Stokesay Castle
The village of Lower Dinchope was at the south end of Wenlock Edge, and from there we followed the river to a drawbridge which provided access to the south tower of the castle.
The bridge was up and as there appeared to be no signs of life, we retraced our steps to a section of the river that was running fast over shallow water and waded across.
Eventually we arrived at the northern end of the castle, where we stopped to take stock in front of a half-timbered gatehouse entrance.
We still had seen no signs of life and the gatehouse was open, so we entered through the centre tunnel, passing stairs we thought must be to some sort of upper floor accommodation or storeroom.
The courtyard was relatively small and yet the whole area somehow seemed larger than it had appeared from the outside.
From where we were standing, the north tower looked intimidating, and yet we thought the residential upper storey looked strangely warm and welcoming.
It was now late afternoon, and as the place appeared to be unoccupied, we pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped inside.
‘It’s not as I remember,’ remarked Charles.
‘You have been here before then?’
‘A long time ago, but I think the curtain wall is much smaller now than it was… I suppose that’s the work of Cromwell. There doesn’t seem to be anyone at home what should we do?’
I was feeling nervous, it all seemed too quiet and empty, but Thomas walked on and we followed.
We wandered around until eventually we found ourselves in the upper level of the north tower, and a withdrawing room where his lordship must have retired with his family in the evenings. The room had been stripped of its finery and was now sparsely furnished with just a long table and two benches. A basic plain stone fireplace which almost covered the whole of one wall sat below an arched mantle.
The bare stone walls were panelled in oak, the windows were large and the ceiling low, all helping to create for his lordship a comfortable ambiance and snugness away from the trials and trouble of daily life.
We were all startled when a strong male voice from the doorway shouted: ‘What are you lot doing in here?’
Not waiting for an answer, the tall stout man with a large hat and wearing a neckerchief approached Thomas who he must have thought looked the most responsible.
‘No one is allowed in the castle unless invited by me or my family… who are you?’
‘Thomas White sir, this is my daughter and son-in-law.’
‘Have you come for the fruit picking?’
‘Yes sir,’ replied Thomas.
‘The pay is two pence per person per day, you work ten hours from seven in the morning until five in the evening and you get two meals… one at midday when the food will be brought to you in the field, and one after work… that one is usually a hot meal. You will be on a week’s trial and then if I am satisfied with your work, I may keep you on for another three to four weeks. Follow me.’
We left the castle the way we had come in, and as we passed through the gatehouse we almost walked into two of Cromwell’s soldiers relieving themselves against a tree.
‘The guards live in the gatehouse,’ he said, ‘there’s only a dozen of them. We just ignore them and they don’t bother us.’
We came to a tall wooden building with a similar but smaller one attached at one end, the smaller one had a smoking chimney on the roof.
‘That is where you will have your evening meal with the other pickers.’
‘How many others are there?’ asked Thomas.
‘Where you will be working there are two other women, three children and four men.’
We followed him into the larger building which was a barn half full with sheaths of hay.
‘Winter fodder for the cattle,’ he said.
The building was so tall that the roof timbers almost disappeared into the shadows where the sound of pigeons could be heard, cooing but not seen. At one end there was a ladder leaning against what looked like a loft.
‘That is where you will be sleeping,’ he said pointing to the loft. ‘You will be sharing with the other pickers. Do you have any questions?’
‘No sir,’ said Thomas, ‘I think you have covered everything.’
As he walked out of the barn he shouted without turning to face us. ‘Seven in the morning Mr White, don’t be late.’
‘Two pence a day?’ said Charles as he fell backward onto the hay laughing. ‘Mr Thomas White, where did that come from?’
‘I had to say something, and it was the first name that came into my head.’ He sat down next to Charles who called to me, ‘Come and join us wife.’
‘Don’t think I have forgiven you for tumbling that wench in Tong, husband,’ I said as I flopped down beside him… Charles and I were chuckling like mischievous children, Thomas just looked on disapprovingly.
***
There was a water trough just outside the barn, and a hand water pump where we were able to freshen up before the other pickers returned.
It was only when I saw the two other women that I realised the enormity of my problem. I had not hitherto needed to interact with anyone who did not already know that I was only disguised as a woman, but now I would have to talk like them, piss like them and even walk like them… to worsen my predicament even further my voice had started to break, one minute I would be squeaking like a girl and then croaking like a frog.
The other pickers appeared to be two families. One of them was an adult man with his wife and a couple of boys about my age. He just nodded when he saw us but didn’t speak.
The second couple seemed friendlier, they had two young girls and as soon as they spotted us they came over and introduced themselves. ‘I’m Joseph Phillips and this is my wife Elizabeth, we come here for the harvest every year, our girls are Elizabeth and Mary.’
Two royal names, which I hoped suggested they would be sympathetic to our problems if our true identity was ever discovered.
At that point a bell started to ring.
‘That’s the cook telling us our food is ready,’ said Joseph.
We were first in the canteen which looked clean and was warm… there were three long tables, each with a bench on either side… on each table there was a large jug of ale and bread.
We sat at the first bench, and a couple of minutes later Joseph joined us with his family. They were followed in the canteen by the other family who chose to sit on their own.
Thomas was exchanging pleasantries with Joseph and Elizabeth while Charles and I pretended to be talking quietly to ourselves, but were actually eavesdropping.
‘Who’s the man who hired us?’
‘He’s Jacob Wager the estate manager, he’s a good fair man and a good boss… as long as you do your work he won’t bother you.’
‘What about the other couple over there?’
‘They’re Irish, his name is Patrick Craig, his wife is Cathleen and their sons are called Michael and Seann… they tend to keep themselves to themselves but they’re good workers.’
‘What fruit will we be picking?’
‘At the moment it is cider apples, but we could be moved to any number of things. There is still a field of hay to be gathered in, and potatoes to pick before the first frost. How long do you intend to stay?’
‘A couple of weeks, maybe longer. I’m flexible, I go where the mood takes me, and where I go my daughter and son-in-law go too.’
‘Come and get it,’ shouted cook.
Charles looked at me and pointed with his head and eyes at the hot food. I jumped up and was first to be served with a plate of mutton and vegetables covered in a thick gravy. I sat down at the table and wondered to myself, why are all cooks fat jolly looking ladies?
***
I enjoyed fruit picking and I think Thomas did too, b
ut Charles who had never done a proper day’s work in his life found it repetitive and boring. I tried to keep away from the other pickers but it was difficult, with Joseph and Elizabeth being so friendly.
Halfway through the second week, Elizabeth sat beside me during the midday break.
She asked a few questions which I answered using the minimum amount of words… but try as I did, I couldn’t disguise my voice sounding more and more unlike a woman’s. ‘I think I must have a cold coming on,’ I said.
‘You’re a thirteen-year-old boy aren’t you?’ she whispered.
I could see no point in denying it but was not sure how best to answer, so I nodded and asked: ‘Before I say anymore, would you mind if Thomas joined us.’
‘Thomas… so that’s his name, is he really your father or is he the King of England?’
‘He’s neither,’ I said as I waved to Thomas who was watching and worrying just what we were talking about.
‘She knows Thomas… Elizabeth knows.’
‘What do you know Elizabeth?’
‘I know that Cromwell’s bullies are looking for two men and a boy… and that one of the men is the King of England. I also know he is not a woman,’ she said glancing in my direction.
‘And are you going to betray us Elizabeth?’
‘Certainly not. But Patrick Craig would… especially if he found out there was a reward.’
Thomas went on to explain our predicament… where we had come from and where we were heading.
‘Our aim is to eventually reach the south coast of England and to cross the channel to the continent where most of King Charles’s family now live… his brother James and sister Maria in France with their mother and his sister Mary in Holland.’
Joseph had joined us by this time, and had been listening in. ‘I don’t know how we can help sir, but please don’t hesitate to ask.’
‘For the time being we will carry on fruit picking, you can help us by being our lookout,’ said Thomas. ‘If at any time you see danger just let me know.’
The next day Joseph and Elizabeth found it difficult to make eye contact with Charles, and I quite understood their dilemma.
‘How do I address the king?’ she asked me.
‘I suggest you forget he is the king and think of him as an ordinary citizen like yourselves.’
Though Joseph was always polite and courteous, he hardly ever talked to us after he had discovered our true identity, and Elizabeth seemed to be more comfortable talking to me than Thomas or Charles.
We carried on with our charade well into the second week until Elizabeth told me that she thought Patrick Craig had become suspicious.
***
It was just a few minutes before our lunch break the following day when Joseph came running to Thomas. ‘My Lord,’ he gasped, still out of breath from running, ‘Patrick Craig knows Toby is not a woman… he’s on his way to tell the guards as we speak.’
Thomas thanked Joseph and shouted to me and Charles. ‘Drop everything we must leave now.’
I slid down the ladder and called back. ‘Can I just run and get my own clothes?’
‘No time… we may already be too late.’
Charles looked petrified, and had it not been for the strength and fortitude of his mentor Thomas, I doubt he would have known what to do. ‘Which way?’ he asked.
‘Away from the castle… hurry we must find shelter in a forest until night-time.’
We were running along a well-used track with thick hawthorn hedges on each side, I could see plenty of trees dotted about, but no sign of a forest… even if there were, the hawthorn was far too thick to penetrate.
We must have been running for ten or fifteen minutes and Thomas was beginning to fall behind, we were coming to a bend in the road when I heard them before I could see them… the sound of running boots behind us, I stopped to wait for Thomas and could just make out a group of men about half a mile behind us.
Somehow, Thomas found the extra energy to catch us up, and we ran together round the corner. That was when I saw the horse and cart approaching from the opposite direction.
On one side of the road was the thick hawthorn hedge, and on the other side a ditch hiding behind a crop of tall nettles.
‘They may not have seen us,’ I said, ‘let’s hide down there.’
I pushed my way through the nettles and jumped into the water which turned out to be much colder and deeper than I had anticipated. When I landed I fell over and became entangled in brambles. I was struggling, but eventually found a foothold and was able to stand. I found myself in three feet of cold stinking water, and then to add to my discomfort I was soaked again when Charles and Thomas came crashing down beside me.
‘Quiet,’ called Thomas. ‘They may not have seen us.’
Almost simultaneously, I could hear the sound of running boots, the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves and the rumbling cart wheels moving ever closer.
The cart halted just above us and moved a little closer to let the soldiers pass on the opposite side.
Peeping between the nettles, I could just make out the unmistakable figure of Jacob Wager sitting high in the seat of the cart.
I could not see the soldiers, nor did I want to, but as they drew level with the cart, the sound of their running boots became quieter, and then they stopped altogether.
‘Have you seen two men and a woman sir?’ their leader asked.
‘Who are you looking for soldier?’
‘They’re three of yours I believe, an old man with his daughter and son-in-law.’
‘Cheeky bastard,’ whispered Thomas. ‘I’m not old.’
So there we were, Charles, Thomas and I. In fear of our lives and in the most unimaginable discomfort trying to suppress a laugh.
‘I’ve just come from Ludlow and I haven’t seen anyone that fits your description, but I did see three men running through a field about a mile back. What have they done anyway?’
‘Nothing that concerns you Mr Wager. Which side of the road did you see them?’
‘That side,’ he said pointing to his right.
Then they were gone… the sound of their boots receding as they jogged hurriedly away in the direction of Ludlow. The cart didn’t move until the soldiers were well out of earshot, and then Mr Wager called: ‘Mr White, if that’s your name, would you please get out of the ditch and walk in front of my cart until we have turned the corner, and are out of sight of the soldiers? You can then climb in the back of the cart and hide under the sacking.’
Charles was the first to scramble up the banking. Then, with me pushing and Charles pulling, we helped Thomas. I struggled out last, bruised and bleeding from the brambles. The soldiers by this time were 200 yards away and running in the wrong direction. Thankfully they did not look back.
As soon as we were round the corner and out of sight, we climbed under the sacking and hid among a cargo of turnips and cabbages.
Thomas was still grumbling, but this time it was about sharing the cart with lumpy vegetables. ‘Where are you taking us Mr Wager?’
‘To a place those half-witted soldiers will not think of looking.’
‘And where would that be sir?’
‘Back to the castle. But fear not Mr White, you are coming as my guests not my prisoners.’
It did occur to me that Mr Wager might want the whole reward for himself, but what could we do… we had no option but to put our trust in him.
Presently the cart stopped and he walked round to the back to adjust his load… or that’s what an observer might have thought he was doing.
He lifted the sacking, not to adjust his load, but to make us aware of the situation.
‘In a few minutes we will be at the gatehouse. I counted the soldiers on the road and I think two were missing, so they must have been left on guard at the castle. I think it unl
ikely they will check my load, but if they do and you are discovered, I will just have to kill them. Hopefully that won’t happen, but if it does we will leave the bodies on the road and tell the others when they return that you must have murdered them to make good your escape. Now keep quiet and if you have any weapons, keep them to hand just in case.’
I was shaking with fear as we turned into castle; I had the knife from my stocking ready in my hand but was praying I would not have to use it.
The two soldiers… if they were there did not appear, and we trundled through the gatehouse without incident.
Mr Wager removed the sacking and we climbed out, no words were spoken but he put a finger to his lips just to make sure we understood the need for silence.
We followed him into the building and through narrow passages to his own private quarters, just below the half-timbered residential area in the north tower where he had found us the day we arrived.
It was then that Jacob Wager knelt before Charles bowing his head in reverence.
‘Your grace, I apologise most sincerely for not recognising you when you arrived… I was at your investiture when you became the Prince of Wales. I should have been able to identify you, I can offer no excuse.’
‘No apologies are necessary sir, you may have just saved our lives. That is thanks enough.’
‘You are most gracious my Lord, now if you would like to follow me I will introduce you to my wife, she will attend to your wounds and find you some fresh dry clothing.’
We followed him through what looked like his office and into the kitchen where his wife sat in a rocking chair crocheting in front of a blazing log fire. A pan sitting on a trivet with something that smelled delicious was simmering quietly in the background.
‘This is my wife Margaret, she will show you the guest room, attend to your injuries and give you something to calm the nettle-rash.’
Margaret was much shorter than her husband, she was a little overweight for her height, and had a jolly smiling face. Her hair was tied up in a bun and she was wearing plain working clothes and a pinafore.
Courtier in the Royal House of Stuart Page 15
