasnt authorised its use yet.
Very well, Jack, he agreed reluctantly. If you can get your people to attend church, I will read the lessons in English.
Everyone in the room cheered. This was a milestone reached. Despite the disapproval of the Church and the express command of King James, the Holy Bible was going to be read in English in a church in Essex.
Elizabeth, I finally said. Will you do me the honour of remaining my wife?
Everyone laughed while Elizabeth blushed until, as the laughter subsided, she stepped over to me and curtsied. I will, Squire Bosvile.
Squire, I thought? Is that how they saw me now? How far I had come. But how far was there still to go? Men such as Tyndale and Wycliffe had bravely begun the search for truth in defiance of their monarchs but what kind of a landslide had I now started, here in this remote corner of England? And what would the future hold for these changing years?

~~~~~~~









SIN AND MERCY





We moved into Cricksee Hall at the end of September and the hardest job of all was to decide what to transfer from Moor Hill. It wasnt that we had a great deal of any real value, but that Cricksee Hall was already very full of belongings which had been Trudys. During those weeks of upheaval, Mary assisted Elizabeth as she did her best, with Sarahs help, to arrange for some of Trudys things to be sold to support the church at Burnham. Parson Philips was, of course, delighted at this help and it served to soothe his feelings following my pressure upon him to have the Bible read in English. I knew that the parson was sticking his neck out and felt he needed all the encouragement he could get.
That winter was a terrible one. We lost four horses when part of the stabling collapsed under the weight of snow and a dozen or so sheep in the deep drifts which built up along the hedgerows. Will Wright would not have survived alone and he knew it, and he was grateful for employment. During the lull between terrible storms, he spent those cold months repairing the farm implements and making some modifications with the aid of Smith. In time, I finally got through to the big man and we agreed that I would stable his horses and treat them as my own for his services and a mutually beneficial arrangement was made over profits. Because of the weather, I delayed the purchase of more sheep until the early spring. In the meantime, David helped his brother to repair and modify the existing stable accommodation so that the increased number of horses could be catered for. The whole of the Wright family worked hard through that winter and I was very glad to have them on hand at Moor Hill.
It had taken Elizabeth several months to get the house how she liked it although Mary was more than a little confused at her moving things from their accustomed places. George seemed at home in the garden and, with his hard work and skill, it was a mass of colour by the first week in April. Inside the house, all was going well. Elizabeth and I grew closer as we found more time for each other and the unhappiness of the previous year became forgotten as the year progressed.
It was one Sunday evening in spring, after church, that Elizabeth brought up the subject of the baby. She and I were sitting alone in the study while Sarah was helping Mary with some new curtains in the dining room. Elizabeth, busy as ever, was sewing in the light of the oil lamp.
Jack, she ventured quietly. How do you feel about Sarah?
What a question? How do I answer that one?
I shrugged. Shes all right, I suppose.
All right? What a gross understatement. Over her six months at Cricksee, Sarah had blossomed and I seemed to have spent most of my time at home avoiding her teasing advances. Now, at the ripe old age of seventeen, she had filled out in places where she had previously not even had places.
Why do you ask? I asked innocently.
She and I have been talking.
I smiled. Didnt I know it.
Yes? I said. I knew I was making it difficult for her but didnt know why. What about, dear?
Babies, Jack. More specifically A baby. She was clearly not finding it easy at all.
Darling, can I help? Sarah has spoken to me about your er... problem. I do understand.
She looked relieved as she laid down her material and thread. I think she might be willing to act as... a kind of... substitute.
I smiled. Youre too late. She has already offered.
Her face lit up. Then youve...?
No, I most certainly have not. Its you I am married to and you that I love. If you cannot give me a son, I must go without.
Thats foolishness Jack. I want a child very badly and I want you to have one. As I cant give you one, you must find another way to satisfy us both.
I got down on his knees beside her couch. How could I? It would mean making love to Sarah and that would be... I didnt want to use such a word.
Adultery, Jack?
I nodded dumbly and Elizabeth laughed and placed her arms around my neck. Youre too old fashioned, Jack. Look, what was the lesson today at church? It was a Bible story about another Sarah and her maid, Hagar, wasnt it?
I nodded.
That Sarah could not give a child to Abraham so he was allowed to use Hagar as a.. a substitute. God was happy with that and hell be happy that we have a son, too.
What about Sarahs father? Will he not be angry?
After all youve done for Will? Come on, Jack, he worships you. Anyway, when the time comes, I will explain all and hell understand and be very happy.
I hesitated. It still does not seem right, somehow.
She took my face in her soft hands. Jack, trust me. I dont just WANT a baby, I NEED one, badly, especially after losing the other one. Please do it. For me. Her face was pleading.
How could I refuse such an offer? When..er..when had you thought this to be?
Jack, you must go to her tonight. Delay no further. Cant you see she is desperate to do this for us?
Well, if you really want a child that badly... I was still more than a little embarrassed at the thought of making love to Sarah, even with my wifes approval.
Come on, Jack. You dont need this much persuasion to bed me.
Thats different. I kissed her lightly. But all right, you shall have your baby. I smiled. The things I do for women.

~~~~~~~


THAT night, it was fairly cool after rain during the day and a fire was lit downstairs. Gently, I tucked Elizabeth into bed and made to leave.
Jack, she whispered in the semi-darkness darkness as I held the candle to kiss her. Dont worry, it will be for the best.
What am I doing, I thought to myself as I walked down the wide staircase towards the hallway? I had fought off this girls advances for a year but now I was going to stop running away. But was it all going to be as easy as it sounded?
I went into the study and closed the door. Everyone had gone to bed except Sarah, who was lying on the rug before the fire, reading by the light of the flames. She looked so innocent lying there, her bare legs swinging in the orange light as the logs burned furiously in the grate, casting long, flickering shadows all around the room. I sat down in the big armchair next to her and she looked up at me and smiled. Did she know why I had come? Carefully, she put a marker in the page of her book, placed it beside my chair and rolled over onto her back. It seemed she certainly suspected the reason for my presence.
Sarah... I began.
She did not answer but simply held out her arms to me, beckoning silently. Slowly, I dropped to my knees close to her head and kissed her gently as her arms came slowly round my neck and held me there for a long time, her eyes never leaving my face. She was wearing a light shift and, in the fireglow, it was clearly obvious that there was far more now to this girl than legs. Still I hesitated, feeling guilty and confused.
Do you love me, Jack?
Of course I do. Its just...
Yes?
Its just that you are so young and... pretty and...
Go on, she said cheekily. Im enjoying this.
Sarah, I dont want to ruin your chances of a decent marriage later in life.
Jack, its you that I love, dont you understand that? Whatever happens in the future, whoever I might later marry, nothing will change that. You will always share a very special place in my heart.
I smiled. You are very sweet.
Sweet, be damned. I love you, Jack Bosvile, and I want you to make love to me. If you cant do it for me, then do it for your wife who needs the baby I can give her.
But Im afraid of where it will lead.
Dont be, she soothed. I promise I will never use this evening against you. Love me now, tonight, and I will be satisfied to have had it happen just once in my life.
Are you sure?
She smiled. Dont you want to make love to me?
More than anything else in the world, I heard himself reply as I committed himself.

~~~~~~~


AT breakfast, Sarah and I sat on opposite sides of the table while Elizabeth kept looking from one to the other of us, giggling uncontrollably. I tried to keep a straight face, especially when Mary came in to wait on us and Sarah simply looked down at her lap. Talking about it had been one thing but, now that the act had been done, guilt had come with the dawn.
It was Elizabeth who broke the silence when Mary had gone back to the kitchen. I gather that all went well last night.
Elizabeth, I... started Sarah.
Sarah, thank you. I know what has happened, it is written all over Jacks face and it was done because it needed to be done so dont either of you start getting upset about it now.
But, Elizabeth, I thought it would be easy, that I could just simply bear your child and make you happy. But I have seduced your husband and have given him pleasure and gained more happiness for myself than I ever thought possible.
Elizabeth reached out and held Sarahs hand. Sarah, when you tell me that you are with child, I shall have more pleasure than you could ever know.
But it has made me happy, not just for you but for myself, too. It wasnt supposed to do that.
Elizabeth looked at Sarah for some time. Are you asking me to share my husband with you? Permanently?
Sarah shook her head and her raven hair shimmered in the light from the window. I could never do that, you have both been too kind to me. What happened last night will not happen again, I swear it. I will bear your child, Elizabeth, and then I must go away. You will hear of me no more.
Sarah stood up to go. Elizabeth tried to hold onto her arm but she pulled herself free and left the room while I looked down at my breakfast for a long time. Elizabeth started to cry and I was totally out of my depth.

~~~~~~~


THAT summer was a good one and Will proved to be a good investment. He recruited several men from the village and planted all of Asheldham Meadows from his own home to the edge of the marshes and then along by the hedge across to Moor Hill. By harvest, there was a fine crop of corn. The sheep I purchased did not lamb that year as I had bought them too late in the season but it looked as though mutton was on the menu for the following spring. David had spent many a summer evening sitting out on the rise at the edge of the marshes, playing on a small flute and delighting both sheep and seabirds alike. The herd of horses had mushroomed and there were seven foals that year. Several trips were made into Rumford to sell the ones we had trained in readiness for the London markets. Many a city gentleman would be riding a Dengy horse on the streets of London that autumn.
Rumford was a strange place, not a bit like Chelmers Ford with its country smells and rural atmosphere. No, Rumford was where hard-nosed London businessmen traded for profit. Produce bought in wholesale quantities was taken from Rumford to markets in the City and then sold for great profits where something called inflation was escalating prices. Not many in Dengy could begin to understand the reasons nor the possible consequences of this strange phenomenon, but what it did mean was that each time we went to market, we got a better price for the produce and, as long as we did not buy anything in return, we were in increased profits.
At times, it proved to be better, financially, to take produce directly to Rumford rather than to nearby Maldon. It just meant that we had to take extra precautions against robbers on the longer road, especially at places like Dunton Heath. Smith and Peter Wright would always accompany me when going to Rumford and sometimes others from the farm as well if the number of horses was large.
There was one rather funny occasion when we were returning one night in July. The sun had shone all day and it was light well into the evening. Dusk fell as we passed Billericay, where we sometimes stayed overnight but, this particular day, the farm had been shorthanded due to sickness and I had opted to keep going for home. I noticed as we left the village that a little band had begun to follow us and soon began to ride not far behind. They were not horse traders, nor residents of the area and a meaner lot I had not seen since the days of the Plot Gang. The light was fading fast and we had two choices, make a run for it or fight to keep the money we had earned at market. We talked as we rode and then, as we topped the rise close to the woods at Downham, the others started to ride faster as Smith and I pulled back into the trees.
After a few minutes, a gang of about a dozen men rode past and, as they got to the top of the rise, they pulled out swords and charged down the hill in pursuit of the Dengy men. What they didnt notice was the two armed men riding right behind them. They were so intent on their quarry that, in the poor light, they did not see their attackers until we were right on top of them. Smith fired his pistols at point blank range from behind, to scare them witless rather than to hit any of them, although they deserved it. At the same time, I stood up in the saddle and cried aloud a battle cry, whirling my sword above my head. They didnt know what hit them and these “demons out of the night bearing down on them were more than their courage could take. They scattered in all directions and our men were never bothered again on that road.
It was quite funny to hear the tales which developed from that one incident. Tales of headless horsemen on the moor: of evil spirits and phantoms and, whenever we stayed at Billericay after that, we were told increasingly outrageous stories about these strange creatures who inhabited the night and learned that no-one would set foot on the moor after dark. Knowing the truth of the matter, we would laugh until our sides hurt.

~~~~~~~


PARSON Philips took his new responsibilities very seriously. I soon learned that the Puritans in Essex were not the only group making a stand against Church and King. The rapid development of Puritanism in the City had meant that more and more parsons were beginning to adjust their thinking and, inevitably, their attitudes to the flock. Things which had passed without notice previously were now noted as sins. Whereas the established Churches were prepared to condone certain sins of people with money, in the Puritan Churches adultery and similar sins now became punishable by death. Puritan clergy were now threatening hell and brimstone upon all who chose to disregard Gods ways but, unfortunately, some of the condemnation was misplaced. However, the overall effect was that, in many places, the parson had become a very powerful person in the local community with power over life or death. It was this new attitude which was soon to bring pain to the Bosvile family.
Toward the end of the Autumn, changes in the shape of Sarahs body began to raise comment but I had been too busy with the harvest to notice for myself and had never listened terribly hard to the local gossip. The feelings came to a head one Sunday morning when we sat in church and listened to a sermon on the errors of just about every sin we could think of and even some we had never even contemplated. At the end of the sermon, Parson Philips was elated, he had caught a sinner. Elizabeth and I looked at each other a little bemused when, suddenly, the door to the vestry was thrown open and a dishevelled, raven-haired girl who was noticeably pregnant, was thrown to the floor in front of the altar.
Confess your sins, wench, Parson Philipss voice boomed out, echoing around the small church. Name the father of your bastard or suffer everlasting hell and damnation.
I felt very sick as Sarah lay on the stone floor, sobbing quietly and looking up at the Parson who repeated his question in a tone of pure hatred while Sarah shook her head slowly and defiantly. I held my breath and Elizabeth clutched tightly at my arm as two church officials brutally grabbed Sarahs arms and pulled her roughly to her feet.
Then die for your sins, the voice boomed.
The church was in uproar. Villagers were shocked and intent of vengeance.
Hang her, shouted one.
No, burn her as a witch, gloated another.
Have her publicly disembowelled as an example to all the other young whores in the village, called a self-righteous middle-aged woman from Burnham.
No, said the Parson with a gleam in his eye. We must stone her as it was done in the Holy Bible. Take her outside and, all of you, pelt her with stones.
Sarah screamed as someone grabbed her hair and began to drag her, struggling, towards the door of the church.
WAIT! I shouted, standing erect in their midst. If she must die then you must stone me, too, as her master.
I walked down to beside where Sarah stood and then glared at the two church officials until they let go of her arms. Sarahs eyes were wide with stark fear at what I might admit to. She looked at me and shook her head wildly. Gently, I put my arms around her and held her tight as she shook violently with fear. In the deathly silence which followed, I heard Elizabeth as she came slowly down and stood beside me.
You are right to be angry, I said quietly. You have learned much of late about sin and retribution. But now I will give you a sermon. I looked over Sarahs trembling shoulder at Parson Philips until the clergyman could meet my stare no longer and sat down.
My sermon is about love and mercy. True, the Bible tells us much of sin and of punishment and we do right to remember it. We dont want everyone doing what they think is right all the time, do we?
A slight titter went through the flock. I looked down at Sarah as she clung to me, terrified.
But I have also read much of Gods mercy: how King David was spared because of his repentance; how Jesus forgave sinners when they changed their way of life. This young girl has done no wrong. She has simply done as she was asked and she did it solely for the love of another.
But who is responsible for this? called Parson Philips, his courage returning.
Before I could speak, Elizabeths clear voice rang out, calmly but strongly. I am! Look at you, all of you, sitting there so smug and self righteous - not because you have failed to sin, but because you have not yet been caught. You come here to church but when did you show love? When did you put yourself out to help your neighbour? This girl did what she did for me. Yes for me! A buzz went round the crowd as Elizabeth sat down, tears in her eyes.
I placed my hand on her shoulder and said above the noise, Six months ago, we sat in this very church and learned a lesson about the love of Abraham and Sarah and how Hagar bore a son for Sarah because she could not have a child herself. Because of the love that family showed for each other, a miracle happened and Sarah was blessed with a child through Hagar. Now, history has repeated itself and a different Sarah is carrying a child for my Elizabeth. Yes, Sarah carries my child.
The buzz rose again and I looked at the parson coldly. If all you want is a scapegoat for the sins of the village, then take me.
The Parson could not meet my eyes and, after a long time, the congregation began to get up to go. No one was so without sin that he could be the one who would cast the first stone.
However, I called out loudly for all to hear and looked straight at the Parson while I spoke to the congregation which had halted. Let this not be an excuse for sin because Parson Philips is right. God will hold in judgement those who sin, make no mistake. But just also remember love and mercy.
I wrapped my arms around Sarah and Elizabeth and looked down at them both. When I finally looked up again, the little church was empty.
We heard no more of the matter until the following February when Sarah gave birth to a beautiful baby girl with raven hair.

~~~~~~~









HELLABY





The birth brought a complete change to the household and, indeed, to the whole village. The accusations of the autumn were quickly forgotten as Elizabeth would proudly display “her baby while Sarah played the part of the loyal maid. I was glad Sarah did not go away after the baby was born. There had been no repetition of that evening in May but my feelings for her were still very strong. Repeatedly, I tried to analyse them and, upon reflection, she had become like a sister to me. Sarah was certainly not merely a maid, not to any of the family. She had become an integral part of the household and had a full share in all the business discussions.
Elizabeths brother, John, had now moved in permanently with Smith in his cottage in Asheldham and business at the forge had doubled since the numbers of the herd had increased. John, at seventeen, had become a strong asset to Smith and had learned his trade well. His sister, Dilly, now eleven, had become an expert at sewing, having learned from Mary who had been very good in her younger days. Dilly also tended the chickens, now transported from Moor Hill to make it easier for her to look after them.
At first, Elizabeth and Sarah had been more than a little disappointed at not producing a son but I was not worried. I still had the vain hope that, one day, a miracle might happen and Elizabeth would bear me a child. Carrie, our brand new daughter, was a picture of health and vitality and had done something to the family that none of us could explain. Somehow, everyone had become much more closely united and Elizabeth would proudly walk round the village with Carrie, who would be admired by all.
After that day in church, everyone knew the real truth but it was never mentioned again and even Sarah became respected for the love she had shown. At nineteen, she was a very attractive young lady and had not yet lost all the vigour of youth although she had a bearing which made her the envy of all. Young men would only half-heartedly flirt with her, possibly fearing my intervention. But I wasnt worried, she was aloof from all their advances. The two of us would spend hours together in the evenings playing new-fangled board games we had bought at market, while Elizabeth played the part of the doting mother.
It was strange somehow that Sarah never once resented Elizabeths claim on Carrie. She adored the baby, of course, but it was always referred to as “Elizabeths child.
The farms had come to run themselves and apart from overseeing the actual buying and selling of the horses, I had very little to do in a physical sense. Even the accounts and business matters were now being handled by the parsons son, Frank Philips, who had chosen not to follow his father into the cloth but had taken up a study of figures and legal matters. With the change in the household came a change in me. No longer did I feel resentful against the King for the happenings in my youth. After all, the King was probably totally unaware of all that was happening. However, one thing even the King could not have failed to miss was the growing tide of Puritanism which challenged his “right to rule as sole representative of God in the realm. What I had personally failed to achieve, the nation had begun to do for itself.
On the surface, it is at this point in time that our story should end. I had seen the fulfilment of what I had felt so angry about that day at Twigmoor. I was no longer bitter. After all, what more could a man hope for that a wonderful wife, a beautiful baby daughter, a loyal “sister and many, many more friends than I had ever had before. I had the respect of the community and a reasonable standard of living. All that was missing was some way to reconcile myself to my family at Hellaby.
The opportunity to achieve this came rather suddenly and the story would be far from complete without a brief account of several happenings that were the initial steps in changing my entire life. It began one day in summer when our family all went to Chelmers Ford for the day to buy material for new curtains at Cricksee Hall. At the market, Elizabeth spent a great deal of time feeling the cloth and bargaining with the merchants over the right kind of material and, at this kind of transaction, she often put me to shame. Elizabeth always got exactly the right item for precisely the price that she wanted to pay. By this time, most of the merchants knew her of old and often gave up the fight straight away. “Lady Bosvile, they called her as she spent my hard-earned money on things for the house. I didnt mind if it made her happy.
As always, Sarah and Carrie went too and I felt quite the odd one out among so many good-looking females. Purely out of interest, I went across to the horse fair, where Peter had learned to bid wisely against others for the best potential in horses. As I watched, he touched his hat to me and then bravely bidded on with a quiet confidence. I thought there was something familiar about the build of the smartly-dressed gentleman for whose horses Peter was bidding. I stepped closer in the crowd and the man turned to face me. He did not recognise me though I knew who it was straight away.
As the bidding came to a conclusion, Peter came to pay and the auctioneers clerk said Name? and Peter said; They are for Mr John Bosvile.
I smiled as I saw Jamess mouth fall open and he clutched at Peters collar. Where is he, man? Where is Mr Bosvile?
I spoke from behind him. Im right here, James.
My brother whirled around, striving for some hint of recognition.
Yes, James, it is me. A little accident may have changed my appearance somewhat but Im still the same person inside.
Jack, is it really you?
Yes, James, it really is me. Come and have a drink at the inn and well talk of old times.
James hesitated, suddenly remembering my past and, as far as he knew, my probable present.
Come on, I shant eat you, I reassured him. You mustnt believe all youve heard, you know.
We walked through the town, talking all the way, to the inn by the river where Elizabeth and I had first talked of having a family and we sat at one of the tables and ordered drinks. And what brings you to Chelmers Ford, James? You havent been here for years, have you?
He seemed surprised that I knew and he looked down at the table in shame. No. Since your... disappearance and the tales we heard afterwards, I thought it best to keep clear of the area.
I looked him straight in the eyes. What have you heard, James?
That you... that you joined a gang which robbed and pillaged and killed people all over London and Essex. That you murdered Bill Thurley and his family and then stole their land. That you...
James, I interrupted suddenly, glancing over his shoulder. Do you remember Bill Thurleys daughter?
James thought for a moment. Of course, a pretty fair-haired girl.
I stood up to greet Elizabeth, Sarah and Carrie as they walked towards us across the grass. James, Id like you to meet my wife, Mrs Elizabeth Bosvile.
James stood with mouth open.
Beth, do you remember my brother, James, from Yorkshire? He seems to think that I killed your father, raped your mother and then murdered the children in their beds.
Elizabeth looks so beautiful when she laughs and James stood there, utterly confused, not knowing what to say. It was about then that his eyes fell upon Sarah and he was transfixed. She stood there with her dark, sultry eyes, looking smilingly at James as Carrie played with her long raven hair. I had always imagined that James would have married but, apparently, he had had no time for such things. Suddenly, here he was, deeply in love as this dark, smiling girl in front of him captivated him as she had me. Elizabeth and I just looked at each other and laughed out loud till the couple were both highly embarrassed.
Tell us about Hellaby, James, Elizabeth prompted as she took Carrie from Sarah. Is it all that Jack has made it out to be? A land of milk and honey and all that?
She was teasing but James did not notice as his attention was elsewhere. He finally struggled and won the fight to drag his eyes away from Sarah.
Good grief, he said. I nearly forgot. Thats why Im here. Cousin Thomas is to be married, and guess who to?
I thought for a moment but couldnt possible guess. Thomas Bosvile, like many of the young men of Braythewell, had worked for Squire Fretwell but he had done better than most and now had an important position in the village.
Alice Fretwell, the Squires daughter, he said, putting me out of my puzzlement. Next January, the wedding is to be and he insisted you be invited.
I stood up. This calls for a celebration. More wine, landlord.
We all stayed at the inn that night and, over dinner, James sat with Sarah, holding her hands in the candlelight.
Isnt young love lovely? Elizabeth said, wearing her best dress and looking totally devastating. Sarah had on an “off-the-shoulder purple gown that showed off her assets to the best advantage with her raven hair falling long over her smooth, ivory shoulders.
I smiled to my wife and whisperedsotto voce ; If youre impressed with the arms, James lad, you just wait till you see the legs.

~~~~~~~


JAMES returned with us to Cricksee Hall and stayed on until the weekend. He proved to be the perfect gentleman and made a very good impression at church on Sunday.
Jack, how on earth did you get that parson to read to you in English? he whispered as we sung the hymn at the end. Our parson at Braythewell is frightened to death that someone will catch him speaking anything but Latin, Puritan though he may be.
I smiled. Just a bit of friendly persuasion.
I had become good friends with Parson Philips after the incident over Sarah had died down and the two of us came to have a great deal of respect for each other. He came round that evening after church and was more than a little uncomfortable at first to see the amount of attention Sarah was getting from James. Like everyone else, he had assumed I would be insanely jealous of any third party interfering in my family affairs. However, James was family. I still adored Sarah but if she and James were to marry, I would be the last person to object.
After tea, we all talked of old times. James brought us up-to-date with the progress of the farm and of Puritanism in the north and I spoke of the progress in the south. Inevitably, the subject of the authorisation of the Bible for use in churches was raised. Questions were raised, such as, would The King finally consent to it? Pressure from the Catholics, whom he had tried to please, had prevented it until then but Parliament, growing in Puritan representation, was applying pressure for the English Bible to be used freely. The Bible didnt need translating, it was already done - men such as Wycliffe and Tyndale had seen to that. The problem simply lay in the fact that it had not yet received official recognition.
Gradually, I became firmer in my belief that it had been the Plot which had swayed me. The Jesuits had presumably hoped to stop the translation by killing the King but the Plot had failed. King James, partly out of spite, would now probably grant authorisation within the next year or so. The Anglican Clergy were certainly saying all the right things like him being appointed by Divine Right. Few intelligent people really believed it, but it did amazing things for the Kings ego.

~~~~~~~


THAT night, Sarah came to me. Everyone else had gone to bed and I was sitting in front of the fire, just reminiscing about old times, when the sound of bare footsteps on the wooden floor came to my ears. I turned my head to look at her as she stood in the open doorway.
Come in, Sarah, I said kindly, delighted at her presence. Dont stand there in the hallway, youll catch your death of cold.
She walked quietly over to me and sat on my knee, her head resting on my chest, her bare legs curled up in front of her.
I knew youd come, I said, kissing her forehead.
She turned her face towards me and stared, wide-eyed. How could you possibly have known?
I shrugged. Lets just say I had a kind of premonition.
We were quiet for a while as, together, we watched the logs burning fiercely in the grate.
What do you think of James? I finally asked. Now that was a stupid question if ever there was one.
Nearly as nice as you, she finally said and squirmed even closer as if she was trying to get right inside my chest.
Hell make you a good husband.
Yes, he is very nice. But what about you? What will you do without me?
Cut my throat, I expect, I said.
Sarah looked alarmed for a moment, then relaxed as she realised I was teasing her.
Eventually, I added; I shall miss you, dearest Sarah.
She kissed the end of my nose and smiled. And I you. You dont mind, do you?
Of course I mind and if it had been anyone but James, I would have shot him on sight - if I could have seen him, that is.
We both giggled like children for a while at the thought. No. Of course I dont mind, youll be very happy together. If youre not, come back and well swop round.
A cheeky look came over her face. What, you live with James and I live with Elizabeth, you mean?
Our laughter this time led to a fit of coughing. No, thats not quite what I had in mind.
The convulsions gradually subsided and she let out a sign and yawned.
I smiled. You remember the last time we we alone together in this room?
As if I could ever forget. I shall always remember your kindness, your tenderness...
...my blindness.
She sat up. Blindness?
At not seeing you first.
Sarah stroked my hair and a small tear grew in her eye and dripped onto my hand. She lay back on my chest, clutching me tightly around the neck, and sobbed for a long time before she finally fell asleep.
During the night, I awoke and noticed that the fire had died down and it had become noticeably colder. After taking one last look, I reluctantly covered those long, ivory legs with my cloak. The movement disturbed her and she opened those big, dark eyes and looked at me for several minutes, searching my face. She then did something that meant a great deal to both of us, something which was later to save her life. Very carefully, she took my cold hand and placed it onto her small, warm belly and then smiled up at me. No words were said - that one simple act had said it all. It was as if she was saying “goodbye but also “Ill never forget you.
From that moment, I knew for an absolute certainty that, whatever else might happen over the next few years, she and James would marry and make lots and lots (and probably lots) of babies together.

~~~~~~~


THE wedding was arranged for the fifteenth of January, just two weeks before cousin Thomas would marry Alice Fretwell, the Squires daughter. James returned home to Hellaby the next week to carry the good news north and we others were to come north for Christmas. Christmas had always been frowned upon by the Puritan Church, due to its clearly documented pagan roots, but it was still the time of year when many families took advantage of the lull in farming activity to reunite. Elizabeth had worked for weeks on Sarahs wedding dress as she was determined that Sarah would outshine everyone. I was allowed a peek the day before they left for Yorkshire. I already knew that Sarah was beautiful, but my, what had I let go away? Those dark eyes shone out from under a pale headdress and seemed to offer the whole world. James was one very lucky man.

~~~~~~~


IT was snowing as we arrived in Yorkshire and arrangements were made for us all to stay with cousin Thomass family at Clifton, just a few miles north of the Hellaby Estate. Little had changed. With snow on the ground, Yorkshire looked the same as it had the winter my father had died trying to save Squire Fretwells horses. In the evening, I walked over to Hellaby with Elizabeth and Sarah, one on each arm. I showed them the old Tudor Hall, the farm where the horses were kept and the cottage where Sarah was to live. Hellaby Brook was swollen at the point where it forded the lane to the farm so I carried them both across in the dying light.
Thank you, kind sir, Sarah said mockingly as I carried her to the other side and she then squealed as I dropped her in the deep snow and then went back for Elizabeth who laughed so loud I thought she would startle the horses.
The relationship which had built up between these girls had been remarkable. There had never been any friction, nor a single trace of jealousy. It was as if Elizabeth knew that my attention to Sarah was necessary for the time being and that it would end at the appropriate time. Elizabeth had become young again, not that she was ever old. The comparison had simply been relative to Sarah, especially in view of Elizabeths illness and the long, long months of her convalescence.

~~~~~~~


ON the day, the whole parish of Braythewell was there in the little parish church. Will had asked that I give Sarah away - it had seemed more appropriate, somehow, and he was glad. As I walked down the aisle with her, she hung very tightly onto my arm and then practically had to be prized loose when we got to the altar where James stood waiting in his best suit. It was not a long service. I had told the parish parson that if he didnt speak English, wed go somewhere else, and he repeatedly stumbled on the unfamiliar words of the service. It had caused an uproar when I had suggested it, but I was adamant. I can speak English, James can speak English, Sarah can speak English and I feel pretty sure that God can speak English, too.
To hell with tradition, I had added, not a particularly appropriate choice of words to use when speaking to the vicar, I thought afterwards. But I got my way. Squire Bosvile from Essex was making changes in Yorkshire.
A fortnight later, Squire Fretwell followed suit. An English service was held for his daughter Alices wedding to Thomas Bosvile.

~~~~~~~


THE snow lay thick on the ground as Elizabeth and I made our preparations to return to Essex and it was as I was loading our belongings onto the wagon that I first realised I might never see Sarah again. As we finished the loading, James and Sarah arrived to see us off. They were going to live in his tied cottage until he could earn enough for a place of his own but, I reminded him, there was always a place for them at Cricksee if circumstances ever changed at Hellaby. I held Sarah close as she stood in the snow in her long, fur-lined cape and cried for a long time.
I love you, she said finally.
And I you, I replied. Remember what I said if things go wrong.
She smiled through her tears at the memory of our proposed swap around and I dried her cheeks with my handkerchief as we stood together almost as if we were alone in the whole world.
Look after Carrie, she said eventually.
We will, Elizabeth assured her as I kissed Sarahs cheek for the last time and then handed her carefully to her new husband who would lovingly take care of her in the future.
James and I shook hands as the girls embraced and, without saying goodbye, we left to head southward into the light snow which fell, clothing the land in a soft white blanket. Would I ever see them again? Will Sarah be happy with James? What sort of reaction have I started with my blatant rejection of traditional beliefs and ceremonies? How was England going to cope if Puritanism continued to spread? If Royalty resisted, would it finally lead to the Civil War already being contemplated in government? Little did I know at that time that the Plot had far from failed after all. Instead, it had started a chain reaction of vast social, political and religious changes which were to come to a head in the near future.
Also, little did I know then of the fact that, within a year, all of our lives were going to be violently shaken, turned completely upside down, and then blasted wide apart.







DISAPPEARING ACT





It was three years before I heard news from Hellaby again. That particular day actually started out quite well. As usual, I awoke as the cock crowed in the yard and gently rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Out of habit, I turned and looked at Elizabeth as she lay beside me, her beautiful fair hair embellishing the floral-patterned pillow upon which it lay so peacefully. The patter of tiny feet made me turn and smile as our four-year-old daughter strutted into the room, her thumb firmly in her mouth, her rag doll tucked under her arm.
Hello, Carrie, I called and held out my arms to her.
Climbing, with some difficulty, onto the high bed which stood in the centre of the main bedroom at Cricksee Hall, she rolled over and giggled as I tickled her tummy.
Mummys still asleep, the little girl pronounced as she jumped up and down on my stomach.
Not with you two around, she isnt, murmured the voice beside me as Elizabeth opened one eye and peered at us with faked annoyance.
I grimaced. Sorry, love.
She sat up and shook her head to clear away the sleep. Is it today?
It certainly is. Perhaps, this year, we will hear news from Hellaby. Surely they must have horses for sale by now.
I must see Sarah again, Elizabeth declared sadly. I do miss her so.
Well, we can go to the horse fair at Chelmers Ford as usual and hope they have come down and we can see them.
Well only see James, I expect. If I know young Sarah, shes probably tied down with children.
Youre probably right, I mused, my mind flashing back briefly to a certain warm, spring night in front of the fire in the drawing room. Yes, I thought as I remembered the way she had shown her love that night, she would definitely have children by now.
If I had then had any inkling as to how the day was going to turn out, I would definitely have stayed in bed.

~~~~~~~

THE estate ran very smoothly under Will Wrights expert hand. Peter married the previous year and had taken his new bride to Moor Hill and we now had over a hundred horses at the farm and the stabling facilities had had to be increased considerably. The rest of the farm, too, had prospered. More land had been bought in Asheldham and along the road to Tillingham where Wills youngest son, David, cared for the flock of sheep which now numbered almost a thousand. In summertime, it was clear to everyone that Bosvile sheep now covered almost the entire marshside strip from Burnham Town to Bradwell-Juxta-Mare.
Elizabeth and I lived the life of ease and were very happy. However, my hand had grown slack now that I was acting as the Squire of the parish and it had been a long time since I had practiced swordplay. I had heard nothing from the dreaded Cardinal since he had been deported and was living somewhere in France where the Protestant wave was becoming tidal in size. I guessed that he would be up to his old tricks, endeavouring to suppress its growth and movement.
Later in the year of Sarahs marriage, King James had reluctantly authorised a translation of the Bible into English to be read in British churches. On the day of receiving a copy from the Bishop, Parson Philips had arrived at Cricksee, very angry.
Its different, he said. Theyve changed some of the wording.
Changed, Henry? Not many were able to call Parson Philips by his Christian name. But if the local squire cant, who can?
Yes, Jack. Deliberately changed. I have here our old version, Tyndales, and they have kept much of the translation intact but, nevertheless, have significantly changed other parts. Tyndales Bible was not perfect, we know that, but parts of this, he held the new Bible up in contempt, have been deliberately altered. It favours all the Kings personal notions of predestination, election, witchcraft, familiar spirits, as well as, he looked black at this next, his own rights as King.
I had only just succeeded in suppressing a smile. Is it serious then?
Serious? It only means that the High Church, and I might add, Catholics, too, now have a Bible which is heavily biased in their favour. They have obviously put great pressure on the King to change certain parts of a perfectly good Bible and I know perhaps better than most. Since you forced my hand into using the English Bible, I have spent much time, reading and studying and can see the alterations very clearly.
He was clearly worried about the implications this would have, serving to divide the nation still further between High Church Royalists and Puritans. Confrontation now seemed inevitable.

~~~~~~~


THE trip to Chelmers Ford was not a long one and we had opted to stay for the whole week at the little inn beside the Chelmer. We did that every year in the hope of seeing a familiar face from Yorkshire. Leaving Elizabeth and Carrie at the inn, I went with Peter to examine the horses prior to the auction. My Stable Manager no longer needed my help as he was very skilled at spotting a bargain. I went along simply to look for my brother, James, or to hear news of him. Upon arriving at the market, I was greeted by the other horse traders, also with an eye for a bargain, and exchanged news and views with the gentleman farmers of Essex and East Anglia. I recognised a few north-country accents in the crowd but it was a long time before I spied the tall frame of my cousin, Thomas, as bold as brass, with a handful of horses from Hellaby which looked a poor lot compared with those of previous years.
I went over to him immediately and shook hands warmly. Thomas Bosvile, its great to see you. Are you down with James?
Er, no, the younger man replied, looking embarrassed at my presence. Im on my own this time. Ive now taken over the horse side of the estate for Squire Fretwell.
James is too wrapped up in his own little filly, I expect.
Not exactly. Hes not been the same since his... setback.
Setback? I swallowed as my heart desperately tried to jump into my mouth. Whatever do you mean? Tell me about it. How is James, and hows Sarah?
I could read in his expression that all was not well and the thought that something might have happened to Sarah caused a great pain as if a knife was stabbing at my heart. I grabbed him firmly by the arm. Come to the inn, Thomas. You and I must talk.
But the horses...
Never mind the horses. Tell the auctioneers clerk the price you hoped to get and Ill take the lot as they stand.
Thomas looked flabbergasted at such an offer. They were a miserable lot, but I needed to speak to my cousin without delay. I informed Peter of what I had done and the young man nodded understandingly and went back in search of a bargain to make up for his employers excessive generosity. Together, Thomas and I went to our inn by the river where Elizabeth sat elegantly on the grass, her wide skirts around her, while Carrie played and fed the ducks.
Hi, Beth, I called as we approached. Remember Cousin Thomas? Hes down with the horses this year.
How could I forget? she said, gracefully getting to her feet and receiving a peck on the cheek from Thomas. Its good to see you, Thomas. How is Alice?
Very well, thanks. We have a baby now, you know, a month old.
Congratulations, she said. Then what is the problem?
Is it that obvious?
She laughed. Im afraid so.
Thomas was silent for a while before sitting down heavily at the table as drinks were served.
Elizabeth sat beside him. You are going to have to tell us or Jack and I will have to come to Hellaby ourselves to find out. Now what is it? Is it James?
He... he isnt well, you know.
I became alarmed. What is it, the fever? Not the plague?
No, nothing like that, he quickly reassured us. It... its a sickness inside him.
Whats wrong with him then? asked Elizabeth, deeply concerned.
It all began when they found that they couldnt have a child.
But thats ridiculous, stated Elizabeth firmly.
They tried, believe me they tried, but it was not to be. After two years, they were sure it was just not possible so they went to the doctor who said Sarah was... was unable to conceive.
Elizabeth looked stunned. Let me get this straight. Do you mean to tell me that this... doctor said that Sarah was not capable of producing children?
He shrugged. Yes, thats about it. He said she was barren and the news just about destroyed James. He had so much hoped for a child that this news... well, it got to him.
But...but there is nothing wrong with Sarah.
It wasnt that alone. The parson said that she was a witch and she could turn off her powers of childbearing. He said she had cast a spell on James.
Cast a spell? Hed obviously seen her legs. Theyd cast a spell on anyone.
Thomas, Elizabeth said suddenly. Look at Carrie.
Thomas raised his eyes from his drink and looked across to where our young daughter played on the grass.
Carrie, darling, she called. Come to Mummy.
The child threw her last bit of bread to the ducks and skipped over to us whereupon Elizabeth held her in front of Thomas. Tell me, Thomas. What do you see?
Why...your little girl, he said, puzzled at the reason for her question.
Describe what you see, commanded Elizabeth kindly.
A happy little girl. Brown eyes. He looked at my brown eyes.
What else, Thomas?
Ivory skin, black hair. He looked at my auburn hair and Elizabeths long golden tresses.
Black hair? He frowned as he noticed for the first time and the penny dropped. You mean...? But I thought she was...
My child? prompted Elizabeth.
Yes, your child. But you mean...? Oh, no, no! His mouth fell open.
Carrie, I clarified, is not Elizabeths child at all, but Sarahs.
Sarah bore the child for me, added Elizabeth. The doctor told me that, after my... illness, I would not be able to bear children of my own. So you see, Sarah is not only fully capable of having a child, she already has one that is perfectly fit and well.
Then it must be...
Yes, it must be James who is infertile and not Sarah.
So its not her fault at all?
Youre beginning to get the message.
Thomas put his head in his hands. What have we done? The poor girl. What have we done?
Elizabeths face darkened as she gripped Thomass arms tightly. Just what have you done to my Sarah?
He simply shook his head, incoherent for a moment.
What have you done? she screamed and people looked around as she stood up and glowered down at Thomas who said nothing. She held him by the collar now screeching, Thomas, tell me. What have you done?
After a moment, he said quietly, When... when James had become convinced she was incapable of carrying a child, he called in the parson. The parson... He swallowed. The parson annulled the marriage.
I was mortified. Annulled? How on earth could he do that?
Apparently, its common law. If a woman cannot give birth, her husband can... cancel the marriage.
And James did that?
He allowed himself to be persuaded by well-meaning folk. I guess it seemed the only way at the time.
What has happened to him since?
Since that day, James has not moved from his room. He just sits and looks out of the window and does nothing. He did love her, you know.
Im sure he did, I soothed. He was, after all, my brother. And what of Sarah?
We couldnt let her be thrown out on the street, so she moved in with Alice and I at Braythewell and lived with us for several months. Sarah, naturally, was unhappy but we did our best to help her.
She would know the truth, of course.
Then why didnt she speak? said Elizabeth, tears in her eyes.
I dont know. Maybe she thought she was protecting James in some way.
You say that she stayed with you for some months. Where is she now?
Shes gone, he whispered.
Gone? Gone where?
It was last autumn, he replied slowly. One of Squire Fretwells mares was in foal. They had called out James but he did not respond, so I went instead and Alice came along to boil water. He hesitated, trying to find the right words, but there werent any. When we got back, she had gone.
But where, man? It was me who was shouting now. Where has she gone?
We tried to find out, we really did. Eventually, we traced her to a couple at Edlington, where she had stayed a few days, then she... vanished.
Nothing was said for several minutes until, without looking at me, Elizabeth said, Jack. You must find her.
But how? Thomas and Alice tried and could not find her then. How do you expect me to find her, a year later?
She turned on me then and said deliberately, I dont care how you do it, just find her for me.
But the farm, the horses, you?
Her voice rasped, The farm doesnt need you, it has Will. The horses dont need you, the sheep dont need you, I dont need you.
I knew she hadnt meant it to sound the way that it had, but she was right, of course. The estate ran itself and wouldnt miss its squire for a while. However, I had become soft over the last couple of years as things had gone well. My early need for excitement had about disappeared but now here we were, being torn apart again.
Elizabeth looked at me then as she clutched at my hands. Jack, please. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, please find her and bring her home. I know I can rely on you.
She meant it and I knew then that she would not rest until I returned with Sarah, safe and sound.
I placed my hand over hers. You do realise that in a year, she could have gone anywhere and virtually anything might have happened to her?
I know that. But, somehow, I know that she is alive. I cant explain why I feel this way but I have a strong feeling that she desperately needs your help.
I knew they had been close friends and had a baby in common but, until that point in time, I never realised just how close they had become. Sarah had actually become a part of Elizabeths life and I realised that if Sarah died, a little of my Elizabeth would die, too. My own heart was already in tatters as I observed my wife holding tightly to Carrie as if she was about to lose her baby, too.
When do you return to Hellaby? I asked Thomas.
I thought Id stay in Chelmsford overnight, and then leave in the morning.
Do as youd planned, Thomas. However, I will accompany you back home.
We shook hands on that and Thomas got up to go. He looked at Elizabeth. I am really sorry, you know.
The sobbing Elizabeth did not answer or see him depart.

~~~~~~~


I held a meeting at Moor Hill that night. Will and Peter were there, and Smith came over from Asheldham with John. I explained the brief outline of what had happened because they deserved to know. Wills head hung low but, with my hand firmly on his shoulder, I solemnly promised that I would bring his only daughter home, safe and sound. How could I promise such a thing? I didnt even know where to start looking for her and couldnt even be sure she was still alive.
Will looked up at me and said, Youre a good man, Squire Bosvile. If anyone can find her, you can.
I admire your faith, Will. Until I return, you are to act as squire. If you will do your part, I will do mine.
Their duties confirmed and things arranged, I returned to Cricksee where I stayed up late, practising with my sword till my arm and shoulders ached. I set up a bale against the centre pole and before my very eyes, it materialised into a tall, dark demon with a long, red gown and I did not stop until there was nothing left at all.
Elizabeth and I sat for a long time after supper, in front of the fire in the study, the place where this had all started.
You will find her, wont you Jack? When I was ill, it was Sarah who saved my life with her constant work and attention.
Beth, darling, please be assured. It may take a very long time, perhaps years, but I will do everything I can to find her.
She looked straight at me. No, Jack, thats not good enough. I dont know why I feel this way and I know it will hurt you deeply, but...
Yes, dear?
She held my hand tightly. Jack, please dont come back without her.

~~~~~~~







SEARCH AND RESCUE





I was up the next morning before it was light. Saddling Jet carefully, I thought back to the time when I had nothing and Smith had befriended me and given me the horse as a yearling. It had been a small price to pay for our friendship and neither of us had regretted it since. In addition to Jet, I also took along another horse as a pack horse for the things I might need to carry on the journey. The last thing I had done on the previous evening had been to carefully hone the fine edge of my sword and store powder and shot for my pistol. I wasnt sure I would ever be in a position to use it, in spite of the fact that my eyesight had improved somewhat, but I felt the need to be as prepared as possible. Forthcoming events were to prove that this preparation was not entirely wasted.
It was light as I finally left Cricksee and rode up the gentle slope before looking back at the house with the sun rising behind it. It was then that I felt my first twinge of anxiety. Here I was, setting out on an impossible task and might never return to my home and family. My eye caught a movement in the curtains upstairs where Elizabeth and Carrie stood looking out and I paused to wave. Carrie waved back enthusiastically but Elizabeth stood, staring, out of the window. She had been deeply hurt by the news about Sarah and it was now up to me to put things right. I had to succeed, not just for Sarahs sake but also for Elizabeths.
As I topped the rise to Butt Cliffs, a lone horseman waited ahead, vaguely outlined against the early morning mist which clung tightly to the river. Instinctively, I knew who it would be before I was able to get close enough to recognise those wide shoulders and strong arms. Somehow, the deaf and dumb giant had understood the implications of the missing Sarah and had left his entire livelihood in the hands of young John to accompany me into the unknown. Neither of us had the slightest idea about what the future might hold but Smith had known, instinctively, that he was needed and I was more than glad to have him along.
As we rode, the birds on the heath started to sing and the sky above was devoid of cloud. We took it as a good omen and trotted off towards the inn at Chelmers Ford where Thomas was waiting, startled to see our readiness for action. Of old, I had learned that it was best to be prepared for anything. What was starting out merely as a search for one missing girl could so easily turn into something far, far more sinister.

~~~~~~~


THREE days later, the three of us all arrived at Braythewell in Yorkshire where Alice greeted us warmly, even shaking hands with the giant Smith. A hot stew was prepared and soon we were full and talking about what we were attempting to do. Alice looked sadly at Thomas and that one look reminded me of the tremendous task Smith and I had set ourselves. That evening, I set out alone to see my brother and I found him at his old house in Hellaby. Despite his grand plans for the future, James had never moved out of the cottage and it now looked desolate and dirty. Alice had informed me that, for ages after Sarah had gone, they had tried to help him keep the place clean but that James simply wouldnt help himself.
When I arrived and finally confronted my older brother, I found that I could not be angry with him. Sad, yes, that he had done what he had in allowing Sarah to go away: but not angry. On the way over to the cottage, I had intended to confront James with all the truth, but when I saw the pitiful state he was in, I could not bring himself to do it. Instead, I sat down in that cold, dark kitchen and faced him across the empty table as the small candle on the dresser flickered and cast deep shadows into the far corners of the stone-clad room. I spent a long time talking about the good times in the past, about our childhood, about the farm, but James simply stared at the table in front of him. Eventually, I arrived at the subject of Sarah.
My mind was in a quandary. How could I tell my brother it must have been his fault that they could have no children? That Sarah not only could, but had, produced a child? Nevertheless, I realised I had to tell him and hoped that, somehow, the realisation might shock him enough to break him out of his depression. As kindly as I could, I told him everything - about Elizabeth, about Sarah, about Carrie. Tears came to his eyes as I informed him of the love Sarah had shown for Elizabeth, of the danger she had risked to her own life in carrying a child for her mistress during a time when adultery was punishable by death. As James listened to my words, he put his hands to his face and then sobbed quietly. I tried to comfort him, but he would not say a word. In time, I stood up to go and James looked up at me and half smiled. Thank you, Jack, for telling me. I can rest easy now.

~~~~~~~


THE next morning, we woke to a frantic banging at the door. I stumbled out of the room we had be allotted as the whole household rushed downstairs, Alice still in her nightgown, Thomas pulling up his breeches.
Ill bet its another mare foaling early, Thomas shouted back and threw the door open to find Squire Fretwells Farm Manager on the door step.
The man ignored Thomas. Master Jack, you must come quickly. Its James.
I looked at Thomas and Alice and we all somehow seemed to sense the worst. Dressing quickly, I rode over to Hellaby Hall Farm to where Squire Fretwell was waiting at the house with the parson. I leapt from Jets back and rushed inside to where James lay on the table in the kitchen. As I stepped over to look at him, I suddenly remembered my brothers last words and the implications they should have had upon me.
Im sorry, Jack, said Squire Fretwell kindly. There was nothing we could do. Young Denny found James hanging from that beam when he came early with some breakfast for him as was usual.
In a daze, I sat down slowly, guilt in my heart. I did this.
Ralph Fretwell jumped. What?
I told James a truth he was obviously unable to take. The things I said last night must have seemed like accusations. He knew how much I loved Sarah and his mind could only imagine this one way out. I got slowly to my feet, totally stricken. First Sarah and now James. Who next?

~~~~~~~


WE stayed on at Hellaby for a few days to help with the funeral arrangements although Thomas and Alice had coped wonderfully and Squire Fretwell had played his part in ensuring all went smoothly. It was with sad hearts that we had to leave to try to find Sarah. As we left, Alice gave us food for the journey and we set off towards the tiny hamlet of Edlington, which consisted of just two or three cottages built at a cross roads. It was, therefore, not difficult to locate the elderly couple who had looked after the runaway for several days after her leaving Braythewell.
I sat and talked to them for a long time. At first, they thought we were Militia or worse. But, after much reassurance and having shown them a letter written by Squire Fretwell introducing us, they noticeably relaxed. I needed to know everything, any clue whatsoever, as to the onward direction of Sarahs travel. The problem was the event had happened a year ago and they were not young and their memories no longer good.
It was as we were actually leaving that the only real clue came. The couple were seeing us to the door when the man said: She was such a nice girl but so quiet.
I paused. Were we talking about the same Sarah? What had happened to take away all that vitality and laughter she was renowned for?
The old lady touched my arm gently. I only hope she found the one she was looking for.
Looking for?
Yes, the old lady said, trying desperately to remember the correct words. The poor girl said she was going to search for someone called Jack and said he would know where to find her.
A sudden realisation dawned on me. Sarah had left Hellaby, not simply to get away from an unhappy marriage but, specifically, to find her only real friend in life. Not being a well-travelled person, she would have not the faintest idea how to get back to Essex so she would simply look for somewhere nearby, somewhere only she knew about from her listening, wide-eyed, to my stories in front of the fire at Cricksee. She only knew the name, of course, but her determination would take her there and, once she had found this place, she would patiently wait for her lover to come for her. For ever, if need be.
With this information that Thomas would not have understood a year ago, it was relatively easy now I knew for a certainty the direction in which she had been headed. We said our thanks to the old couple and left. Smith could instantly sense that a change had taken place. Why, I even smiled at him.

~~~~~~~


THE trail was not completely cold. In the village of Balby, we found a publican who remembered a lone, raven-haired girl who had asked the way to Heathfield. In Heathfield, I found a lad on the market who remembered giving the ivory-skinned Sarah a couple of apples as she had asked the way to Butterwick. When we reached the little horse ferry where she had crossed the wide Trent, I knew for an absolute certainty where she was headed, the only other place she had heard of in the north of England - the only place where she knew for a certainty that, one day, I would find her.
The countryside was very familiar to me as it had hardly changed. There was a tree larger here, a cottage turned derelict there, but I recognised them all. The thick woods had not changed much either, still looking dark and forbidding, and the Black Head Ponds remained stagnant and ominous.
I did not know what to expect and didnt know who now lived at the Hall. I was the last of the gang to leave the place so I expected it still be uninhabited. However, as we drew closer, Smith signalled that he could smell wood smoke and as we broke out of the treeline, it was clear someone lived there. The old place was just as I had left it almost six years ago with the ivy still clinging to the west wall, the honeysuckle spreading around the front door, the kitchen garden still untended. I felt as if I was in some kind of dream and had never left the place at all. The two of us rode straight up to the front gate with a confident air. Here, I knew, was Sarah or at least some definite news of her whereabouts. Dismounting, I strode over to the front door and looked up at the warped and twisted sign that had finally lost its initial T. It now read “wigmoor Hall.
That “T had been a symbol, somehow, since it had first begun to work loose all those years ago. “T for Terry, the lad from Ashby who had taken food to the Plot gang. “T for Old Tom, the gamekeeper turned poacher because of repeated injustices. “T for Tabby, Toms old cat that used to keep the mice at bay. “T for trouble that last, fateful night in London when the bulk of our gang had been trapped, caught, and subsequently executed. I raised my hand and lifted the big brass knocker before letting it fall. The sound echoed throughout the house as it always had done. Who would answer the door, I wondered? Some new squire? His lady? Sarah?
The door opened with a creak. Well, well, well, said the voice. The wanderer returns.
It hadnt changed and neither had the face - rough, bearded and with a scar running from his right ear across his forehead, the results of an early fight with the Militia. My heart dropped through my boots when an arm that was under the aforementioned face grabbed me fiercely and started to drag me inside the hallway. It would have succeeded, too, if part of its owners ear had not disappeared along with one of the oak panels of the front door. Smith sat on his horse, one of his pistols smoking, the other coolly pointing directly at the heart of Ben Leeming.
I shook myself free and drew my sword as the sound of the commotion brought several other evil-looking men from various parts of the house and garden. Smiths pistol was unwavering as Ben clutched at his ear which was bleeding profusely. My sword went to his throat. Where is she, Ben? What have you done with her?
With who? What are you talking about?
I think you know who I mean. A young girl who came here last year, looking for me.
Why would anyone come here looking for you? he growled. You werent here.
I know that, idiot.
One or two of the men started to push forward at the insult but my sword started to draw blood on their leaders neck and he frantically motioned them to stop.
My mind quickly ran back over the last few years to the Plot. It was you, wasnt it?
Me, what?
You, who gave the gang away, had them arrested and burned.
No, it was you and that Carlos fellow.
It wasnt me, Ben. I was left on the heath with the horses, remember?
Then it must have been Carlos. He was allowed to escape, wasnt he?
How do you know? I asked suspiciously.
I dunno. I just heard it somewhere.
Carlos did escape.
He looked relieved. See, I told you.
And he was shot in the process.
Oh.
I managed to get him away from the Militia but he died a few hours later. If he was the traitor, why would they shoot him?
They probably thought he was one of the others.
I dont think so. Besides, he would have been well paid and, when he died, he had no money of any kind with him. He was not the traitor, you were.
He stood silent.
Anyway, Im not going to argue with you about that. Im just after the girl. I know shes here and Im prepared to pay you well for her safe return.
How much? one of the other men quickly asked when Ben hesitated. The leader looked daggers at his loud-mouthed accomplice who then fell silent.
Ill not mess about, I said. Ill give one thousand marks for her.
A murmur went through the gang. A thousand marks? Thats a Kings ransom.
Why would you pay such a sum for a mere wench? asked Ben suspiciously.
Because that is her value to me. And it will be worth every penny to get her away from you lot.
They started forward again only to be waved back by Ben, who had the sense to know that if a fight ensued, he would be the first to go. And if we should find this wench for you? Just supposing, that is?
Bring her to Broughton crossroads at midnight and the money will be waiting for you.
Dont you have it with you now?
Of course not, I lied. Im not that stupid, am I?
Ben smiled. No. Youve learned well, young Jack. He thought for a moment before a sly sneer came to his face. If I should be able to find this wench for you, it would be worth more to ensure that she was unharmed.
I reluctantly agreed. Ben, if she is totally unharmed and well, I will pay you two thousand marks.
Bens eyes lit up.
However, if she is harmed in any way... I looked into his eyes so that he could not fail to get my meaning: ...In any way, you will die within the day, that I promise.
At that, I turned my back on the gang and mounted Jet. I could afford to be confident. I knew I had nothing to fear from them until they had my money. I also knew that, at that point in time, Smith and I would have to be very careful indeed.

~~~~~~~


THERE was only one inn at Ashby and we booked in and then drank ale as the evening fell. Smith was clearly unhappy about our proposed meeting with the gang at midnight but I knew enough about Ben Leeming to know that he would never have agreed to meet us in broad daylight. I also wanted to make it as easy as I could for them to do as I had asked. Besides, I had other plans.
As the evening wore on, we got ourselves into conversation with the landlord as well as a few other locals who had come to the inn for ale. It transpired that the gang was notoriously well known as they robbed the farms, stole sheep and cows from the fields and occasionally raped women of the village. Appeals to the local justice had produced no satisfactory results and it was suspected that he was not adverse to the taking of bribes.
It was around eleven oclock that we crept out of the inn and saddled our horses, leaving the spare horse in the stable and our belongings in the room so we could travel light. Riding up the lane past Brat Hill, we approached Twigmoor Hall from the west and, entering the dark woods, dismounted and led the horses a little way in, where we tethered them to a tree. Crouching low, we then slipped like shadows through the undergrowth until we were at the rear of the Hall.
It was just before midnight that the ground in front of the Hall rose and Smiths eyes opened wide at the sight. Soon, about ten men on horseback seemingly rose up out of the ground and galloped off towards Broughton cross-roads. It was obvious to both of us that there was no Sarah with them and it had been a trap all along. I just knew that I had to find out if Sarah had ever been in the house. Instinctively, I knew there would be some kind of sign. She would not have travelled all that way for a dream, just to simply leave again and disappear.
Cautiously, we went over to the stable ramp and crept inside. There was no-one left guarding the stables and I suddenly remembered the last time I had been there when my previous horse, Flash, was dead and Old Tom lay with his head half blown away. A lot had happened since then. Silently, we crept up the secret stairs to the scullery and slowly opened the door a crack. Two men sat facing each other over a wooden table. I motioned my intentions to Smith and then sprang forward. My sword caught the one on the left across the back of the neck, killing him instantly. Then, back handed, I side-swiped the other, just about decapitating him. It had been all over in a matter of seconds and with hardly a sound made. Suddenly, I realised that these were the first men I had actually killed and I hadnt regretted it a bit. I whirled round as the door to the parlour opened and another of the gang came in, stopping dead when he saw the carnage. He made to shout but a large hand grasped him round the throat and squeezed. There was a ghastly, crunching sound and then Smith allowed his body to drop to the ground in a heap.
I listened carefully, but could hear no other sound from the house. We did not have much time, but had to search the house thoroughly for any trace of Sarah or where she might have gone. When we had systematically searched every room but found nothing, I slumped on the edge of a bed and hunched my shoulders in defeat.
It was as I came out of the last bedroom that I suddenly remembered the loft. Lighting a candle, I climbed the near vertical stairs to the small room in which I had once been locked when I had first seen the ugliness of the Plot gang and had threatened to run away from them. I stopped and Smith canonned into me. What I saw inside the room made me very sick, literally. There was nothing in the room except a single iron bedstead and, tied across the bed, Sarah.
She looked a pitiful sight. Her raven trusses had been cut short, her eyes wide and staring with no sign of life in them. Her entire body was a mass of red and blue wheals where she looked as if she had been repeatedly beaten over a long period of time. Her body was emaciated and thin, her once smooth, round belly a large black bruise. How could anyone do this to a young girl? I could not move but kept heaving, tears streaming down my face. I could not even bring himself to touch her.
Smith gave signs to indicate that the other members of the gang could be back any minute but I did not care. I just wanted to die, right there, with my Sarah. I recoiled as Smith slapped my face hard and then, with his dagger, sliced cleanly through the leather thongs holding Sarah to the bed. Picking up from the floor a piece of dirty rag which must once have been her shift, he tried to slip it over her head. Something about his urgency spurred me into action and my heart beat quickened. Perhaps she was not dead after all. There was no trace of any dress or coat so Smith picked her up and carried her out in her shift, like a child, in his arms.
Suddenly, we were outside and running for our horses and Smith carried Sarah as if she were nothing. She must have weighed no more than a small child, she was so thin. With great urgency, we mounted up and galloped off toward Ashby, Smith holding Sarah tightly to himself inside his voluminous sheepskin coat. I swore to God at that moment that not one of the gang would survive the next twenty-four hours. I had no idea how I was going to achieve it, but the men who did this to the girl I loved would pay for it with their lives.

~~~~~~~







ATTACK





It was well after midnight and pitch black by the time we re-entered Ashby village and reigned up in front of the inn. Without hesitation, I leapt from Jets back and hammered loudly on the door until the innkeeper came down in his nightshirt.
The doctor, man, I shouted urgently. Wheres the doctor?
The innkeeper looked puzzled at first but then looked out and saw Smith with the small bundle he held tightly in his coat. He gave directions as to how to find the doctor who lived in the nearby village of Yaddlethorpe and we arrived there in about quarter of an hour. The doctor turned out to be a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman of about forty with a large, cheerful wife. Begrudgingly at first because of the hour, he roused himself while Smith brought Sarah in and laid her onto the couch, her eyes still wide and staring, as if dead. The doctor was quick to commence his examination.
Great Heavens, he finally stood back, revolted by what he saw. Who did this to a young girl? What animal did this vile act?
Briefly, I summarised the events of the previous few days. It transpired that the doctor had seen much suffering during his professional life. The plague had hit the village twenty years ago, men had fallen from horses and even local fights had produced broken bones and death but he had never seen anything like Sarah before. For hours, he worked with her, muttering threats to persons unknown and, when he had finished, he sat at the table and wept. Eventually, he called in his wife who set to boiling water and preparing poultices and he worked all the rest of that night while Smith and I, along with his now not-so-cheerful wife, helped where we could. In the morning we were all exhausted.
I felt I had to ask the question. Well, doctor?
She cannot be alive, he stated firmly. Its against all the odds.
What has happened to her? I need to know.
I can only surmise some things but I will give you my best guess. The girl has not eaten properly for many months and has not been washed for just as long. Over a period of, I would say almost a year, she has been systematically raped and beaten. Even the soles of her feet have been cut so she cannot walk.
The swines.
In addition, he continued with sadness; I would guess that her memory has gone, probably her whole mind. She also seems to be deaf, dumb and blind as she shows no response to any sound, light or touch. If I were not a medical man, I would say she had not slept for a year though, as a doctor, I know such a thing is impossible.
But she is alive, isnt she?
I dont know why, I dont even know how, but yes, she is alive. Her body would seem to be all but dead, her mind has gone, maybe completely, but somewhere, deep inside, her poor little heart is determined to keep going. Its as if something inside wont let go, as if shes waiting for something. He shrugged. I cant begin to explain it.
What will it take to cure her?
The doctor looked straight at me. Theres no answer to that question because it was probably too late six months ago. Her heart could stop at any second, and I mean that literally, and there would be nothing at all I could do to prevent it.
What would it cost to revive her?
Cost? If he hadnt looked so exhausted, he would have been angry. You cant talk of money at a time like this. A hundred marks wouldnt make any difference, none at all.
How about a thousand?
His mouth dropped open at the mere mention of such a sum which I had brought with me as an insurance against the possibility of such an eventuality. It.. its not just a question of money.
I know that, doctor, I soothed. And I am just as convinced that, because of your high principles, you will do everything in your power to save her life; without pay if need be. Thats not what I mean.
I see. Well, I will certainly do my best for her, but I can assure you there can be no change for a long time, maybe months, perhaps years, and even then, she will almost certainly never be herself again. It may take many years of intensive care to bring about even partial recovery.
The ransom of a thousand marks glinted in the lamplight as I tipped it out onto the table. Please see that anything which can be done, is done and spare nothing for her. I will be back.
Where are you going? he asked as I stood up, looking very determined.
To find the men who did this, I stated simply. And to kill them.
One moment. Wait here for a while.
I sat down next to Sarah after the doctor had gone and looked into those big, brown eyes, now sunken deep into her head. I smiled but there was no response. I talked to her and but with no reply; no movement; no nothing.
Forgive me, Sarah, I pleaded to the still form beside me. I didnt come quickly enough. Hang on for a bit longer, my love. It will work out, I promise. I didnt know how I could promise such an outcome but, one thing was certain, if I couldnt see her cured, I would definitely see her avenged.

~~~~~~~

HALF an hour later, the doctor returned dragging behind him a man of enormous proportions whom he propelled into the room. With a flourish, he drew the sheets back and showed Sarahs body to the man who rushed, headlong, from the room to be sick.
See what your murdering friends have done? the doctor called after him. We keep pushing you to take action but you take their money to hide your eyes. A fine justice you are. He was livid. If you dont take action now, the whole village will throw you out.
No! I called and then went over to the whimp, looked him straight in the eyes and said; Sir, if she dies, you die.
He blustered at that. You dare to threaten a justice?
Threaten? No, that was not a threat. Lets just call it a statement of fact.
His knees sagged a little and he could not meet my gaze. Today, Im going out to Twigmoor, with or without you. I would rather do this within the law and see them hang for their crimes, but if you have no guts...? I prodded him in his fat stomach and he didnt know what to say and so he sat down on the floor. The doctor told me that he knew of fine men who would respond and that he would speak with them at daybreak. I shrugged. Whichever way. They must all die today.
But there are a dozen of them.
Nine, I calculated.
The doctor looked puzzled.
Three tried to stop us, I said matter-of-factly, then turned and left.

~~~~~~~

IN the morning, the doctor called a meeting at the inn and three men volunteered to help. The justice had disappeared and no-one could find him but the doctor said he suspected he was reporting events to Ben Leeming. Between us, we worked out a schedule whereby each took it in turns to keep watch for any approach. It was three in the afternoon when the justice appeared from the direction of Twigmoor, riding on his donkey.
I accosted him at the foot of Brat Hill as Smith dragged him from his mount. And where have you been, my fat friend?
No...nowhere. He tried to sound convincing but it didnt work.
You will remember my promise, wont you? The Justice tried to sidestep away but his strength was puny against that of Smith who held him firmly. When these murderers have been dealt with, I intend taking you to trial myself and youll hang, you know that? Theres nothing worse than a traitor, is there? Instinctively, he shrank back. Now that there are plenty of us to attack, were going to go tonight and finish it. The fat man took it all in without appearing to be interested. Were meeting here, at Brat Hill, tonight at nine and you had better be here.
It was quite funny really. We watched him head for Ashby and then surreptitiously circle back toward Twigmoor with the news.

~~~~~~~

THAT night, at around eight-thirty, the five of us headed for Brat Hill. The three “volunteers from the village carried two scarecrows which I hoped would look like myself and Smith in the half light. They then stood in a group at the foot of the hill as if in a meeting whilst Smith and I headed for Twigmoor. As the moon rose, we waited in the trees until the gang of nine passed by, intent on their scheming murder.
The trick had worked once at Downham and it should work again so, quietly, we followed at a safe distance until the men reached the top of Brat Hill. My instructions to the helpers had been that, upon catching sight of the attackers, they were to run like the wind for Ashby, allowing the gang to give chase. At a given point, they were to turn and fire on the attackers in the large meadow before the inn. Smith and I had left our own pistols with them for that express purpose. In addition, Smith had borrowed the innkeepers long-handled axe.
According to the plan, as the nine men from Twigmoor attacked, the three men from the village fled in apparent panic, dragging behind them the two horses with the scarecrows atop. Meanwhile, we rode about a hundred yards behind the gang and, in their haste and anxiety to attack, they neither saw nor heard us. At the pre-arranged spot, the men of Ashby turned and fired and two of the gang fell from their horses. As the gang drew to a halt, surprised, Smith and I charged. I stood up in the saddle with my long cavalry sword high while Smith twirled his axe like a berserk Viking and we flew straight through them, cutting down two more as we passed. Unfortunately, Smiths axe got embedded in the chest of one of the men and he was unable to drag it free. In his haste to retrieve it, he pitched from his horse to the ground. I swerved Jet round in a tight turn which kicked up clods of earth in the soft meadow and saw that two of the gang were attacking Smith. I charged uphill, hacking one from his horse. Smith grasped the sword blade of the other and dragged him to the ground, cutting his hands in the process. Another jumped at him in the darkness and he was struggling with one on each arm.
Suddenly, a shot rang out. Ben Leeming, sitting astride his horse, had fired his flintlock at Smith catching him just below the neckline. Smith swayed for a moment then, picking up bodily both the men who were hanging onto his arms, he smashed them both together, killing them instantly. The rest of us all looked on, Ben with satisfaction, me with horror as Smith then pitched forward to the ground - dead. The three volunteers, now spurred into desperate action, jumped on another of the gang, dragging him from his horse and stabbing at him on the ground while Ben turned to face me.
Well, the gang leader said. It looks like its just you and me, young Jack.
Not for long, Ben. Soon, there will be just me.
Youve got a hope, boy, he snided. Remember who it was who taught the gang swordplay? Me. Youve not got a chance.
Before we decide. It was you, wasnt it?
It was me, what?
It was you who betrayed the gang.
Of course. Who did you think it was?
Well I knew it wasnt me or Carlos, so it had to be you.
But you wont live to talk about it, young Jack.
He was about seven feet away from me. I could not see his expression but what I could see was the sword in his hand. Ben looked as if he expected me to try to run but, instead, I nudged Jet with my knees to propel him forward. When only three feet separated us I stopped, watching carefully, holding my breath.
Bens eyes glinted as they moved and I shrieked. It was the last thing Ben expected me to do and, half way to raising his sword, his horse reared, pitching him from the saddle. I did not wait but instantly and mercilessly slashed down at my rival and was rewarded with a cry of pain. Ben raised his sword to protect himself as I lifted my arm once more and the fury of my second downward stroke broke Bens sword in two. Smith, I thought, you have tonight avenged yourself with the sword you once made. I looked around and saw that all the others of the gang were dead and the three volunteers were jubilant. I left Ben Leeming where he lay and signalled to the men who ran over and seized him by the arms. Ben waited for the death blow as I watched him, my sword above my head.
I lowered my arm. Ill not stoop to your level, Ben.
The bandit smiled, thinking his life was being spared.
Take him to the inn, I ordered the men.
Slowly, I went over to the prostrate body of Smith as several of the village folk came out now that it was safe. They offered to take Smith and bury him in the churchyard.
No, I said. Bury him where he lays. I paused. Does this field have a name?
No, sir, one replied. Tis just a meadow.
From now on, it shall have a name, I decreed. It is to be named after him. Do you understand?
Obviously, there was authority in my voice because, from that time on and for centuries after, that simple meadow, not a mile from Brat Hill, became known as Smiths Field.
At the inn, most of the men of the village were gathered and, at my insistence, one of them went for the Justice. I also asked for six volunteers to act as jury and got twenty. When all were seated, I pointed to Ben Leeming and asked of them all, Do you recognise this man?
Ten men did so.
What crimes has he committed?
The words “murder, “rape and “theft were repeated often.
I turned to the justice. What is the prescribed penalty for such crimes?
Death, he whispered.
I went over to him. Youll have to speak up, these good people cant hear you.
Death, he said louder and Ben Leeming stared at him as if to say; “just wait till I get you home. But where they were going, they were going together.
And what of the justice? What crimes has he committed.
There was silence for a while until the doctor spoke up. Accepting bribes, blackmail, extortion. Heads nodded in agreement.
And the penalty? I asked the jury.
They were silent till one found that he had enough courage and stood up. He made me sign a document I could not read and he now has all my land. Death!
Another stood up. He promised me wages for my workers when I built his house. Death!
I looked at them all. Simple country folk, but in one night they had rid themselves of all their worst enemies. One or two drew swords and clubs.
No! I said. They must hang at Twigmoor.
A cart was fetched and the hands of both murderer and justice were bound. Half an hour later, all the men of the village stood in front of the Hall while ropes were strung from the oak tree facing the front door. An owl hooted in the woods and a shiver ran down my spine as I looked at them in the pale moonlight a few yards from where Sarah had been so badly mistreated. Ben Leeming stared at me defiantly and I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I had the right to take away the lives of these men, until a picture of Sarah came into my mind: not the Sarah who now lay dying at Yaddlethorpe, but the vivacious, laughing sixteen-year-old girl who had danced ceaselessly that evening on the village green at Asheldham; the young woman who had pleaded for a baby but, when it arrived, had fulfiled her promise and had handed the new-born child over to Elizabeth. I also thought of the girl who had finally married James; the girl with perpetual laughter in her eyes who now lay like a corpse because of these two men.
Without any regret, I drew my sword and slapped the rump of the horse. The two men jerked at the end of their ropes as the cart moved away and, as Ben Leemings legs twitched for the last time, Ashby church struck midnight.

~~~~~~~









SARAH





Over the week, the doctor at Yaddlethorpe worked virtually night and day to save Sarahs life. He even called on the assistance of another doctor from nearby Brumby, but little progress was made and I was at wits end as to what to do. Should I attempt to return her to Essex where she could at least be with her family for her last days? Or should I just let her die in peace, where she was? I asked the doctors advice.
I honestly cant tell you what to do for the best, Jack. Moving her, in her present condition, would be very dangerous but, on the other hand, I can offer no guarantees that she will live if she stays here. On that first night, when you brought her in, I gave her twenty-four hours to live at the very outside. But here we are, almost a week later and, against all the odds, she is still alive. I honestly dont know how.
Is there anything more that can be done?
One thing seems to me to be certain and that is, when winter comes, her body will not have the resistance to carry her through. Shes only just holding her own now but, with the cold, and especially the damp...
What are you trying to tell me, doctor?
I suppose that, in the kindest way possible, Im saying you should prepare yourself for the worst possible outcome.
I see. Thank you for being so honest.
We were disturbed by a knock at the door and we both listened as Mrs Merry talked with a visitor. Eventually, a younger man was shown into the room to be greeted warmly by Doctor Merry.
Jack. This is my colleague, Doctor Marsh from Frodingham. He had been away for some months in Portugal. Tony, this is Jack Bosvile from Hellaby. We were just discussing the plight of a young lady he brought to me some weeks ago.
Oh? What is wrong with the girl?
I think you had better see for yourself. I would be glad of the second opinion of a younger, more up-to-date, physician.
You flatter me, George. Will you excuse us for a moment, Mr Bosvile? I would like to take a look at your young lady and see how old George has been taking care of her.
Thank you, Doctor Marsh, I said, grateful for any straw to clutch at.
Patiently, I waited for what seemed like an age while their muffled voices came to me from time to time. Mrs Merry brought me a drink and piece of bread a little later and then left me to await the outcome of the prognosis. I reflected soberly upon George Merrys words and thought of what he had said about the cold and the damp as I looked out of the window at the dull autumn sky; at the clouds which almost covered it and would continue to do so for another six months or more. I pictured the Yorkshire winters wed had as children and shuddered at the thought. The door to the bedroom opened and the doctors came out and sat down before me.
She is in a bad way, pronounced Dr Marsh. I share Georges view that she is barely hanging on to life and will definitely not last the winter. What Sarah needs more than anything is some sun to help her to heal.
I sighed. Im afraid that even my thousand marks will not ensure sun this winter.
Dont be hasty, Jack. There may just be a way, a way that your money could bring her a lot of sun if - and its a big “if - if she can survive a journey of a thousand miles.
A thousand miles?
Yes, Jack, said George. Doctor Marsh has recently returned from the Mediterranean and he says things seem to heal much faster there.
How is the healing coming along at present?
Do you want the truth? He saw my face. Of course you do. Firstly, the skin. It is not healing at all and I mean that, not at all. If something is not done very soon, it will all turn septic and she will die very quickly.
I see.
Secondly, her senses. No change, no responses. She seems completely paralysed and without sight, hearing, or sense of touch.
I said nothing.
Thirdly, her mind. In fact, I cannot tell. Until she gives some indication as to whats going on in whats left of her mind, I honestly have no idea. I suppose what I am trying to say, as kindly as possible, is that you have nothing to lose. I estimate she has a ten percent chance of surviving the journey to the Mediterranean but she has no chance at all if she stays in England this winter.
I dont doubt your analysis, doctors, for one moment. I want to thank you for being so honest. I do appreciate that.
Its the best way in the long run. You can only kid so many people for so long.
Then I must follow your advice. What should I do, leave in a week or two?
Dr Marsh sat and faced me. Jack, I have to say that every day, nay, every hour she stays here in England reduces her chances of any kind of survival.
I looked down at the table in despair. Had it really come to that? Money-wise, I could afford it, there was no doubt about that. But it was Sarahs life which was at stake, not my own. If I moved her now and she died because of it... I could not bear to think that I might be killing her myself, not after all that had happened between us. How... how would I go about it?
Ive made tentative enquiries, Jack. There is boat leaves from Hull on Wednesday. It goes as far as Egypt but calls in at Marseille on the way.
Where is Marseille?
It is a port on the southern coast of France and the climate there is mild and warm, just the kind of environment which will help Sarah to heal.
I thought for a long time while they both patiently waited. When fleeing from the Militia, I had escaped on a boat to Essex and had been seasick almost all the way. The Mediterranean was just a bit further than Essex and would be a journey of over a month. Could I survive it, never mind Sarah?
She must have been a very beautiful young woman, said Dr Marsh kindly as a tear dripped from my cheek onto my hand.
I nodded dumbly at the mental picture of Sarah dancing before the campfire at Asheldham after her father and brothers had been released from the false arrest in Chelmsford. I thought also of the Cardinal who had been released at the same time by the Ransom money I had paid. If Marseille was in France, we would be closer to the Cardinal and that thought made me shiver.
Youve gone to a lot of trouble, doctors, I finally said to break the silence. How can I ever thank you?
Certainly not with money, Jack. If I receive a letter from her in two, five, ten years from now, always assuming Im still around then, I shall be the happiest man on earth.

~~~~~~~

ON Wednesday morning, as the tide rose, Dr Merry and I stood in the drizzle on the dock at Hull together. Sarah had already been loaded on board on a cot and then strapped loosely into a bunk. During the loading, she had not given any indication as to whether she felt pain at her inevitable rough handling from cart to ship, nor made any sign as to whether she had any idea where she was. As the tide filled the small basin, it was time to go.
Doctor, do you have a horse? I enquired.
It is a small practice, Jack. I cannot afford such luxuries.
You remember my black stallion, Jet?
How could I forget such an animal?
Jet was a present from Smith when I needed help a long time ago and it was a great gesture that has rewarded both of us ever since. It was the start of a friendship that will never end, despite his death. I want you to take Jet and the other horses. They must be a symbol of what weve tried to achieve together.
Jack. I am without words.
Then stay without words. When Sarah is well, I will send you a lock of her hair.
Id like that. We shook hands. Goodbye, Jack. God be with you.
I hope so, doctor. I do hope so.

~~~~~~~

I am not going to talk about that journey. If you think the North Sea is bad, you should try the Bay of Biscay. Great Atlantic breakers burst repeatedly upon the ship which rolled, and rolled, and rolled and then rolled some more. With my seasickness, it felt as if it was me who was dying, not Sarah. There had been no change in her condition which was a miracle in itself. Every time I examined her, I expected to feel that her feeble heart had stopped. Mine certainly had, about sixty times a minute on average.
The days rolled by and, gradually, as we got further south, the weather improved. On the third of October, we turned left past a massive crag of rock and, after that, the sea became calmer. The next day, it was noticeably warmer so I carried Sarah up onto the narrow deck. There is no way I was going to expose her whole body to the sun and sailors on that ships deck, but I had to start somewhere so I carefully peeled the dressings from below her knees. It looked as if no healing at all had taken place and the skin seemed rotten. The weather was fine enough for her to be left outside that night and I sat with her for the rest of the journey on deck and never left her side for a moment.
Doctor Marsh had been right as, before my eyes, a miracle happened. After about three days, scabs began to form on the worst of the sores on her legs and her feet had stopped seeping. At first, I could not believe it but, by the time we docked at Marseille, her legs below the knees were dry and well on the way to recovery.

~~~~~~~

MARSEILLE is a strange place. The day we arrived, I saw fishing boats everywhere. Not at all like the ocean-going ones at Grimsby, but shallow, flat-bottomed boats built for calmer waters. It turned out that our boat was to be in dock for a week, unloading cotton from Lancashire and wool from Yorkshire and re-loading silk, spices and wine from Southern France. The city itself, a seaport from Roman times, once was part of the Kingdom of Provence, a satellite of the Holy Roman Empire, but recently, it had become part of the Kingdom of France. This stretch of coastline had been the scene of repeated wars over both politics and, more recently, religion. War had, officially at least, ended but the Catholic Church meddled as it had done in England. Protestantism, in the form of the Huguenots, had spread to many areas and several cities near to Marseille were now declared to be Protestant in spite of the Catholic Church which did everything in its power to reverse this trend. Marseille itself was still predominantly Catholic and I knew that, if they were to survive, I had to get to one of the Huguenot cities like Nmes and then, perhaps, to one of the smaller Protestant towns in the mountains.
That first day, I explored the sights and found that there were religious monstrosities everywhere. Why has everything got to be so big and ostentatious? Somehow, every church seemed even bigger and grander than in England and on every hill and the corner of each street were statues of the virgin. Smacks a bit of megliomania and idolatry to me. Nevertheless, the place had something I had never seen in England. - it had an exciting atmosphere. Everywhere I went I heard different languages - Italian, Spanish, even some English. When Sarah gets better, I thought, she will be happy in this sort of surroundings, but that will be a long time from now as I have to arrange transportation to Nmes.
The skipper helped considerably and we went into the town centre together that afternoon. It was very hot and we stopped for a drink at a road-side cafe.
Est-ce-que vous prenez du vin, Monsieur? I was asked by the patron.
I hadnt the faintest idea but the skipper came to my rescue. Oui. Deux verre, sil vous plait.
Two glasses arrived as per what I deemed had been the skippers instructions, and wine was poured. A travelling merchant, known to the skipper, joined us at the table. Bonjour, Monsieur.
I did my best at repeating that greeting and got a roar of laughter as a reward.
Parlez-vous Francais?
How could I answer? I couldnt speak French.
The skipper and the merchant conversed in French for a few moments and, it turned out, the merchant finally agreed to take Sarah and I to Nmes at a price agreed upon and departure was arranged for the next day. He was a jolly man who had an infectious laugh and I found myself laughing at his jokes, even when I had not understood a word he had said. He was short and prematurely balding with a marked squint, giving him a slightly comical appearance.
It turned out that he was mainly a trader in fine silks and carried cloth spun in Le Vigan and Ganges, which he then sold to sea traders from all over Europe and North Africa. It all seemed very exciting and unreal, somehow. Everyone looked happy. There was something different about these people, something I liked.

~~~~~~~

IT was a long journey to Nmes and the first leg of that journey would take us by boat to the old Roman town of Arles. We left Marseille the next morning and the trader hoisted a small sail as he set a westerly course. It was a beautiful day and the sun shone with the warmth of a July day in England and, if it hadnt been for my precious cargo, I could have enjoyed it very much.
There had been little further change in Sarah. After the initial elation at the improvement in her legs, circumstances had prevented further exposure of her body to the sun and she looked a pitiful sight as she lay there, surrounded by bales of cotton. Several times, I had been sorely tempted to end it for her on the journey from England. As we had battled around the Iberian peninsula against wind and rain, I had watched closely and had felt a great pity for her. Surely, it would have been better to end it for her there and then. It would have taken so little - the merest pressure on her throat, one sharp blow, anything to take her away from her misery.
But she had come so far... Against all odds, she had survived the vicious beatings at Twigmoor. Against all odds, she had survived the escape to Yaddlethorpe. Somehow, against every odd that there was, she was still alive in that ship. How could I take away what some faint spark inside her had kept going?
Early that afternoon we passed the Golfe de Fos and our host tried to explain the meaning. From what I could gather, it meant the “mouth of the grave. What a misnomer it seemed that day. In the sunshine, the sea sparkled and glinted and I hoped the grave was a long way away. My time spent with Smith was paying off as sign language got me by for communication. By late afternoon, I noticed that land was closing in on both sides as the boat turned slightly northward. This, I gathered, was the Rhne - a massive river which drains almost the entire area of southern France. Here it was sluggish and muddy. Later, I was to see a very different Rhne.
As evening approached, we berthed at a small village on the left bank of the river and the land around us was very flat and, as far as the eye could see, it looked desolate and marshy. This was the delta of the Rhne where the marshes had built up over the centuries from alluvial sludge brought down from the Alps and Massif Central and dumped where the river slowed to enter the sea.
The merchant explained that, once, the mouth of the river had been at Arles. Soon, if it kept going the way it was, he predicted, it would protrude out into the Mediterranean. In the distance, I saw a beautiful sight. Wild horses galloping uninhibited across the Carmargue. How I wished I could be with them, riding over that flat ground.

~~~~~~~

THAT evening, a miracle happened. It was still very warm and I decided that a swim in the river would do me good. The merchant had gone to conclude some transactions in the village, so I carefully carried Sarah down to the waters edge and laid her in the glow of the evening sun. I found a small inlet where the water flowed slowly and it was so warm that I just lay there in the river, the water trickling smoothly over my body. I dont know what it was that prompted me, but I suddenly got up and, carrying Sarah in my arms like a baby, went back into the water and sat down. I lowered her gently into the river and was carefully smoothing water over her face to cleanse away the dust which had formed when her eyes moved.
At first, I thought it was my imagination or some trick of the light, but no. As I watched, they moved again. There was no pattern, nothing focused upon, but definite movement. Whether it was due to pleasure, pain or simply fear, I couldnt tell, but that warm water had produced a reaction and I was in heaven.
I sat there in the water with her laying across my knees for some time, before lifting her out and laying her carefully in the last of the sunshine to dry off. Her shift had come unstuck from her body in the water and I felt that, now that it could be safely removed, she deserved a new dress.
The next day, it took all day to sail to Arles. The southerly wind blew against the sail and our little boat fought magnificently against the current of the mighty Rhne and, gradually, won the battle. At Arles, we seemed to enter a different world. Most of the buildings there had been built by the Romans and it was like living in a different era, an era long gone by. The city had been built on the Roman Aurelian Way, which connected Italy with Spain and evidence of the long-gone Roman occupation was everywhere. In England, there is little remaining from Roman times save a few bits of wall and road. However, here, in France, the milder climate preserves buildings well as there is not the same degree of erosion from wind and rain. Consequently, many of the buildings looked as though they had only recently been built. In fact, the only signs of damage I could see was that caused by human vandalism. Why is it that when one society dies, the next has an inborn desire to destroy the handiwork of the former? Perhaps one day, we will learn to respect the architecture and remains of previous civilisations.
That evening, it was cold. The cool Mistral which blows down from the mountains in autumn and winter blew around that city and everyone sensibly stayed at home by the fire. So, leaving Sarah lying safely in bed, I spent the evening with my merchant colleague. He had explained my need of clothing for Sarah to the innkeeper who, in turn, had spoken to a local woman dressed in black who sat that evening with silk on her lap, drinking and sewing. By the time we were ready for bed, I had in my hands a beautiful silk dress and, from the laughter that ensued, I gathered someone had suggested it was for me. I laughed with them, not just because it was funny but because, in my minds eye, I could picture Sarah in it.

~~~~~~~

THE river part of our journey was over and the boat would be sailing north to Avignon, the Catholic centre for the area. Once, it had been a part of Italy and was the place where the popes had lived for a while. The palace is still standing even though the pope has returned to Rome. We were now to cut north-west by roadway and our route followed the north bank of a smaller distributary of the Rhne which flowed westwards. By late morning, it was very warm and we stopped at a wayside inn for refreshment. Our companion indicated that he intended to stay for a while for business so I took the opportunity to lift Sarah from her cocoon of cotton in the cart, collect her new silk dress and head for the river. I had to sit in the water with her for quite a while until the shift was loose enough to remove and then, carefully, I slipped it over her head. I sat for a while, letting the water run over our bodies, humming to myself, when I happened to glance down at her face and discovered that Sarah was staring straight at me. There was no visible sign of recognition but, as I moved my head, her eyes moved to follow it. I smiled - no change. I spoke - no change. She simply lay there in the water, looking up at me. I was so happy. I imagined that evening in the study at Cricksee Hall before she had left to marry James and how happy she had been then.
Suddenly, inspiration came and I decided to take a chance. I took my hand and placed it gently upon her belly, no longer firm and round but flat and scarred. It was not particularly pleasant for me but I hoped that it might just trigger off something in her mind. It did. She screamed.
Her response came as such a surprise to me that I dropped her and, before I could react, Sarah disappeared below the surface of the water and then came up spluttering.
I was horrified as she sat there in the shallow water, staring up at me and screaming: You killed my baby! You killed my baby!

~~~~~~~







THE ROAD TO NIMES





From every direction, people came running at the sound of her cries. I could not speak a word of French and, fortunately for me, our merchant companion and the other men at the inn couldnt speak any English, otherwise I might never have reached Nmes alive. Although the English word “baby has a similarly-sounding equivalent in French, the French word for “kill bears no resemblance whatsoever to its English equivalent.
What a sight met the people as they burst upon the scene! A young woman sitting up to her chest in water, shouting in some foreign tongue and trying desperately to cover herself with her hands to remain decent, whilst I sat on the nearby bank, trying to make up my mind whether to laugh at her partial recovery or cry at what she thought Id done. Fortunately for me, the crowd chose to laugh and it broke the spell. Suddenly, Sarah stopped screaming and looked about, puzzled as to what on earth she was doing sitting in a river with lots of strangers laughing at her. It was the landlords wife who came to her aid and, seeing Sarahs state of undress, she shooed the menfolk away and we were alone again.
Sarah, I called gently and she looked wildly around, stark fear still in her eyes. Sarah. Its me, Jack.
Jack? she repeated, her head on one side. Where am I? What am I doing here?
Its a long story and, if you come out of the water and get dressed, Ill explain it all to you.
No! She shook her head frantically. No, youll see me.
Sarah, I soothed. Its Jack. Dont you remember?
No, no, You took my baby, you hurt my baby. She paused then cried aloud, tears pouring from her face, You killed my baby.
Slowly, I waded into the water towards her.
No, keep away, she screamed. Dont touch me.
Trying to get up and keep herself covered with her hands at the same time, she fell again into deeper water and went under. Desperately, I leapt forward and, grabbing her arms, hauled her head clear of the water. The current was strong and I had to keep a tight hold of her in her weakened state. She tried frantically to break free but I held her firmly and, finally, she ran out of energy and the tears flowed free. Tenderly, I held her close as she wept for a long time. I thought it best to allow the tears to release the pent-up tensions of over a year.
After what seemed like hours, she became quiet and I released her, walked to the bank of the river, and picked up her new silk dress. Walking back to her, I slipped it over her head and it covered the hideous scars and the emaciated body and, more important to Sarah at that moment, it made her decent. Gingerly, I held out my hand to her and she finally took it and I helped her towards the bank. When we were almost there, her legs started to give way and she started to wobble so I picked her up bodily and walked back to the inn amidst the cheers of the crowd (in French, of course). Gently, I sat her down and ordered her a warm drink with brandy in it. Cautiously, she sat and silently sipped the drink, peering suspiciously over the top of the mug in case someone attacked her or tried to take her drink away from her. When no-one did, she seemed almost surprised. In time, food was ordered and it finally came. I fed her a local dish of fish and rice. Considering it was probably her first decent meal in a year, she did very well to finish the lot.
Did you enjoy that? I asked her.
She nodded.
Would you like some more?
She nodded again so a little more was brought and she guzzled the lot. If she isnt sick after that lot, Ill be very surprised.
After the meal, she began to look tired so I picked her up and carried her upstairs, laid her on her bed and covered her with a light sheet. She refused to take her dress off but I was not going to make an issue over it and, within five minutes, she was fast asleep. The poor girl slept soundly right through that day and night. She also slept right through the following day and I had to pay the merchant extra to wait for us. By the evening, I was getting worried for she had slept for over thirty hours. But I neednt have worried - she awoke around six and ate another double meal. All of a sudden, Sarah was looking much better, but had hardly said a word since that first accusation, and I was eager to try to get through to her, somehow.
That evening, it was fairly warm and humid as I walked with her down to the river bank and we sat in the faint light from the inn.
Sarah, do you know who I am? I asked tentatively and, after a pause, she nodded.
Whats my name?
She thought about it for a long time and then said Jack?
I congratulated her. Yes thats right. Good girl. Now, do you know who you are?
Your daughter?
No, I replied kindly.
Your sister?
I shook my head.
Your friend?
Thats right, Sarah. Your friend. You once asked me if I would stay your friend, do you remember?
She shook her head slightly, looking puzzled.
At Asheldham. Do you remember Asheldham?
Another shake.
How about Smith? Do you remember Smith?
Her head nodded vigorously at that and she smiled. She smiled! Wow! And what a smile. It was as if the sun had come up again.
While she appeared happy, I tried another tack. What about Carrie? Do you remember your baby, Carrie?
She thought for a moment and then said quietly; They killed my baby.
Her shoulders shuddered and her face was screwed up but tears never came as I held her for a while not knowing what to say. “They had killed her baby? But Carrie was safe at home with Elizabeth, who would certainly never harm the child in any way.
Sarah, you must tell me. I had to find out what she thought we had done to her baby.
No. No, she cried, starting to get up to run back to the inn where the faint lights suggested security.
Sarah, please, I called after her. I must know. What has happened to our baby?
At that, Sarah abruptly stopped and put her head on one side. Our baby? she asked before coming slowly back but remaining standing. No, not our baby.
With my hand, I patted the ground beside me and, after a while, she sat down, still suspicious. I tried to put my arm around her shoulders but she struggled free.
Its okay, I soothed. I wont touch you if you dont want me to. I just want to know about our... I mean, your baby. Please tell me.
It was a very long time until she spoke. They gave me a baby. It came from my tummy. She smiled at the memory. It was a lovely baby boy and it would have made you so happy.
My mouth dropped open. Boy?
She looked at me with her head on one side again. If nothing else, I was going to get a severe crick in the neck from this conversation. Youre Jack, arent you?
I smiled and nodded.
You loved me, didnt you?
Still do, I said.
She thought about that one. Youd have loved my baby, Jack. He had brown hair and brown eyes just like yours.
Good grief, I suddenly thought. After all what had been said at Hellaby, shed had Jamess baby after all. What had this girl gone through in her mind? She had left Hellaby and walked half-way across Yorkshire in search of someone to love. And all the time, she had been pregnant with the baby they had told her she was not capable of conceiving. It was my turn to weep at the thought of what she had gone through, mentally as well as physically.
Her voice brought me back to the present. When they saw that I had a baby growing inside me, they punched me all over my belly and the baby came out very small. Then... then they took it, Jack. They took my baby. Those men took it and... and. This was clearly very painful for her. And they kicked it on the floor. They kicked it around until it died.
I was horrified. My lips moved but no sound came until she said the words which made me vomit. It was a very little baby and, after the men had gone, I picked it up off the floor but the pieces wouldnt fit back together again.
I felt very ill but Sarah didnt cry any more but just sat there on that river bank and remembered as crickets chirped and the sounds of laughter came from inside the inn. After what they had done to her, she should be totally insane and, over the next hour, it all came out - matter of fact and straight forward.
Even though I hated it, I stayed at the house cos I knew youd come for me. The first night I arrived, they dragged me into the loft and they...they took me, all of them. I didnt like it at all but I knew that if I waited you would come.
After a while, I didnt please them enough so they tied my hands and hung me from a big hook in the kitchen ceiling and then whipped me. They took it in turns and there was a lot of blood on me and on the floor. I think it must have been mine. Her eyes closed at the memory. It hurt, Jack. It really did.
It was along time before she spoke again as I imagined the agony she must have felt and found myself squirming instinctively. But I knew you would come.
One day, I tried to get away. I thought I would wait for you in the woods. They were nice woods, werent they Jack?
Yes, pet. They were lovely woods.
They caught me and they beat my feet with sticks so that I wouldnt run away again. But I knew youd come.
It was beginning to sound like an accusation but I held her tight while she cried long and loud. Some people came out of the inn but saw my loving care and left us alone.
I did come, Sarah. Thats why were here now.
You did come? Her face lit up. Oh, I am glad.
I wiped away her tears with my fingertips, realising that I had a lot of work to do with this girl before she would forget that terrible ordeal.
She looked about as if it was the first time she had thought about our whereabouts. Where are we, Jack?
This is France, my love.
Wheres France? Is it in Yorkshire?
No, I laughed. Its across the sea where its warm.
Warm? she queried. She looked down at her clothing. Ive got a new dress, you know.
Yes, its very nice. A lady made that for you.
A lady? Did you love her, Jack?
I laughed at the thought. No. I only love you now. Theres no-one else to love.
She thought for a long time before asking: Wheres Elizabeth?
Shes at home looking after Carrie.
Whos Carrie?
Why, your baby, of course.
I should have had my tongue amputated a long time ago.
They killed my baby, she said sadly.

~~~~~~~

IN the morning, we set out for Nmes and I was amazed. Sarah sat up in front and chatted with the merchant and I noticed that she was learning the French language like magic. I had learned only a half-dozen words in several days, whilst she was soaking it up like a sponge. I was not any form of expert of medicine nor of the mind so I could do no more than guess, but I estimated that she now had a mental age of about twelve. She talked of things like a young girl of that age and learned things like a child does. In a way, it was sad to see her like that. However just to see her alive at all easily made up for it. She was alive and learning again. One day...
As the wheels of our cart rumbled over the dry ground, she chatted ceaselessly about the things around her - the birds, the vineyards, the trees. The merchant was amused, but also pleased that she had made an apparently amazing recovery although, not knowing English, he could not recognise her mental age.
We got to Nmes in the afternoon and, after the ostentatiousness of the Catholic buildings in Marseille and Arles, the city was a pleasant surprise. It seemed to be all Roman, including a massive Roman amphitheatre in the middle of the city which, due to shortage of both accommodation and money, had been converted into a block of slums. On top of the hill to the north-west was a high tower and the merchant indicated that from there, on a clear day, people could see almost all the coastline from Italy to Spain.
Nmes was a Protestant city. However, unlike England where Catholics and Protestants live side-by-side in the same village and town, here they were segregated. Although the country was Catholic by tradition, Protestants had their own cities, their own army, even their own laws and, as long as you stayed within the confines of the relevant city, you were safe.
One thing I did notice that was different in France. There were just the two extremes of religion - Catholicism with its huge buildings and garish pomp, and a Puritan type Protestantism with a down-to-earth and practical approach to worship. Although peace had been declared, it was an uneasy peace. Spain and Italy, either side of France, were irrefutably Catholic and continually putting pressure on the King of France to revert to a united, Catholic France. In nearby Germany, war seemed imminent between Catholics and Protestants. I somehow doubted whether France, slap bang in the middle of it all, could escape being drawn in.
The merchant stopped for business in the main market area and indicated that he would be about two hours so Sarah and I took the opportunity for a quick look around the city centre. Like Marseille and Arles, there were plenty of old buildings, well preserved in the dry climate. At the market, we bought a huge bag of mixed fruits just as the stalls were closing. Late peaches, chestnuts, olives and cherries. Sarah rubbed her hands together like a small child.
You like it here, dont you? I asked of her.
She nodded enthusiastically. Its warm, she said, standing in her light dress as the sun began to droop below the city wall.
It was a mirage, of course. The outward appearance was that of a young, healthy girl enjoying a stroll around the town. Unfortunately, I knew that the visible image she created was far from the truth. Certainly, the improvement so far had been nothing short of miraculous but I knew Sarah still had a long way to go before she would be completely well. The skin beneath her dress would yield a very different picture and her mind, though now able to think and control her frail body, was far from what it had been at Cricksee. I still had a lot of work to do before I could return Sarah to her adoring father and return myself to my patiently-waiting wife.

~~~~~~~







ESCAPE TO THE HILLS





There was a problem with Nmes which became obvious as soon as we arrived - it was far too big. What I urgently needed was a place where Sarah could be on her own, where she could lie undisturbed and soak up the sun. I also needed time alone with her to try to reach the saner parts of her mind because I felt that only when that had been accomplished could I return her to her home and family. As things stood that day, it looked as if we were going to be in France for the rest of our lives.
In some ways, we were reluctant to leave Nmes as it was the first time we had seen Protestantism in action entirely without interference from the oppressive Catholic Church. Against all the odds, the Huguenots survived. Certainly they were without financial support from the King, but industriousness had caught on like a fever and they were gradually becoming self-supporting. I learned that there were other Protestant towns that were smaller and not too far away; towns like Privas, Aubenas, Ganges, Le Vigan, Uzés and Alés to name but a few. These local communities were naturally proud of their established strongholds.
It turned out that the merchant would be spending two days in Nmes before pressing westward to Quissac, Ganges and Le Vigan. After that, he would go north through the mountains, then east to Privas where he would descend again to the Rhne to sail back to Marseille. It would be a tour of several months during which he would buy the best silks from these places to sell to foreign traders visiting Marseille. He said we could go with him as far as we liked and then stop when we found a place suitable. Sarah, in just those few days, had picked up an amazing amount of the language and could translate many of the difficult words between the merchant and myself.
I would watch her sitting and chatting with people like a child would. She had gained several pounds already in those few days since she started eating. She was by no means back to normal, but she no longer looked as if she would pass away at any moment.

~~~~~~~

WE hit the road again later that week. En route, we stayed overnight in the ancient town of Quissac, amid the Forest of Coutach, and then followed the river Vidourle almost to its source near St Hippolyte du Fort. The first part of the journey had been over rolling heathland and forest with an occasional protrusion to break up the landscape but, as we neared St Hippolyte, the mountains to the north began to get closer as we skirted the great limestone folds which marked the southern edge of the Massif Central. There were vineyards on many of the south-facing hillsides around the cities as men and women together worked hard towards their newly-found community spirit whilst in between the centres of civilisation were great stretches of forests. Following the line of the hills proved easier as the forests were thinner and we made good progress westwards along the edge of the hills. Soon, we dropped down into the valley of the River Hérault at Ganges and the countryside was getting mountainous. Although still relatively low, further journeying north would take us higher, where it could become colder and wetter. I dare not risk that for Sarahs sake. In view of this, I made enquiries in Ganges about the possibility of purchasing or renting of land.
I had to assure the people that we were Protestants and it was not easy in another language, but I felt that Sarah and the merchant, between them, managed somehow. We were informed that there was much land available a few miles to the north where the forest rose into the foothills of the mountains. A letter confirming this was given to us by the local Prefect, who signed it with a flourish. Loyal Protestants, he informed us, were warmly welcome anywhere within his jurisdiction.
I bought a horse in Ganges, and it trotted along behind the merchants cart as it wound its way up the valley of the Hérault. After a few miles, I decided it was time we found our own way. We thanked the merchant well, paid him a bonus for all his trouble and promised him that we would look out for him on his future trips to the area. As the sun lowered in the sky, he trotted off into the sunset on his little cart, waving and wishing us both “Bon Chance.
Suddenly, Sarah and I were alone. We stood by the roadside looking at the sunset and admiring the view. The wide valley of the Arré was on our left, the river cascading over its bed of schist and mica, but a smaller, less conspicuous, valley rose on our right where the sides were covered in trees. As I stood there, observing the great forest, I tried to remember what Old Tom had said about trees and, in the end, it was their fruit all over the ground which told me they were chestnuts. Thousands upon thousands of chestnut trees, as far as the eye could see.
Carefully, we forded the small stream and I looked at my skinny companion. Sarah, this is to be your home for a while so you must choose the direction, and the spot.
It was like giving a present to a child. The young woman stood on tiptoes and looked around then, after extensive consideration, she pointed up the little stream we had forded. How could I refuse?
Very well, I said as I hoisted her up onto our horse. You lead, I will follow.
I had chosen well in picking that particular horse because it sure-footedly followed the stream through the forest of trees up into the valley.
After an hour, it began to get dark so I helped Sarah to the ground and we lay out some blankets to sleep. As a precaution against marauding animals, I also lit a small fire and we sat either side of it, the light of the flames flickering on our faces while we made plans of our home in our minds.
A little kitchen, Sarah stated firmly; With a well outside, or a stream, I cant decide which. And a veranda, Ive always wanted a veranda and a garden. I want to grow flowers and plants.
I hadnt seen her so excited for a long time and I watched her closely as she rabbitted on. Even if she got no better mentally, this was a tremendous change from the lifeless soul I had brought on the ship from England. From now on, my life would be hers. I would devote my total energies to giving her whatever her body and soul needed, until she was well enough to be taken home to England.

~~~~~~~

IN the morning, I woke to the sounds of birds chattering in the trees against the background of the rushing stream. The water was fresh but cold as I splashed some onto my face and then took some back for the still-sleeping Sarah. Our horse whinnied slightly at my approach and I patted his nose affectionately. The horse was nothing compared with either Flash or Jet but it was a friendly old thing and our only means of transport just then. I looked across to where Sarah lay under her blanket, her bare feet sticking out of the bottom, now almost completely healed. The sun which peeked through the trees was warm again proving that Doctor Marsh had been right, she would never have survived in England. This was the place where recovery was possible.
Wake up, sleepyhead, I said eventually, kissing her soft cheek. Time to go find us a home.
She awoke slowly, not quite sure where she was. Then she remembered as I crouched beside her and shrank back from me. You wont beat me today, will you? Please dont hurt me.
I was startled. Beat her? Hurt her? Good grief, how could I do that? I reached out my hand to her. Have I ever hurt you, Sarah?
She thought for a while and then shook her head.
Then Im not going to start now, am I?
She shook her head again and took my hand as I helped her to sit up. We ate some salted beef we had bought in Ganges and drank water from the stream.
Where are we going? she asked as I packed their things together.
Wherever you choose, I replied with a smile.
Can we go up there? she asked, pointing to the hills.
We can go up a little if you like. But not too far, or youll get tired. I also wanted to keep where the sun was warmest.
When we had finished eating, I tied up our bedding and few belongings and gently lifted Sarah onto the horse. Following the stream, we climbed gradually through the trees, which seemed to go on forever.
I wonder if this river has a name, Sarah pondered as we stopped for a drink.
I doubt it. It looks as if we are the first people ever to set foot here.
We have two choices, she insisted.
I smiled. Go on.
We could call it the bendy valley or the river of trees.
Either would be appropriate. What would they be in French?
Vallée Courbière for bendy valley, she came straight out with as my mouth dropped open. Or Rau de LArboux.
I was flabbergasted at her knowledge of French and stood there, looking at her until she burst out laughing at the sight of my face. Jack. You do look funny.
I...Im just amazed.
Why? That I can speak French? Dont be silly. The men at Twigmoor spoke it all the time.
I felt as if I had been stabbed in the gut. I sat down and thought out the consequences of what she had just said. Guido had been Spanish and so had Carlos. Ben Leeming had come from somewhere in the East Riding and Old Tom had been from Lincolnshire. How was it that the new members of the gang had spoken French? Did they have relatives and friends who would know what I had done? Instinctively, I looked around us but nothing disturbed the peace and the trees were silent except for the sounds of the birds.
Jack, what is it? Sarah suddenly asked.
It...its nothing, I lied. Just thinking ahead.
So what do we call it?
The second one, I blustered. Roader Larboo, or whatever you called it.
Her fingers went to her face as she giggled at my lousy pronunciation and it must have been about then that I realised I was falling in love with her all over again.
Abruptly, to take my mind off her, I grabbed the reins of the horse and plunged into the undergrowth bordering the Arboux. I could not let it happen. I had a wife and daughter at home, patiently awaiting my return and I was determined not to betray the trust my loving Elizabeth had placed in me.
By midday, we had topped the first rise and the stream ahead flowed from around a large rock and then through a narrow defile. So narrow was it that it became more and more difficult and both of us, at times, were forced to walk in the water itself. I was on the point of giving up and turning back when the chasm opened up to reveal a high, pointed mountain in front of us with a wide, hollow valley at its base. Above the rock which Sarah named Rocher de Courbière, we rested for an hour and ate dry bread before climbing over the last lip into the high basin. As we topped the rise, Sarah put her hands to her face and cried with excitement. Her enthusiasm was infectious so I threw caution to the wind, plucked her from the horse and carried her the last few yards into a broad, flat clearing beside the stream.
It was beautiful. Totally sheltered by the mountain and lower hills all around us, there was no wind whatsoever. The sky was completely cloudless and the sun felt quite warm as it shone upon our faces.
Its like paradise, said Sarah excitedly and she was right.
Around the small clearing, chestnut trees covered the lower slopes of the hills and we could see sparser firs higher. Birds sang and flew round despite the fact that it was already well into Autumn and the trees were losing the last of their leaves in preparation for the winter.
Right then, young lady, wheres the house going to be?
Can I choose?
Of course. Youve got to do the housework so you can choose where it is to be.
A real house of my own?
I nodded and Sarah looked around and contemplated, her hands to her chin. She pointed to a flatter shelf a little way away where a view of the whole valley would be possible. There.
I put her down. You lead the way then. Where you stop, your house shall be.
I didnt know whether she would have the strength to make it to the spot of her delight, but I needed to find out just how strong her desire was. If her will could still overpower her body, another milestone will have been reached. Sarah pushed on through the trees with an enthusiasm and energy which left me behind and, finally, broke through the trees onto her ledge where a small waterfall brought two streams from the hills together beside a flat clearing, raised from the water. I finally caught up, puffing and blowing, and stopped to look around. This was the place. I looked back down the valley and was surprised to see that I couldnt locate the defile we had negotiated to get here and, upon reflection, that was probably a good thing. It would ensure our privacy and safety. The two of us were going to be here for quite a while and peace and quiet was all we could ask for. I sat down on the dry grass and rested while Sarah kicked off her shoes and sat with her feet in the stream. It was then that I saw the blood on the back of her silk dress. The physical exertion had been too much and I felt I might have been wrong to let her have her head. I watched her as she sat there, kicking water like a child, and concluded that she couldnt feel anything.
I stood up and went over to her. Sarah, stand up a minute.
Her eyes darkened and she looked suspicious. I smiled. I promise not to hurt you.
She considered, and then stood up and stepped over to me.
Sarah, will you do something for me?
She thought for a moment and then nodded.
You do know I will never do anything to hurt you, dont you? Nothing at all.
Another nod, smaller this time.
Sarah, I need to take your dress off. Will you let me?
Her arms instinctively encircled her thin body as she shook her head furiously.
Its very important. If you do, Ill build you a nice house right here.
Do you mean it? she asked, her face brightening a little.
I promise, I said.
She looked down and then raised her arms above her head. I hesitated. I couldnt do it because he was terrified at was I was going to find under that dress. She looked up at me and smiled. I had to do it for her sake. I couldnt let her die now. Slowly, I walked with her to the stream and we both stood in the water as I splashed the cool liquid onto her dress and allowed it to soak in. Then very, very carefully, I lifted it by the hem over her head then turned and vomited.
What a mess. She stood there and watched me as I was very ill indeed. It was too terrible to describe but, eventually, I forced himself to rinse down her body as she stood, immobile. Could she feel no pain?
Sarah, sit down here, please, I finally said, indicating a rounded rock beside the waterfall. She looked confused and couldnt understand all this as I turned her to where the sun could shine on her back and got up. Sit there for a while and think about where everything is going to be. Please dont move away unless I ask you. Will you do that?
She nodded, childlike.
My first task would be to build a temporary home. We could always start on a proper building later. I worked hard all the rest of the morning, gathering branches and twigs, until I had a rough shelter constructed. As the sun passed the mid point of the sky, I took a drink of water, some bread and salted beef, and went and sat with Sarah.
I want you to do something very important for me. Will you do it?
Pride filled her eyes. Something important?
Tomorrow, Im going to start building our house, right here where you said. What I want you to do is to come here each morning, where you can see me, and tell me where things must go. Can you do that?
Yes, Id like to do that. But cant I help?
Of course you can. When Ive built the walls, you will help me to put the things inside that we will need. I cant do that without you.
That look of pride again.
Until Ive built the walls and roof, the very best help you can give me is to sit right there and tell me if Im going wrong. Will you do that?
She looked very pleased at her privilege and nodded quietly. I had to get sunshine on her skin and quickly. If I had to, I would tie her down. That would cure her physically, but what about her mental state? I had to consider that, too.
Why do I need to undress for you? she asked.
So that the sun can shine on you. Is it nice, shining on you all warm?
She nodded.
The warm sun will make your skin better, youd like that, wouldnt you?
She looked at herself as if she had never done so before and slowly nodded again.
I promise I will not let anyone hurt you again, do you understand?
Those men who hurt me, will they come here? Her eyes suddenly looked afraid and she looked round as if she expected them to come leaping out of the trees.
I promise they will not be able to hurt you again. They...they are dead now.
She smiled. Im glad they are dead. Did you kill them?
Yes, Sarah. I did. With help from others.
Thank you, Jack. Im glad you killed them. Ill do what you say. Ill let you look at my body if you like. She giggled nervously.
Sarah. Youve got a very nice body. But right now, I want the sun to look at it and make it better. Ill look at it later, if you like, when weve built your house.
Will we live in this house together?
If you like. However, if youd rather be alone, Ill build my own house over there.
Grasping my hand, she gripped it firmly and pleaded, Please dont leave me, Jack. Please say you wont go.
Sarah. I sat and looked straight in her eyes, hoping to reach the deepest part of her soul. I will not leave you. I promise I will never go away. Is that all right?
She nodded and I then fell over backwards as Sarah leaned forward and kissed me.

~~~~~~~







La PLANQUE





Things went better than I could ever have dreamed. For the next month, I worked at chopping down some of the trees surrounding the clearing and constructing the shell and roof for our new home while Sarah soaked up the sun. After that first day, there were no inhibitions on her part. Each morning, she would make a small meal for us both and, over breakfast, we would decide what I was going to do that day. After that, she would stand under the waterfall till her dress soaked away from her skin, remove it and then spend the day sitting or lying in the sun. I was amazed at the weather - the sun shone every day. Every morning, I expected a change, but it never came for a long time. Sarahs health gradually improved and, soon, it was spring, and small flowers started creeping up everywhere. In the sunshine, she would roam around the valley and collect armfuls of flowers to put in a small jug on the rough table I had made. Nevertheless, we spent hardly any time at all inside the cabin as it was far more pleasant for to sit outside on Sarahs new veranda and listen to the birds.
By the end of March, Sarah had to get dressed as her skin had healed totally. Every day, she rubbed in some of the oil Doctor Merry had given me in Yaddlethorpe for when the skin was whole and, now, her skin was satin smooth. If I looked really closely, I could still see some of the scars made by the whip. Some of those marks were going to be with her for life but now, she was starting to gain an even, brown tan. In herself, Sarah did not seem to be at all disturbed at being naked with a man but I was and the time had now come to take temptation away. However, after all my earlier efforts to make her go without clothes, it took a long time for me to persuade her that she now needed them. Apart from loyalty to Elizabeth, I was not prepared to take the chance that I might touch Sarah in such a way that would bring back old memories and, as a result, her mind have a relapse. When she was ready in her own mind... Well, I would cross that bridge when I came to it.
During that spring, I also dug over a small patch of level ground at the rear of the house and Sarah now wanted something to plant but, unfortunately, we didnt have anything. We were also running out of salt beef and needed supplies so, reluctantly, I determined that we must brave civilisation once more.

~~~~~~~

WE reached a compromise about Sarahs dress in due course. Carefully, she cut off the long sleeves and then shortened the hemline so she could tuck her skirts into her belt for riding. At times, it still looked less than modest but it was an improvement. It was dressed in this new style that she assisted me as I got up one morning and saddled our horse in readiness to leave.
Jack, can we go that way? She pointed south-west to where a narrow pass made a dip in the hills opposite to where we stood. As it didnt look any worse than the way we had entered the valley, I agreed. Also, from there, we might get a good view of the valley in its entirety.
As we rode the horse up the long incline, we found there were no tracks, just open spaces under the great chestnuts. From time-to-time, we could see the pass ahead and so, keeping an eye on the sun for direction, we continued heading that way. I sat on the horse while Sarah sat behind me with her arms around my waist, her head on my back.
Isnt it beautiful here? she said quietly as we trotted along amidst the bird songs and buzzing of insects.
I assented.
What should we call our house?
I thought about it for a moment. How about “the hideaway?
La Planque, she offered.
La Planque?
Yes, silly. The hideaway.
Oh. I see. In French.
Well it wouldnt be in Italian, would it, not in France? She laughed at this and it was great to hear that laugh.
Jack. How old am I?
I was taken aback by this sudden self-interest. I calculated. Twenty-two, I think.
How old are you?
As you get older, you begin to lose count, my love. I think Im about twenty-seven.
Oh.
I didnt understand the significance of it all but it seemed to make Sarah happy and that is what I was there for.
We eventually topped the pass and a wonderful sight met our eyes. Far below us was a small town and the hill we were on seemed to drop straight down to the cluster of roofs and little yards a thousand feet below. A river weaved its way through the town and houses had been built along the banks and a short distance each side.
Sarah pointed. Where is that, Jack?
Well, if it was where the merchant was going after he left us, then I guess it must be Le Vigan.
Im excited, Jack.
Accurately, she had summed up the feelings of both of us as we negotiated a narrow track between the trees. Eventually, after much weaving along the face of that steep hill, we reached more level ground and approached the outskirts of the town. Pandemonium broke loose. People came out of houses to stare at us while others ran about to fetch still others to gaze and point as Sarah sat upright and waved, shouting “Bonjour to all and sundry.
It was as we neared the centre of the town that I noticed we were being followed by a great crowd and, as we reached the market square, we found ourselves surrounded by chattering people. Through the amassed throng pushed two soldiers who shouted at the crowds to disperse and, by their gesticulations, made it quite clear that they wanted us to go with them. Following behind, we were led to a large building overlooking one corner of the square and, after I had helped Sarah from the horse, we were escorted inside.
After the suns heat in the square, it was remarkably cool inside as we followed the two soldiers down a passage until one stopped, straightened his uniform and knocked on a door.
Entrez! came the muffled reply from within and the two of us were shown into a large room with what seemed to be an even larger desk with, impossible I know, an even larger man behind it.
Venez-ici he called, indicating a spot in front of his desk.
Tentatively, Sarah and I walked forward to the place he had indicated and he stared at us for a long time over some papers he held in his hands.
Qui êtes vous? he demanded to know.
Nous sommes vos amis, Monsieur, rattled off the beautiful girl by my side. Je mappelle Sarah et mon ami sappelle Jack.
I hoped she knew what she was saying with all this French speaking. It sounded a bit like an introduction, but I wasnt absolutely sure.
Jacques? The big man frowned. Est-ce-que vous-êtes des Catholiques?
Non, Monsieur, Sarah replied vehemently. Nous ne sommes pas des Catholiques.
At the word “Catholic she banged her fist, hard, upon his desk, raising a cloud of dust and scattering papers. Her anger startled both myself and the Administrateur. I had never seen such violent feelings in the girl before. The soldier on our left stepped forward, his sword half drawn but the Administrateur raised his hand. Sarah continued to spit words at him for several minutes while he appeared to recoil from the ferocity until, eventually, she gripped the top of her dress and ripped it open, buttons popping everywhere. The room fell silent as the Administrateur put down his papers, stood up and came around to our side of the desk. He looked carefully at her exposed front and reached out and almost touched the scars which criss-crossed her small, rounded breasts and stomach.
Satisfied, he dismissed the soldiers and sat down, indicating that Sarah should cover herself before someone got strange ideas. At this, Sarah turned to me and asked for the letter from the Prefect in Ganges.
Voila, Monsieur, she said as she passed it on with a flourish. Regardez la!
He read it through slowly before handing it back to me. So. You are English, no?
Yes, Monsieur. But we have been here for six months.
Six months, he repeated, translating my words in his mind. Where are you... how you say it?... residing?
Nous avons une maison, Monsieur, interrupted Sarah. En les montagnes dix kilometres au nord.
So, he obviously thought, they have a house in the hills six miles to the north of Le Vigan. What about the Bandits, Monsieur?
A sudden shock ran through my whole body. Bandits? Wh... what bandits? We have seen no bandits.
In the hills, he assured us. They rob and plunder. Les Catholiques, he spat in disgust. His manner seemed to indicate “you should expect nothing else from Catholics. You would be better off here, in the town. It is very dangerous in the hills, Monsieur.
But we have built our own house, Monsieur, and we are prepared to defend it.
Sarah translated the odd word or two he hadnt understood and, eventually, he shrugged as if to say “its your life, mate, and wrote a letter confirming our residency and handed it to me. How will you work, Monsieur?
I hadnt thought about work, but I guessed it was time I started. Someone who appeared to have enough money so as not to have to work for a living would be bound to attract the wrong kind of attention. What do you suggest, Monsieur? I know horses and farming. That is all.
The official pondered for a while. There is little call for horses here, Monsieur, especially in the hills. We are a poor people and a horse is a luxury. What do you know about chestnuts?
I thought of the trees around our new home. Very little. But we have plenty in the valley.
Then you must preserve them and harvest them in the autumn. There are a few in the town where they can be defended easily but, if you insist in living isolated in the hills, you must reap a harvest from that danger.
What should we do?
When you have collected many, bring them to market, here in Le Vigan, and they will fetch a good price. If you have room, you might also consider vines, peaches, strawberries or cherries for the terraces. These are more common near the town but they will give you good food, yes?
Sarah had to translate some of what he said but I got the message and thanked him for his help.
He stood up to shake hands. Bienvenue, Monsieur.
He said “welcome to Le Vigan, Jack, Sarah translated and laughed before turning to the Administrateur. Merci, Monsieur. Au revoir.
We left to go back into the sunshine. I had always loved the sun since being a child and I never would have thought there would be a time when I would prefer to stand in the shade. It was very hot outside as we left the building to be greeted by most of the town. It seemed that the very fact we had walked out again in one piece told the locals what they wanted to know. Sarah and I were friends, not Catholics.
They followed us to the market, where we bought provisions and some implements for the home. Then, the people followed us to the river where we sat in the shade and ate bread with our feet in the waters of the Arré, admiring the five centuries old stone bridge which spanned the water. As we sat and ate, the curious onlookers gradually dispersed until we were alone.
Jack, Sarah said quietly. Will you buy me something?
Of course, dear. What is it that you want?
I want a sword.
In his surprise, I dropped the bread I was eating and the ants were on it in a flash. A sword?
Yes, Jack. I want a sword, and I want to be able to use it like you. I want some powder and shot for our pistol, I want a dagger and I want some clothes.
Sarah looked straight at me and was clearly very serious. Id better humour her, I thought. Very well, you shall have what you need.
Though the sun was shining brightly in the sky, it was eclipsed by her smile.
When we had finished eating, we went back to the market place and bought what she wanted. A sword like those used by the soldiers, a dagger to fit her belt and clothes for horse riding. The powder and shot was a bit more difficult. I tried to purchase some from several locations but I began to think that the traders were suspicious of my motives.
Wait here, Sarah suddenly said, and disappeared. Literally. One moment she was beside me, the next shed gone between some market traders and vanished. Ten minutes and she was back, smiling. I darent ask how shed done it, but she had obtained her powder and shot.
We waved as we left the town later and got a few waves back. It looked as though we were going to be trading there regularly. As we rode back up towards the Col des Mourezes, I took to heart what the Administrateur had said about crops and planned how to set to in the best way I knew. That afternoon and thereafter, I began to thin out about an acre of forest so that the sun could spread the leaves and ripen the crop. In addition, I dug an irrigation channel from above the waterfall so the stream could flow to the top of our garden plot and keep the schistose soil moist.
By the time summer had arrived with a vengeance, Sarah had planted the entire garden with vegetables and the borders with flowers. It was too late for a large crop this year, but next year...
So it was that by the last week in September, I looked like Samson, Sarah looked as brown as a berry, the house was tidy and furnished well, the garden sprouted with late vegetables and I had a huge crop of chestnuts ready to take to market.
That was the week the bandits came.

~~~~~~~







BANDITS





The problem was, I had grown careless. During the first couple of weeks after the warning from the Administrateur, I had carried my sword with me everywhere I went and had taught Sarah about as much as she could take. In a fight, she would stand no at all chance against a trained soldier but she was nimble on her feet and as tough as old boots which made up for some of her lack of skill. The pistol, we tended to keep at the ready but had not yet had opportunity to use it. I dared not practice shooting in the valley for fear of the attention it might attract. In spite of all those precautions, the attention had arrived.
They came in the late afternoon, three of them on horseback, spurring their horses down the incline and stopping with a cloud of dust a few feet in front of where I was felling some trees. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, I stood leaning on my axe handle, while they sat on their horses looking down at me.
Quest-ce-que vous-faisiez ici? the leader finally asked.
I hadnt the faintest idea and shrugged indicating that I couldnt understand a word.
Est-ce-que vous-comprenez le Francais, Monsieur?
It sounded as if they were asking if I had understood so I shook my head. One, I would have unhorsed easily. Two, I might have struggled with. But with all three, spaced out as they were, I knew I would have no chance at all. I shrugged and indicated our house. If I could just get close enough to get to my sword I might even things up a bit. They looked in the direction of the wooden cabin and then had a brief conversation together while I turned and casually walked toward it. They hesitated, but then followed a few yards behind me.
As I got to the edge of the veranda, Sarah came out and stood in the doorway with a broad smile on her face. Bonjour, Messieurs. Comment allez-vous?
This was a surprise to them. When they went out pillaging, people usually ran and hid, they didnt come out and ask about the state of their health. One of the men stared at Sarah for a moment and then broke into rapid conversation with his colleague while the leader looked suspicious and leaned forward in his saddle.
Sarah was no fool and her hand was very quick. The scabbard flew to me fast and low and I caught it and drew my sword in one swift action.
All was still for a long time. Sarah, standing in the doorway with her hands behind her back, the smile still on her face. Me, sword in hand, confronting them. They, shocked into immobility.
They could have turned and left. If they had, they would have lived. However, the leader suddenly drew his sword and nudged his horse forward, raising his arm high above his head. He had the advantage of height but, as I raised my own weapon to parry, the mans thrust went wide and he pitched headlong from his horse.
A flintlock pistol has a very short range. When the trigger is pulled, a spark is created from a piece of flint which ignites a little powder in a small pan. The main charge, previously compressed into the breech, is then exploded, causing an iron ball to be expelled from the end of the barrel at high speed. Its accuracy is limited but, at a distance of ten feet, it has no match. This particular hot ball struck the bandit leader just above his mouth and he was dead before he hit the ground.
The men gaped at Sarah as she lay down the smoking pistol and, before the other two could respond, I was alongside the second rider. Jumping at him from the veranda, I knocked the bandit clean from his horse and we both crashed to the ground, writhing in the dust. The man was badly winded as I leapt to my feet and grabbed his arm, which still held his sword. I twisted and was gratified to hear the scream of pain as the elbow snapped.
The other rider saw his chance, propelled his horse forward and charged straight at me. I didnt know Frenchmen well but I did know horses and I was certain they would not trample a human on the ground. As it reached me, I crouched down and, as the horse reared to leap my back, its riders aim went wide.
Leaping to my feet after him, I thrust upward at the mans stomach and the sword entered under his rib cage, emphasised by the downward movement of his body on the horse and the man fell writhing to the ground. I turned at the sound of a thud and a cry and saw Sarah, standing with her feet either side of the bandit with the broken arm, two-handedly hacking at him with her new sword.
Stop! I shouted. Sarah, thats not needed, hes injured.
The man tried to wriggle away, but couldnt and, by the time I had reached her, Sarah had stabbed down viciously into his face and body a number of times and he lay very still. When she looked up at me, her eyes seemed glazed over and black with hate.
I stopped in my tracks, fighting for words. Sarah, why?
I was appaled at her bloodthirstiness. Shooting the leader in self-defence was one thing, but brutally stabbing an injured man was another.
She casually wiped her bloodied sword on the dead mans coat and, without looking at me again, said simply: He was a Catholic. That one fact, in her mind, obviously justified her actions.
I looked around. Three men lay dead and their horses stood nearby, pulling at the grass as if this was all part of a normal days work. Sarah was already inside, reloading the pistol, so I wiped the sweat from my brow and resheathed my sword. Flies were already beginning to collect around the bodies and I was worried that the sound of the shot might bring others. I had no idea just how many bandits there were likely to be. How soon before they would be missed? How many more might now attack?
Quickly, I collected the horses together and tied them up with our own mount at the rear of the house. Everything seemed so peaceful. The flies buzzed and the birds were singing again.
I had a choice, I could either take the bodies to town or bury them here in the valley. Undecided, I dragged them from in front of the house into the undergrowth while I thought about it some more.
All afternoon, we watched and waited, expecting others to come at any moment but, eventually, evening fell and no-one had come so Sarah prepared a meal for us both and we sat down. I could not face food, so Sarah ate both meals.
I was disgusted. Sarah, how can you eat?
Easy, she replied as she shovelled the food down. Watch me.
I know youve been very badly treated by one group of Catholics and a second group has attacked to steal our produce and maybe kill us but that doesnt mean all Catholics are thieves and murderers.
Doesnt it? she said off-handedly.
Of course not. Why, even your own father and brothers are Catholics.
She shrugged and continued eating.
The mental scars must be very deep, I thought. To Sarah all Catholics were bad and only fit for destruction. I, too had been badly treated by Catholics but some Protestants I had met had been little better. However, I doubted if such logic would have had any effect on Sarah right then. I just hoped it would wear off before it killed her.

~~~~~~~

THE next morning, I was more than a little surprised to find that we were still in one piece. No bandits had struck during the night and no ghosts of the fallen men had come to haunt us. I decided that the honest thing would be to take the bodies of the men to Le Vigan. I wasnt sure why I wanted to do that but just felt it was the right thing to do and so loaded the bodies onto the horses and got ready to leave.
Sarah refused to go. Theyll not come here again. And if they do, Ill kill them too. She really meant it. She was prepared to stay there alone and defend our home single-handedly.
Sarah, I need you to come, I reasoned, determined she should not stay there alone. How can I explain to the Administrateur what has happened?
This seemed to make sense to her. It was not the only reason why I wanted her to accompany me but she was convinced enough by the motive I had given.
We will take some of the chestnuts in with us too. It is not market day, but someone may be interested to buy or to sell them for us.
Finally, she agreed. I knew she had to go. If she stayed behind and other bandits caught her? If they killed her? Or worse, what if they raped and beat her like before? What would that do to her mind? I couldnt bear the thought.
We left at late morning and rode to Le Vigan and a great murmur went through the crowd as we towed our grisly cargo through the streets to the Hotel de Ville. Dismounting outside, Sarah spoke to the soldiers who took charge of the bodies as we filled out a report for the Administrateur who was apprehensive of the trouble it might bring. I tried to explain that we had had no alternative and the official agreed. He wasnt interested in taking justice against us personally, but he was worried about retribution from the rest of the bandits when they eventually found out what had happened to their comrades.
For the sake of our health, he tried to persuade us to stay in Le Vigan, but I could see no point. Our home was La Planque and we must get back there to care for the rest of the crop. Consequently, the Administrateur reluctantly wished us well and we left for home. To help out, he insisted that we take one of the dead mens horses in addition to our own whereas the other two would be sold to pay for the burial. That seemed fair. One of the townspeople bought our crop from us. We didnt get quite as much as we might have done at market, but I was satisfied with the price.
Chestnuts were part of the staple diet of southern France. The locals make chestnut soup, chestnut porridge and crystallised chestnuts. The timber is used for building as we had done with our house and saplings were made into barrel staves. Quite an industry when the bandits let you get on with it. If there were no bandits...
As we left Le Vigan together, I thought about what we should do as I knew that, if I let them, the bandits would keep coming and one day would catch us unprepared again. By Sarahs quickness of action, she had saved the day once but I could not guarantee this would always be the case. The only way I could see to defeat them was to attack them and drive them away. I had no idea where they were based nor how to go about it but I knew I had to try.
We topped the rise as the late afternoon sun began to drop toward the Montagne de Lingas in the west. It was certainly quicker with two horses and Sarah now rode beside me in her leather shirt, breeches and boots, her sword at her side, her pistol tucked into her belt. She looked like a mercenary soldier in that outfit and her whole being seemed to have a sense of purpose about it. Her childish ways had vanished as quickly as they had come. Somehow, Sarah seemed to have been transformed from a young girl into something more like a man.
The view from the pass was superb. On our left was the pointed peak of Serre de Poulon. When we had arrived the previous winter, there had been snow on the top though none had reached down to valley level. On our right was the Serre de Rouas, a long range of hills which appeared like a plateau from where we were. In front of us was - SMOKE!
We saw it together and drew to a standstill. Down there in the valley, there was only one house, only one place from which smoke could come. Our home.
Sarah acted first. She dug her heels in and her horse plunged into the undergrowth and, without a care, she galloped recklessly down the hill through the trees. I was a little more cautious and arrived a minute after her as she stood in the garden, holding the reins of her horse, staring down at the pile of ashes that had been our home. She did not cry as I expected she might. She said not a word so I dismounted and placed my arm around her shoulders. She shrugged it off and confronted me.
I told you I should have stayed she accused spitefully. Now look what you let them do, you and your high and mighty ideals of justice. They burned down my house, the bastards.
I recoiled a little, then said gently: It was my house too, you know.
The look she gave me was as cold as ice and I felt a shiver go right up my spine. The girl is mad, I thought.
Sarah turned toward her horse but I held on to her arm. No, Sarah. Not like this, theyll be ready for us. We must plan a better way.
I dont care if they are ready. Im going to kill them all.
No, I said as she fought with my grip on her arm. I wont let you.
Her eyes were wide and staring as she ushered up considerable strength, broke free from my grip, drew her sword and rushed at me. I was rooted to the spot for what seemed like an age until she slashed out at me and I only just side-stepped in time to miss a vicious swipe which would have parted more than my hair had it connected.
Sarah, stop, I pleaded. Its me, Jack.
Ignoring me, she unexpectedly backhanded and caught me across the chest. Fortunately, my leather sword sash took most of the force but I went down nevertheless, with blood all over my shirt. I did not feel pain as I hit the ground, only disappointment. Sarah was totally out of control of her own actions as her boot smashed me on the side of my head causing my senses to swim. Vaguely, I saw her through the mist in my brain as her shape seemed to tower above me, her sword raised dagger-like as she had stood over the bandit. I did not have the will to go on. This crazy girl was determined to kill us both. Better to die like this than some other way. The stabbing blade had already started its downward journey towards my exposed chest when she stopped, wide-eyed in terror.
Jack. Jack. What have I done? she looked aghast at my bloody shirt and then at the sword in her hand. She threw it away from her as far as she could and sat down on me. As my brain began to re-assemble itself inside my head, my mind went back to the last time Sarah had attacked me at Asheldham, behind Smiths barn, when she had tried her very best to seduce me with her long, ivory legs.
This time, I just lay still as she carefully peeled back my shirt and cleaned the wound with its tail which she had torn off. The cut was not deep but it bled profusely. Gradually, as she ministered to me, the bleeding stopped and we both lay back on the warm ground, totally exhausted.
She rolled her head to face me. Jack, what can I say?
Painfully, I propped myself up on one elbow and looked down at her face, inches from mine. Nothing. Just rest, youll feel better soon.
But what are we going to do? Her eyes were wide and innocent. I know what I would have liked to have done just then but I rejected the notion with considerable self-control.
Well get our revenge, I promised instead. But we must tread very carefully. We dont even know how many bandits there are. There could be hundreds.
I acted very stupidly. You were right, of course. You always were.
Was I? How do you know? Was the rest of her memory returning.
I remember that you were always very kind to me but I dont remember why. Did you love me?
I smiled. I did and still do.
No. I mean really love me - with your body? The skin of her face was soft, her lips just open and inviting.
Yes. I did. Dont you remember?
Her memory seemed to come and go as disjointed recollections began to reform a pattern. She frowned with concentration. Was it by a fire?
Yes. Did you like it?
The frown cleared from her face. I have a warm feeling about it so I think I must have done. What happened?
Dare I risk this? You had a baby.
Did I? No negative reaction this time. What happened to our baby, Jack?
Elizabeth is looking after it. Dont you remember?
Oh yes, she sighed sadly, staring up at the sky. Elizabeths baby.
Carrie is not a baby any more, Sarah. Shell be a big girl now. Shell be... I calculated quickly. Shell be five years old by now.
She looked back at me. One day, will I have another baby?
Of course you will, when you are completely well.
Am I ill, Jack? she asked quietly.
Not ill any more. Just a little confused at times.
I nearly killed you. Why did I want to do that?
Because you are confused. A lot of things have happened to you, some of them very bad things. But now they are finished and its time for good things to start happening. The best thing that can happen now is that you get well.
Do you mean that?
Yes, Sarah. Of course I do. Its very important to me that you get well. Nothing is more important to me now, nothing at all.
Sarah lay like a child in the fading light, looking up at me with those big, brown eyes. Its a good job I cant see the legs.

~~~~~~~







RESTRIBUTION OR RESTITUTION





I dont think I slept a wink that night. It wasnt so much that I expected the bandits to return, their deadly work now completed, but I was simply taking no chances with Sarah. The warm-blooded beauty in question had curled up next to me as darkness had fallen and had slept the sleep of the innocent. It gave me a chance to reflect on the past and how it could affect the future. Some of Ben Leemings gang had been French, had they? What did that mean? The Cardinal had been exiled to France. Was he still up to no good, despite the fact that King James had authorised free use of the Bible? What did this churchman hope to accomplish? And where was he now?
The more I thought about it, the more resolute I became in my determination. I could not get the better of the Cardinal, not in battle, anyway. I had beaten him once before by hitting him in the pocket where it seemed to hurt him the most. Perhaps war was not the answer, after all. I looked down at Sarah, laying in my arms as the suns first tinges touched the sky over the ragged Pic du Midi, and thought of what was best for her. As the sun rose, I made up my mind.
Her long eyelashes lay on her suntanned cheeks as I gently kissed her forehead and she stirred, stretching her arms high above her head, smiling up at my face.
Sarah, I said kindly. Im going now to find the bandits. Do you want to come or wait here? There was no way that I was going to leave her behind but I suspected that at least giving her the choice would help.
Im coming, of course, she said and, jumping to her feet, she started looking for where she had thrown her sword. Finding it, she stood at the ready, sleep still in her eyes and her hair all over the place. I laughed.
What are you laughing at? she demanded to know, standing with her hands on her hips.
Its you, my darling, you do look a mess. You look as if you spent the night in the woods with some wild animal.
A sly smile touched her lips. I did, didnt I?
I laughed aloud. This was the old Sarah.
Ive been thinking, I said eventually. Early in the morning might be a good time to attack their camp. They will not be expecting it then.
She rubbed her hands with glee. No, they wont, will they?
Id like your help, if you feel up to it.
Just lead the way, Im ready.
After making a few preparations and discussing my plan, we climbed onto our horses and rode clear of the trees. In spite of the dryness, we could see the tracks easily in the soft soil as we climbed higher and higher till we were almost to the top of the mountain. There, we turned northwards and then east along a steep ridge before dropping over a wide pass towards the next valley. The sun had risen before we cleared the pass and looked down on a small village below, nestled in the trees around a fork in the river. It was a beautiful spot and, had we not come for a very specific purpose, we could easily have spent a long time admiring the view. The track seemed to lead straight through the trees towards the village and, as we reached the outskirts, there was no sign of activity except for some chickens in the dusty lane and a skinny black pig behind a small barn. Suspecting some kind of a trap, I decided to circle the village and approach from the west, down one of the stream beds, but as we got closer, we heard a strange sound. It echoed from the trees and seemed almost eerie in that deserted village as our horses walked past the outer cottages alongside a low waterfall. It was a quite a while before I recognised the sound and suddenly realised what it was all about. It was Sunday and the whole village was in the church, singing.
Lets burn down the church with them in it, Sarah gleefully whispered as we rode into the village square.
I was getting worried about this girl. We might have come with the intention of bringing to justice some or all of them but not while they were singing. Somehow, it didnt seem right. Quietly, we rode right to the door and I dismounted, indicating to Sarah that she should wait outside. Nodding, she produced her pistol and cocked it ready while I went to my saddlebag and removed the small powder barrel. Placing a very short fuse into the corked end, I put it under my arm.
With a farewell smile to my faithful companion, I then took a lighted candle from the porchway and pushed open the church door. With my heart in my mouth, I walked inside and strode right up the aisle towards the altar. As I passed each row of pews, the singing faltered and gradually stopped. The priest looked up from his hymn book and stared defiantly at me.
I stopped right in front of him. Father, do you speak English?
Yes, my son, the clergyman replied with hardly an accent. I am Father LeClerc. What is so important that it brings you here today to disturb my service?
All in due course, Father. First of all, will you please tell your flock that if anyone tries to leave they will be shot.
The preachers eyes opened wide. Here? At church?
I nodded. Here, at church.
The cold eyes looked at me with a kind of disbelief before speaking some words to the congregation, the members of which muttered among themselves for quite a time before the noise died down. Why are you here, my son?
I am here because in your congregation there are thieves and murderers.
But surely you are in the wrong place because the murderers are in the next valley. Some innocent farmers went there yesterday and havent returned.
Father, I dont doubt your own honesty but I am from the next valley and those innocent farmers of whom you speak attacked myself and my woman in an attempt to steal our crops.
He paused a while before asking: Where are they now?
I shrugged. They are dead.
He looked genuinely sad. Did you kill them, my son?
I killed one, my woman killed the other two.
His head came up sharply and his eyes went wide, his lips moving silently for a moment before he spoke. Your... your woman killed two of our men?
It is a long story, father, one which began in England when she was raped and almost killed by a gang of Catholic mercenaries. We came to France so that she could recover her health and then, in her own house, she is attacked once more. Why should she not kill to save her honour and her life?
Is that why our men were killed? he asked quietly.
They were killed purely in self-defence. I swear to God.
The clergyman nodded. I believe you, my son. What have you done with their bodies?
They have been taken into Le Vigan for a proper Christian burial.
I thank you for that. He paused again. Why have you come here today?
Some more men from this village came to our home last night and burned it down. I have come to punish those men. I placed my barrel upon the altar. Where are they, father?
Father LeClerc looked at the barrel and the candle which I held close to the fuse. You would kill in church?
If the men responsible do not come forward immediately, I will destroy this church and all who are in it.
Why would you do such a thing and die yourself?
To stop them killing any more. To finally put an end to the pillaging.
The priest hesitated, looked again at the barrel and candle and spoke loudly to the congregation. One man ran for the door. As he reached it, a shot rang out and one of the wooden panels disintegrated in his face. The priest looked at me in horror.
I smiled. I really did mean it, Father.
He looked towards the splintered hole in the door. Is it your woman outside, the one who was attacked?
It is.
He sighed and crossed himself. God help us all.
I doubt it, Father. I doubt that very much.
Do you intend to go through with this mass killing?
If justice is not done? Certainly I do.
Father LeClerc paused then spoke again to the congregation. There was a silence of several minutes before he shouted a few words again. One man stepped forward, his cap in his hand. Another joined him and then another. The priest looked mortified. I had no idea.
No? For years, you priests have preached that all Protestants are wrong. You have repeatedly told these people that Catholics are blessed by God to carry out acts of violence and hatred. These men may have done the actual deed, but YOU are responsible for their actions. You are just as guilty as they are.
His eyes flicked again at the candle in my hand and the mass death it represented. He looked at the floor. What can I do to make restitution?
I want our house rebuilt, our crops replanted and I want no more stealing and plundering from this village again, by anyone. Do you understand?
He nodded. I understand.
Swear it, I insisted.
The priest looked up sharply. Do you not trust my word?
No, I said, perhaps a little unkindly.
He gave in. I swear it.
Tell these men to swear it.
He spoke to them in French but the leader shook his head defiantly. I lit the fuse. The priest screamed at them and grabbed the leader by the collar. He was a huge man, but that priest shook him until he agreed.
Tell him to swear by the Holy Virgin.
The priest spoke and the man nodded and swore.
And the others. Same again. The fuse was very short. I looked over the congregation who were whipped and they knew it. I snatched out the fuse.
The priest stared straight into my eyes. You must hate Catholics very much.
I smiled. Not at all, Father. Some of my best friends are Catholics. In England, I own a large farm and many stables. I live in a Puritan house with a Puritan wife and child but my Estate Manager and his sons are all Catholic. While I am here, in France, I trust them implicitly with my family and my farm. What I do hate is the fighting, the stealing and, most of all, the religious intolerance fostered in places such as this.
And what of your woman?
That is the worst part of all. My woman is a close friend of both my wife and myself. She is the daughter of my Estate Manager.
He looked horrified. Then she is...
Catholic? Yes, Father.
Then...
Then nothing. Then why was she raped by Catholic fanatics? Why did they beat her almost to death? Why did they flog her till her blood ran red? Why, father, why?
The priest didnt answer for a long time and not a sound disturbed the silence. He finally spoke. You must love this woman very much.
Yes, Father. I do love her very much indeed. I turned to go but Sarah was standing right behind me. I pulled her forward gently, my arms around her shoulders in front of me.
But, said the priest, devastated. She is hardly more than a child.
Yes, father. A child who will remain a child in her mind for the rest of her life because of what Catholics have done to her. Now can you begin to understand why I feel so bitter?
The priest stood silent for a long time. You will have no more trouble from the men of this village. They will come tomorrow and start to rebuild your home and garden. When they have finished, you will see them no more.
No, Father.
No? He looked dismayed.
No. They will do the things of which you have spoken, but in addition to that they will visit us as friends. They will come to eat with us and trade with us. I notice the poverty here. That is why they have to steal, isnt it? Tomorrow, I will show them a way to work so as to earn money instead of having to steal.
You, a Protestant, would do this for us? he whispered hoarsely.
Of course. Is that not what you want?
Naturally, but...
But what, Father? Is not prosperity better that religious hatred? Is that not what the Lord taught us?
You are right, my son. It shall be as you have spoken. He looked straight at me. I swear it.
I looked at him long and hard then turned and left with Sarah, taking my empty powder barrel with me.

~~~~~~~


THE men arrived the next day as promised - twenty of them. They rebuilt the house, they straightened the garden, they cut down wood to replace that which had been burned and, when they had finished, I told them, through Sarah, that if they came back the following day, I would give them work and wages. They were highly suspicious of my motives but they did it. They turned up for work and I had them thin out the forest all along the northern terraces. Over the next few weeks, they cleared a trackway to the pass overlooking Le Vigan and then cleared the course of the stream down the valley to Le Rey, the place where we had said our goodbyes to the merchant the previous year. Working from dawn to dusk, they also cleared a better track between our two villages. In fact, they worked for more than a month and I paid them well. Now, the people of that village would be able to buy grain and food for the winter. I told them to do the same in their own valley and then, in the spring, I would teach them to make money for themselves.
I smiled as I watched them disappear over the hill as the sun touched the top of Serre de Roulon and Sarah came out onto the veranda and slipped her arm through mine. You have made some good friends, there. But will the people of the area buy their chestnuts and timber?
The sun fell below the peak of the mountain. I very much doubt it.
Then why...?
I turned to face her. Part two of my plan to avoid having to work for a living. You see, they will bring their crops to me and I will sell on for them in Le Vigan and Ganges. Thats why there is now a track for logs from their valley to ours and then from here to the main towns.
She smiled and held me tight. You are clever, Mr Bosvile.
I placed my arms around my brothers widow. Naturally, Mrs Bosvile.
We both laughed. Sarah snuggled up to me. When we were in that church, did you mean what you said?
About blowing it up? Of course not, I didnt have any powder.
She looked up at me. No. About me, I mean.
I avoided the issue. What about you?
About loving me.
Oh, no. Thats not true either. It was just a trick so youd come here and live with me.
Beast, she said with a glint in her eye.
Of course I love you. What makes you doubt it?
Well, you havent... loved me.
I wasnt sure whether you were well enough.
How do you know till you try?
Youre right of course. One day soon, I promise. I will love you properly and you will give me a baby.
It would almost certainly never happen, I thought, but I had found that arguing with Sarah didnt help at all. She was far more amicable when I went out of my way to please her and say the words she most wanted to hear.
Id like that, she said at the thought of having another child. Its lovely here, isnt it?
Yes. Its like paradise. Why cant it be like this everywhere? Why do we have to fight about anything and everything?
Sarah shrugged. Because we are human, I suppose. It will never be different.
Then its time we started making it different, I suggested boldly. Make love, not war.
Sarah smiled cheekily. Yes, please.

~~~~~~~









WAR





It had been quite sad, we thought when we later looked back on it. Protestants in France had been unable to get employment and a fair deal from the Catholic government, so they had built their own cities and towns so they could trade and survive amongst themselves. Where these Protestant communities had flourished, small pockets of Catholics were left remaining and these, in turn, had been left out on a limb to fend for themselves or turn to stealing as the people of La Vallette had done. They had been entirely cut off by Protestant communities so that they had no-one with which to trade. Now, things had changed. Our neighbours could work hard and sell either their labour or their produce to me who, in turn, would trade with the Protestants as if it was all my own produce. It was a confidence trick of sorts but it had only needed a catalyst to work and, as I was that catalyst, it began to work very well. It took a while to perfect but, in the end, we had a good working arrangement. As long as we were all allowed to forget the outside world and its conflicts, things ran peacefully. But how long would we be left alone before someone suspected what was going on and tried to put a stop to it?
Sarah got a surprise one afternoon. I had just finished laying out some chestnut trunks ready to haul to La Rey for transportation by river to Ganges, when I heard the sound of bells. Not church bells but a small tinkle of bells. I looked for the source as Sarah came out of the house, wiping her hands on her apron. Down the grassy slope came two children leading a flock of five animals. As they got to the house, they spoke to Sarah who smiled, kissed them both and led them inside for a drink while I scratched my head and followed along.
Jack, said Sarah as I entered behind them. Meet Michelle and Giles.
I nodded to the children who smiled.
They have brought us presents.
What? Those smelly things out there?
Those “smelly things out there are goats and they will provide us with milk. It seems that I have been invited to go to La Vallette tomorrow to learn how to make goats cheese - Fromage du chèvre.
I pulled a face. Sounds disgusting.
Sit down, Sarah commanded and I sat obediently. Open wide.
I consented and ate a small amount they had brought to taste. The children fell about laughing at my face and the change it had gone through. I smiled. Children should laugh like that more often.
Jack, said Sarah after the youngsters had been given cakes and then packed off home. Do you want to go back to England?
Sometimes, I admitted. I do have a wife and daughter there. One day, I must return to look after them.
I dont want to go back.
But what about your father and brothers? Dont you want to see them again?
One day, perhaps. But not now, not when we are so happy here.
Are you happy? Really happy?
Of course, arent you?
Most of the time. It seems so peaceful at the moment but I keep on wondering how long it will last.
Have you heard news?
Only what the merchant told us last week. I cant help thinking he is right.
You mean about war being imminent?
You heard what he said. In Avignon, they are putting strong pressure on the King to disband the Protestant cities and force the people to become Catholics again. They want a united France at any cost.
And for that, they would make war? Just over religion?
Sarah, do you yet not understand? Religion has nothing to do with it at all.
She looked confused. But you said...
I said that the Catholics want the Protestant cities disbanded, but not for religion. Its not converts they are after.
Then what is it?
Money.
Money?
Yes, money. And power, of course - the two are never very far apart. Like in most other European countries, the French government exists only from taxes gathered from loyal Catholics all over France. I say they exist, they are struggling really. Since the Protestant townships have been established, money from these towns has not been sent to Paris but has been recycled internally.
How does that affect us here?
Great industriousness has flourished in the South and the Protestant towns have prospered. Silk and other goods produced around here are in demand all over the world.
So why does the government want to end it?
Because the Catholic government wants this wealth for themselves. They have sat idly by, squandering money on King and Court whilst the Huguenots set to and got on with it.
But why cant it work everywhere?
Prejudice, mainly. The hatred between Catholics and Protestants is very deep-rooted because the Catholics want to rule the world, thats why they established the Holy Roman Empire. Then came along people like Wycliffe and Martin Luther and spoiled it all for them.
People like you and John Tyndale didnt help either, she said with a cheeky smile.
Whatever do you mean?
Insisting that people are able to read the Bible for themselves and have it in their own language. It seriously undermined the power of the Church in England, you know, Jack.
I smiled. Yes, I suppose it did.
What will you do? Here, I mean?
What can I do? Carry on for a while, of course.
Some in Le Vigan are beginning to suspect what you are up to, I can see it in their eyes when we go to market.
But they still buy my chestnuts.
That is because they have little choice in the matter. They have made a lot of money from your supply of chestnuts and timber over the last year or so because they are afraid to leave the town themselves. At this moment in time, more and more of them depend upon you for their livelihood.
So there is nothing to worry about, is there?
I wouldnt say that, Jack. They might get brave one day and come and take over the valley for themselves. Then they would drive the people from La Vallette and kill those who resist.
Are you serious?
Of course. Its what you said just now. Its all about money. The people of Le Vigan have known about the village of La Vallette for years but have done nothing about it because if has never had anything of value. Now that it is flourishing, they will want that wealth.
But what you are suggesting is that the Protestants are no different to the Catholics.
Precisely.
But you cannot be serious.
Im perfectly serious, my love. If you think that Catholics have the monopoly on hatred, you are very much mistaken. People are just people where money and power are concerned. Christianity does not come into the matter. If either side was truly Christian, they would not be fighting in the first place, would they?
I suppose not.
We sat in silence for a long time, deep in thought. I looked across at Sarah in the glow from the afternoon sun as she sipped at her glass of red wine. She was pretty-well back to normal except for occasional relapses when events would take her mind back. Now and again, I would say something thoughtless and it would remind her of those dark days at Twigmoor and she would be bitchy and unreasonable for a few hours or days but would soon be back to her old self again. Our relationship had not changed a bit. From time to time Sarah would drop hints and even sometimes make definite advances. I was not inhuman, but I kept putting off the day of decision, still frightened that it might trigger off some bad memory and she would have a relapse. My own pleasure was secondary to Sarahs mental health. It was one thing for her to tease me and imagine the pleasure physical contact would bring, but another thing entirely to have to relive the horrors of rape. In addition to these thoughts, I was uneasy about the possibility of childbirth. If I gave in to her and she was to have a baby, how would she react? Even if that hurdle was crossed, what would happen to her mind if anything, for any reason at all, were to happen to the child? It would surely destroy her mind entirely. I was a coward and was not prepared to take that chance. I also had Elizabeth to consider. While I was living it up in the South of France, she was waiting patiently for my return. Therein lay another good reason why I should not give in to Sarah.
The fact that I believed it would be a sin also tilted the balance more than a little. It should have been the main reason, of course, but at that moment Sarahs mental health seemed the most important factor worth considering. It had been supposedly sincere worshippers of God who had got her into that state of mind in the first place and I was finding it difficult to forgive them for it.

~~~~~~~

IT was only a matter of time before the government found someone to act in its behalf and, eventually, it did. What the government could not accomplish politically, its national Church, Catholicism, did religiously. A wave of intense and violent persecution broke out again and many Protestant towns were maliciously attacked and defeated. The Huguenots were once again given the simple option, become Catholic or die. Many, many Christian people died in the horrific inquisitions which followed all over the country. In every conquered town, racks and whipping posts sprung up and the agonised cries of tortured men, women and children were a daily feature. Otherwise sincere Protestants changed religions quickly to avoid the penalties and, on the surface, the “conversion seemed to be working. Apart from the many thousands of people who suffered, beautiful buildings were also destroyed. In addition, the ecology of the land was callously disrupted and feelings were set aflame once again. It took a long time to reach our isolated outpost, but reach it, it did.
We were given no warning. The men I had employed from La Vallette to clear a portion of the hillside simply didnt turn up for work one morning. I was disappointed, but understood that there could be sickness or some other problem. It was the priest who finally came at lunchtime. Sarah offered him food, but he refused.
I have been given an ultimatum, he told us. If we do not stop the collusion with the Protestants, we will be condemned to suffer the penalty of everlasting hell and damnation along with higher taxes or imprisonment.
I couldnt help sneering a little. And you believe it?
I am not that gullible, Monsieur. I do not believe that the people of my village will be condemned by God for what they have done but I do believe the threat about taxes and imprisonment. It is that threat which is most real to my people.
But, said Sarah. If we do not continue to sell their produce for them, they will become poor again and many will starve like they did before we came.
Que sera, ma chérie. The Church authorities have given us no choice in the matter.
Sarah jumped to her feet and I could literally feel her anger rolling across the room. I cannot just sit here and let this happen.
Madame de Bosvile, I implore you. You are in very grave danger here. The fame of what had been accomplished here has spread to a certain extent and although it was greeted favourably at first, eventually it has led to severe jealousy and resentment. What you do not yet know is that we received instructions a week ago; not a suggestion, but instructions, to drive you from your valley. Because of your kindness, the people of La Vallette refused to do this and the Church, as a result, has become furious. I am afraid that if you do not leave soon, other, less friendly forces will arrive and will show you no mercy whatsoever.
I understood and thanked him for sticking his neck out but Sarah was livid. She shut herself in her room for several days and refused to come out.
I tried to reason with her. Sarah, please. Your actions will alter nothing. The Catholics will not drop their plans for a religiously united France because one little English girl has locked herself in her room.
It wasnt the right thing to say at all and, later that day, she did come out - with leather clothes, leather boots, sword and pistol. I grabbed her arm to stop her going out but she turned and looked at me as if I was the pope. That cold stare told me that something had slipped in her mind again and I am convinced that if I had held her there, she would have again tried to kill me. In silence, she saddled her horse and galloped off alone. I thought she would be back later that day when she had cooled down, but I began to realise, as the hours turned into days and the days turned into weeks, that Sarah wasnt coming back at all.

~~~~~~~







OUT OF THE FRYING PAN...





What could I do? Searching for someone in Yorkshire was one thing. In France, where I could not even speak the language, it was an entirely different matter. And what if I left the house and she eventually returned to find me gone? Already, with lack of attention, the valley was returning to forest. Without help, I could not take the logs down to the river at La Rey and I could not continue with thinning the trees and planting saplings. Apart from that, my heart had gone out of it. All we had accomplished had evaporated because someone, somewhere had said that Catholics and Protestants could not speak to one another. I wondered just how many other people were just as sick of it all as I was.
I heard the riders before I saw them, pushing through the undergrowth as the sun rose over Rouas. Slipping silently from my bed and hastily grabbing some clothes and my sword, I climbed out of the rear window as the horses drew up outside the front of the cabin. I heard the murmured words but could not understand them as I pulled on my breeches and quietly slipped the saddle onto the back of my horse. I did not know who they were but ascertained enough from the tone of their voices that, whoever they were, they meant me no good at all.
My saddle creaked a little as I stepped into the stirrup and mounted in the trees beside the waterfall. The sound seemed deafening to me but I hoped it would not have been heard by the intruders because of the rushing stream. Carefully, I edged towards the corner of the building and found myself looking down the barrels of several muskets. It seems Ive been here before. I did not recognise any of the men or their voices. They were certainly from neither La Valette nor Le Vigan but looked more like hired mercenaries than anything else.
Venez-ici, motioned one of them. Trés lentement.
In obedience, I slowly nudged my horse slowly towards them, the aimed muskets giving me little choice in the matter. I did, at one stage, consider rushing them with my sword but soon gave up the idea. These men were clearly not bandits but professionals and the five of them had spaced themselves out to deter such an eventuality.
You are Monsieur Jacques de Bosvile, from England? asked one in broken English.
I nodded. Who on earth were they?
He rode up close. Where is Madame de Bosvile?
I shrugged. I dont know.
He slapped my face. You lie. Tell us or your death will not be a quick one.
What do you want with her?
Two or three of them laughed among themselves while the leader sneered at me. Our friend, Monsieur Leeming, said she was very good. We have come to finish what he started.
So that was it. How many more were there to the Plot Gang?
She has gone, I mumbled.
They didnt believe me and two checked inside while the others guarded me closely. Finding nothing, they re-emerged, shaking their heads.
Where is she, Monsieur de Bosvile?
I dont know. I honestly dont know. Not that I would have told them if I did.
Very well, said the leader to one of the men. Tie him to the tree. We will tear the truth from his skin, piece by piece.
One reached out to grasp my arm but, in doing so, put himself between me and the muskets. It was the last mistake he ever made as I jerked him from his horse to use him as a shield. Several shots were let off and the unfortunate mans body jerked several times in my arms. I let him fall as I hastily turned my horse to flee while they reloaded.
The start I had on them was but a matter of yards as I headed for the stream. I knew the forest better than anyone and was grateful for the slight chance that had been granted me. Down the valley I galloped at full tilt, the thunder of horses right behind me. Ahead, was the massive Roche des Courbière and my horse splashed through the water in the narrow defile. At the far end, I reined in and turned, drawing my sword. The first lost his head, literally, and the others tried, frantically, to escape in that confined space but were unable as the once-clear stream turned red with their blood. With only three now behind me, I pushed my mount upwards, towards the higher treeline and safety. Behind me, I could hear the heavy breathing of the horses as they tried, frantically, to catch up with me. My horse was tiring fast but I did not let up but drove it ever upward, away from the pursuers that were determined to see the end of me. With only ten yards separating us, I made it over the top and rushed forward, towards the pass where I hoped to lose them.
I never made it. As I turned the bend in the track above the pass, another group of men poured out of the forest in front, waving their swords and firing their muskets. With a great crash that drove all the wind from me, I hit the ground and rolled over and over as pandemonium broke loose all around. After a while, I lay on the ground wondering why I seemed to have no musket holes in me.
A soldier dismounted beside me. Monsieur de Bosvile? Vous êtes en état darrestation.
Under arrest? I could never have thought what a relief it would be to hear those words. As I got to my feet, I saw the men who had chased me, all very dead. Unfortunately, so was my horse and one of the soldiers handed me the reins of another horse which had belonged to one of the dead men. Maccompanez a la ville, s'il vous plait.
Daccord, I agreed, understanding enough. Merci bien.
Elles sont été des Catholiques, Monsieur, he laughed. It was...How you say?...a very great pleasure.
Under escort, I was taken to Le Vigan where I was put in a little cell behind the main office. The Administrateur said it was for my own good and, as it turned out, I was treated fairly well. Nevertheless, as I sat alone in that cold room, I thought of the valley; of the people of La Vallette thrown back to poverty; of the fights erupting all over the country; of Sarah.
It was a month before she returned, late in the evening. I heard her before I saw her, shouting at the Administrateur in French. I knew of no other voice which could shrivel a prune at twenty paces. One of the soldiers opened the cell door after a few minutes and I was shown into the Administrateurs office. Neither he nor Sarah seemed particularly pleased to see me. I seemed to have become a nuisance to them both all of a sudden. I went to her but she turned away. Confused, I said nothing but simply waited, the puckering of the oil lamp the only sound in the room.
Monsieur, the Administrateur finally said. You must leave immediately, at once. His manner was abrupt, though not rude.
But, our home, our business.
It is your lives that you must consider now, Monsieur. Events are moving too quickly.
War has broken out in Germany, Sarah interrupted. And it could spread here at any time.
I had never seen Sarah so badly worried. What had happened while she was away?
You must take your horses and go tonight, Madame. The map I have given you should help. I can do no more.
You have been very helpful, Monsieur LAdministrateur. We both want to thank you.
She leaned over and kissed the top of his balding head but he waved her away, embarrassed. Go now. Before it is too late.
Still in a bit of a daze, I nodded my thanks and followed Sarah toward the door.
The Administrateur stopped us. Not that way, Monsieur. The back way. It will be safer.
We slipped out of the rear door and round into the yard where horses were waiting. Silently, we mounted and slipped quietly out of the yard and across the square.
We are in trouble, Jack, Sarah whispered as we slipped quietly out of Le Vigan. The Huguenots feel that we have been traitors for dealing with Catholics and the Catholics are against us because they have been ordered to be. We are totally on our own now and must get back to England by any means that we can.
Why do we need a map? Can we not go back through Nmes to Marseille and find a boat?
No, Jack. Nmes is about to be besieged and the port of Marseille has been closed to all but known loyal Catholics. We must go north.
North? But that will take us right into the heart of Catholic France.
Thats the point, Jack. It will be the last place that people will look for us. Here, in the South, we will be questioned repeatedly by both sides and, eventually, we are bound to be caught and executed. If we are in the North, we will be accepted as Catholics. No one will dream that a couple of Protestants would be foolish enough to travel alone through their territory.
It seems youve given this a lot of thought.
There has been little else to do over the last few weeks. I have talked to a lot of people and there can be no home here for us now. I must return home to my father and you to your Elizabeth.
It sounded like an accusation. “You dont want me, so Im going to run home to daddy.
I had almost forgotten England. I supposed it was still there. For the first time in many months, I began to contemplate life in Essex once more. Perhaps, now I had found Sarah, things would go back to how they were. I must be out of my mind. Things could never be the same again.

~~~~~~~

IT was relatively for us to find our way back to St Hippolyte du Fort, even in the moonlight. However, to avoid the besieged Nmes, we would now have to take to the hills. Sarah pulled out the hand-drawn map of the area with a route shown on it. We must cut across country to reach the Gardon Valley. The Administrateur suggested we head for Anduze. From there, we can get a boat and miss out all the main towns and then go down to the Rhne Valley before heading northward through Lyon. It will be very dangerous, but it is our only chance. Your French is lousy so I think that, if we meet anyone, youd better play dumb.
I was not worried by danger. It was the apparent hopelessness of the situation which had got to me. Another thing I could not fathom out was Sarahs attitude. She was cold, abrupt, calculating, not a bit like the old Sarah I knew and loved. Or did I? Love her, I mean? Did she really mean that much to me? While Sarah had been ill and dying, I had devoted my life to her. Now, she was on her own and it was as if we had become strangers and I didnt like it one little bit.
We rode on silently through the night, heading generally north and east by the stars and, by first light, we had reached the outskirts of the small silk-breeding town of Anduze. Everyone was still asleep so we quietly led our mounts across the central square past the three-hundred-year-old clock tower and then down to the river, where we found several boats moored. I chose the strongest-looking of them and loaded into it our few belongings. Not regarding himself as a thief, I hoped the value of the horses we were leaving behind would offset the value of the boat. I pushed off from the bank, and soon we were riding the current swiftly downstream into the early morning sunlight. There was little rowing to be done as the spring rains in the high Cévennes had filled the river and the rushing waters swept the boat rapidly along.
By mid morning, we had reached a branch in the river where a larger tributary came in from the left, swelling the river still further. It was another hour before I became really concerned as, by that time, several other tributaries had joined the river and I doubted that we would have been able to make it to the bank if the need arose. After the Pont de Ners, the river became wider and shallower and our little boat seemed lost on a wide expanse of water which charged past sandbanks and small islands in its frantic rush to get to the sea. Ahead, there was a range of hills, and I wondered which side of them the river would flow. As we got closer, I could see that it did neither and before I could make any sort of decision, our boat was thrust into a massive gorge which was cut right through the middle, precipitous cliffs on either side. The river was racing along at high speed and we were being bounced around and had to hang on very tightly indeed. In fact, there was nothing else we could do except sit tight and see what happened.
What happened was the boat hit the rapids very fast. As I tried to peer through the spray which formed around the white water, Sarah lay in the bottom of the boat with a calmness I had never seen before. I was teriffied enough for both of us. How we got through that gorge, Ill never know. By the time we reached the far side, the boat was half full of water and we were both drenched to the skin. However, the boat was still upright, and that was all that really mattered. The gorge eventually spewed us out like something that tasted bad and the river suddenly widened and slowed in its race to get to the Rhne. If this was the Gardon, a mere tributary, what was the Rhne going to be like? I dared not think of it.
Just when I thought it was safe to get out of the boat, it turned a bend and ahead was the magnificent aquaduct, Pont du Gard. What wasnt quite so magnificent was the sight of all the soldiers with guns, lining the bridge and looking down at us.
Wave, said Sarah suddenly. She threw back her damp hair from her face and waved her arms, smiling broadly.
The soldiers were probably under orders to shoot strangers, but strangers who were young and beautiful and waving at them, confused them. It didnt need long as we looked innocent enough and, by the time the soldiers had thought about their duty, our boat was past. A few miles further, we passed some more soldiers on the river bank and these waved back. However, it gradually dawned on me that this was not just a friendly “how do you do wave. It was a warning.
Whats wrong? called Sarah.
I frowned. I dont know. I cocked my head. Do you hear that?
Hear what?
That sound.
Sarah listened to the rippling of the water and the singing of the birds. The valley was flat and wide, the water meadows green and peaceful. What sound?
That roaring.
She turned in the boat and peered forwards. I can just about hear it but I cant see anything. What do you think it is?
It sounds like more rapids but the water doesnt seem to be moving fast enough.
Look! cried Sarah suddenly as she pointed slightly right of ahead.
I peered ahead, the distance a blur. Good grief! What is it?
The river was about to turn sharply to the right with a long sandbank ahead and the other side of that small, low sandbank was the Rhne. I couldnt accurately describe it, I can only try to convey an impression - wide, frothing, brownish-yellow and very, very ugly. I estimated that the boat would last about ten seconds in that violent current.
Start rowing, I called. Quickly. We must get in to the side. Together, we pulled on the oars but to no avail. As we neared the main river, our waterway ran parallel to it, the sandbank the only barrier between us and certain death. Pull, Sarah. Were running out of sandbank.
Sarah looked over her shoulder at the turmoil of whirlpools where the rivers met a few yards ahead. Were not going to make it.
Taking my life in my hands, I grabbed the tiller and jumped out towards to shallower water. I landed in water up to my chest and dug my heels in and hung on as the boat swung round on the end of the rope.
Sarah, jump, I shouted but she sat still. I couldnt understand it. In the gorge, I had been terrified whereas, here, it was the other way round.
Jump, I called. I cant hold on much longer. The current was pulling the rope out of my grasp. If I let go... I couldnt bear to think of it. Sarah. Now, do it. For me. Ill do anything for you, just jump.
Suddenly, she made up her mind and leapt for the sandbank. Landing in waist-deep water, she struggled to stand up. Keeping your feet in a stagnant pond is dead easy but when the water seems to be moving at a hundred miles an hour, it is a wee bit different. I let go the line and the boat seemed to fly from my grasp. I grabbed at Sarah to keep her upright and, together, we watched the boat disappear into the great plume of spray generated where the two rivers met. Staggering onto dry ground, we lay exhausted and it was then I realised that we were not to be alone for much longer. The group of soldiers we had seen was running along the sandbank towards us and there was nowhere to run. Three ways meant certain death by drowning. The other...? Whod choose to fight ten soldiers?
Sarah got to her feet and went towards them, smiling, and they ran to her and started to help. I couldnt believe it. I desperately tried to keep my mouth shut and was introduced as Sarahs dumb brother who had stupidly brought her out for a trip on the river and nearly drowned both of them. The soldiers laughed and walked with us towards firmer ground. In fact, we were taken on one of their ammunition carts right into the heart of Avignon and thence direct to the barracks where we were given dry clothes and then fed and watered by the garrison chef.
After dinner, we were shown to a couple of small rooms behind the Commandants quarters. I desperately tried to think of how we were to get away. It wouldnt be long before someone started asking questions about our home town, etc, etc. But what would we say? Would Sarahs French be up to it? Or would it give us away? I lay awake, thinking of the problems that would face us in the morning and finally reached a decision. When everyone seemed to be asleep, I slipped out of the room I had been given, tiptoed along the passageway to Sarahs door and crept inside. The room was in almost total darkness but, in the dim light from the window, I crossed to her bedside, placed my hand over her mouth and gently shook her awake. Her eyes opened wide and, with supreme strength, she rolled out of bed with her dagger in her hand.
Sarah, I called softly and she lowered the dagger and sat down on the bed in her shift.
Jack. What on earth are you doing?
I was coming to take you away. You had better get dressed. We must get ourselves a long way away before questions are asked.
Dont be silly, Jack. Were quite safe here. If you want to bed me, just say so. Dont go creeping around in the dark.
As she spoke, the door burst open and three soldiers with muskets followed the Commandant into the room. I arrest you in the name of the King, Monsieur et Madame, he said in French. We have found out that you are spies for the Huguenots. First thing in the morning, you will be tried and, let me assure you, the penalty for all spies is death.

~~~~~~~







...INTO THE FIRE





The dungeon was dark and damp. No more than ten feet square, it was also very cold and I had to walk about to keep warm. Besides, I dare not lay down on the small cot that had been provided. I had no idea what I might catch if I even sat down on that damp, filthy bed. More than for myself, I was worried about Sarah. We had been thrown into separate cells and I was worried sick about what might be happening to her. I was given neither food nor drink and the silence was only broken by the occasional drip of water into a puddle.
It seemed like days but was, in fact, only a matter of hours until the morning light came and cast a dull grey glow through a small grill mounted high up in the roof of the passageway outside. There could be no escape from such a place. So secure was it that there was not even a guard and to break down the solid wooden door with its large iron hinges and locks didnt seem possible. Occasionally, a rustle from one of the corners of the tiny room indicated where a rat had moved in search of the smallest scrap of food.
There is nothing here, my friend, I muttered out loud. If there is, youre more than welcome to it.
The guards came later in the morning. Irons were put on my wrists and I was led upstairs to the courtroom which was packed to capacity. The noise level increased as I was pushed in to stand at the rear of the dock. Sarah was already there, chained as I was, looking straight ahead with her head held high. I felt sick. The guards had not even allowed her to get dressed and she stood looking a pathetic sight, still in her short shift which was now dirty and torn in several places. At the sight of her bare legs, I desperately hoped that the guards had not done anything to her which would remind her of Twigmoor Hall. I tried to call out to her but received a fat lip for my trouble.
The Court became hushed as the judges arrived and I saw enought to know that there were three of them. Although blurred at that distance, one looked like the Mayor or Chief Official while the others were prominent clergymen. They sat, and proceedings began. I understood some of what was said but not everything. However, one thing was made crystal clear from the start, we were to be made examples of. Huguenots had been fought in battle and killed in their own cities but we were the first two to be caught actually within the walls of a Catholic city as apparent spies. No-one seemed to remember that it had been soldiers who had picked us up and brought us to the city in the first place. The public gallery was overflowing with all kinds of people, keen to see justice being done and I was certain, from that moment on, that neither of us had any chance at all.
Sarah was pushed into the dock first and accusations were made, most of them quite ludicrous. Theft, murder of women and children, barbaric torture - you name it, the prosecutor dreamed it up. The court and people were enjoying the proceedings immensely and it seemed if the judges were to give anything but the worst judgement possible, they would become the laughing stock of France.
Sarah was given the opportunity of speaking up and she did - straightforward, unwavering she gave her defence but the people just laughed. What a tall story, they thought, and I got another fat lip for trying to encourage her. When she had finished speaking, the judges conferred and the room became silent as sentence was pronounced. When it was over, Sarah let out a short cry and turned to look at me, her head shaking, tears in her eyes. I understood enough from this to realise that whatever was to be meted out was not a simple, straightforward execution. She was dragged away in tears and it was then my turn and I was pushed violently into the dock to the great glee of the crowd. Accusations were made which I did not understand, questions were asked which I could not answer and sentence was passed which I did not hear as I stood erect and looked straight ahead.
I was about to be led away when a great hush came over the court and I slowly turned to look back into the room, confused. Some people were sitting, others, standing as the court clerks looked subdued, the judges perplexed at the interruption.
A clear voice rang out. I will tell you why he does not reply.
I froze. I had heard that voice before. He does not answer you because he is not a Huguenot spy at all, he is an English spy.
Uproar ensued. I slowly looked around and my eyes fell on the tall figure just below me. I had not seen him before because of the overhanging ballustrade. He was dressed in the full regalia of a Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church.
The chief judges hammer banged for a long time before the crowd took any notice but, gradually, they all sat down until erect figure in red seemed to tower above them all.
I demand that this man be taken at once for further interrogation to the Supreme Court at Fontainbleau. There is much to be learned from such a person. He stretched out the word “learned in a way which emphasised the non-educational intent of such “learning.
The judges conferred briefly. They had a scapegoat already so it would do no harm to lose this one to the Kings pleasure. The hammer banged. So it shall be. Take him away.
I looked down at the Cardinal. He had won at last. I was taken back to the dungeon where my mind whirled. What was to happen to me? I had no doubts about the sort of torture which could be used. I was not, as it happened, an English spy and, therefore, would be able to tell them nothing and this one fact alone would serve to prolong my torture. My mind also went to Sarah. What had been her sentence which had brought about such a sudden collapse of her deportment?
The silence was interrupted by the approach of guards. I was chained to the wall this time, so could see nothing until that red cloak was shown into my cell. The Cardinal indicated that the guards withdraw before he spoke. I was totally at his mercy as he stood before me and smiled. You are in a bad position, Jack. I was only just in time to get here.
I swallowed. Was I dreaming? What did the man mean?
He started to undo my chains from the wall. We must leave at once, before they change their mind. Once, you saved my life and I have come to repay that debt. I can offer you no guarantees of freedom but can only get you out of here, then you will be on your own.
What of Sarah? I asked suddenly, still more than a little confused as to the reason why my life was being spared. Where has she been taken?
The Cardinal frowned. Did you not understand the sentence?
I shook my head.
You mustnt worry about her, Jack. It will be too late to help her now. Already they will be getting her ready for her...confession.
Your Eminence, I must know. What will become of her?
He paused for a while as he paced the dirty floor then drew back his shoulders and spoke to me face-to-face. They are to make an example of her and not having you there will make it far worse for her. She has been sentenced to an ordeal by fire. She is to be publicly abusedwith hot irons until she confesses her gult and when she does, she will be slowly lowered onto a burning brazier.
I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. Oh, no. Not Sarah. After all that she has already been through, to have it end like this.
When is this to be? I finally asked.
The sentence is to be carried out immediately. It will be a public ceremony, and I do mean ceremony. All the city will be there to watch but there is nothing that you can do to help her now. The executioner has been instructed to inflict the maximum pain and humiliation upon her. I fear that she may already be dying.
Please, you must help her.
How can I? It is unlikely, I know, that she will have done all the things she has been accused of, but she has been a Protestant in a Catholic country.
But Sarah is a not a Protestant at all. She is a Catholic!
The Cardinal stopped pacing and came close to me. What?
Dont you recognise her? She was the girl who was with me at Chelmers Ford on the day when her father and her brothers had been arrested along with yourself specifically because they were loyal Catholics.
He stepped back. Holy Mother of God. Were they guilty of the crime?
No, Your Eminence. They were not.
He peered at me in the poor light. You sound very certain.
I was there when the Captain... died. I suppose I was responsible, really.
You killed the Captain? And what of the traitor, Carlos Juanito?
I shook my head. It was not Carlos who was the traitor. Carlos escaped with me but was shot.
Then who was it who perpertrated the Plot?
My heart almost stopped. Perpetrated the Plot? Why, it was yourself, surely?
A slight smile touched his lips. Why should I wish to kill King James?
I was thoroughly confused. I thought....to stop the Bible being authorised.
He stepped closer. Who told you that?
Why... Guido Fawkes and the others.
They told you that I wanted to assasinate the King?
Yes.
For seeking to authorise use of the Holy Bible?
Yes. It was sounding more and more feeble.
But why would I do that? I had already carried the permission of the Holy Father to have our own version released. Translators at Douay already had the work well in hand.
Then I dont understand. Why the Plot?
He put his hand to his chin. Why indeed...Unless...
Yes?
No. Not possibly.
A double Plot?
He nodded. Precisely. It seems we have all been looking in the wrong place for traitors. Tell me, was anyone else left alive after the Plot?
Yes. There was.
Then it must be he who is the traitor. Who was it?
Didnt he know? It was Ben Leeming.
Ben Leeming? Are you mad?
No, Your Eminence. He admitted it to me before he died.
This traitor was killed?
I nodded. I executed him myself.
The tall man smirked. Jack, you should be working for me. Here I am planning to deal with those who have dealt treacherously with me, and I find that you have already done my job for me. I owe you more than my life.
Then please, we must save Sarah.
He paced about for a while then said: I have it. It may not work, but I am willing to try if you are. It will mean placing both our necks right into the noose but after what you have done, I will do this for you.
The Cardinal turned and summoned the guards who came and he ordered my release. They hesitated, so he shouted at them and they jumped to it, such was the power of the Church. I was hustled up the stone steps to ground level and the light hurt my eyes for a while. While they were getting accustomed, the Cardinal had my chains reduced to a simple wrist link with two foot chain and we were escorted into the waiting coach. Once inside, the Cardinal gave orders to the coachman and we set off for the main square. As we rode, he removed the chains from my wrists, gave me the sword which he had concealed in his gown along with our damp clothes, while he explained his plan.

~~~~~~~

THE main square was packed. The executioner had not seen a crowd of this size for a long time and, today, he was to become a hero. He was a sadistic little man. Not big, like the executioners who cut off heads. No, his was a very different form of execution. His “guests died slowly and very, very painfully and his orders on this day had been very explicit. If the girl died before mid-afternoon, his own life would be forfeit. Such an example was to be made that no-one would ever consider such folly again.
Sarah had been stripped completely naked and tied inside a large square wooden frame in front of a brazier full of glowing coals. Her wrists and ankles were lashed securely to the four corners, stretching her tight so that her entire body was exposed to the crowd to ensure optimum humiliation. The executioner walked round her, a long iron in his hand, glowing red hot for half its length, wondering whereabout on her anatomy he should begin. The crowd sat down to enjoy their entertainment. They had brought food and drink so that it was just like going on an outing. They would feel every small part of his pleasure and crowded close to get a good view.
The executioner took a long time to start because he wanted to get just the right degree of psychological advantage. The girl seemed stubborn and looked as though she would take a lot of punishment before she cried out. That was not his intention. He bowed to the crowd and moved the glowing instrument of torture around close to Sarahs bare skin as she stared back at him insolently. He frowned. This did not make sense. Men usually cried for mercy, begged for a quick death but this girl looked him straight in the eyes, expressionless.

Where should he start? He looked at her face, her pert breasts. Yes, he could make them sizzle for a long time as he slowly toasted them with the hot iron. First, the nipples, so pink and alluring. One touch and they would be no more. Then, slowly rolling the iron over her soft skin till they were totally destroyed. He looked lower to her flat belly. Perhaps he could have her laid flat while he piled hot coals onto it and watched them burn their way into her innermost parts. His eyes and the iron went down to her legs and he imagined running the hot iron up the insides. Then he smiled. No, there was something better. Somewhere she could be mutilated externally and internally. He made his decision and smiled as he moved the glowing iron upwards between her widely-stretched legs. Soon, the stench of burning clitoris would fill the square and her first scream would be heard all over the city.

~~~~~~~


THE Cavdinals coach rolled into the square and the crowd turned to look as he stepped from his carriage. A hush fell upon the people and even the executioner was distracted from his meditation. The Cardinal pushed and stepped through the crowd, my sword at his throat as he climbed the steps to the rostrum. He looked straight at the executioner. Se libérez.
&nfsp; The executioner was dumbstruck. He had been given very strict instructions and, if the justices did not hear her cries soon, they would send soldiers to look for him. If his victim had gone, he would be tortured and his second-in-command would relish the idea of getting one up on him.I stepped closer so that I could read in his eyes the reason for his hesitation and my sword knocked the iron from his hand. Someone in the crowd squealed. The mans hand went to the dagger at his belt but my sword got in the way. The man looked puzzled. His hand wanted to reach his belt but there was this long piece of steel in the way, jutting from his stomach and he could have sworn it wasnt there earlier. The crowd was hushed as he fell slowly from the rostrum to crash onto the stone flags of the plaza.
I turned to Sarah. There were tears streaming down her face. I knew youd come.
Deftly, I cut her bonds and she collapsed over my shoulder. The crowd surged forward as their source of entertainment for the day started to disappear from before their very eyes but they stopped when my sword reached the throat of the Cardinal once more.
Non! he pleaded with them. Défence dapprochez.
The people hesitated. Church officials of this stature were held in high esteem, politically and religiously. If the people became responsible for the Cardinals death, great retribution would come upon their city from Church and King alike. Slowly, the path from rostrum to coach widened as the three of us made our way from that square. At the back of the crowd stood a countess in a fine dress and gown.
Madame le Comtesse, I greeted with a little bow. I pointed to the coach. Entrez la, sil vous plait.
My accent was terrible but the point of my sword made the message clear. Once inside the coach, the Cardinal gave orders to the coachman and we were heading out of town. Near the palace, I told the driver to stop. I turned to the Cardinal. Sarah needs the clothes the Countess is wearing.
The Cardinal grinned and spoke to the woman. Enlevez les vêtments.
She shrank back into the corner in terror. Still looking filthy from the dungeon, I leant towards her.
Non, she squealed. Je se ferai, je se ferai.
Her hands trembled as she undid her buttons and I had great difficulty in preventing myself laughing as, item by item, she handed the garments to Sarah, who put them on. Dressed only in her shift, the enraged countess was then made to climb down from the coach and, as the coach started to roll, I side-swiped her with the flat of my sword. She screamed loudly, frantically clutching at her sore buttocks and I grinned. That scream would satisfy the palace for a while.
The Cardinal actually laughed and Sarah stopped in mid-buttoning and stared at him suspiciously. What... whats going on?
Im just returning a favour, my dear, said the Cardinal. Jack, you and I should work together more often.
I had to laugh but Sarah still didnt see the funny side of it. She scowled in the corner and the we men ended up laughing at her expression at which she burst into tears. The pent-up emotions had been too great for her so I then held her close as the Cardinal smiled.

~~~~~~~


BY evening, the coach was approaching the city of Lyon and the Cardinal had told us that he could only travel thus far with us.
Drop me on the outskirts Jack. My driver knows the rest of the way from here.
For some reason, I found I was concerned for the clerics well-being. Will you be all right?
Dont worry about me. You just get that girl of yours safely home to England.
What will you do?
He smiled. I will act the part of the outraged hostage and it will be many hours before the coach can be followed. If they ask me, I will tell them that I heard you talking about heading for Switzerland and that, hopefully, will lead them in the wrong direction.
Were very grateful, said Sarah as he stepped down onto the road.
Its all I can do for you, my dear. Youre on your own now and, if you are recaptured, I will not be able to help you again as I cannot risk jeopardizing my position any further. He glanced at me. Look after him, Sarah. He is a good man.
With that the Cardinal closed the door and was gone. He spoke briefly to the coach driver and then disappeared into the night.

~~~~~~~







WIT'S END





For some strange reason, I found that I missed him. After having spent most of my time over the last few years looking over my shoulder to see if the Cardinal was after me, I could not get used to the idea that the Senior Churchman now knew I was innocent of treachery. It didnt make me suddenly want to be converted to Catholicism, you understand, but the events of the previous twenty-four hours had helped me to understand that things were often not as cut and dried as they might seem upon first inspection. Treachery could be found in all walks of life, including religion. But so could honour. The Cardinal had had ample opportunity to choose to ignore what I had done for him at Chelmers Ford but he hadnt and, instead, had chosen to take the honourable course of action and save the lives of both Sarah and myself. It was an action which I would never forget, whatever happened in the future.
Sarah stirred a little as the carriage bounced over a rut in the road. Since leaving Lyon, she had slept almost continually and I was reluctant to wake her unless it became really necessary. Leaning across, I held up her head whilst securing behind it the soft bag of clothing recovered from the barracks prison to try to alleviate, as much as possible, the inevitable chafing against the hard side of the wooden coach.
During those few hours, the coach made good time heading, as far as I could gather from the direction of the setting sun, in roughly a north-westerly direction. It seemed we had the option of two routes, either of which would be very long and fraught with danger. The northerly route would take us close to the border with the Spanish Netherlands who were currently involved in the war between Protestants and Catholics in Germany. The alternative was a route which ran through or close to Paris, the capital of Catholic France. The driver had opted for Paris, and I could hardly blame him.
As the sun finally dipped below the Monts de la Madeleine, the coach burst from the forest which hemmed in upon the almost precipitous road from Tarare and I could see, ahead and below us, the ancient Roman city of Roanne. Even seen from a distance, the great castle cast a long black shadow across the waters of the Loire and the bells of the Church of St Stephen rang out across the narrow square as darkness fell and our carriage drew up before the inn.
Sarah awoke with a start and sat, eyes wide open, staring out of the window. Where are we?
The milestone up the road said “Roanne so I guess this must be the place.
Why have we stopped?
I shrugged. I dont know. Ask the driver.
Pardon, Monsieur, she called, leaning out of the door. Pourquoi nous-restons ici?
Cest la guerre, he replied. La route du nord est ferme.
Merci, she called and ducked back inside. The war has closed the road to Paris so we have to stay here for the night.
Do you mean to tell me there is only one road from here to Paris?
Sarah stuck her head out again and then translated the drivers reply. It seems that the Loire is a wide river from here to the sea and Paris is north of it. Along the whole length of the river, there are very few bridges and each of them will be well guarded by troops in case any Huguenots try to attack the Court.
So we are stuck here.
It looks like it. Unless you can come up with some bright idea.
When I did not reply immediately, she sat looking at me for a long time. Well?
If the river is as wide as he says, there must be boats. Can we not sail down it?
She beamed at me. Jack, you are clever.
The girl is demented, I thought to myself. One minute, shes as evil as a witch and the next, shes all smiles and kindness. I dont understand her at all.
How will we do it? she asked, sitting on the edge of her seat like a small child.
I dont know. Lets go and explore.
I jumped down from the coach and held out my hands to her and held her waist as she slipped to the ground.
Thank you, kind sir, Sarah said sweetly. She turned to the driver. Attendez-ici, monsieur. He nodded respectfully.
In her borrowed dress and bonnet, Sarah hung on to my arm as we walked around the town centre, trying to ascertain the lie of the land. She snuggled close for protection. There are a lot of soldiers about, Jack.
This is France proper, my love, not like Lyon which was in the Kingdom of Savoy. Here, both Protestants and English are hated with a fiery hate which is deep and eternal. I grinned. Imagine what they might do to English Protestants.
Sarah shuddered. Its not funny.
We went down some steps to where the Loire flowed sluggishly through the town and small boats lined the long quay at the waters edge. At the end of the wharf, I found what I was looking for, a barge almost fully loaded with grain and waiting to cast off for the north. There were no sailors around so we examined it closely in the growing darkness before slipping back towards the town for something to eat. Delicious smells came from the doorway of one particular inn which looked relatively respectable so I opened the door and Sarah walked ahead of me into the smoke-filled room. As she did, a great hush fell over everyone inside. Thirty pairs of eyes stared at Sarah, thirty mouths fell open with surprise. Sarah smiled and the whispers started.
Je mappelle Sarah-Louise de Bosvile, she announced boldly, Comtesse de la Courbière.
Sarah made it up as she went along, of course, and I just hoped that the people believed it.
Bon Soir, Madame La Comtesse, greeted the landlord humbly. Je suis enchanté de faire votre connaissance.
Merci, Monsieur le patron. Je voudrai manger, sil vous plait.
Daccord, Madame La Comtesse, he said bowing low, clearly honoured to have such a prestigious person within the walls of his establishment, especially if they had come to eat his lousy food. He showed Sarah to a table, almost oblivious to the fact that I was with her and I laughed to myself at all the attention Sarah was getting.
She sat and looked up at the innkeeper from under her long eyelashes. Le potage, monsieur, et le poisson du pays, sil vous plait. Pour deux, she added, glancing at me.
The landlord apologised and found a chair for me and I sat down facing her.
Du vin? the landlord asked.
Naturellement, Sarah replied, almost disgusted that he had dared to ask. The man retreated hurriedly, his tail between his legs.
Smile, Jack, she said from between her clenched teeth. Look as if you are enjoying the company of the beautiful Comtesse de la Courbière.
Ill give you one thing, Sarah. Youve certainly got style.
Havent I just? she admitted, coldly glaring at a couple of men who were still watching us.
The soup arrived in haste, the landlord eager to please and make up for his previous faux-pas over the wine. Perhaps all the best ladies didnt usually drink wine in public places in France but, one thing was certain, few of the clientele that night would forget young Sarah Bosvile from round the bend.

~~~~~~~


IN spite of the predicament we were in, I slept well that night after a fine meal of fish and rice with several bottles of wine to wash it down. The surprise had come at the end of the meal when the landlord had refused to accept payment, regarding the presence of so highly-exalted a personage an excellent form of advertising. If only he knew.
Before dawn broke over the Bois des Châtellus, I was up and shaking Sarah awake in the near darkness. A little embarrassed, I kept guard out of the window as she slipped from between the bedclothes and slopped ice cold water over her body before donning the clothes I had rescued from Avignon.
Her hand touched my arm softly and I half turned. Whatever happens, I shall never forget you Jack.
What did she think was going to happen? Why the sudden interest in my welfare after ignoring me for so long? She certainly was one very strange girl.
Thank you, I said simply, unable to conjure up more appropriate words for the occasion. Her lips touched my cheek briefly before she turned and left the room. Closing the door firmly, I followed her down the stairs and into the stable yard as she strode purposefully ahead of me, her leather outfit making her look quite the opposite of the fine lady who had wined and dined me on the previous evening. Pausing at the entrance to the yard, she lifted her hat and pushed her hair inside, changing her appearance still further, before smiling at me briefly and slipping surreptitiously along the side of the street towards the loading wharf. The barge was still there as sailors battened down the hatches that would protect the valuable cereal and no-one noticed as two fugitives hopped aboard the stern and crouched down behind the low gunwale. Within an hour the barge was moving, slowly slipping out into mid-stream as the current eliminated the need for horse-power and we drifted slowly into an uncertain future.

~~~~~~~


IT was a long time before we were discovered. After leaving Roanne, the barge had run down past pretty rural villages such as Pouilly, Marcigny and Digoin. The current was quite strong and, at times, the barge seemed almost out-of-control as it rushed northwards, pushed by the mighty waters that drained from the Puys of the Auvergne. Discovery had, in the end, been by choice. The two of us were starving. It had been amazing that we had stayed undiscovered so long and it had only been the extreme carelessness of the crew that had allowed it, along with the drunkeness, that is. It was, therefore, Sarah and I who steered the great barge under the massive guns of the medieval fort at Nevers while the crew slept off their hangovers, tied up beside the scuppers.
Nevers had quite a history attached to it. Once a Roman staging post on the route to dominate Gaul, it had been overrun by Goths, Franks and, more recently, the Dukes of Burgundy who, along with the newly-formed Dukedom of Nevers, ruled mid-France with an iron hand. We had no choice but to stop when ordered. The big cannon along the wall which topped the lofty cliff gave us little choice in the matter.
What is it? I asked of Sarah as I steered the barge, none-too-expertly, until it crashed against a wharf lined with soldiers and officials.
I dont know. Pretend youre drunk. It is probably expected, judging by the amount our prisoners consumed during the early part of the day.
I nodded, leaning on the helm for support, as Sarah reeled along the deck towards where the Administrateur waited. I eased my sword out of its scabbard as Sarah stood, holding her pistol behind her back. What we thought we were doing, I had no idea. Two against so many stood no chance whatsoever.
Bonjour, mon Capitaine, greeted the official. Ou est Pierre aujourd-hui?
Il est mal, replied Sarah with a shrug and, after a moment of tension, her explanation for the absence of the usual skipper was accepted.
Soixant francs, stated the Administrateur firmly and I saw Sarah look considerably relieved as she looked towards me, hoping I had understood enough of the conversation to realise that we had been stopped because it was usual to pay taxes to cross the territory.
Soixant francs, Sarah repeated, glaring at me. I pulled out my bag, uncertain as to the exact amount required and Sarah took it and counted out the sixty franks for the toll. The tax having been paid, we were given scant attention as I let go the rope and the barge once more drifted out into mid-stream. It was only then that I realised just how much I was sweating.
Night was spent in the open, neither of us prepared to tempt providence again so soon. Owls hooted and water lapped against the hull as we undid the bonds on the sailors, one at a time, and allowed them food and wine. Never once did the sailors complain. After all, we did harm neither to them nor their boat and we were going in the direction the men wanted to go themselves. What would be the point of getting hurt unnecessarily?
It was as Sarah removed her hat that one of them spoke. Mademoiselle. Est-ce-que vous-êtes des Huguenots?
Oui, Monsieur, she replied, realising that anti-Huguenot feeling was probably at a slightly lower temperature than anti-English feeling.
Mon frère, il-est aussi, he admitted quietly. Vous êtes sans danger avec moi.
Est les autres? she indicated the other two men who were still tied up.
Ils-sont cochons ivrognes, he spat.
Sarah laughed and translated for me. He says his colleagues are drunken pigs and that he will help us.
Can we trust him?
I think so. His brother is a Huguenot and it must have taken a great deal of courage for him to admit that fact to strangers who might just as easily have been Catholic spies.
Tell him we mean him no harm. As soon as we get close to Paris, we will set him free and, if he promises to keep quiet about us for a while, I will reward him well.
Sarah translated and a great smile came over the mans face. For a long time, he and Sarah talked about many things, sitting together, eating cheese and drinking wine. Nevertheless, he also understood when I indicated, through Sarah, that I would have to tie him up again while we slept. Having made it that far, I was taking no chances.

~~~~~~~


IT was as we approached Orléans that the boatman strongly recommended that we leave the barge before entering the city. I agreed because not only would there be more tolls to pay, therefore exposing ourselves to possible detection but also, as the home of the martyred Maid, anti-English feeling would be very high indeed. If the people of the city got their hands on Sarah, she would likely suffer a similar fate to that which their hero had all those years ago. With that very much in mind, I paid the man compensation for the danger in which had placed himself and we left the boat on a bend in the Loire just before the bridge at Jargeau. Now all we needed was transport. Alone and on foot, the two of us set out through the trees in a northerly direction. It was several hours before we reached the first village which proudly bore the name Neuville-aux-Bois which sounded considerably prettier that Newtown-in-the-Wood. What we needed were horses and these were conspicuous by their absence from that tiny village. We pressed on as evening fell and the forest was somewhat eerie as we went forward by the light of the moon. By dawn, both of us had had enough and lay on the grass beside the road just south of a town which guarded the confluence of two small rivers. Even from that distance, we could see the tall tower of the castle upon the hill.
Where do you think we are? whispered Sarah.
I dont know. It doesnt look big enough to be Paris, does it?
Surely we must be close to the capital by now. The boatman assured me it was only a days journey by horse.
The horse we dont have, you mean?
Dont be sarcastic. Its not my fault that we have no horse.
Well, my cute little sister-in-law, perhaps it is time we found one.
Where do we find a horse out here? Every village we have passed has been too poor to provide even one.
Its the Church, you see. It deliberately keeps itself rich and the people poor so that they have no choice but to toe the line. A village which could afford a horse might provide part of an army that could rebel and that wouldnt do at all, would it? If everybody went around rebelling, the Church might lose some of its power. That was the problem with the Huguenots.
But the Huguenots didnt rebel, they just wanted to live a quiet life free from domination by the Church of Rome.
Tell that to the pope who was lighter in the pocket because of it.
You always see things in terms of material value, dont you?
I smiled. Not at all, my little thousand-mark bargain.
Sarah looked at me sharply. Is that all I am to you?
If it was, I would have saved my money and bought a horse instead, it would have been easier on my feet.
What am I really to you?
What do you think?
Dont answer my question with another question, Jack Bosvile. I want a straight answer.
You are my very best friend.
Is that all?
Thats all you are allowed to be. I have a wife who is waiting patiently for me, remember?
And a daughter.
Yes. I paused. Tell me honestly, do you ever resent Elizabeth having Carrie?
All the time.
I sat up. What did you say?
I said “I very much resent Elizabeth having my baby. I want her back.
I was shocked. I had no idea that, in her heart, she felt that way. Wouldnt you rather have another one? One of your own marriage?
I did and look what happened to it. I very much want another baby, but if you wont give me one, Ill have Carrie back instead.
Cant someone else provide you with a baby?
Not on your life. If I cant have you, I dont want anyone else.
Sarah, you cant have me, you know that. And if you take Carrie back now, it will hurt Elizabeth a lot.
Then I will stay here, in France.
You cannot do that.
Yes I can. There is nothing for me in England. You go back to your ever-loving wife and our daughter and become squire again. I will stay here and take my chances.
But I promised your father I would bring you back safely.
Just tell him Im fine, that I decided to stay here instead. Tell him what you like, I dont care.
But I do.
She turned towards me. Do you? You have a strange way of showing it.
What do you want me to do, live a double life?
I really dont care what you do.
Sarah, you are very confusing, do you know that?
At least I know what I want in life which is more than you seem to.
I thought about what she said for a long time. I have to take you back. That is what I want.
And if I dont wish to go? What will you do? Drag me through the streets of Paris, screaming to be freed?
Sarah, I said quietly. You can really hurt me when you want to.
She looked at me without speaking as a carriage thundered by on the road. When it had fallen quiet again, she asked, Do I hurt you now?
I nodded.
Jack. You have been very kind to me, I know. The last thing I want to do is to hurt you. Its just... its just that I seem to have ended up with nothing. No husband, no child, no home, no nothing, just a paper parcel full of someone elses clothes.
You have a friend, Sarah. Once upon a time, I promised that I would always be your friend, no matter what happened. I intend to live up to that. If you refuse to come with me, I must stay here with you.
All right, she said after some thought. Ill come back to England with you on one condition.
And what is that? I asked suspiciously.
If ever anything goes wrong between you and Elizabeth, you will come for me.
I dont expect anything to go wrong but, if it does... Yes, I will come to you.
Promise?
I dont have to promise. It will be what I will want to do.
Sarah smiled. Then what are we waiting for? Lets go home.
She had not slept all night nor the previous day, but now she walked at a pace which I could hardly match towards the city of Etampes. It turned out to be market day and the town was packed with people of all kinds as well as dozens of soldiers. In fact, there were far too many soldiers to be normal.
Do you think they are looking for us? whispered Sarah as we walked around the market pretending to examine the produce.
I dont think so. Surely you and I are not that important.
Perhaps we are. Dont forget that we are a kind of symbol of freedom. If we get away, back to England, the pride of the Church will have been seriously dented.
Im not trying to dent their pride, I just want to go home and to take you with me.
Jack Bosvile, she said, fluttering her eyelashes. I do believe you really mean it.
I was fed up with walking, so I desperately tried to think of something while Sarah slipped out of her leather clothes as I lay on the bed. She was completely uninhibited by my presence as she changed into her dress. It wasnt that she was flaunting herself, it was simply that she acted as if there was no-one else around and, within a short time, she looked a different person as she combed out her hair. With so many people in town, it did not take long to find an empty coach. There were a number of them parked in a small courtyard while their drivers drank ale at the inn and the owners wined and dined in the town. Gently, I stroked the nose of the leading horse in a team linked to an expensive-looking coach as “Lady Sarah climbed inside. Quietly, I led the team from the courtyard as the sound of raucous laugher reached our ears from the inn. It would be some hours before the loss would be discovered.
The milestone along the road said “Paris - 20 as the team thundered over the hard ground that was the main road through Arpajon. We did not stop in Paris nor in St Denis nor in Chantilly. In fact, as dawn broke, it was a very exhausted driver who almost fell from the top of the coach beside the little harbour at Dunkerque.
The drizzle fell from the sky and the sea was a dirty grey, but I knew for a certainty that just across that wide, open stretch of water was England.

~~~~~~~







ENGLAND IN THE RAIN





The weather was thoroughly miserable. After the glorious sunshine of the previous four years, the drizzle in the Channel would have been most depressing had we not slept as the boat carried us over the waves toward England. It had not been too difficult to find a boat as money talks in any language and now anticipation built up inside me as the boat sailed up the Blackwater Estuary.
I smiled as I looked out at the flat water and remembered arriving in the same place after the storm. I also remembered the time when Smith and I had sailed up this waterway to strike a blow against the Church of Rome without knowing that it was not that particular Church who were the traitors after all. Realising that Catholicism could not be drummed out of England by traditional means, a fantastic plot had been conceived. If the Protestants could make the people of England believe that their King was under threat, his position would become more secure.
Perhaps the King himself was in on the Plot. His life was never in danger at all. Guido Fawkes had thought himself so clever but the members of his gang had been mere pawns in a much greater game. They had never stood a chance right from the outset. No wonder my colleagues had been caught so easily when they entered the Houses of Parliament. We had been set up. All the time I had been blaming everything on the Cardinal, it had been the clergy of the Protestant Church who had been the real villains. Them and the King who now looked set to rule forever by the “Grace of God.
To take my mind from thoughts of further vengeance against the real culprits, I forced myself to think more of my own position. What would Essex be like now? Would things be the same at Cricksee? How were Elizabeth and Carrie?
Eventually, the tide was right and the little boat berthed at the quayside, I paid the skipper well and began to search for transport to take us to Asheldham. Here, it wasnt just drizzling, it was pouring down, and the hem of Sarahs fine dress was now muddy as I finally found a small carriage and hired it to take us to Dengy.
It was late afternoon before we reached Asheldham and rode across the village green past the church. The forge was closed, of course, but everything else looked so normal and it seemed as if we had never been away. However, as I glanced over towards the big doors and latticed windows, I knew, with sadness, that I would never see Smiths big shoulders again, never hear again the clang of his hammer on the anvil. He had given his life for Sarah and he would not be forgotten.
By the time we reached Moor Hill, it had stopped raining but was approaching evening. Sarah and I stepped down from the coach and I paid the driver. As the rumble of wheels died away in the distance, we were suddenly alone in that muddy lane. We simply stood and held hands for a while, just looking at each other, before she led me to the front door of what had been my home. After all the talk of staying in France, of not wanting to come home, now that she was here, Sarah looked very happy as she tripped up the path and stopped to look in the window. Her father sat in the rocking chair by a big fire, sleeping quietly, as we watched together. Without warning, she kissed my cheek briefly and silently opened the front door. Will did not stir as Sarah tiptoed across to him. Tenderly, she kissed him and he awoke. Tears flooded from both of them for a long time as I stood in the shadows and watched.
Will finally saw me. Jack. How can I ever thank you? Youve brought my Sarah home safe and sound.
Safe, yes. Sound, not quite. But I had done his best for her. During those few years we had been away, Will Wright had aged considerably and now lived alone in the isolated house overlooking the sea, both his sons now married with homes of their own. He wanted to reminisce while we were all together but I found, all of a sudden, that I was eager to know about everything that had happened in our absence.
Will filled us in gradually while we drank cider, he in his rocking chair with Sarah at his feet, her head resting on his knees. It transpired that the farm now had over two hundred horses in the stables but the sheep had become too many so half had been sold off at the market. The crops had not done so well, but there had been no disasters. All in all, Will had done a remarkable job in my absence.
How is Elizabeth? I finally forced myself to ask.
She is well, physically. She has kept herself very much to herself most of the time but talks often of your imminent return.
The news didnt appear to effect Sarah in the way I thought it might. I suspected that she might secretly hope things had changed, that she was in with a chance, but I found that it was I who was the one who felt disappointed. Nevertheless, I knew it would be good to see my wife again.
Simon has returned, Jack, Will added. From America. Apparently, his wife and son were killed by indians and he was pretty badly wounded. I hope you dont mind but I let him stay here some of the time while you were away.
Mind? Of course I dont mind. It will be good to see my childhood friend again after all these years.
Yes, it would, but not today. Simon and his stories would wait for a while. Tonight, I must go home to Elizabeth and my little Carrie.
Will also brought us up to date on political and religious happenings in England. The news is everywhere, Jack. Things are getting worse. A divide has opened up between High Church Royalists and Puritans. It has been rumoured that, after King James dies, there could be war.
What makes you say that, Will?
Apparently, it is said, Prince Charles is already boasting of what he intends to do - overthrow Parliament totally. He wants to establish the monarchy as the sole form of rulership in the whole of Britain and such contemptuous disregard of the feelings of the common people will not be popular, to put it very mildly.
So it looks as if we have come home to a time of trouble.
It certainly looks like it, though I guess not much will change in Dengy. It rarely does. He paused. Now then, you two, are you going to tell me about what you have been up to?
Sarah looked at me for a long time before I started to give Will a brief outline of our adventures, leaving out the less attractive parts. If Will was to learn fully of his daughters experiences, it would be from her own lips, and at a later date, when he had become accustomed to having her home again. Eventually, I realised that it would not do. I owed it to Elizabeth to get home as soon as I could. I could always come over again to check on Sarah. I smiled. I would enjoy that.
Watch out for the new housekeeper, Will warned as I got up to leave. Mary fell ill last year and the doctor insisted on her being limited to light duties. The new one is a real dragon.
I thanked him. I would be prepared for that.
I left as darkness began to fall and borrowed a horse from the stables to hasten my journey home. Will and Sarah both urged me to stay the night, probably with very different motives, but I just had to go. Elizabeth must know that I was back as quickly as possible.
Sarah walked with me to the lane in her Comtesses gown and we held hands over the gate for some time before I kissed her cheek gently and left. She stood watching as I disappeared into the darkness.

~~~~~~~


CRICKSEE looked the same, too, from where I sat on the horse by the crossroads above the Hall and took it all in. The roses were still in full bloom, looking weird in the near-darkness. In the distance, I could hear the waves lightly lapping on the banks of the estuary in the quiet of the night while, closer, owls hooted in the wood that separated Cricksee from Burnham.
Home at last, I thought to myself. Many times, I had thought I would never make it, but I had. Now, Elizabeth and would be together and I would never leave again. I smiled as I remembered saying that once before. The lamps were still lit downstairs as I rode up to the front door. As I dismounted, it opened and a pool of yellow light shone across the courtyard. I laughed to myself, realising, as I walked towards the door, that I must look and smell like a tramp.
The “dragon looked me up and down and said: What do you want?
I have come to see Beth, I formally stated to the stranger before me.
Mistress ELIZAbeth is indisposed and not able to receive visitors at such a late hour, she replied coldly.
I stepped right up close to her so that she backed away. Madam. If you do not let me in, I will throw you out.
The woman looked shocked. No one had ever spoken to her in such a rude manner before. Master Simon had such good manners when he called. She held her nose in the air. Whom shall I say has called?
Tell Mistress Elizabeth... Tell her that the wanderer has finally returned.

~~~~~~~








EPILOGUE







It was Carrie who came into the hallway first after the housekeeper had left in search of her mistress and I marvelled at how my little girl had grown during those four, short years I had been absent.
Who are you? she asked politely, her thumb in her mouth, a tatty rag doll tucked under her arm.
How do I answer that one? What has she been told? I dropped down to her level and faced her. Hello Carrie. Im Jack.
She put her head on one side in a manner I had seen so many times in someone else. How do you know my name?
I knew you when you were very small, I replied safely. When you were just a baby.
The little girl smiled. Have you got a baby, Jack?
Yes I have, I said, touching her cheek gently. And she has grown up into a very pretty young lady.
The conversation was disrupted by Elizabeth who rushed into the hall in her nightdress, her hair all over the place.
Jack, she greeted, running towards me down the hall and grasping my hands firmly. Im so glad you are back.
I stood up to receive her but there was no kiss, no cuddle, no real warmth.
Of course, I said, puzzled at her attitude. Didnt I promise you that I would?
Sarah? Is she...?
Sarah is at Moor Hill with her father. She is well. I would say no more about that for now.
She sighed. Thank goodness, Ive been so worried.
I frowned. Worried? Who about? Her loving husband, or her friend?
At that moment, the study door opened and a familiar figure staggered into the hall, a glass of brandy in his hand, ill-disguised contempt written all over his face. So the wanderer finally condescended to return, did he?
Im glad to see you, Simon, I greeted warmly, stretching out my hand to him. Im sorry to hear about your problems in the New World.
Are you now? he replied, ignoring my hand. How nice.
I was beginning not to like the direction this conversation was taking. And, I thought suspiciously, what was he doing here at this time of night? I looked back to Elizabeth. Well, you need worry no longer, Beth. Im home now for good.
Elizabeth looked nervously at Simon who chose not to help her from an increasingly obvious predicament.
You knew Id be home, didnt you?
But it was so long, Jack. I thought... I thought that you... you had gone for good, so I... She looked at Simon again for help but he didnt offer any. I thought... you were with Sarah, you know?
I was, but not in the way you obviously mean.
Simon laughed and it was horrible. Events in his life had turned him bitter and thence to drink. Where was the boyhood friend I had known? I didnt like him like this.
Tell that one to the fairies, Simon eventually said.
I ignored him and looked straight at my wife. I was struggling and we all knew it. Had it all been for nothing?
Beth, I swear to you, I have not been with Sarah in the way Simon means. I promise you that I have not touched her.
Elizabeth was clearly confused by my return, I could see that. I had spent four years living with a beautiful girl and had not touched her? How could I expect my wife to believe that? Perhaps if she knew the details, she would understand but I didnt see why I should have to be defending myself like this.
She let go of my hand and stood back. I dont know, Jack.
I sighed. So thats how the picture stood, a stranger in my own home. I looked imploringly at Elizabeth but she went and stood with Simon.
Beth got a divorce last week due to your absence, Simon sneered. She and I are to be married.
But...but Im home now, I stammered, my anger growing. It doesnt count.
Elizabeth stood between the two of us. Its too late, Jack, she said quietly, her hand instinctively going to her rounded belly.
Simon sneered and I suddenly felt sorry for both of them. Elizabeth had a drunken invalid and he had a girl whose whim changed with the weather. Elizabeth had been right four years ago, she didnt need me and she had now made that very plain.
However, in a strange kind of way, I found I was happy for her. The doctor had once told me that if she ever conceived again it would be a miracle and that miracle had now happened. I have seen a lot of miracles over these last few years but had the pain along the way been worth the end result?
Tears welled up and I found that I couldnt look at them. Instead, I glanced down and found myself looking straight into a pair of brown eyes that smiled up at me from under a head of raven hair. A small hand slipped into mine and I knew where my future lay.

~~~~~~~


IT was very late by the time I arrived back at Moor Hill but a light still shone in the parlour. Dismounting in the lane, I tied the reins of the horse to the fence and then helped down the little bundle I had wrapped in a borrowed cloak for the short ride from Cricksee. Sarah was still there, leaning on the garden gate. She obviously hadnt moved since I left.
Who is it, Sarah? called Will from inside the house.
Its all right, dad, you go back to bed. Jack and Carrie have come home.
The three of us stood and held each other tightly, saying nothing for a long time until I felt Carrie shiver. It was getting cold and we must go inside soon but I wanted to put off that moment as long as possible. Carrie snuggled up close to her parents who gazed into each others eyes like courting teenagers as the clouds drifted slowly across the face of the moon.
We were together at last - a family. Our lips touched briefly and the knot was irrevocably tied.
Sarah smiled. I knew youd come.

~~~~~~~