The Winter Siege (Daniel Cheswis Book 1)

by D. W. Bradbridge

  “That may be the case for some of you,” said Brereton, casting a sideways glance at Simon, who shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “You may well have become intelligencers by default, or at worst by self-appointment, but you cannot deny that you have all shown a certain aptitude for the task. It occurs to me that such a talent should be placed on a more formal footing.”

  “Sir?”

  “I will be happy to explain,” said Brereton, “but first I have been somewhat remiss in failing to introduce my colleagues. Tomorrow I shall be travelling to London to try and raise support from Parliament to bolster our resources in Cheshire. Whilst I am gone, military affairs will be placed in the hands of an interim committee. You are looking at that committee now. Colonel Croxton, of course, you already know.”

  The four other men, who until now had said nothing, introduced themselves in turn as John Bromhall, William Marbury, William Massie, and Robert Venables. Although I did not know these men personally, their names were all familiar as local gentry who had obtained senior military appointments within Brereton’s army.

  No wonder Colonel Booth was angry, I mused. As Brereton’s social superior, he would have expected himself to have been placed in command of military matters in Brereton’s absence, not a young colonel from the middling gentry, elevated above his station because of his support for Sir William. Brereton had obviously created this new committee for his own benefit.

  “But what about the Deputy Lieutenants, Sir William?” I interjected. “Surely they are in control of the local militia?”

  “I don’t think this is about the local trained bands, Daniel,” cut in Simon. “The Deputy Lieutenants are only responsible for the maintenance of the bands of those hundreds in East Cheshire, which are not under royalist control. Sir William is talking about a committee to manage the wider army. If I’m not mistaken, we are here because he wishes to recruit us into the service of the main field army.”

  Brereton rocked back in his chair and clapped his hands in apparent delight.

  “Ha!” he boomed. “You are nothing if not astute, young man. You will be of great service to our cause.”

  “But we failed, Sir William,” countered Simon. “The documents we aimed to secure for Parliament were lost in the River Weaver, two of my companions were killed, and one of your soldiers needlessly lost his leg trying to defend us. I would hardly call that a success.”

  Brereton smiled patiently. “That is certainly true,” he acknowledged, “but you and your brother showed great courage, and you managed to identify and nullify one of Lord Byron’s most prominent spies. As for your bellman friend here, he doesn’t say much, but he’s discreet, loyal, and he is more than useful in a fight. You make an effective team.”

  “Do I understand you correctly, Sir William?” I interjected, trying hard to mask the feeling of disquiet that was beginning to creep over me. “You wish to recruit us as intelligencers?”

  “Indeed. I am told that you have the kind of intuition and perceptiveness necessary for this kind of work. Your brother, on the other hand, has a level of bravado and commitment that may well make him suitable for more specialised work later on. However, for the time being, you will work as a team of three. Whilst I am in London you will be under the command of Colonel Croxton and will report directly to this committee.”

  I glanced at Simon and realised from the strange expression on his face that this was exactly the kind of work that my brother was cut out for. Alexander and I, however, had different priorities to consider.

  “Sir,” I said, “we are all three civilians. I presume you have good reasons why we would wish to accept your invitation?” This I said more in hope than expectation, for I could not imagine how a man like Brereton would have failed to ensure that the offer he was making was impossible for us to refuse.

  “You presume right, Master Cheswis,” he said, through a thin smile. “Let us begin with you. You have been a constable now for how long exactly?”

  “Since the Michaelmas Court Leet in sixteen forty-two. I think you know this, sir.” I realised that my tone was bordering on impertinence, but if Brereton was irked by this, he showed little sign of it.

  “So you have already done several months beyond the usual one year’s service?”

  “Yes. As you know, elections have been postponed until such a time as the political situation has been assuaged somewhat.”

  “Which, as you will be aware, may be some time,” stated Brereton. “This war will not be won in the short term.”

  “What is your point, Sir William?” I asked.

  Brereton smiled and rose to his feet. “I have it on good authority that you would value being able to relinquish your duties-”

  “Of course, I have two businesses to run and an adopted family to keep.”

  “And a new sweetheart, so I hear, who would no doubt be grateful of the opportunity of spending more time with you.”

  I was not surprised that Brereton knew about my relationship with Elizabeth Brett. Colonel Booth would no doubt have kept him informed about her role in the events that had led to the death of Hugh Furnival and the loss of the King’s correspondence in the flooded River Weaver.

  “That is so, sir,” I said, my shoulders sinking as I realised what was coming next.

  “This will not be a full-time engagement, Master Cheswis,” he said. “You will only be required from time to time, as the need arises. Join us and I will make sure that a new constable is found forthwith.”

  I was left with little option. The implication was clear. Refuse and Sir William would make sure I was burdened with the role for as long as he saw fit. I sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly, but Brereton had already moved on to Simon, strolling slowly round the table and laying his hand on his shoulder.

  “As for you, young man,” he said. “I suspect you will be less difficult to persuade than your brother, but I have an incentive that may suit you nevertheless. I understand that you are a follower of ‘Freeborn’ John Lilburne; that you have some sympathies with his political views.”

  Simon looked up, puzzled. “I have read his works, sir,” he said.

  “Quite so,” said Brereton. “Lilburne is currently a major in Colonel King’s regiment over at Newark. How would it be if, after a suitable period of time, I was to arrange for you to be transferred to Major Lilburne’s command?”

  Simon sat bolt upright. “You can do that, sir?”

  Brereton patted Simon gently on the shoulder. “Of course I can,” he said. “Think about it.”

  “That needs little thought, sir,” said Simon. “I accept, of course. But what about Alexander? He is a family man. The life of an intelligencer will not be for him.”

  “That will be for him to decide,” said Brereton. “I do, of course, have something for our taciturn bellman too. Mr Marbury, if you please…”

  At the prompt, William Marbury, a tall, lank gentleman with an unsmiling, narrow mouth and a pointed chin, got to his feet and retrieved a small candle from the mantelpiece above the fireplace, placing it in the centre of the table. At the same time, the man who had introduced himself as Bromhall produced a taper and lit it from one of the sconces before lighting the candle on the table.

  “One of yours, Mr Clowes?” asked Brereton, with an air of fake nonchalance.

  “I-I imagine so, Sir William,” replied Alexander, his eyebrows arching upwards in surprise. “There are but two chandlers in Nantwich. There is a fair chance that this was made by me.”

  “Just so. And I imagine that you would prefer to keep it this way?”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  Brereton leaned across the table and gave Alexander a hard look. “It’s just that I have received a petition from a young chandler from Chester, a godly young man, who has been driven from his home town for his beliefs. He would settle here, but I have explained to him there is little room for another chandler and that he would be better served by relocating himself and his family to Manchester. I h
ave asked Colonel Holland, the Governor of Manchester, who is in Nantwich this week, to secure a permit for him to trade there.”

  Alexander bit his bottom lip thoughtfully and cleared his throat. “Then I have to thank you, sir,” he said, “but I am also the town bellman. How am I to fulfil my duties to the town, if I am serving you?”

  Brereton waved his hand in dismissal. “I have thought of that,” he replied. “Mr Marbury has a young sergeant from Whitchurch in his troop who comes from a family of bellringers. I have it on good authority that the young man in question would relish the opportunity to become the bellman here.”

  Alexander stiffened, the colour draining slowly from his face. “But, Sir William,” he implored. “Do not do this to me. My family has held the position of bellman for generations.”

  “And so it shall remain, Mr Clowes,” said Brereton, in placatory tones. “I have made it clear to Mr Marbury that his man will serve as interim bellman only in the event of your absence. You need not concern yourself.” There followed a few seconds silence while Brereton allowed the implications of what he had said to sink in. It was Thomas Croxton who broke the spell.

  “Well, I think that concludes our business, gentlemen,” he proclaimed. “It’s all settled, then. You shall be hearing from me in due course. Is there anything else that you require from us?”

  There were many times in the following months when I bitterly regretted what I said next, that I should have kept my counsel. However, an idea occurred to me that offered the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

  The previous Sunday, I had kept my promise to Thomas Steele, the Chester cheese merchant and erstwhile Governor of Beeston Castle. There was little I could do to prevent his execution the following day for his perceived cowardice in surrendering the castle he had held to Thomas Sandford’s small band of firelocks without a fight, but I could, at least, offer the man some words of comfort. I did not reveal the treachery of his brother-in-law, Hugh Furnival, for I did not want to burden Steele with feelings of hatred in his final hours. Instead, we talked about the previous week’s battle and eventually about our mutual interest in the cheese business. It was then that Steele gave me the name of one William Seaman, a merchant from Chester, who would, he said, help me achieve my ambition of introducing the wonders of Cheshire cheese to the people of London. If I could only get access to Chester, I would not only have the opportunity to speak to Seaman, but would also be free to seek out James Skinner, with a view to working out a way to return him to his family.

  “Can you get me a permit to visit Chester?” I asked. “I have some business I wish to carry out there.” I knew as soon as I opened my mouth that I had made a mistake, because Brereton’s eyes opened wide, and he looked at me with renewed interest.

  “Chester?” he said. “There may be something you can do for me there. It may take a little while for our people in Chester to secure a trader’s pass for you, but I will see what I can arrange.”

  And with that, we were ushered out into the street.

  On reflection, I was pleased that I would get the opportunity to keep my pledge to the Skinner brothers, but I slept uneasily that night. I realised that my career as an intelligencer was not over. On the contrary. It had only just begun.

  Want to read more? UK readers can purchase A Soldier of Substance here. For readers in the USA the link is here.