by Rosie Harris
‘Poor child, what happened?’ Kate gasped in horror when she saw that his right leg ended just above the knee.
‘He had his legs run over by a truck. Usually they’ve been crushed by one of the trams,’ said Mollie, sitting the child on her lap and unwinding the bandages.
‘How dreadful!’ whispered Kate, her stomach heaving at the sight of the raw, seared flesh.
‘If they manage to get over this sort of accident,’ went on Mollie, ‘then like as not they’ll catch cholera or typhoid.’
‘That’s heartbreaking!’
‘I’ve put fifteen of them into the ground already this year and now with winter ahead, probably as many again will die of the cold. Most of them are orphans so perhaps it’s for the best,’ she added, shrugging her shoulders. ‘If you were from around these parts you’d not be showing such surprise.’
‘No, I’m not from Ebbw Vale,’ agreed Kate. ‘And from what I’ve seen the people here are far worse off than where I come from.’ Her face grew dreamy as her thoughts drifted back to Bramwood Hall. Even working at the Manor as a skivvy had been like paradise compared to the life these children led.
The memories stirred her to action. The thought of staying in the sour-smelling confines of Mollie Parry’s home was repugnant.
‘I’ll be on my way. Thank you for the food and for letting me rest a while.’
‘I thought you said you wanted a bed and help?’ declared Mollie, openly affronted by Kate’s sudden haste to leave.
‘I did, but I’ve changed my mind,’ Kate told her, picking up her canvas bag and making for the door.
‘If you’re determined to go then take this with you, cariad.’ Mollie thrust a hunk of bread and cheese into Kate’s hand. ‘Don’t be afraid to come back if things don’t work out,’ she added, patting Kate’s shoulder.
Chapter 21
The air was as sharp as a knife edge as Kate left Coalbrookvale Terrace. October squalls filled the sky, clouds racing and chasing along the mountain ridge from one end of Coity to the other.
She breathed deeply to try and rid her nostrils of the stench of Mollie Parry’s home. She had no clear idea of where she was going. All she wanted at that moment was to distance herself from the crowd of small, ragged children setting out for their long day of toil and the memory of the maimed child crouching under the table.
She felt utterly confused about her destination. She’d intended following the road to Brynmawr and from there heading for Blaenafon. Now, after what Mollie had said, she wanted to get to Fforbrecon as quickly as possible. Instead of continuing along the main road she decided to take a shortcut over Coity Mountain.
Following the sheeptracks she climbed higher and higher up the scraggy side. The short, sparse grass was coarse and slippery, the stony track so narrow that at times she found it difficult to keep her foothold because of the weight of her canvas bag.
The blustery October winds made her eyes water. They tore at her dress and whipped the ends of her cloak around her legs or across her face. Her hair had long since blown free and hung to her shoulders in a tangle of dark curls.
It was midday when she crested Coity. She could see Blorenge in the distance and from where she stood it seemed to be as bleak as the mountain she’d just climbed.
The lower slopes of both mountains were polluted by slag heaps and glowing cinder mounds with their spirals of grey smoke.
In the valley between, tall chimneys sent sulphurous smoke billowing into the air. She could look down on the red glow of blast furnaces and hear the resounding blows of the giant steam hammers ringing out as rhythmic as giant heartbeats.
As she made her way down the other side of Coity, storm clouds began to gather until she could no longer tell where the sky and earth divided. Afraid she would lose her way completely, Kate headed towards Blaenafon, guided by the glowing inferno of blast furnaces surrounding the town.
The rain came suddenly. Huge spots warned of the deluge to come. She looked around desperately for shelter. The few scraggy bushes were far down the hillside, but just as the storm broke she spotted a fissure between two folds of mountain ridge and ran towards it.
What had appeared to be merely a crevasse turned out to be an opening to a cave large enough to provide adequate shelter.
As the hail lashed and the sky grew even darker, Kate edged her way in deeper.
Her exclamation of astonishment as it widened out echoed in the eerie gloom, making her wish she had a candle or lantern to light her way. Feeling her way along the rough, damp walls she found that it was not just a single cave but a honeycomb of small chambers.
Half an hour later, when Kate made her way back to the main opening, it was still raining heavily. Water poured down the hillside as if some enormous lake had overflowed. There was no break in the slate grey sky that rumbled overhead. Shivering, she moved back into the shelter. Her eyes were now accustomed to the gloom and she was able to see clearly into the numerous minor caverns leading off the central area.
She explored them all.
In two of them she made a discovery that left her shaking with fear. Hidden under a pile of straw was a heap of guns and, in another, several boxes of ammunition were piled up in one corner.
She returned to the central cave wondering what it all meant and who used the cave as a secret hideout, knowing she’d be in danger if she was discovered there.
She huddled into one corner and tried to calm herself by thinking of Bramwood Hall, of Helen and of David. When that failed she went once again to the entrance to see if the storm had abated and if she could be on her way. The rain was beating down even more fiercely and the greyness overhead made it as dark as night.
She felt anxious. She’d planned on reaching Blaenafon before nightfall but it now looked as though she might be forced to shelter there until morning. Cold and hungry, she ate the bread and cheese Mollie Parry had given her.
When she’d finished the last morsel, she tried singing and reciting poems that she knew by heart. She recalled how David had enjoyed hearing those by William Barnes and found that speaking them out loud seemed to bring him nearer.
As darkness fell and the rain still beat and blustered outside, Kate prepared to stay the night. She chose the smallest of the empty caverns. The blue cashmere shawl that had been her mother’s was in her bag so she wrapped it round her head and shoulders, then fastened her cloak over the top of it and lay down with her head on her bag to sleep.
Kate was wakened from a deep sleep by the sound of men’s voices and the clump of hobnail boots. Light from flickering lanterns sent grotesque shadows dancing on the wall.
For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. She felt stiff and sore from lying on the hard ground. It was as if she was living through a frightening nightmare. Then it all came rushing back. Remembering the guns and ammunition, she crouched tight into a corner, as close against the wall as possible, hoping no one would come in or, if they did, that they wouldn’t notice her.
She strained her ears to hear what was going on. From the mingling of voices there seemed to be quite a number of men gathered there.
At first she couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but when she heard the name Owen repeated several times she listened more intently. Frissons of fear ran down her spine as she realized they were planning an uprising. She heard other names mentioned: John Frost, Zephaniah Williams, Jones the Watchmaker, men Olwen Price had claimed were agitators.
She held her breath as they unveiled their plans.
The men they’d mentioned would be leading groups from Blaenafon, Coalbrookvale, Brynmawr and Blaina and other places she had never heard of before. There they would all meet up in Pontypool and take the Risca Road on to Newport.
‘We need to find out how the authorities will defend the town.’
‘Mayor Phillips will have the constabulary as well as the military.’
‘We should easily outnumber them. The constabulary only amount to a few hundred m
en.’
‘And we will have thousands…’
‘The military will be well armed…’
‘And properly trained…’
‘But there’s no more than about fifty of them…’
‘The 45th Regiment are billeted at the Workhouse on Stow Hill…’
‘There’s only seventy of them and they will have to keep some of them there to guard…’
‘But the ones in action will have been trained in the use of guns…’
‘But we’ll outnumber them. And we’ve pikes and…’
Kate felt numb with terror. The guns and ammunition she had seen stockpiled were to be used by the men taking part in the uprising! If they found her hiding they’d think she had been sent by the Redcoats or gentry to spy on them and there was no knowing what they would do to her.
They might even kill her!
She wondered if she told them that she was looking for a friend called Owen they would be lenient with her.
It gave her hope. After all, she reasoned, there must be some God-fearing men amongst them who wouldn’t want the blood of an innocent girl on their hands.
They sounded so incensed as they continued to plan and argue amongst themselves that even that faint ray of hope began to fade.
Crouched in the darkness, Kate grew stiff with the cold. The men had moved into the caves where the guns and ammunition were stored and she could hear them sharing them out amongst themselves. She could still see the glimmer of light from their lanterns and was afraid to move in case they heard her, though she began to wonder if discovery would be any more of a risk than the one she was already taking in wandering alone in such alien countryside.
She wasn’t even sure which path led to Blaenafon. It was hours since she had eaten the bread and cheese Mollie Parry had given her and even longer since she’d had anything to drink. If the weather worsened then she’d be completely cut off. She could die before anyone found her.
Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She brushed them away and began silently reciting William Barnes’ poems again, letting the West Country dialect sing inside her head, conjuring up visions of her grandmother’s cottage and the countryside she’d known as a child.
The sound of the men leaving brought her back to the present. The lanterns had been extinguished and everywhere was in complete darkness. As the sound of the men’s hobnail boots receded, Kate crept from her hiding place.
The reek of tobacco smoke was the only trace that anyone had visited the silent, deserted caves.
Through the narrow aperture she saw the rain had stopped. A thin crescent moon was riding high, dipping and dodging between the clouds. One minute it was lighting the mountainside with thin, cold brilliance, the next plunging it back into darkness.
Moving out into the open, Kate thought she could make out one or two shadowy movements far down the mountainside, but then the moon was hidden as a fresh bank of cloud soared up over Coity. When the cloud had passed the landscape was bare and grey in the moonlight, with no sign of human life except for the dull red glow far below in the valley from the forges and blast furnaces.
She had no idea what time it was but surmised that the men who’d come to the cave had either just finished a shift and now gone their separate ways home, or had been on their way to work.
She collected her canvas bag. The moment she moved from the shelter of the cave she was buffeted by the wind and the occasional spiteful spit of rain. As well as the dull roar of the ironworks there was a new sound that she didn’t recognize.
Shivering, she drew back into the shelter of the cave as she realized water was rushing past her as brooks in flood roared down the mountainside.
She decided to stay where she was until it was daylight. In the spasmodic darkness she could easily fall into one of the brooks and drown, or slip and be trapped if there were any other crevices or caves.
At first light she set off. The rutted path was treacherously slippery. Mile after mile she trudged, stopping only to change her bag from one hand to the other.
When she finally reached the roadway her relief was so great that she collapsed in a heap beside a low wall. Resting her back against the damp uneven stones, she took stock of her surroundings. There was something vaguely familiar about the place and she groaned aloud when she caught sight of the round towers that had been built by the Baileys. Her meanderings had brought her back to the same point in Nantyglo that she’d left the previous day.
Tears threatened but she blinked them away, refusing to accept defeat. She felt too weary to continue any further and longed to sleep. The choice seemed to be under a hedge by the side of the road or back to Coalbrookvale Terrace. The thought of Mollie Parry’s house filled to overflowing with small boys was far from enticing, but at least she would be dry and warm there.
Mollie stared as if she was seeing a ghost when she opened the door to Kate’s persistent rapping.
‘What’s happened, cariad,’ she gasped, stretching out a hand and seizing Kate’s arm to make sure she was real.
‘I got lost on the mountain. I must have walked in a circle and I found myself back here again.’
‘You’ve been walking all this time!’
‘I sheltered from the rain in a cave on the mountainside and I must have dropped off to sleep,’ Kate told her quickly, deciding it would be better not to mention the men or the cache of arms hidden there.
‘Come on in by the fire and warm yourself. I’ll brew some tea. Are you hungry?’
‘Ravenous! All I’ve had to eat since I left here is the bread and cheese you gave me.’
‘Duw anwyl! Get this down you.’ She thrust a bowl of steaming soup into Kate’s hand. ‘Drop of cawl left over. I was going to have it myself while the boys are still asleep.’
‘I can’t take it if it’s yours,’ Kate protested.
‘Rubbish! Have you seen the size of me! Always eating, I am. Breakfast before the boys get up and another when they’ve all left. Same thing in the evening. If there’s anything left over I put it to one side and enjoy it once they’re all asleep. Eating and drinking is my comfort now my Ianto’s gone,’ she sighed.
The heat from the fire combined with the comforting warmth of the food made Kate so sleepy that she found it difficult to keep her eyes open.
‘Bed for you, my girl,’ Mollie told her. ‘You can use mine, it’s still warm.’
‘I can’t turn you out of your bed,’ protested Kate.
‘You won’t be turning me out because I wasn’t in it,’ cackled Mollie. ‘Go on, get your head down. In a few minutes I’ll be rousing the boys for work and then all hell will be let loose. Be like bedlam in here. Pull your shawl up over your ears, then you won’t hear the racket they make. Off with you now.’
The moment Kate’s head touched the pillow she was asleep. She knew nothing until late in the afternoon when she woke feeling wonderfully refreshed. She lay for a few minutes gathering her thoughts, trying to plan what to do next, until savoury cooking smells made lying in bed impossible.
Chapter 22
Refusing Mollie’s invitation to stay on for another day, Kate set out again for Blaenafon at first light the next morning.
‘No clever shortcuts over Coity this time then, cariad,’ warned Mollie.
‘No,’ Kate promised, ‘I’ll keep to the main road all the way and perhaps I’ll be lucky enough to get a lift.’
‘Now just you mind who you’re riding with,’ cautioned Mollie, standing in the doorway, arms akimbo, laughing raucously.
The rain of the previous day had stopped but the sky was still grey and overcast. Puddles shivered in the wind and there was the bite of winter in the air.
To Kate’s surprise, the road was as crowded as a fair day. When she had driven down in the trap, mid-morning or early afternoon, with Mathew at her side, they had never seen more than a dozen people between Blaina and Nantyglo…
Now, men in moleskin trousers, mufflers round their scrawny necks and greasy caps pr
otecting their heads from the cold, were walking in droves towards the pit face or the ironworks.
Dark-eyed women with shawls over their heads and shoulders, children hanging on to their voluminous black skirts, pushed and jostled her as they hurried on their way, babbling in Welsh; words she was unable to understand.
It was so alien that it sent waves of fear through her.
As a hand reached out and grabbed her canvas bag Kate screamed, thinking she was being robbed.
‘There’s heavy that looks for a slip of a thing like you,’ a deep sing-song voice murmured at her side.
A man in his twenties, coal-grimed cap set at a jaunty angle over his black hair, regarded her with amusement.
She relaxed her grip. He didn’t look the sort to run off with it.
‘Making for Blaina?’ he asked.
‘No!’ She shook her head. ‘I… I’m going to Blaenafon.’
‘Blaenafon!’ He let out a low whistle. ‘Tidy way off, you know.’ He jerked his head towards the grey barren mass of land to their right. ‘Over the other side of Coity Mountain.’
‘I know. I’m hoping I might get a lift when I get to Brynmawr.’
‘You’ll be lucky!’
‘I’ll keep hoping.’
‘You’ll never make it walking, not with this,’ he added, swinging the canvas bag.
‘I will if people carry it for me,’ laughed Kate.
‘Best thing, my lovely, is to go to the Top, then take the road to the right when you get to Brynmawr. That way you might get a lift from one of the carriers going to Blaenafon.’
‘Thanks, I’ll do that.’
‘You going into service there?’
‘No. I… I’m trying to find someone at Fforbrecon colliery.’
‘Fforbrecon! They’ve had trouble there…’ he paused, giving her a sideways glance as if to determine whether it was safe to say any more.
‘I was told there’d been a cave-in.’
‘Followed by an uprising of some sort.’
‘Because of the men trapped underground?’
