The acrid smell of powder and shot made me cough, but I held my nerve, kept the gun pointing at Lady Prescott.
‘Please,’ she cried, ‘have mercy!’
I could not pull the trigger. My moment’s hesitation was all she needed, she scrambled away under the bridge for cover, dragging her sodden skirts behind her.
The guard was re-loading. I knew there was not much time. I flung myself off Blaze and down to the ground and waded to the coach. The coachman had uncoupled one of the horses and, with surprising agility, he vaulted on and I watched his broad back gallop away down the path. Two more steps and I was at the coach door.
Another shot blasted a hole in the door right next to my hand, and the force of it made the open door swing. I kept the gun pointing back, as I felt desperately over the floor and seats with my other hand, but I could find nothing.
No box, no pouch, no gold.
I was confused, but then saw Lady Prescott peering at me from the bridge. Lady Prescott’s man, seeing my intent, sploshed through the shallows towards her, clumsily trying to re-load his gun as he went, but he was not quick enough – I got to Lady Prescott first.
I pressed my pistol to her temple. ‘Where’s the gold?’
‘There is no gold,’ she screamed.
‘Deliver me the gold,’ I repeated, unwilling to believe it.
‘It was a trick, a ruse,’ she shouted. I wanted to be sure I’d understood right.
I pressed the muzzle harder into her soft skin. ‘Tell me.’
About a man’s length away her guard stood still, his musket pointing to the sky, hands up. He was asking me not to fire.
‘Tell me,’ I repeated.
‘We suspect Grice is a spy,’ she whimpered, ‘so we set a trap to catch him. But you’ll get your come-uppance – the King’s Army should be here by now to catch him.’
I had an urge to pull the trigger, but stopped myself in time. What was I turning into? Anyway, it would serve no use. I floundered away, the disappointment threatening to overwhelm me. No gold. So it was all for nothing. Disaster.
I let out a ragged breath. The noise of fire would bring every soldier for miles around, I knew. According to Lady Prescott, Royalist troops were already on their way here, and Parliament troops to the Manor not two miles away. Soon I would be sitting in a bloody battlefield.
I had failed. I could not get Ralph out, and Lady Katherine would die.
My emotion made me careless, and as I moved away from Lady Prescott the manservant lunged towards me. His grip on my pistol arm bit through my sleeve. It brought me to my senses. Frustration made me blind with rage. I twisted and cursed, but he pinioned my pistol behind my back. I kicked out at his ankle and brought my other knee up hard against his groin. He almost let go, staggered on his feet.
A wild blur of black emerged from the trees. Another figure on horseback galloping along the bank. He shouted something from the bridge and waved a long rifle. I thought he might run us down, the horse forged through the shallows towards us.
It was all over. If it was one of the King’s Men, others would follow close behind.
The guard let go, put his hands up. I did the same. My thoughts raced. What would the King’s soldiers do to me when they found out I’d threatened Lady Prescott?
The man on the bank was familiar. The set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head. Surely it couldn’t be?
But I would recognise my brother anywhere.
‘Ralph!’ I yelled.
He glanced briefly over his shoulder, looking for the source of the voice. It was enough time for the man by my side to raise his musket to his shoulder. At the same time Ralph took aim. Undistracted by the noise of firing I had a clear view of how the recoil from the guard’s musket jerked it off target whereas Ralph’s aim was sharp and true. The guard staggered, fell backwards into the water. It parted to receive him then splashed back over him. He floundered only a moment, bubbles escaping from his mouth and nose, then was still. The moon had come out again from behind the clouds and I was transfixed by the body next to me, oozing ink-like blood into the water.
Lady Prescott cowered further under the bridge. Ralph kept one of his weapons pointed at me, as he gestured for her to come out onto the bridge. Then I realised. He still did not know who I was.
‘For mercy’s sake! Ralph!’ I cried. ‘It’s me, Abi! Don’t shoot!’
His hand wavered, dropped down. He dismounted in one fluid movement and was at my side in an instant, his pistol before him, his face full of suspicion. I tore away my scarf with my free hand.
His eyes widened. He grabbed hold of the scarf and tossed it into the river. ‘What do you think you’re doing? You stupid girl! You could get yourself killed! Of all the tomfool –’
‘She’s getting away!’ I pointed to Lady Prescott who had gathered up her skirts and was heading into the trees. ‘Stop, or I’ll fire,’ I yelled.
Lady Prescott’s eyes swivelled towards me as I went up the bank.
‘Don’t shoot,’ she begged, flinging up her hands.
‘Then stay still,’ I said. The pistol felt cold and weighty against my palm, and I pointed it at her in what I hoped was a threatening manner.
A glance to Ralph showed his amazed expression, but I didn’t dare move my gun from Lady Prescott.
‘Wait there,’ Ralph said.
‘No,’ I called, but he had already waded through the ford and was looking inside the coach. A few moments later and he was back at my side.
‘Are we too late?’ he asked, automatically signing with his free hand.
‘No. It’s empty,’ I said. ‘But there’s no time for that. Kate’s in danger, we must go back to the Manor, get past Grice somehow. He has sent Parliament men there. They’ll be there at first light and they’re after royalist blood. They’ll kill her if we can’t get her out.’
‘What about her?’ Ralph said, indicating Lady Prescott.
‘Just leave her,’ I said. ‘Her friends are on the way, let them look to her.’
I lowered my gun and Lady Prescott ran off into the woods in a blur of skirt and petticoat.
‘Listen,’ Ralph said.
I could hear nothing, but I felt a slight tremor through the soles of my boots.
‘Horses,’ I whispered. ‘It could be the King’s men, Lady Prescott’s expecting them.’
We pulled off the main track and into the trees.
The horsemen drew up, a little way off, and seeing the coach with only one horse in the traces and its door hanging open, began to arm themselves. I froze – even from here I could see it was Grice and his serving men. I crept away from Blaze and hid myself behind a thicket of hawthorn.
Ralph had pulled his horse back into the shadows. Grice and Rigg rode ahead first. They passed close to me on the track, pistols at the ready. The third man, Pitman, followed behind on a hired mare, his eyes scanning left and right.
To my horror, Blaze lowered his head and moved forward onto the path. Stupid horse. Now they’d know we were here.
Pitman shouted something to the other men and they halted. There was a discussion which I could not hear, but they dismounted and Grice continued limping towards the ford and the coach, whilst his two servants moved pincer-like into the woods. I crouched lower. They were looking for me.
I saw a flash as Pitman spotted Ralph behind the tree and let loose a shot. But my brother was quicker – a blast of air and a musket ball from my brother toppled Pitman. Riggs dived for cover. Grice splashed into the stream and crouched down behind the coach. From there he took aim at Ralph, who was masked by a big oak.
Riggs hadn’t seen me and began to work his way through the thicket to creep up on Ralph. Grice tried another shot but it glanced off the tree. I saw Ralph’s white stock disappear as he whipped behind the trunk into cover.
Riggs was closer to Ralph now, with a prowling intent look. He stopped, closed one eye, raised his pistol before him with both hands, and slowly took aim at Ralph’s head.
<
br /> A red mist seemed to blur my eyes. Wildly, I lifted my pistol pointed it at Rigg and fired. The recoil took it off target, but my other pistol was ready. I fired again. This time Rigg fell. But I kept pressing the triggers even though the fire was dead and my palms smarted from the kick of the gun.
Rigg did not get up. I was taken by surprise that it was so quick. I’d shot a man.
Grice blundered out from behind the coach, head down, grabbing for branches to support himself as he had no stick. He was making for his horse. Ralph sprinted after him and tussled him to the ground. He pressed his musket to Grice’s chest.
Grice whimpered and writhed.
Ralph turned to me. ‘Your belt,’ he said.
‘This?’ I pulled it from round my waist. He took off his own.
‘Get up,’ he said to Grice.
‘I can’t,’ he whined. ‘My leg.’
‘Then crawl.’
Without his servants’ muscle-power Grice had become lily-livered. We secured him to the coach wheel. I tied his arms to the spokes, while Ralph kept the gun to his chest. I tore off his wooden foot and threw the disgusting thing as far as I could downstream where it floated away. Grice lay half-propped up, only his head and chest out of the water. ‘I beg you, don’t leave me here,’ he said.
‘The key,’ I said, ‘to the dressing room.’
‘In my pouch,’ he said.
I unclipped his pouch and shook out the coins until I found the key. ‘Come on.’ I dragged on Ralph’s sleeve. For I remembered the men I had seen in the fields, moving south.
Ralph withdrew the gun from Grice’s chest. ‘If Lady Katherine has come to any harm, I’ll come back and shoot you.’
22. A Son’s Duty
Ralph galloped ahead and I followed. My chest hurt, as if my heart had already been bruised too much. The nights were short at this time of the year and the sky was already lightening above us. When we reached the grounds of Markyate Manor we could see the shapes of pikes moving forwards on the other side of the hedge, and a great rabble of a regiment moving down the long drive.
Just the sight of all those men made my stomach turn to water. When we got around the side of the house Ralph reined in his horse.
‘Where is she?’ he said.
I signed, ‘Upstairs.’
‘You’ll have to show me,’ he said. He slid down and followed me.
We left the horses where they stood and raced across the cobbled yard in a few strides. The kitchen door was still swinging ajar. It seemed years since I had left.
Even as we opened the door from the servant’s stairs on to the landing, Ralph stopped, his head cocked, listening. His hand tensed around his sword.
‘They’ve got in already,’ he whispered. I went to the front window to look out. What was left of the formation was led by two cavalry officers with a Parliament standard, and a few more brought up the rear with a rolling cannon. The lawns were littered with covered wagons – the baggage train that went everywhere with the troops, carrying powder for the cannon and grain for the horses. Surrounding the wagons was a motley bunch of camp followers – women and old men with the tools of their trade – the barber-surgeon, the farrier, the gunsmith.
But it was not these that made my blood freeze in my veins. Everywhere streamed soldiers, running towards the house.
‘God in heaven,’ I said.
I threw open the door to the servants stairs with Ralph close behind, but we were too late. Three blood-stained soldiers were already on the way down. One of them rushed by us, dragging the quilt from the bed and a ticking pillow. He slit it with his knife shaking the feathers out on the floor in a cloud of brown and white.
Ralph was so shocked he could only stare. The man took up a candlestick from the side table and stuffed it into the pillowcase. They forced us to the side as they barged by, leaving us coughing in a sea of feathers. We hurried up towards the bedchambers.
The doors were splintered from their hinges. On the first floor landing a group of men already had Lady Katherine by the arms. Her forehead was bleeding and her eyes were wide with terror. A bearded infantryman was trying to lift her skirts, and the others were laughing, mouths jeering insults. A strong smell of drink and sweat accompanied them.
‘A little fun, gentlemen?’ said the bearded man to me. Of course, I was still dressed like a boy. Ralph was suddenly still. It was only then that I realised I knew him.
It was my father.
Ralph pointed his musket at him. ‘Leave her be.’
‘Ralph?’ Father let go of my mistress’s skirts and made to embrace him, but Ralph kept the musket levelled at him.
‘Keep away. Don’t dare touch me! I’m ashamed of you. Is this what you do? Terrify young women, rob and plunder, even in your own village?’
‘Come on now, Ralph, it was only a bit of –’
‘“Fun” were you going to say? Would you like soldiers to do the same to our Abigail? Is this fun?’ He shoved his musket into Father’s throat.
‘Ralph!’ I cried. ‘For pity’s sake!’ I dared not move, I thought he might fire. Father looked blearily into my face, and I saw the recognition dawn. ‘Abigail?’ His lips said my name, but then his eyes slid away. He could not look me in the face.
Some of the other men laughed, sniggered behind their hands. Lady Katherine was ashen, her head pulled backwards by the soldier who still had hold of her hair.
‘Leave go,’ Ralph said to him, ‘or I fire.’
Father looked down at the pistol and gave a nervous laugh, ‘You wouldn’t –’
‘She’s not the enemy, Father!’ I said. ‘It’s my friend Kate, one of my mistress’s serving maids.’
‘Serving maid, lady, what’s the difference? They’re all tarred with the Fanshawe brush.’ The soldier gave a vicious tug on Lady Katherine’s hair.
Ralph’s face was white with anger. ‘She’s my sweetheart,’ he said, ‘I love her.’
Father tried to save face by laughing and moving away but Ralph would not give up, and kept his gun to Father’s throat. ‘Tell them to leave her alone,’ he said, ‘or I’m warning you I won’t be responsible for what I do.’
There was a moment where father and son looked at each other like strangers, both unwilling to give in. I held my breath, not daring to move. Please, for mercy’s sake, Ralph, don’t shoot, I prayed.
There was a moment more, then Father sagged away from the gun. ‘Let her go,’ he said. The soldier clung on. ‘It’s an order,’ he snapped.
Ralph moved over and took hold of Lady Katherine by the arm. Her face was wet with tears of terror. I took hold of her other hand and wrung it tight.
‘We’re leaving now,’ Ralph said, ‘and I don’t expect to be stopped. My father will remind you that you are civilised men, not beasts. Isn’t that right?’
My father had lost all his bravado. He looked to be a sad, confused little man now. I wondered that anyone would take orders from him. Just as I was thinking this, a big-chested man entered the room, and my father straightened up and saluted him.
The other man seemed calm. He had a lazy air of authority and the ragged bunch of men stood to attention. ‘What’s going on? Who are these women?’
‘Servants, Colonel Greene,’ said my father. ‘My son is escorting them to the village.’
‘And what’s happened to discipline?’
‘The men are just a little lively,’ my father said, not meeting his eyes. ‘Soldiers will be soldiers.’
The Colonel turned his attention to Ralph. ‘You are Chaplin’s son?’
Ralph nodded.
‘The one who has taken Cromwell’s shilling to join us?’
‘To my shame, yes.’ He gave the Colonel a look of flint. Then he bowed, and pushing Lady Katherine ahead of him strode out of the door. I followed, without looking back. Little did I know then, that it would be the last time I would ever see my father.
As we walked through the house we saw soldiers tearing it apart for anything of value.
My legs felt as though they did not belong to me. We passed another soldier hauling the tapestry drapes from the window. He gave a final pull until the whole rail came down. He pushed past us with his prize, before Colonel Greene yelled at him from the top of the stairs, and he was forced to drop it sheepishly to the ground.
Ralph did not let go of Kate, his arm was around her waist, and I held her on the other side. As we passed through the yard, we walked by small knots of soldiers hunched in groups, dividing up the spoils of the house, arguing and cursing over tankards and candlesticks. Inside the manor, blurred shapes still ran past the windows. But we did not stop. Instinctively I moved closer to Lady Katherine as the men bawled at each other and snatched the spoils from each other’s grip.
When Lady Katherine turned to speak to me I saw she could not manage the words. She held herself upright as if afraid to let go, closed her mouth.
None of us spoke. We just kept on walking. We walked on until we came to the edge of the common, where Ralph stopped. The sky was pale and vast above us.
‘The birds are singing,’ he whispered.
‘Just like any other day,’ I said.
Ralph held out his arms and Lady Katherine fell into them as if she had waited for it all her life. He crushed her to his chest. I saw his lips murmur, ‘Safe now,’ over and over before I turned away embarrassed as he kissed her hair.
*
A long time later she came to touch me on the shoulder. ‘You saved me from…’ She could not say the words.
When I held out my arms, her embrace was tight, like a sister.
After she let me go, I said to Ralph, ‘Where shall we go? We can’t go back to the Manor.’
‘Jacob will give us rest and a place to stay. He’s sweet on you, Abi. It was to please you that he persuaded his father to let me go. But on condition I signed up for the New Model Army. Jacob’s father thought it would help keep me out of trouble.’
Shadow on the Highway Page 18
