Pistoleer: Edgehill

by Smith, Skye

"Well then you will have a shorter ride by half, but find some horses and leave. NOW!" He turned to some other men. "Are our prisoner's locked up?"

  "Of course."

  "Is the gate closed and guarded?"

  "Of course."

  "Right, then let's do something about this bloody keep." He walked back across a courtyard to where the Stewarts were still standing, shivering, in the pre dawn chill. "Has he agreed to surrender the keep yet?"

  "He is a very stubborn man,” Stewart apologized. "But this is not my fault. You must keep your terms and allow me exile."

  Daniel stared up at the man high above on the wall of the keep, and the captain leaned over that wall and smiled down on him. He knew he had won. There was a flicker of movement to the right of the man. Could it be? He called up to the captain. "Your governor has chosen exile. You may go with him. Life is good in Holland. They need people with your skill." There was another flicker. "Look, look down here at this double barreled dragon." He held it up. "See how fine it is ...." The man was stretching out to see.

  The flicker of movement had become the shadow of a lad, and suddenly the captain had a tiny pistol at his throat. Teesa tried to disguise her voice to make it seem manly but it still came out far too pert as she said, "Tell your men to open the gate else I will blow out your throat."

  The captain was an experienced fighter. Between the pulling of the trigger, the snap of the flint, the flash in the pan and the full charge going off, he had a half a moment. He spun around and knocked the pistol away from his throat, and then screamed in pain and bent over. It was maddening for Daniel, not knowing what was happening, not being able to help his daughter, but he had to do something. He snatched a bow from the shoulder of the man beside him, and grabbed an arrow from his quiver, and drew it to its full extent and aimed it up at the wall.

  "It won't reach that high with any force,” the bow's owner told him. "That is why the Normans built the walls so high."

  A call came down from the wall. "Open the gate. This is your captain. Open the gate."

  As soon as the gate swung open, the three men who had opened it stepped through and threw down their weapons and stepped out of the way. A dozen men rushed passed them, and five of them raced up the first staircase. Daniel was amongst them. The scene on the top of the wall told a story. The captain was lying on his side holding his leg. Tessa was leaning back against a crenellation covering him with her pistol.

  "She stabbed me in the thigh,” the captain spat out. "The bitch stabbed me in the thigh. I may never walk or ride again."

  "And if you don't allow her to stop the bleeding you may never see another sunrise,” Daniel told him. The wall's walkway was red with his blood.

  * * * * *

  "Teesa did that. The devil you say,” Warwick couldn't help but laugh, for the lass was a wonder as well as a charmer. She was very much his lucky charm. "So now we have one of the Cinque Port fortresses. Only seven to go. I wish you had held onto Stewart. We could have forced him to order the others to surrender. He's the Warden so a few of the smaller ones may have done so. Well that opportunity is now milk under the bridge. You did well Daniel, very well."

  Daniel stared at Warwick as the man went back to weighing the gold he had just taken from Canterbury Cathedral. "So you are robbing churches now?"

  "If I hadn't confiscated this, the bloody bishops would have sent it all to the king. Each one of these gold pieces may have cost me ten men."

  Daniel picked up one of the coins and read the inscription. It was a rare coin for it was a sixty year old Spanish piece of eight that had never been cut or shaved. "Consider your charter of the Swift expired," he told Warwick. "I am keeping you to your word this time. This was her last mission for you. I am taking her home to pack up our village and move to Bermuda."

  "No, not yet. Just one more mission ... a short one. I am sailing a squadron of five ships to Portsmouth to blockade that port so that Colonel Waller can force Goring to surrender the arsenal. I'll need the Swift."

  "Everyone needs the Swift. It's the fastest ship on this coast. But I need it to escort our smaller ships to Bermuda."

  "Sail with me. I'll make it worth your while."

  "You mean like purchasing Dover castle from me. How many of these coins was the fortress worth?"

  "What's that you say?" A sudden anger crossed Warwick’s face. "Ah, a jest. Good one. You almost had me."

  "I mean it, I'm finished. When I began helping you, the missions were all about foiling the king and his officers, but there was little chance of deadly violence. Since the siege at Hull that has all changed. Now there is always deadly violence. Forces have been put in motion that no man, nor clan, nor village can stand against. I've lived through this kind of brutal vandalism before ... along the Netherlands border. I am taking my clan far away from it."

  "Did I tell you that Hopton is trying to capture Strode again?" Warwick tried a different tack. He and Daniel had rescued Strode's family from Ralph Hopton once before at Strode's home near Plymouth.

  "So I heard. The whole of the south coast seems to have gone mad. You should have never left Goring in place as the governor of Portsmouth. You knew he was the king's man."

  "Lunsford is helping Hopton."

  "Robert Blake stopped me from drowning that snake in the mud, so he can help Strode."

  "Blake is not you,” Warwick said softly.

  "He's a trained pistoleer just like me, but with an education and a brain."

  "Exactly, he thinks too much. Is there nothing I can say that will change your mind?"

  "You know there isn't," Daniel replied quickly. Too quickly.

  "If you hold off on your departure to Bermuda until next spring, I will make you the Governor of that colony."

  The silence filled the room. Warwick not only held the controlling interest in the Providence Company but also in the Somers Isles Company that ran Bermuda. "I will put your kind offer before my clan ... after I return to Wellenhay."

  "Britta won't be going with you."

  "We've all known that for a few months. She is too used to the Rich lifestyle at Warwick House." Daniel replied. Teesa's sister was very different form Teesa. She was a girly girl through and through and loved displaying herself in fine gowns.

  "She is no longer at Warwick House. Robert Junior has moved his family in from Essex. He feels that London is safer for them, and rightly so. There were immediate problems, ugh, between Britta and his wife Anne."

  "You mean Junior was trying it on with Britta?"

  "Can you blame him? Susannah solved the problem by setting Britta up in one of our rentals close by. One of the houses on the other side of the grounds."

  Warwick owned many rented houses in London, and his wife Susannah would have had her choice of any of them. The grounds of Warwick House were extensive with a long perimeter surrounded by London town houses. "Over by Oliver's house?" Daniel asked.

  "Two doors down. Susannah is spending a lot of time there as an excuse to give Anne the run of Warwick House, so it's all good. Oliver's daughters are always about, escaping from their chores. Britta is content."

  "I will tell that to Teesa. Bridget was her best friend when the Cromwell's lived in Ely."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Pistoleer - Edgehill by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14

  Chapter 11 - College Silver in Cambridge, August 1642

  The return of the Swift and its crew to Wellenhay was ample reason for a summer fete, especially since five of their other six ships happened to be in Wellenhay pool on the day the Swift came back. They were just in from delivering Dutch guns to various parliamentarians along the coast, including to Cambridge where Oliver was the MP.

  It was August, the only hot and dry month so far this year, and a slack time between the busy seasons of planting and of harvesting, so a good time for a fete. Wellenhay's women had latched onto six new husbands, young men from the village of Freiston over near Boston, and so the start of the fet
e was delayed for a day while those men took some ships across The Wash to fetch back their extended families.

  For the crew of the Swift the fete was especially sweet for their last few months had been filled with dangerous adventures in dangerous circumstances. They had all survived with nothing more than cuts and bruises so now they relaxed and kicked up their heels and partied with the folk they loved most on this earth. As at all of their celebrations, dancing and dancy music was as important, if not more important, than the feasting.

  At such fetes strong drink was forbidden, even wine, but the thin summer ale flowed like water. Everyone drank ale, even the children, even though the wells were producing clean water. In times of floods when their wells were fouled, ale was the only healthy drink other than soup and milk. The village women had never put much store in the Christian teachings that ale was bad for children, for the proof was in the pudding. Frisian children were tall and fair and healthy, and had strong white teeth, though likely this was more due to the diet of fish and dairy than the ale.

  You knew it was a special occasion in Wellenhay when Teesa turned out in a skirt. She loved to dance, and was good at it because she was a natural acrobat, and the flare and swirl of skirts added grace to the dancing. Daniel knew the other reason that the huntress was partying so hard. Less than a week ago she had killed a man. Loosing herself in the music and dance was a good way of putting that out of her mind.

  The entire clan needed to put worries out of their minds, for the kingdom around them seemed to be loosing their minds. Every day there were reports of fighting and arrests and even killings caused by the continuing efforts to recruit men and horses ... the Parliament with their Militia Ordinance, and the Royalists with their Commission of Array. Every day there was new gossip of treasures being confiscated from the cathedrals by Parliament and from colleges and guild halls by the Royalists.

  The fete lasted three days before it wound down out of sheer exhaustion and the Freiston folk were boated home. Daniel was half snoozing in a hammock in the shade when the metal triangle hung in their watch tower sounded the warning that there were strangers approaching. Every ear in the village turned to hear the signal chimes that would follow the initial warning. They rang out the codes for one boat with two men, from the Ely channel. Everyone relaxed again.

  It was Teesa who led the men to Daniel's hammock. She was still skirtly and the telltale chaff on her back showed that she had been rolling about in the long grass with somebody. Knowing her she had probably been wrestling rather than the other. Daniel squinted up to see their faces. "Oliver, if you've come to challenge us to a football match, you've chosen the wrong day. We're all wasted."

  "I'm not organizing football matches anymore. All the canal diggers have been pressed into the King's army so the locals can fill in any drainage ditch they want without the help of footballers. Daniel Vanderus, I'd like you to meet Valentine Walton. He's my sister's husband."

  Daniel reached out his hand in greeting, "We've met before. You are the MP for Huntingdon." He shuddered involuntarily and it wasn't from the chill of the shade. When the MP's for Cambridge and Huntingdon came visiting, you would do well to say you're not at home. Too late for that. "Well if you wanted to do some glad handing, you've missed the fete."

  Both MP's stared at Teesa. She took the hint and left. "Your ships have been bringing us guns and ammunition all summer,” Oliver said as if it were an embarrassment.

  "The skippers have been good enough to extend us credit,” Valentine added.

  "Oh yes,” Daniel replied politely. The bloody fools. No one trades in guns on credit.

  "You see we were promised silver plate by some of the colleges,” Oliver told him. "but there is a problem."

  Here it comes ... "What problem?" Daniel asked politely.

  "The Sheriffs are staying neutral as long as they can. They want to be sure to choose the winning side. Neutral means they are curbing support for either side. In Cambridge we have been refused the leadership of the Trained Band so we formed our own band. Our attempts to recruit men have been thwarted, as have our attempts to train those men. When they refused us the use of weapons from the arsenal, we purchased the weapons from your clan. Now the colleges have been told not to hand over the silver that was promised by the colleges to pay for the weapons."

  "And ..."

  "And so we have come to ask for an extension for the payment." Valentine told him.

  Daniel scrambled out of his hammock and walked the men over to the quay where they could see the ships in the pool. "Are the ships you dealt with out there?"

  "Um, no, but the arrangements were made through your wife Venka, not with the skippers. The skippers just delivered the cargos."

  Together they walked over to Venka's house. She wasn't there, so they walked over to the bath house. It was the busiest place in the village because behind the bathhouse was the 'clean' pool, the local swimming hole, and after three days and nights of partying everyone needed to bathe.

  The two good Presbyterian men tried not to stare, for in this village everyone bathed in the nude. They couldn't help themselves for this was a very comely clan. Daniel motioned over to Venka where she was teaching a little one how to swim, and she stood up and walked out of the pool towards them. The drylanders were moaning so Daniel grabbed their arms, turned them, and led them back towards her house. He had to lead them for they certainly weren't looking where they were going.

  "Oliver tells me there is a problem with paying for the guns,” Daniel told his wife when they were all sat on the long bench that they had moved into the shade of her house.

  "The Sheriff won't let the Colleges pay,” Oliver added for clarity.

  "We had a contract. The guns have been delivered so the plate is ours,” she told them. Venka was ten years older than her husband so closer to Oliver's age, but her skin still glowed with youth, and she was quite proud of that fact. Her skin had always been her best feature, well, other than her breasts.

  "Tell that to the Sheriffs or the court,” Oliver said.

  "I have no time to waste on courts." She waved her hand as she said this as if that would make the courts vanish. "A contract is a contract. The plate is ours. If they don't hand it over then we will take it. Let them tell that to the Sheriffs or the court."

  "Those colleges are our allies. We don't want to anger them."

  "Then tell them to leave the doors open so we don't have to break in,” Venka said in her matter-of-fact way. "Daniel, do you need a clan vote, or will you take care of this for me?"

  Daniel sighed. He had been having such a good time being away from issues such as this. He may as well have stayed with Warwick. At least the Earl paid well. "Is the Sheriff in Cambridge still John Cotton? How many men does he have?"

  "Theoretically hundreds, but that would force him to choose sides, so effectively only his constables and their henchmen, but they are spread out across the shire. In Cambridge less than twenty."

  "And how many in your Band?"

  "Our bands, for Valentine is trying to raise a band of horse in Huntingdon,” Oliver said. "All together eighty, but only half are trained."

  "Are they trained in pistols or muskets?"

  "Muskets. Your muskets. We are saving the pistols for those who bring horses. Unfortunately Cotton's men have a habit of grabbing the riding horses, so the men have stopped bringing them to the training grounds."

  "Muskets are not much use in close quarters such as a college or a street. If my men snatch the silver, will your men be able to block the streets so that no one can give chase."

  "I think so." Oliver hated that he had said something so indecisive. "Of course we can. We'll block the streets and no one will pass, but there is a complication, which is why I have brought Valentine with me."

  "Oliver's cousin, Henry Cromwell, is the Sheriff of Huntingdonshire,” Valentine told them, "and he sides with the king. Strongly sides with him because he wants to follow in the footsteps of his father and b
e knighted. While Cotton is sitting on the fence, Henry is actively recruiting for the king. He has also now become interested in the silverware of the Cambridge's Colleges. Unfortunately most of the colleges side with the king, which is understandable because much of their wealth is from bequests from the nobility and many of their students are of noble birth.

  We think, nay, we know that Henry has arranged with the colleges to convey their silver plate to the king. Arriving in Nottingham with a fortune in silver would certainly earn him a knighthood."

  This news was getting worse and worse. "So what would you have me do?" Daniel asked, fearing the answer.

  Both MP's spoke in unison. "We need the use of a ship to take the plate away from Henry."

  "Not for us of course,” Oliver added quickly. "Just to keep it safe."

  "Oh, of course,” Daniel smirked because Henry and the king were probably saying the same thing.

  "We have a plan," Oliver continued and shuffled along the bench to make room for him to unroll a hand drawn map. "We are talking about a lot of silver. Tons of the stuff because the colleges that educate the sons of the nobility are very wealthy. Queens, Trinity, St. Johns, and Jesus especially. Tons of anything require carts to carry it, and carts would be safer if they went together as a convoy with a mounted guard."

  "So they must stay on good roads, and if you take the carts from them, you must also stay on good roads so their horsemen will simply follow you and take it back. Ahhh, I see. If you carry it away by boat, they cannot follow you. How many carts?" Daniel asked while he stared down at the crude map, "and when?"

  "Perhaps one for each college. We have a well place spy, however. Richard Minshull, the assistant Head Master of my old college, Sidney Sussex. It was he who promised us the silver for your guns. He has let us know that Samuel Ward, the actual Head Master, has told Sheriff Cotton that he would like to join the other colleges in sending silver to the king. Today he received the reply that they were to securely crate what was to be sent before tomorrow night."

  "This is a map of the Cambridge to Huntingdon highway," Daniel said looking down at the map, "so I assume you are not going to try to stop the carts within Cambridge. That's good, for the River Cam is low this summer. Too shallow for even a small ship."