The Smallest Man

by Frances Quinn

  Chapter Fifty-five

  He’d left that morning for Canterbury, to see a horse Sir Peter was interested in. He wasn’t in the best of humours, because Sir Peter had said one of the grooms was to go with him and give his view on the mare. The son, Robert, still couldn’t walk, and the master was still taking his anger out on Jeremiah.

  ‘He knows full well Dan Butcher doesn’t know horses like Jeremiah does,’ Sukie said, as we watched Jeremiah trudge off, head bowed, from the window. ‘This is just to make him look a fool.’

  As it turned out, it was lucky the other man did go, otherwise I don’t know how long it’d have been before we found out what happened. That afternoon, Sukie was sitting by the window, mending a blanket, while I played on the floor with Michael, when she suddenly said, ‘Up the ladder – now. Someone’s coming.’

  Michael wailed as I jumped up, and Sukie had to grab him as his little arms clung onto the ladder. I pulled it up behind me, but he was still crying when the knock came on the door.

  ‘Dan,’ she said. ‘Where’s Jeremiah?’

  ‘Can I come in?’ he said. ‘I’ve bad news, I’m afraid.’

  She couldn’t say no, it would have looked odd.

  ‘I won’t beat about the bush,’ he said. ‘He’s been arrested.’

  I strained my ears to hear over Michael’s cries.

  ‘The city was full of soldiers,’ he went on. ‘Walking about, listening to what people were saying. I saw them stop a few people, and ask them questions.’

  ‘What’s this got to do with Jeremiah?’

  ‘We were walking back through the market, he stopped to buy a pie. The stallholder was talking about that petition thing, saying it was about time Parliament listened to the people. A few others started joining in—’

  ‘But Jeremiah wouldn’t—’

  ‘No, he didn’t join in, he was just eating his pie. But they were right beside us, and they weren’t keeping their voices down either. I said to him, let’s walk on, but he said he didn’t like to walk and eat at the same time.’

  Sukie groaned and, up above, silently, so did I.

  ‘Four soldiers came out from behind another stall – they must have been listening, but they couldn’t know who’d said what. So I said to him, run, but when I looked back, they’d got hold of him. And they took him off, with the stallholder and the other ones.’

  * * *

  I slid down the ladder as soon as the latch rattled shut.

  ‘A pie,’ she said. ‘He gets himself arrested because he’s got to stop and eat his pie.’ She unhooked her cloak from behind the door. ‘I’ll leave Michael with you,’ she said. ‘I can be quicker on my own.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To the gaol. You heard Dan, there’ll be a fine to pay. If I go now, he needn’t spend the night there.’

  I had heard him say that. And it had sounded to me like he was telling her what she wanted to hear, so he could get out and have nothing more to do with it.

  ‘It’s just a mistake,’ she said, as she threw on her cloak. ‘But I don’t suppose there’ll be any point me telling them that. So that’ll be the money for his new boots gone.’

  I wasn’t sure if she really believed what she was saying, or she was trying to convince herself. She wasn’t silly, Sukie, and we both knew the Canterbury authorities would come down hard on any new signs of support for the king. But anyway, she went off, and as I played with Michael, I prayed she was right, and that when I saw her next, he’d be with her, getting a telling off about the pie.

  * * *

  It was nearly dark when she came home, and he wasn’t with her.

  ‘He’s to be put on trial,’ she said. ‘They’re saying he said Parliament are going against God’s laws.’

  I tried to stop the shock showing on my face, but she saw it.

  ‘This is serious, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘It’s worse than we thought.’

  Those words were treasonous. Jeremiah wouldn’t have said them, but according to Dan’s account, the soldiers couldn’t have seen who did. So wouldn’t it be easiest to pin them on the man who stood out because he looked different? ‘The big fellow,’ one would have said. ‘He said it.’

  ‘If they find him guilty, they could send him to the Barbados, couldn’t they?’ she said. ‘It was in the newsbook, that’s what they’re doing now.’

  I’d been thinking exactly the same thing.

  ‘It won’t come to that,’ I said. ‘Like you said, it’s all a mistake. There won’t even be a trial, we’ll get him out before then.’

  I couldn’t think how though. And if we couldn’t, if Jeremiah was tried, it would be his word against theirs: the strange-looking man who people had called a monster, against four of the men who represented the law of England now.

  * * *

  We sat up late that night. Sukie said she wouldn’t be able to sleep, and so we talked until the rushlights I’d lit burned down, and then lit some more. To try and distract her from the worry, I got to talking about the old days at the palace, and she told me then about how people had reacted when she said she was going to marry Jeremiah.

  ‘Oh, there were jokes, of course. And one or two people said nasty things. But it surprised me to find that I didn’t care. I just used to think to myself, if they could find a husband or a wife as good and kind as the one I’ve got, they’d be very lucky.’

  In turn, I told her about how kind Jeremiah had been to me when I first arrived at court, and felt so lost and alone. And how he’d changed my life by teaching me to ride.

  ‘He often talked about that day you rode in that race,’ she said. ‘He told me once he couldn’t have been prouder of you if you’d been his own son.’

  ‘He’s been more of a father to me than my own father was,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever told him that. I will, when we get him home.’

  We both stared at the embers of the fire for a bit, and then she said, ‘He will come home, won’t he?’

  ‘Of course he will,’ I said. ‘They’ll see he’s innocent.’

  But I didn’t believe that, and the fear in her eyes told me she didn’t either.

  * * *

  Sukie went back to the gaol three times over the following week. She couldn’t get them to let her see Jeremiah, but on the third visit, she found out when the trial was to be held: it was eight weeks away.

  She looked at Michael, playing happily on the floor.

  ‘If they send him away, we’ll never see him again, will we? People don’t come back from there.’

  ‘We’re not going to let that happen,’ I said. ‘I’ve been thinking – couldn’t Sir Peter do anything? He’s in with the mayor, isn’t he? And he must know the justices.’

  ‘I should think he could. They’d fall over themselves for a friend of Cromwell. But do you really think he’d help Jeremiah, after what happened with his boy?’

  I didn’t know. But if Sir Peter had enough influence to get Jeremiah out, that was a start. What we had to do was find a reason for him to use it. That night, a thought kept turning itself over and over in my head. There was something I could do, something I could offer. It was dangerous, for all of us. But if I could use it to drive the right bargain, there might just be a chance to get Jeremiah out before he had to stand up and call four of Cromwell’s soldiers liars.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  I gave myself another day to think it through before I told Sukie; I didn’t want to get her hopes up if it couldn’t work. Her eyes brightened when I said I had an idea, but the light faded when I continued, ‘Do you remember I said to Jeremiah that he should teach Robert to ride again? Teach him the way he taught me?’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘Well, I think I could do it. I think it’s what we can use to bargain for Jeremiah’s freedom.’

  ‘Are you mad? We’re trying to get Jeremiah out of gaol – if Sir Peter finds out you’re here, the pair of us will be put in there with him.’

  ‘You’d
have to take Michael and go to your mother’s. They won’t pursue a woman and a child all the way to Essex. They’ve got enough to do at the moment, keeping the peace.’

  She narrowed her eyes at me.

  ‘And what about you?’

  ‘I’m the other bit of the bargain. If I do what I promise, he gets Jeremiah out. And if I fail, he gets to hand me in. I’m still a prize – he’ll recognise that.’

  ‘You’ve lost your senses. What’s to stop him handing you in straight away?’

  ‘That’s the chance I’ll have to take. But if Jeremiah’s right about how much he loves that boy, I think he’ll want to see if I can help him.’

  ‘And after? Even if you manage it, you don’t know he’ll keep his word.’

  ‘Jeremiah said he was a fair man. And besides, by then he’ll have been hiding me himself, won’t he? He’d have to explain that.’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s so…’

  ‘I know. It’s not a great plan. But we don’t have anything else.’

  * * *

  We talked it over, long into the night. She didn’t want to leave, but I knew Jeremiah wouldn’t want me to do anything that put her and Michael in danger.

  ‘But he wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger either,’ she said. ‘If Sir Peter hands you in, now, with all that’s going on, they’ll make an example of you, you know that.’

  ‘And if we don’t get Jeremiah out, they’ll make an example of him.’

  We went round and round in circles but in the end she agreed.

  * * *

  It was strange, saying goodbye to Sukie; our prickly relationship in the early days seemed like something I’d imagined, and I realised I’d miss her as well as Michael. I’d have to stay in hiding even when I’d revealed my presence to Sir Peter – I couldn’t risk someone else turning me in – so she’d been to town to buy as much flour and oats and beans as she could, and before she left, she gave me instructions about what to pick and when from the vegetable patch, and where I was likely to find the new-laid eggs each night.

  ‘Leave a candle in the window, so you can see what you’re doing,’ she said. ‘And keep those chickens alive, they’re good layers.’

  I watched her and Michael from the window until they disappeared. We’d agreed I’d wait till the next morning, to make sure they were well on their way, before I presented myself and my plan at the big house. To distract myself, I made some bread, the way she’d showed me, and cooked it on the griddle. It was as hard as a rock, and I’d forgotten the salt so it tasted of nothing. It didn’t seem a good sign.

  * * *

  As it happened, the first part was easier than I expected. I didn’t know how I was going to get to Sir Peter; if the servant who opened the door turned me away, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. But as I approached, my heart pounding, there was a coach outside, with four perfectly matched chestnut horses in front. They were tossing their heads, the way coach horses do when they’ve been kept waiting; someone was about to leave. The coachman was sitting up on top, with his back to me, and I was almost at the door before he turned and saw me. He yelled out, but at that moment, the door opened.

  I knew Sir Peter as soon as I saw him; Sukie had described him: short and stocky with red-brown hair. Quickly, I stepped forward, swept off my hat and bowed.

  ‘My name is Nat Davy,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you’ve heard of me?’

  * * *

  ‘You’ve got something to offer me?’

  He stared down at me, his face puzzled. He had recognised my name, and he knew very well there’d be prestige in handing me over. But I’d managed to persuade him to let me in and hear what I had to say.

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘You’re a man of business, you know how it works – I do something for you, you do something for me.’

  It felt strange, playing the cocky court dwarf again, but I remembered the merchants the queen had sold her jewels to in Amsterdam. They didn’t go in for deference and fawning, and the more the queen showed how desperate she was, the harder the bargains they drove. He’d very likely be the same, so with only one chance to convince him I had something he wanted, I’d have to do it the way men like him did it, with bluff and boldness.

  ‘I heard what happened to your son,’ I said. ‘And I think I can help him.’

  He stared at me incredulously, then laughed.

  ‘What have you got? A magic potion to make his legs work again? I’ve had the finest doctors here, and—’

  ‘I can’t help him walk,’ I said. ‘But I could help him ride a horse again.’

  ‘Ride a horse? Is this some kind of a joke?’

  ‘He loved horses, didn’t he? It would give him a reason to come out of his room and start living again.’

  I’ve got him interested. I saw it in his face, just a flicker but it was there. Now convince him.

  As concisely as I could, I explained how I’d been taught to ride, even though I was too small to use my legs the way other people did. And how I thought I could use the same method with Robert.

  ‘I’m certain I can do it,’ I said. ‘And surely it’s worth your while to let me try?’

  He looked at me for a long time. Just when I thought he was going to say no, he folded his arms and said, ‘You said there was something you wanted in return. Money?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I understand you’re a man of influence in the county,’ I said.

  He cast a glance around the room, as if the paintings and the porcelain and the silk carpet made the answer obvious.

  ‘I hold a certain position in society,’ he said.

  ‘The man who taught me to ride is Jeremiah Hobley.’

  ‘My head groom?’

  ‘The same. You won’t have heard yet, but he’s in gaol, in Canterbury. I want you to get him released.’

  He listened as I explained what had happened, and that Jeremiah would never have said the words he’d been accused of. He asked if the Hobleys had been sheltering me, and I said yes: he’d guessed anyway, and if I wanted him to trust me, it seemed better to be honest.

  ‘Can you do it? I asked. ‘Can you get him out?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Of course. If I swear to his good character, that’ll settle the matter. But it would have to be before he’s tried. Once a jury’s given their verdict, there’ll be nothing even I can do.’

  I’d have less than eight weeks. If he even agreed.

  ‘But why would I want to help the man who advised me to buy that murderous horse?’ he said. ‘He’s lucky I didn’t turf him out on his ear before now. And then there’s the matter of you. A traitor. Who my conscience tells me I should hand over to the authorities, today, to be dealt with as they decide.’

  ‘You could do that,’ I said. ‘And you could leave Jeremiah to rot. But if you do, you’ll never know if I could have helped your son, will you? So here’s the arrangement I’m proposing.’

  * * *

  I was sweating as I walked back to the cottage, even though the morning was cool. I’d played my role well, but inside, I’d been terrified. By the time I’d delivered my proposal, it was all I could do to keep up the bravado and stop my knees from shaking. But he’d agreed: if I succeeded in teaching his son to ride again, before Jeremiah’s trial, he would get him out, and give me twenty-four hours to leave Kent. If not, he’d turn me over to the authorities in Canterbury. I had no way to be sure he’d keep his word to let me go even if I succeeded, but I couldn’t worry about that now; I had to get the job done.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  We agreed it would be best if as few people as possible knew about me. One of the coachmen had already seen me: he and a second one were warned to stay quiet if they wanted to keep their jobs, and were instructed to bring Robert to a fallow field not far from Jeremiah’s cottage each morning, assist as needed, and take him back again after his lesson. And Robert, who was too young to know who I really was, would be told I’d been recommended by one of t
he doctors, and was being paid for my services.

  So, the following morning, I waited, just as I had before that first lesson with Jeremiah, only this time what I felt was not excitement, but cold, hard fear. It had taken months and months for Jeremiah to teach me to ride. Robert wouldn’t be starting from scratch, like I had, but even so, I had no idea if I could do it in the time. Or even if I could do it at all. Perhaps my way wouldn’t work for someone who couldn’t move their legs, or perhaps I’d just been lucky to have Jeremiah as a teacher, and I wouldn’t be able to repeat what he did.

  They arrived in a small trap, the boy sitting slouched in the seat. The second coachman was riding a fine-boned grey, and leading a chestnut mare; I’d asked for the two gentlest horses in the stables. Robert had his father’s red-brown hair, but where Sir Peter was stocky, the boy seemed skinny for his age, and his face had a pale, unhealthy look. As the trap approached, he sat up and stared, looking me up and down as though he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

  Well, I’d seen worse looks than that and survived. I stepped up to the trap.

  ‘Good morning,’ I said. ‘My name is Nat, and—’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ he said to the coachman. ‘Take me back to the house.’

  The two coachmen looked at each other.

  ‘Sir, it’s what your father wants,’ said the one driving the trap. ‘We had instructions—’

  ‘And now I’m giving you new ones,’ the boy said. ‘Take me back.’

  Don’t lose this chance.

  ‘Sir, would you at least let me show you how I ride?’

  ‘What do I care how you ride? Look, I don’t know why my father agreed to this, but there is nothing I can learn from a creature like you.’

  ‘Don’t you want to be able to ride again?’