Birthright

by David Hingley

  It was obvious the Duke knew of Sir William’s interest in her, but she hid her displeasure. ‘His Highness is quite naturally correct. But whether the man we seek is chosen for this expedition, or volunteers himself, it matters not. I will be ready. I have a good friend, a trained soldier, who is willing to accompany me, and I intend to take a manservant, if the man I have in mind agrees. We will be vigilant together. This noble will come, and he will not escape.’

  ‘Mrs Blakewood, we are convinced.’ The King gestured for her to stand. ‘Rise, and not a word to anyone, save those who will attend you. You will be advised when to join the fleet.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Majesty. I will be waiting.’ She backed from the room, bowing low.

  A little way down the corridor she let out an excited shout. Her tactic had worked. She had the King’s blessing. She was going to America, across the ocean, all that way.

  She grabbed a nearby table corner as she realised what that meant. But she set premature seasickness aside. She could travel the waters, voyage so far, because of her hope. Hope the long journey could bring her home, back to Halescott.

  Part Three

  Chapter Nineteen

  The last faint speck of white foam crashing on tiny black rocks disappeared from view. Now all Mercia could see was the majesty of the ocean and the ship on which she stood, minuscule by comparison and unutterably fragile as the waves permitted it to travel a path across their gentle peaks.

  She closed her eyes, resting her palms against the late spring warmth of the wooden rail of the stern, feeling the passage of the ship through the waters. A breeze whipped around her face on its way into the vast sails, giving the ship an invisible forward motion towards the west, towards the complete unknown. It was a new sensation for her, this feeling of being isolated from the land, a minute dot on an incomprehensible ocean vastness, and yet part of a floating community that represented the order and industry of where she had embarked.

  Several seconds went by when all that existed was her, the ship and the ocean. Then she opened her eyes, running her hands over the rough rail, hearing the creaking of the mast and yardarms above. Quietly, Nathan came up from behind, resting his hand next to hers, sharing the experience in silence. After a few moments, Mercia turned her head to look at him, her faithful friend who was journeying across the world to protect her.

  ‘So that is it,’ she said. ‘Ireland behind us, and two months on the Redemption until we reach America.’

  ‘’Tis hard to conceive we can sail so far in such a short time,’ said Nathan. ‘And yet ’tis still two months. We must keep occupied.’

  ‘I think I will have my hands full with Daniel. He loves it on this ship, running around here and there. He has no fear of it.’

  ‘Your chaperone, now that is a different matter.’

  She sighed. ‘Yes, it appears Lady Markstone was not born to travel the seas.’

  Nathan nodded, a grave expression on his face, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. ‘The side of the ship is well lashed. She has washed all the barnacles from the hull.’

  ‘Nat.’ She turned around, resting her back against the wood. ‘Personally, I feel unburdened of the cares of England already. I must remember we are here to complete a mission.’ She looked sideways at him. ‘Did you learn anything from the captain? I have been told nothing, even though I am on business for the King himself.’

  ‘That may be, but I do not think the Duke cares for his men to be distracted.’ He steadied himself on the rail as the ship bounced on a rogue wave. ‘The captain told me names, at least. Colonel Nicolls is on the Guinea, in overall charge as we know. Colonel Cartwright is with him, and Captain Hyde.’

  ‘The Duke’s brother-in-law. And on the Elias?’

  ‘William Hill as captain, Sir Robert Carr in charge of the soldiery. Sir Bernard Dittering is on board too, something to do with trade.’

  Mercia scoffed. ‘Lucky for him he is not here with us. I don’t think I could stop myself from challenging him about my father’s trial.’ She stared up at the straining sails. ‘What of my other favourite?’

  ‘Commanding the soldiers on the Martin.’ He looked at her. ‘Have you done as I suggested with that necklace?’

  She waved an impatient hand. ‘It is locked away in my coin box.’

  ‘And the key?’

  ‘Yes, yes. Hidden in the hole you carved for it. I am not a fool, you know.’

  ‘Good. I am still not sure you should have brought it.’

  Her eyes gleamed with mischief in the sunlight rebounding from the sails. ‘I told you, we might be able to use the pearls as trade. We don’t know what will happen, and I doubt the native people will accept shillings.’ She blew out her cheeks. ‘I just wish the Duke hadn’t been so malicious as to go through with his threat to appoint him.’

  Nathan leant in. ‘I don’t know as he did. Captain Morley thinks Sir William asked to join the invasion force.’

  She widened an eye. ‘Does he really?’

  He smiled. ‘I know what you are thinking. But ’tis all moot for now. We are stuck on the Redemption with the other hangers-on, no suspicious noblemen to keep watch of yet.’ He paused. ‘How are you faring with Sir William’s wife?’

  ‘Oh, that … woman.’ She shook her head. ‘Quite why she has to be here, I do not know. She does not like me one bit.’

  ‘You know why. The King wanted a second chaperone for you.’

  ‘Yes, but she doesn’t know that, does she? She thinks she is here for Lady Markstone. She has no intention of being pleasant to me.’ She sniffed. ‘Lady Markstone at least is decent company, even if she is an old busybody, advising me with this and that. I would miss having a woman to talk to otherwise, with Bethany looking after the cottage.’

  Nathan looked out to sea. ‘A busybody and as good as a murderess.’

  ‘She was abused, Nathan. I will not condemn her for what she did not do, even if the rest of society does.’ She turned back to the waters, changing the subject. ‘Will we find the paintings, do you think?’

  He brushed his arm against hers. ‘Whatever happens, this will be an adventure. And it keeps the hounds at bay.’

  ‘Maybe. If this does not work they will keep pursuing.’

  ‘Then let us make sure it does.’

  She squeezed his hand. ‘I am glad you are here, Nat. Sir Jeremy is generous to allow you to travel with me all this time, is he not?’

  Nathan nodded as he looked out to sea, his unkempt brown hair shimmering in the salty breeze.

  Even with the Duke of York’s eagerness for action, it had taken a month for the small fleet and its many missions, of varying degrees of secrecy, to be prepared. To the world, the fleet’s commander Richard Nicolls was ferrying a team of the King’s commissioners to New England to consolidate royal authority over the faraway colonies. But the private mission was for him first to conquer New Netherland through its prime trading post New Amsterdam, the King going so far as to write to the Dutch government to deceive them of the fleet’s purpose. The very private mission, Mercia’s mission, none but her close companions and Nicolls were supposed to know.

  As Lady Markstone had hoped, the King had been persuaded to commute her sentence to exile; both she and Mercia had leapt on the opportunity to request that they voyage to America together. Keen Mercia should have her chaperone, the King had seen the logic, on one condition: that she have a second companion untainted by the stench of the Tower. The Queen made subtle enquiries amongst her ladies; only Lady Calde volunteered, and that because her husband was with the fleet, or maybe despite it. But like the rest she was deceived as to Mercia’s true purpose, told they were travelling to provide comfort to Lady Markstone on her journey to her new life. Sir Francis had been furious to learn of Mercia’s intentions, Anthony and Isabel apoplectic. But in the face of the King’s will there was nothing they could do to prevent her taking Daniel away.

  Accordingly, towards the end of May, Mercia arrived at Ports
mouth harbour with Nathan and Daniel, the three of them laden down with as many items they thought they could take – mostly clothes and shoes, and things to pass the time, toys for Daniel, even for Mercia some embroidery unfinished from last winter, as well as a description of the paintings in the Oxford Section that the King had quietly compiled. Most dear of all, she had packed a number of books, her history of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms of course, works of poetry by Mary Wroth and John Donne, while Nathan hoped to finish the Don Quixote he had started in Queen Street.

  Wanting as much help as she could get, she had raided her scant inheritance to offer Nicholas a position as their manservant. She knew Nathan didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his money. She had wondered whether the prospect of a long ocean voyage would hold sufficient appeal, but Nicholas had been eager to accept, for as he said himself, the discovery of North’s body had affected him, and he wanted to finish what he had begun. Still, part of her had expected he would not show up, despite his good advance. She need not have worried. By the time they arrived he had already spent a week reliving his naval past in the taverns that littered the Portsmouth docks. In the end, she had easily persuaded the constables of his innocence on Lambeth Marsh – although the letter she had obtained from the Lord Chancellor’s office might have helped.

  Colonel Nicolls was terse before they embarked, no time for being sidetracked by discussions of paintings and lost art. But he welcomed them civilly enough, assigning them quarters on the merchant ship Redemption, an adapted Dutch fluyt that was ironically to be used as transport in the subjugation of New Netherland once the surrender of New Amsterdam was complete. The invasion force of several hundred was packed into the three other ships, much larger and more imposing, but despite its fewer passengers, conditions on the Redemption were still cramped. On the King’s special orders, the crew had built three small cabins on the quarterdeck towards the back of the ship for the women, screening off a small section beside the rail for their personal ablutions. Nathan took an existing cabin beside the captain’s underneath those, although he was to share with Daniel. Nicholas was given a hammock with the regular sailors, one of many threadbare sheets stretched out amongst the posts and cannon on the stuffy ’tween deck below.

  A week passed. The initial excitement was gone, the voyage already proving long and tedious. By now Mercia was accustomed to her tiny quarters, if not to the salted meat, dried peas and biscuit that passed as food on the days when the sailors hadn’t slaughtered one of the ship’s pigs, or paused their journey to try their luck at catching fish from the longboat. When she wasn’t minding Daniel, or trying to freshen whichever mourning dress she wasn’t currently wearing, she spent the time reading, or struggling with her needlework, or engrossed in her most regular pastime, indulging her fantasies of what she would do when she found Joost Pietersen. Her favourite scenario involved chasing him into the heart of the unexplored continent, where she would chance upon hidden cities of gold like the old Spanish conquistadors, battling whatever unhuman monsters lay in wait. Occasionally these fantasies ended with her not finding Pietersen at all, but she set those imagined failures aside.

  Having conquered the steep ladder to the foredeck, she was observing Daniel on the main deck below her, showing off his toy lion to a group of patient sailors. Of them all he was the most confident on board, not worrying when a large wave struck the side, not falling over as the ship rocked in its wake. Lady Calde was the worst for staying upright, but today she was taking the air on the quarterdeck with Lady Markstone, who seemed to have conquered her seasickness. A paranoid element in Mercia feared they were talking about her. Although Lady Markstone had promised not to talk about their conversation in the Tower, who knew what two acquaintances might gossip over when trapped together for weeks at sea.

  A young sailor hauling a thick cable of rope across the deck noticed her looking down. He smiled, running a hand under his loose white shirt that was hanging open over his tanned chest. Returning his smile, she glanced up to see Lady Calde scowling in her direction. Mercia rolled her eyes, making the sailor laugh, and he went back to his work.

  She had turned to look out to sea when she heard Lady Markstone’s voice. She peered over the top of the forecastle to see her chaperone standing just beneath her.

  ‘How you manage those ladders I cannot fathom,’ Lady Markstone called up. ‘I am grateful the men built proper steps to the quarterdeck or I would never have been able to walk the ship.’

  Mercia shinned down the ladder to join her. ‘It takes a special skill.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘And a willingness to alter a dress.’

  Lady Markstone chuckled and took her arm, leading her to the rail. ‘Now, Mercia,’ she said, ‘I am sure you do not need my advice, but it would be wise to avoid too much familiarity with the sailors. Perhaps you had best keep to the quarterdeck, where the men do not usually go. You are the only woman on this ship, save myself and Lady Calde, and I do not think the rogues will care for what we can offer, at our age.’

  Mercia smiled. ‘Do not trouble yourself over me, Lady Markstone. I can deal with these men.’

  ‘I am sure. But be careful all the same. I have already overheard some of them calling you – but no. It is too ridiculous.’

  ‘No, tell. Called me what?’

  The older woman leant in to her ear. ‘A well-rigged frigate.’

  Mercia laughed out loud. ‘And you, Lady Markstone. You are faring better on the ship now?’

  ‘Yes, thank the Lord. I must confess I was not looking forward to leaving England, but now we are on our way, the thought of a life unburdened by the repercussions of the war and the endless scheming of our menfolk has taken on a great appeal, even to one as old as myself.’

  Mercia gave her a wry glance. ‘You are not old.’

  ‘You are too kind.’ Lady Markstone patted her shoulder. ‘I am glad to travel with you, Mercia. Perhaps once your task is over I could convince you to stay with me in Massachusetts Bay. You would thrive there, as would your boy.’

  She smiled. ‘Yesterday you spoke of Connecticut. The day before, you even told me of Virginia. Where will you ultimately go, I wonder?’

  ‘Ultimately, I will go to heaven. But while I am still on this earth, I intend to profit from the years I have left, now I am able. Whether that is in Massachusetts, Connecticut, or any other place with a strange and beautiful name, I care not, if I can be free.’

  That evening, while Nathan was playing with Daniel at the very back of the ship, the young sailor she had smiled at approached her on the main deck as she was leaning against the stowed longboat to watch the spritsail flapping at the bow. The folds it created were fascinating in the absence of little else to do.

  ‘Enjoying the journey?’ he asked.

  Mercia swivelled to face him. ‘To a point. I shall be pleased when we arrive in America.’

  He nodded. ‘’Tis a long while yet. But I love New Amsterdam. Been there before, see.’ He traced pictures in the air with his fingers. ‘The fort looking over that windmill on the shore. The tall houses, the canal. And the people, course. I could tell you about it, if you like.’

  ‘It sounds exciting,’ she said to be pleasant.

  ‘It is. I could tell you a lot more things too.’ He smiled, his blue eyes shining in the fading light. ‘I was wondering whether you might want a bit of company. It gets lonely at sea.’ He fell in on the rail beside her.

  She began to feel uncomfortable. She sidled along the rail but he stepped around to block her, resting his hand on her arm. She shook it off, but he drifted it up to caress the back of her neck. She stared him in the eye. ‘And there I was thinking you were interested in talking. Lady Markstone was right. Let me go, or I will cut those fingers from my neck.’

  The sailor laughed and placed his hands on the rail either side of her, effectively hemming her in. ‘Come, ’tis a long voyage.’ He moved his body closer, his loose red trousers billowing in the wind. ‘Your friends don’t need to know.’

>   Over his shoulder she noticed a group of sailors watching from the forecastle. He looked back at them and grinned. One of the group urged him on, but the others were staring uneasily. Cursing her naivety, she waited for him to relax his grip on the rail so she could bob down and escape, or else push him aside. But then a hand gripped his shoulder and twisted him round. To her surprise he fell to the deck, blood spewing from his nose across the rough wood.

  Shocked, she glanced up. Nicholas was standing over the felled sailor, rubbing his fist. He crouched down to the sailor’s ear. ‘If you or any of your mates behave like this towards her again, I will throw you into the sea.’ He stood and kicked him hard in the side. ‘Do you understand?’

  The sailor turned a look of total malevolence on him, his eyes pulsating with fury. He pushed himself up from the deck and limped away, clutching his wounded side. The watching sailors jeered; humiliated, he hissed at them to be quiet.

  Nicholas watched him go. ‘Been in this situation before, have we not?’

  ‘The day we met,’ said Mercia. ‘But this time we cannot just walk away. That kick was somewhat excessive, don’t you think?’

  He turned to her. ‘I take looking out for you to be part of my duties. He won’t bother you again.’

  She glanced at the red patch seeping into the deck. ‘He will be after your own blood now.’

  ‘He doesn’t scare me. I don’t think he’d have done anything, but sailors get bored, dare each other to do ridiculous things. I should know.’

  ‘I am sure you do.’ Her tone was terse, but secretly she was pleased he had come to her rescue. ‘But thank you.’ Keen to discuss something else, she cleared her throat. ‘How are you and Nathan getting along?’

  He folded his arms. ‘Well, I hope. He spends much of his time with Daniel. He cares for the boy a great deal. I respect that, especially when he’s not his own.’ He leant back on the rail beside her. ‘I was wondering – if I can ask – what happened to his own daughter? I know ’tis not my place, but …’