“THERE HE IS!”
I could not see the man who had screamed. My heart began to pound in my chest. My hands felt as wet as John’s.
John began to pole furiously, away from the castle, and I began, also frantically, pushing away, away, as fast as ever we could.
An explosion rocked the boat. We had been hit. We heard another, then another huge noise, and finally our boat turned into the little channel, the narrow one that John had rejected the first time. We were out of view.
John let out a gasp of relief, and I began a silent prayer of thanksgiving.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, and you?”
“I have a pain in my shoulder.”
The dim light of the moon showed a black splotch against the white of his shift.
“Shall we bind it?
“Not now, we must get further away. They could follow.”
The boat seemed all right, or at least it kept floating. We continued rafting. I felt fairly safe. The fens were so easy to hide in. If the Sheriff’s men caught up with us, all we had to do was get out of the boat and kneel in the reeds. Nobody would find us unless they tripped over us.
It was then we heard the dogs.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I KNEW IT could be all over. If the dogs had our scent they would follow to the ends of the earth, yipping and yelping, and we would be caught for certain.
I poled like a madwoman. I glanced up for a moment and saw John grimace with pain while he poled and poled.
I supposed it was the Earl’s dogs the Sheriff had taken, since he had none with him when he arrived. Father and Simon sometimes hunted with the Earl, but I never had. Hunting was not to my taste. I liked dogs, but not these. They never wanted to play or be petted.
The barking was louder. I could see the water moving behind us, and the dark, round shape of heads. They were coming.
John managed to gasp, between strokes, “Smash them on the head with your pole if they catch up.”
I grunted. I did not know how well I could smash a dog, I was so frightened.
John moaned between each rise and fall of the pole.
The narrow passage was hard going, but then it began to widen just a bit. All at once it seemed as though our boat were a seed and the stream were a person who spat that seed away. We were flung into a wider river and were moving very fast.
“Thank you, Lord!” I breathed, and tears of relief began to run down my face.
John had collapsed onto the boat. I crawled forward toward him. The boat was unsteady in the current, going whichever way the river wanted, so it was hard to move. At one point I was almost flung off into the depths. I wished I knew how to swim. Finally I reached John, lying motionless. The black splotch on his shirt had widened, and now that I could see more clearly, I found it reddish black and hard to my touch.
I began to pull up his shift to take it off. A thought flashed through my mind about how intimate the action was, and yet not at all intimate. He groaned. I took hold of the shoulder seam, one hand on either side, and prayed his seamstress had been careless and made big stitches. I had to use my teeth, but the seam gave way, exposing his shoulder. He groaned again as the fabric ripped, and the dried blood also tore. But the wound was seeping anyway.
I had to shut my eyes for a moment. Even in the dark, I could see how much blood he had lost. It was everywhere. Dried blood and fresh oozing blood. The ball of the musket had shot through cruelly, leaving rough edges and black gunpowder marks around it.
I had once seen Father bind up a farmer’s wounds after an accident with a scythe. While he did it, he had launched into a story about his war experience and dealing with men who were dying of their wounds. The important thing was to make the bleeding stop.
I looked at what I had. My kerchief was too soft, and the silk of my dress not strong enough, and the linen of my apron too stiff. I pulled my skirt up a bit and began to rip at the soft linen of my shift. I had to use my teeth to get the rip started. I thought that lifting my skirt, as I was, in front of a man, was not like what I had imagined. I was tearing strips of my shift about three inches across. Each time I got to the side seam I had to use my teeth again. One of my fingernails ripped. My shift was getting shorter and shorter.
Then, when I had the strips, I began to bind. Each strip barely reached around his shoulder, and there was only a little of the fabric left to tie. I knew I had to make the binding very tight. It was painstaking work. John groaned in pain each time I touched him, and tears of frustration sprang to my eyes. The first bandages became completely bloody in an instant.
“You must lie completely still.” I wished I had St. John’s Wort to reduce the bleeding.
We were speeding along the river, the little raft bouncing up and down with the current. We were in the river’s power. John was spent. Even if I tried to use his pole, I would not be able to control it.
John lay on the bottom of the boat, and I sat beside him watching the banks fly by, black in the darkness against the lighter water. Each time the boat jumped through the current, John moaned.
We went for ages, it seemed. The river continued to widen. Finally the current slowed, we began to move at a calmer pace, and John’s moans stopped.
There was a dim light in the east. The banks of the river began to take on their rich brown color, and I could see the red of John’s spilled blood clearly. A bird or two began to sing.
THIS WAS A new day. I had spent the night alone with a man. Nothing had happened and a great deal had happened.
And then I saw a figure, ahead, on a bend in the river. “Ahoy,” the person called. Squinting, I could see it was the beggar man.
I took up the big pole and pushed it down as far as I could. It touched the bottom, and I was able to direct it a little bit. Twice more, and we were going to make land.
“Well done!” the beggar man shouted as we hit the bank. He grabbed the edge of the boat and began to drag it ashore.
“Of course, the current carries boats in here, it is why I chose this place,” he said, as I climbed off. I felt unsteady on my feet after being on a boat so long.
“And what have we here? God’s eyeballs.”
He looked at John, lying pale and bloody in the bottom of the boat, then climbed in himself. He checked my bandaging and grunted, “Not bad. He will live.”
Together we tightened two of the strips. It was so much easier, with one person to hold the strip tight and the other to tie it.
We had barely finished when the beggar said, “We must be off. A packet leaves for Holland this evening.”
“What about her?” John asked.
“You have come a long way on the river but, as the crow flies, you are not so far from the castle. The road is a quarter mile away.” He pointed away from the sun, now higher in the sky. “It is then only a two or three mile walk back to Tattershall.”
“Leave her here, you mean.”
I did not like being talked about as though I were not there.
“Yes,” the beggar man said.
I felt a pang of fear in my stomach. “And what if the Sheriff’s men are still around?” I asked.
“It is John they want, not you. You are the Earl’s Steward’s daughter. You will be safe.”
I was not convinced. I had helped John escape, and my blue dress, covered with dirt and dampness, would tell anyone that I had been on an escapade. The Earl was in prison, and there was no guarantee for the Earl’s Steward’s daughter.
“No time. We must be off. Should I turn away while you say your good-byes?” His laugh was wicked.
I blushed.
John seemed to turn a paler shade. “Come here,” he said, and I walked to the boat.
He reached his hand to me. I took it. It was warm and red, and my heart moved as I saw and felt the blisters, broken and bloody.
He lifted my hand to his lips. “I am sorry, my sweet.” He spoke low, so the beggar man could not hear. “My loving thoughts go
with you.”
I could not make a reply, so many feelings and thoughts rose up in me. Love for him. Longing. Anger that he would leave me, leave me like this in the middle of the fens, and fear for both of us.
When John released my hand, the beggar man pushed the boat off, climbed aboard, and picked up the pole.
“That way.” He pointed again for me, and they were gone down the river.
I did not immediately take his direction. I relieved myself, something I had needed to do for some time. I was horridly hungry and thirsty. I washed my face and hands at the river bank and scooped up water to drink from my hand. I knew that drinking water was dangerous, but this was an emergency, and there was certainly no ale or cider or milk about.
I looked for berries by the river and found a few green ones. They did little for my hunger. I thought that the beggar man had probably been carrying food, and felt new anger that he had not shared any with me.
Who had saved John from the Sheriff’s men? And had bound his wounds and saved his life? The Earl’s Steward’s daughter. Me. The one who now had to make her way back to the castle alone, without food or help of any kind. I thought of how my family saw me as frail and sickly, and how neither John nor the beggar man nor the Sheriff’s men saw me that way at all.
The thought brought a smile to my face. I would get back to the castle alone, I would.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I HEADED IN the direction the beggar man had pointed. It was slow going, as the ground was so marshy. I was up to my ankles in dirty water. With each step the mud held onto my shoes, and I had to pull them out, tensing my toes to keep the shoes on my feet. I shivered in the cool morning. Mosquitoes swarmed over me, and I covered my head with my apron. I kept looking around for the road, and finally — it seemed forever — there it was. I thanked the Lord and set out to the left, pleased that I would soon be home.
It must have been about six o’clock in the morning when I reached the road. It was too far from the castle to hear the church bell, so I judged by the light. It had reached full light, June being that time of year when there were only a few hours of real night. It was not far to the castle, but it was dangerous. Robbers were common and there were other dangers to a woman walking alone. I hoped I would not meet anyone.
I hurried along as fast as I could, which helped warm me and stopped the shivering. The morning sun began to dry my dress and shoes. The insects buzzed along behind me, but if I walked fast I had a little peace from them. I would not say it was pleasant, but it was better than being in the marsh.
I kept looking into the distance, ready to step off the path and hide in the reeds if anyone came. Closer and closer I came to the castle, my heart lighter and lighter. Finally, I was only a quarter mile or so from the village that surrounded the castle, and I relaxed. From here, I could run into the village if anyone accosted me. Of course there were still the Sheriff’s men to watch for. Perhaps they would have left, but I had to plan for the possibility that they were still watching for John and me.
I thought about how I could enter the village unseen. There was only one path in. The village had been constructed to be surrounded by open space, so that any intruder would stand out. If I stayed on the road I would be visible for a long way. I decided to work my way around through the marshes, so I could hide in them if I needed to. The closest house to the fens, in the village, was Davey the baker’s, and I would head for that.
I could smell the fires of the villagers and, faintly, the bread cooking at the bakery. Saliva filled my mouth. I was so hungry. I planned to go just around the next corner, still out of sight of the village, and then step into the fens. As I rounded the corner, I saw the red shirt of a Sheriff’s man.
Had he seen me? I shrank back behind a tree and stood motionless. He let out a shout and began to run in my direction, along the road.
I turned and ran back around the bend and into the fens, plunging through the reeds, again up to my ankles in muck. My shoes were gone in an instant. I was perhaps a hundred feet from the road. Soon the Sheriff’s men would come around the corner and see me, if I were standing, so I lay down. The reeds would hide me, and if the men tried to blunder through them, they would still be unlikely to find me. As long as they did not have the dogs...
I could hear the men, now, calling to each other. There were three or four distinct voices, but no barking.
“I’ll run back along the road. If she went back, I can catch up with her quickly — I know I can run faster than a wench. You stay here and go through the fens. She probably went to ground.”
A groan. I could hear slogging sounds as boots were sucked by mud. Some voices were louder, some grew more distant.
“We must punish her before we take her back, for making us get so foul.”
There was a laugh.
Every exposed part of my face and arms was covered with mosquitoes, and I could do nothing to slap at them for fear of making noise. I lay on my belly, one arm over my head and the other under it, to keep my face clear. I was slowly sinking deeper. I reminded myself that there was no quicksand at this part of the fens, but as I felt myself sink, I panicked, and almost began struggling to get out — the worst thing to do. Trust God, I thought, and I let my body go as it chose. My dress was so heavy, now, with water and mud, that it seemed like a person in the swamp was pulling me down. I told myself that at least no blue showed from my dress to catch their attention. Soon I was holding onto reeds to keep myself from going under.
The voices came nearer and nearer, until I could see the boots of a man about twenty feet away. I took a breath and lowered my head, pushing it under the foul water. I held my breath as long as I could, and when it felt like I would burst, raised my head slowly. The boots were no longer visible. I wiped my face against my arm, to get enough mud off so I could breathe.
The voices sounded further away, and soon I could no longer hear them. What should I do now? What if they had left someone to watch for me? But it might be my only chance to evade them. It would be safer to wait till night, but could I stay here that long? I heard the church bell ring nine as I lay there, uncertain.
My view of the world now was the mud, and the lower part of four or five reeds sticking into it. I watched as three new mosquitoes landed upon the reeds. Then I felt something bumping against me in the ooze. Eels, probably. I made up my mind. I could not stay there all day.
It took me a long time to pull myself out of the sucking mud. I looked around and did not see anyone. I surveyed myself. I had no shoes, and I was black from head to foot. Slime dripped from my hair. My dress was so heavy I could hardly move, and when I did put one foot in front of the other, the movement caused mud to fall. I shook myself like a dog, shutting my eyes and feeling clods fly in all directions. I dipped my hands in the dirty water and tried to wipe my face. That was all I had time for.
I made a prayer and started out. I could not chance the road, in case someone was watching. I might still be seen in the fen, but I could escape more easily. Slogging through the reeds was slow and painful, especially since my shoes were gone. I held back a moan with almost every step, as the harsh plants cut my feet. I tried to avoid them but it was almost impossible. When there were open places, I sank to my ankles, sometimes to the middle of my calves, and had to pull my leg out. The reeds got under my skirts, as well, and cut my legs. It was easier to walk if I lifted my petticoats, and I resigned myself to more cuts.
It was not far to the castle, but I was moving so slowly. I could see the road from where I was, and I kept a constant watch on it for the Sheriff’s men. At any moment one of them could appear.
And then I did see a figure approaching on the road. I could feel my palms grow sweaty as I fell to my knees into the reeds. Then I saw. It was Simon.
I almost shrieked with joy. Simon! I caught myself in time. I hurried toward the road, not noting anymore how badly I cut my feet. I waved wildly, and as I got nearer he saw me. He stopped, looking at the black apparition. I tr
ied to wipe the mud off my face, pointed and gestured who knows what, and finally I saw him give a start of recognition.
He began to run toward me till he hit the marsh. He put his finger to his lips, and I knew he wanted to shout as well. The mud hindered us both, but the moment came when he caught me in his arms.
I began to sob uncontrollably. I was safe.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
OF COURSE I was not safe. Now we both had to evade the Sheriff’s men. But I was no longer alone. He picked me up, carrying me in his arms as he stumbled through the grasses. He, too, was avoiding the road.
He kept murmuring, “Oh little one, how good it is to see you. I have been searching and searching for you, and now you are here.”
I told him all that had happened, and he just held me tighter and murmured more.
He told me that the Sheriff’s men had discovered the secret room. John had put Cook’s clothes on over his pants but he had left some other clothes of his own in the room. And they had found some extra petticoats I had shed. Then one of the Sheriff’s men remembered how a girl and the cook had walked past them, and he called the alarm.
I was so relieved that Simon had not been arrested. Father had argued that it was hearsay to arrest a man without any proof of what he had written. The Sheriff’s man had not read the statement, and most of the townsfolk gathered around the market notice board did not read well enough to be good witnesses.
SIMON TOOK ME into the castle village, just as I would have gone myself, toward Davey the baker’s. There was no one around and he hustled me inside. Davey’s dark head and broad shoulders were bent in front of the oven as he took out a loaf on the long wooden paddle. He looked up, his eyes puzzled. Not a customer, but two muddy folk, one of them unrecognizable. He was not too astonished to put the loaf down carefully on the counter. Then he came out from behind and spoke to Simon.
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