Birthright

by David Hingley

  While everyone was looking up, she untied the lace on her front-closing bodice and pulled both it and her skirt off faster than she had thought possible, until she was standing on the foredeck in just her petticoat, stays and boots. No thought for anything but Daniel, she jumped at the rigging and began to climb, pursuing two sailors who were already ahead of her. The sailor on the foredeck tried to pull her back down, but she kicked at his hand and he let go with a pained cry. She was dimly aware of Nathan and Nicholas shouting at her from the main deck to stop, but she ignored them, continuing her ascent.

  The white of her stays was covered in tar by the time she had climbed not ten feet. Despite the stickiness the rope was hard, digging painfully into her hands. Still she kept going, the wind whipping around her body, her arms aching with each conquered bit of rope.

  After a while she looked down. By now four sailors were surrounding Nathan, restraining him from climbing to the foredeck after her, while Nicholas stood next to them, his hand over his mouth, his eyes fixed on Daniel. Behind him Lady Calde emerged back on deck and tapped his shoulder, making him jump. She spoke into his ear, and he looked back at the hatch to the ’tween deck before shaking his head and running to the foredeck ladder himself. But the sailors did to him what they had done to Nathan, trusting in their two mates in the rope work to resolve the situation.

  Mercia kept going, dragging herself higher, and higher, closing her eyes to the gusting wind, until summoning all her strength she reached the horizontal foreyard halfway up the mast, the bottom sail billowing beneath it. The rigging was tapering to a point just above her at the foretop, the small round platform from where the crew looked out to sea. Seeing Daniel close above it, she made one final agonising effort and hauled herself, arms burning, inside.

  One of the sailors who had climbed before her was standing in the foretop, shouting instructions to his mate above; he turned to look at the person who had climbed in with him and let out an astonished gasp, swearing as he beheld a filthy, ragged woman in her underskirts. It would be a tale to beat all he had accumulated during his life aboard ships.

  ‘What in God’s creation?’ he said. ‘Stay here. You will be in the way.’

  Mercia looked up. Against the white topsail she could see the man above her was now on a level with Daniel, her son clinging tight to the narrow rigging, shaking, tar over his little face. Involuntarily she put up her hand to go after him herself but the sailor beside her pulled it away. Unable to speak, she watched as the man above released Daniel’s right foot from where it had become trapped, then holding onto the mast with just the strength of his legs, prised Daniel’s hands off the tar-covered ropes.

  ‘When I say,’ shouted the sailor, ‘put your arms around my back and hold tight.’ He paused a moment, making sure his grip on the mast was secure. ‘Now!’

  Later, Mercia would say her heart stopped at the moment when her son grabbed at the sailor’s loose shirt. But he managed it, clinging to his back, and the sailor with his human load descended to the foretop. Lowering himself in, he shook Daniel gently off. Oblivious to the tar on her hands, Mercia squeezed her son tightly, her heart resuming a steadier beat.

  ‘Be careful,’ said the sailor. ‘I haven’t risked myself for you to crush him to death.’ But his tone was kind.

  She looked up. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘We’re not on deck yet. Give him back and I’ll take him down.’ He looked at her. ‘It was brave, climbing up here. But in future, leave it to us.’

  Mercia smiled at Daniel to go with him. He let her go, tears in his eyes. She watched them descend until moments later he was back on the foredeck, safe. Then she realised where she was, perched above the foresail with her clothes far below. It looked a lot higher from here than from the deck. She began to feel nervous. She could see Nathan pushing against the men surrounding him, trying to come to her aid, but the sailors were still preventing it.

  ‘Wait here,’ said the sailor beside her. He shinned up the rope above him, hauling himself towards the tiny object that was still hanging from the higher yardarm. She looked up at it and took a small step back as she recognised Daniel’s toy lion. She stared at its tufted mane gone rigid in the wind, wondering why it was there.

  A shout from below diverted her attention: Nathan, barking at the sailors to help her down. But then she thought, would they be so concerned if I were a man, and in her indignation she forgot her fear. Carefully, she placed one foot out of the foretop, then the other, feeling for a firm hold on the rigging. Loosening her grip on the platform, she began to descend; gradually the voices on deck grew louder until her left foot felt the wood of the forecastle and she stepped off the rigging, collapsing onto the floor. Daniel had been taken to the main deck; she pulled herself up and managed to clamber down the ladder after him.

  Released from the sailors’ confinement, Nathan ran to her. ‘Are you unhurt? You could have fallen!’

  She looked around. ‘Where is he?’

  A blur in the corner of her eye rushed to collide with her, holding on tight. ‘Danny, why did you go up there?’ she asked. ‘Were you after your lion?’ Daniel nodded, bursting into tears as the sailor from the foretop jumped down, handing Nathan the toy he had retrieved.

  ‘That was his lion?’ Nathan twisted it round. ‘What the hell was it doing up there?’

  ‘I don’t know. Nicholas might. He said something about the sailors playing games.’ She pointed him out with a nod. ‘There he is, coming over now.’

  ‘By Jesus, I am so, so sorry.’ Nicholas walked up, his fist clenched against his side. ‘How is he?’

  ‘’Tis not your fault,’ said Mercia. ‘We cannot watch over him all the time.’

  ‘Someone put this in the rigging.’ Nathan thrust the lion at him, furious. ‘Do you know who?’

  Nicholas looked at the toy. ‘It must have been a sailor’s dare. I … don’t think they’d have thought he’d climb for it himself.’

  ‘Nicholas, I don’t care. I want to know who did it.’

  Nicholas glanced round at the crew, who were gawking at Mercia with eager eyes. ‘I know you do, but they won’t talk. And there’s something else.’ He pulled a shining object from his pocket, handing it to her. ‘Look what I found.’

  ‘Lord above!’ she said. ‘The necklace!’ Quickly, she wrapped the expensive pearls in a fold of her petticoat. ‘Where in the name of heaven was that?’

  ‘Stuffed in one of the sailor’s bunks. I just found it.’

  ‘Whose bunk?’

  ‘I have no idea. I’m going to get some answers.’

  He walked off, leaving Mercia to look at Nathan open-mouthed. ‘How did this turn up now?’ she whispered. ‘It has been weeks.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Nathan, staring after Nicholas.

  ‘We will find out later. What matters now is that Daniel is safe.’ She looked down at herself, caked in sticky tar. ‘Nat, could you bring me a cloak? I cannot walk the deck like this, with all these prying eyes.’

  ‘Of course.’ He lunged at the sailors standing around them. ‘What are you all looking at?’

  He disappeared across the main deck towards the cabins, passing Lady Calde who was coming the other way, the three noblemen and Lady Markstone in her wake. The aristocratic quintet stopped as they beheld the surprising scene.

  ‘What is happening here?’ said Sir Bernard. Shadowed by the foresail his trim build seemed sparser than usual. ‘Harriet says that boy has— Mrs Blakewood!’ His grey eyes widened in outrage. ‘Put some clothes on now!’ He turned to the sailors. ‘And you, get back to your work!’ The sailors broke up, smirking.

  ‘Mercia.’ Lady Markstone clasped her hands together. ‘Perhaps you could tell us what happened.’

  Mercia pulled Daniel close. ‘It seems one of the sailors put Danny’s toy in the rigging as some sort of feeble jest. He went after it, and I went after him.’ She glared at Sir Bernard, the man who had promoted her father’s trial, with loathing. ‘There have bee
n enough tragedies in this family of late.’

  Sir Bernard scoffed. ‘This ship is no place for a boy such as he. You do wrong to bring him. And this … indecent state of dress.’ He waved his hand at her dismissively. ‘Is your family not shamed enough for you to behave like a common harlot?’ He turned to Lady Markstone. ‘Quite why you want this woman to accompany you into your exile is a mystery to me. One criminal family helping another, I suppose.’

  ‘She is here because she wants to be,’ said Lady Markstone, her face set. ‘And because she is kind.’

  ‘She is a menace,’ rasped Sir Bernard. ‘God’s death, Mrs Blakewood, your wretched family seems to delight in causing trouble.’

  Daniel buried his face in Mercia’s petticoat. Indignant, she turned to Sir Francis. ‘Uncle? Will you let him slight our family like that?’

  Sir Francis stayed silent, his face red with embarrassment. Next to him, she noticed Sir William peering at her from behind Sir Bernard, his eyes darting between her stays and the deck. She began to feel exposed, but then Nathan reappeared with one of the spare cloaks she had packed for winter, uncertain how long she would remain in America.

  ‘About time,’ she said, annoyed. She let him place the cloak around her, then with Daniel still sitting she stood to face Sir Bernard. As she did, the necklace she had hidden in her lap clattered to the deck.

  Sir William stared at the pearls, biting his lip. He looked involuntarily at his wife.

  ‘Why, that looks like—’ Lady Calde stooped to pick up the necklace. Mercia and Nathan looked at each other, eyes wide. ‘It is!’ Lady Calde rounded on her husband. ‘You said you could not find this months ago, when I presumed I had lost it at the Russells’ house. Yet here it is on the deck of this ship next to this – this woman!’ She nodded, furious. ‘I thought I saw her with it in the Privy Garden that once. But I could never believe it!’

  ‘Your necklace?’ said Mercia.

  Lady Calde ignored her. ‘So, William, my fears were correct. You have been betraying me with this’ – she looked at Sir Bernard – ‘yes, this harlot. That is why she is here. It is nothing to do with Millicent. You intend her to be near you while we are in America.’

  ‘But Harriet, are you sure ’tis not just similar?’ Sir William bowed his head. ‘The explanation may be—’

  ‘The explanation is obvious. You want a cheap whore and do not even have the grace to buy her new things. My, you are pitiful.’ Lady Calde stormed off, her head thrown back, more in triumph, it seemed, than anger. Sir William glanced at Mercia before hurrying in pursuit.

  Sir Bernard laughed out loud. ‘I warned him not to get close to Goodridge’s child. And you, Francis, telling him all would be well, that she would want him.’ He shook his head. ‘He will pay the price now. You, Millicent, be careful she does not corrupt you too.’

  Lady Markstone narrowed her eyes. ‘You are not one to talk of corruption, Bernard.’

  Sir Bernard opened his mouth to retaliate, but Lady Markstone shook her head, as though daring him to try. Instead he pivoted on his heels and walked back down the deck, busying himself in straightening his doublet. With a wink at Mercia, Lady Markstone did the same, leaving her with Sir Francis.

  ‘Mercia,’ he said. ‘Why could you not—?’ He growled, running his hands along his face. ‘By all that is sacred, why could you not be normal? He would make you rich! He still can, if we can arrange things right.’

  ‘I do not—’ she began, but he held up his hand.

  ‘No. Not now.’ He set off after the others. ‘I have to think.’

  She watched him go, her breaths fast and hard. ‘How can he talk like that to me, as if he owns me? In front of Daniel?’ She looked at Nathan, her eyes quivering with rage. ‘And as for Sir Bernard, one day I will make that serpent pay for his part in what he did to my father.’

  Nathan laid his hand on her shoulder. He too was trembling, clearly angered by what had been said. ‘One day we will. But let me take you to your cabin. Let us all calm down.’

  ‘You are right.’ She coaxed Daniel to his feet, wrapping her cloak about her body. ‘I can wash the tar off my hands and face.’

  They made their way to the quarterdeck, nodding at Captain Morley who had been watching from a respectful distance. Mercia disappeared inside her cabin while Nathan went to fetch water. Two minutes later she put her head out the door, clutching a dress across her chest.

  ‘Nathan!’ she called.

  Nathan was talking with the captain, a wooden pail of water at his side. Seeing her waving, he brought it over. ‘I’m sorry. We were speaking about what happened with Daniel.’

  She tugged at his arm. ‘Quickly, inside.’

  He smiled. ‘No need to worry, I have your water. The captain had a barrel to hand.’ He dragged the pail into the cabin and shut the door. Daniel was lying on the small bed, already fast asleep.

  ‘Forget the water.’ She pointed at the table. ‘Look!’

  ‘Why, what is—?’

  ‘The cabin has been searched again,’ she interrupted. ‘There are things moved around. But look there.’

  He followed her gaze. ‘God’s teeth!’

  On the table her book of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms lay open. It was stabbed into the wood by a knife.

  ‘Look closer,’ she said.

  He peered at the open page. It was the beginning of the section on the kingdom of Mercia, the kingdom her father had named her for. The knife was one of those the sailors used to skin the fish they caught, and a small amount of gore had stained the page. Its point was stabbed through the heart of the large title word – right through Mercia.

  ‘And there is this.’ She thrust a piece of paper into his hand. Under a crudely drawn stick image of a woman hanging in a noose was a short note.

  Return to England on the first ship back, or next time the knife goes through you. JN.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Nathan looked at her. ‘My God. JN. James North?’

  She nodded. ‘My plan is working. Whoever the bastard is, he knows my intent and comes to scare me off. It is precisely as I thought.’

  ‘But this is vicious, Mercia.’

  She struck her fist against the cabin wall, making it shake. ‘We think ’tis a nobleman. Well then, he must be one of the three who came from the Martin. Sir William, Sir Bernard—’ She paused. ‘Or Sir Francis. Masquerading as James North, reminding us he is dead at his hand.’

  ‘Then he is taking an awful chance. What if you had come to your cabin while he was here?’

  She shook her head. ‘I have a feeling that diversion with Daniel’s lion was not a mere sailor’s prank.’

  His eyes widened. ‘You think it was arranged to distract you? That Daniel was encouraged to climb for it?’

  ‘Maybe so, but even without Daniel I would have been busy making sure the sailors retrieved the toy. You know it was a present from his father.’ She swept out her arm. ‘It would have been long enough to do this.’

  Nathan looked again at the knifed book. ‘I do not like this, Mercia. He must be sorely worried. If he feels there is no other way, he may go through with this threat, regardless of who he is.’ He paused. ‘Who would know the toy was so precious?’

  ‘Everyone. Daniel has been showing it off this whole time.’ She looked at her son sleeping on the bed. ‘I will not be intimidated like this. We will find this man and unmask him. Even if it is my uncle himself.’

  He scratched at his chin. ‘Could it be him? We have never much considered it.’

  ‘Why not?’ She rubbed her tarred fingertips across her right temple, leaving a thin mark. ‘He lives not far from Oxford, so he could have had access to North before the Section left for London. He did well for himself when Cromwell was in power, even though he supported the King. We know he is obsessed with wealth.’ She sighed. ‘But really, I do not know. It could be him, yes. But it could as easily be either of the other two.’

  Nathan hesitated. ‘Even Sir William? Does
he not … have a fancy for you?’

  ‘I wonder.’ She bit her dirty nails. ‘So far, this man has not made a serious attempt to kill me. He has threatened, tried to scare, but nothing more.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘But could that be why? As for Sir Bernard, he was the most venomous on deck, but that means nothing.’ She blew out her cheeks. ‘Whoever he is, he has made a mistake with this note. All we need do is find a sample of each of their writing and compare it.’

  ‘If such samples exist. Most of their belongings are still on the other ships. And Mercia, he has been careful with his identity until now. It cannot be so simple.’

  ‘Maybe not. But it behoves us to check. My uncle at least likes to note down his thoughts.’ She studied the message. ‘I do not think this is his hand, but it could be disguised. It does look peculiar, somehow, and neater than the note left in the town house.’ She ripped the paper in two, giving Nathan half. ‘Here. ’Tis nearly dark, and I want to play a scared mouse tonight, make whoever left this think I am affected by his act. But tomorrow morning we will see what we can discover.’ She bent down to the pail. ‘Now, I had best get this tar off.’

  ‘Do you need help?’ He turned towards the door. ‘I can ask Lady Markstone.’

  She pointed to the floor. ‘Pick up that cloth and help me yourself. Just here on my face where I cannot see. I will do the rest.’

  He flushed, wetting the cloth and kneeling beside her. ‘This won’t take long. ’Tis mostly your hands that are dirty.’ He brought his face close to hers, gently rubbing the damp cloth across the patches on her forehead and cheek.

  Their lashes nearly touched as she looked into his eyes. ‘Can you believe Sir William gave me second-hand jewellery as a gift? Clearly I am not worth much.’

  His fingers brushed against her cheek as he rubbed harder at a spot near her lips. ‘You are worth ten times Lady Calde. A hundred.’

  She smiled. ‘Flatterer.’

  ‘What of the necklace, anyway?’ He leant still closer: she could fell his breath on her neck. ‘’Tis strange it was found today.’