A Woman of the Road

by Amy Wolf

  “Ah,” I said, gratified he had noticed. “I had few pleasures at the Whale, so when I went into London, I was sure to read all the newspapers and the pamphlets around. Books, of course, were rare, though I had my Bible and some plays by Shakespeare. The latter illicit, of course.”

  “So you embarked on a life of crime even before you met us?” he asked. “For some reason, I am glad of it.”

  “You were not my sole corrupter,” I said.

  “Something like that. You know, in that cave I have some books of deep study. Nothing amusing, I fear. But you are welcome to them if you have the inclination.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I wanted to say so much more but seeing his still pale face, I refrained.

  On the seventh day since Jeffries’s departure, I knelt to examine my patient’s wound. It had healed cleanly, and there remained but one detail: to remove those royal blue stiches. “Pity,” Aventis remarked, as I bent over him with a knife. “I felt the blue accent made me more alluring.”

  “You should wear bright colors,” said Carnatus, perfectly grave. “Not the somber hues of a priest.”

  “Perhaps you can lend me that yellow doublet that makes you look like an overstuffed bird—"

  They quickly ceased their parley as the sound of approaching hooves echoed over the Heath.

  “That is Jeffries,” said Aventis, inclining his head as he listened.

  “Or not,” I answered, pointing my pistol toward the noise.

  “Stand down, Megs!” Jeffries shouted as he came into view. I saw that his packs, stuffed to bursting when he had left, were now flat as the Great Western.

  Before I lost my courage, I broached the unspoken question which had troubled me greatly.

  “Captain,” I asked, as he dismounted, “may we ask where you have been?”

  “Everywhere!” he cried. “Essex, London, Dover, even scholarly Cambridge!”

  “Whatever for?” I asked, bracing myself for anything.

  “Why, to pay the army,” he said.

  “Was that not the purpose of this?” I asked, pointing to the paymaster’s wagon hidden in deep in our cave.

  “Indeed, to pay present soldiers, those who preside over peace. The men who I’ve reimbursed fought long and hard in the war.”

  Still, I shook my head. Was this not the discretion of the king?

  “Ah, Megs,” said Jeffries, taking a welcome seat by the fire, “while you were playing with d—” He stopped himself. “—tin soldiers, we men of flesh were fighting and bleeding for the king.” He sighed. “The one who ended with his head struck from his neck.”

  Though I of course knew the story, nonetheless I recoiled.

  “Yet before that sad day, I followed Prince Rupert as we drew with the Roundheads at Edgehill, then lost to them at Naseby. I was a real captain then—in charge of a cavalry troop. Do you wish to view my Royalist medal?”

  With that, he laughed bitterly.

  “B-but,” I stammered, “I can well understand why you took to the road under Cromwell . . .”

  “Yes, we Cavaliers were the losers—hence, traitors—and our lands and possessions were seized. Those of us who had the ill luck to live were forced into hiding. Or worse.”

  “Yet with Charles’s restoration? Can you not reclaim what was yours?”

  “It would seem so,” said Jeffries. “But Charles is more concerned with funding his own lavish court. As for those who served his father—we are an inconvenience.”

  “But surely if you appealed—”

  Jeffries looked at me kindly.

  “Oh Megs, you are so young it breaks my heart! The king’s character is thus: he loves what is right before him: this woman, or that advisor. Be out of his sight for a moment, and that love is dispensed to another.”

  I felt the same fury boil as when I had hurled that basin at father. I too had been wronged, for nigh on thirteen years, and it was only thanks to Jeffries I had become a self-made “man.”

  “What of the queen?” I asked, giving Aventis a side glance.

  “She does not mingle in politics,” he said. “That is why she will be queen.”

  From his seat, Jeffries’s head drooped. He knit his hands into a steeple.

  “We who turned to the road under Cromwell are not welcome at court,” he said. “We are a sad reminder that his majesty’s side once lost.”

  My eyes went wide,

  “Yet you still support this king?” I cried. I wanted to give him a good shaking.

  The captain sensed my mood, for he gave me a wary look.

  “If confronted with another Cromwell, I will shout ‘God save the king!’ until my voice grows hoarse,” he said.

  That made a certain sense—but to me was not good enough. I strode over to where he sat and stood over him, arms crossed.

  “Why not repossess what is yours?” I cried. “Your lands belong to you!”

  Carnatus seemed ready to ride, but Aventis and Jeffries just smiled.

  “They lie in Somerset,” said the captain, “and were given to a Roundhead. At present, I understand, they belong to a royal favorite.”

  “It is so unjust,” I moaned, stamping one long boot.

  “Megs,” said Jeffries, “you more than anyone know how unfair life can be.”

  “How so?” asked Carnatus, his eyes lit by curiosity. Gad stood close to hear.

  “Once the dice are cast,” said Jeffries, “the result cannot be reversed.” He looked at each of us in turn. “That goes not just for Megs but all.”

  Not a word passed anyone’s lips until Carnatus spoke.

  “Apropos of dice,” he said, producing a pair from his pocket, “if I draw a ten or above, I shall hunt for dinner. If not, the rest of you take to the woods.”

  We all hunched over the ground as we watched the small cubes tumble.

  “Eleven!” Carnatus crowed. “Mind you—I require at least six quail!”

  A Double Crossing

  The night of Jeffries’s return, we all removed to London to stay at the house of another doxy, this one called Moll.

  “Ah, Captain Jeffries,” she sighed, taking his arm as if she owned it. “If only you wasn’t running around the country, stirring up trouble and God knows what else!”

  “You are best ignorant of the ‘what else,’” he said, allowing her to lead him upstairs. Carnatus, Aventis, and Gad were to share a small guest room, which left me blissfully alone to bed down on Moll’s couch downstairs.

  The timing could not have been better, for I was stricken with my monthly “flowers,” a hard enough event to manage without “sleeping rough.” Now, I could look after myself and even unbind the cloth which constricted my chest. As I let down my dark hair and combed it, shuddered with a feeling of freedom: no longer wrapped like butcher’s meat, I could myself.

  But who was that, exactly? Margaret Tanner, tapstress, an object of beatings and scorn? Or feared highwayman Megs, who rode with the best of men and sometimes bested them? If only I could be allowed to combine aspects from both: be a true “woman of the road” who need not conceal her gender. Yet, I knew this was a fantasy: I would be despised by everyone, even other highwaymen. My bones would fester by Hines’s as a clear warning to my sex.

  By the time the others appeared, I was fully dressed—as Megs. I would never let them know how it felt to be a pretender.

  “Sleep well, Megs?” asked Aventis, giving me a wink. “It must be nice to have a whole bed to yourself.”

  “Divan,” I corrected, as we walked into the kitchen. I saw Moll preparing breakfast and fought an urge to assist her.

  “Where to today, cap?” Carnatus asked with a yawn. He buttered a giant oatmeal pudding.

  “I am going to see some friends; get about and learn what’s what. I shall not be long,” said Jeffries. “Meet me at the Garden fountain at precisely noon.”

  We lazed about at Moll’s until Aventis took out his pocket watch.

  “Time to leave,” he said. “Gad, please fet
ch the horses.”

  Once mounted, we walked down the cobblestone streets where I looked around like a bumpkin. Having spent so much time sleeping rough in Epping and Hounslow, I could hardly adjust to the crowds—not to mention their livestock, shouting, and smells! When we reached Covent Garden, I saw a throng of flower sellers who perfumed the foul air with the scent of their wares. This sparked in me an odd notion, and I tossed down a shilling to a grateful girl. She in turn handed me up a white rose, which gave to Aventis.

  “To adorn your hat,” I said, blushing.

  He bowed from his saddle, adding the pale bloom to his band’s other feathers.

  “I should get something for you, Megs,” he said. You were after all the agent of my recovery.”

  “Someone fetch me a cup of hemlock!” Carnatus cried while lifting his hands to his throat. “All this sweet civility makes me want to take leave of this world!”

  “That goes double for me,” said Gad, emboldened.

  “I may accommodate your wish,” I said.

  “Hold!” said Jeffries, trotting up by the fountain. “I have news from a friendly innkeeper. He reports a party at the Oak large of purse and small of sense. It is only for us to enact our ‘befriend and warn them’ scheme!”

  “Not my favorite,” said Carnatus. “Still, as long as there’s food and treasure, I will fell the mighty Oak!”

  Jeffries gestured for us to follow as we departed London and found the Great Western in Hounslow. I wondered what this latest scheme offered, but after his Robin Hood venture, I felt I would follow Jeffries into Whitehall itself!

  It took but a two-league run before we arrived at the Oak. It seemed a nice enough inn, though there was not an oak to be seen. After handing over our mounts, we were seated by the fire near a table housing six merchants. True to the innkeeper’s word, their purses were heavy and strained to bursting.

  “Good man, be quick and fetch some tankards of ale!” Carnatus barked at the owner, who stood and gave Jeffries a wink.

  “And wine,” said Aventis. “Pray you, anything from France.”

  “Aye, good sirs,” said the man, who soon returned with refreshments. “Shall I order up a calf’s head, fish fin, and humble pie?”

  “Straightaway!” cried Carnatus. “And two to three roast fowl. I am famished!”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Jeffries turned to the merchant closest to him. This man wore simple black garb, topped by a hat so tall I wondered he’d fit through the door. Despite the fire, his lack of finery chilled me, for there was no doubt what he was, a . . . a dam’d Dissenter!

  “Good day to you, sir,” said Jeffries. “May I ask where your road leads?”

  “To Essex,” the merchant answered, “if it be God’s pleasure.”

  “I’ve no doubt He will see you safely there.”

  Jeffries winked at Aventis, who smiled, then covered his mouth.

  “What drives you that fair county?” Carnatus asked, draining his mug.

  “We have just sold our goods in London,” a younger man volunteered. “We bring our profits home.”

  “No place like home for profits,” Carnatus agreed.

  “And did we not do well, Ted?” the merchant cried, patting his purse as if he expected it to purr.

  “Indeed, father.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Could these men be so untutored that they offered tales of riches to strangers in an inn? Something about their frankness caused my skin to prickle, but I hid my concern by taking a sip of wine.

  “Surely it is God’s reward,” said Jeffries. “For prosperity comes to the good.”

  “To the godly,” the first merchant said. “We know that we will be saved as members of the Elect.”

  Ugh, a Puritan, I thought. What an annoying sect. Too bad the king was so soft with these damn’d Dissenters. Then I glanced at Aventis and stared into my glass. I knew that Catholics too could be snared in a net of intolerance.

  Jeffries pretended to agree with the merchant’s pious sentiment.

  “Too right,” he said. “Mr.—?”

  “Winthrop.”

  “I am Smith. When do you set out?”

  “At first light.”

  “Oh, happy day!” cried Jeffries. “We too are headed east. With your permission, we will form one merry party!”

  I stared at the huddled merchants. “Merry” was hardly the word I would use to describe their dour mien. During the rest of the evening, Carnatus ate five fowl, but I could tell he was downcast for he could not bring out his dice.

  At last, Winthrop and his brethren repaired upstairs to their rooms. We remained by the fire, quiet until I whirled on Jeffries.

  “Captain, there is something amiss with these men! Why in the name of their God would they be so open with us?”

  “Friendly?” Carnatus asked.

  “Bah! They are baiting some trap—you may count upon it! Captain Jeffries, surely you know this.”

  How could a man with such wiles not be on the scent?

  “Megs,” said Jeffries, “it may surprise you, but some men are amazingly free in their speech. They have no more distrust of strangers than a newborn babe.”

  Aventis nodded.

  “Especially those who believe they are selected by God,” he said.

  “Even so,” I answered. “These Dissenters chill my blood. I have long heard how they cheered when the old king lost his head.”

  “We must take care not lose ours,” said Aventis. “Once we join their party, we must keep our pistols at the ready. I assume they travel unarmed, trusting their God to protect them.”

  “They’d be better off with a cannon!” Carnatus growled.

  Jeffries smiled.

  “We wait here until dawn and keep our pistols loaded. If they attempt to deceive, they will lose both purse and life.”

  The rest of us nodded. In truth, I did feel better for having voiced my concern. Lulled by the wine and fire, I confess I dozed at table, but awoke with a start at the thud of boots on stairs. Yawning, I looked out the windows: first light was breaking, while the fire had burned itself out.

  “Ready, lads,” whispered Jeffries. “How meet!” he greeted Winthrop, rising to greet the merchant. “We have arisen early. What say we make for the road?”

  “Gladly,” said Winthrop. “We have already gathered in prayer.”

  “As have we,” Jeffries lied.

  I could hear Gad snicker.

  “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen,” said Aventis softly to me.

  Once out in the courtyard, we found that these men had fine horses. After we rob them, I thought, we must exchange them for our own. I took a quick look about me and saw that the road lay empty. By my side, Carnatus chuckled.

  “Easy as robbing women,” he hissed.

  I gave him a sharp look.

  Meanwhile, Jeffries called to the merchants, “I say, gentlemen, shall we ride up ahead to ensure there is no danger? One cannot be too careful these days.”

  “Very good,” said Winthrop.

  “Megs, stay here,” Jeffries commanded, then galloped off with the others.

  They were gone just a few minutes, but when Jeffries returned, alone, his face bore a look of terror.

  “Bandits ahead!” he cried. “I managed to thwart them, but alas, they have taken my friends!”

  It was then that “befriend and warn them” took on its full meaning.

  “Stand and deliver!”

  Two men appeared in all black, masks shrouding their faces. One raised his horse on its hind legs while the other pointed a pistol—straight at me, I might add.

  “Our purses are not worth our lives!” Jeffries shouted, throwing his to the mounted Carnatus.

  “Take mine, sir!” I told Aventis.

  “But . . . this is outrageous!” Winthrop yelled, his voice full of hurt bluster. “You shall have to kill us, you outlaws!”

  As if on cue, there emerged from each merchant’s cloak a loaded p
istol. I knew they were loaded, for all commenced firing!

  “You are under arrest!” Winthrop barked. “By order of His Majesty, the king!”

  “Some merchant,” Jeffries groused as he returned fire. He hit one of the “godly,” who fell, staining the road with his blood.

  “Who are you?” Carnatus asked.

  “King’s men!” said “Winthrop.” “Captain Collins at your service, sir!”

  Both sides paused to reload. What saved us from certain death were the spewing clouds of white powder that choked the morning air. When it cleared, I saw that Carnatus was hit while Aventis smacked his friend’s horse to send him to safety. That left us two men down.

  “Pray, halt your fire!” Jeffries asked Collins, but his words had no effect. His horse was shot dead from under him, and he had no choice but to duck behind some scrub. “I too am a king’s man!” he yelled. “I served at Edgehill. Does that not move you?”

  “Not at all,” Collins spat. “You are an outlaw, Jeffries, and we mean to halt your career! Besides which, there are fifty guineas on your head.”

  Jeffries rose to his full height, his expression one of disdain.

  “Only fifty? Hmph. That you shall never collect.”

  He brought up his flintlock, aimed at Collins, shot, and killed him.

  Even I recoiled, for I had never seen so much blood. Still, I gathered myself and breech-loaded my gun, holding it steady as Jeffries had taught me. After cocking the hammer, I gently squeezed the trigger, at which point the dam’d thing blew up!

  “Ahhh!” I cried. Why did this always happen? And more pointedly, to me? Could not this modern age contrive to build a decent gun?

  As I grasped my burning hand, Jeffries ran toward me, the mounted Aventis at his heels. The captain reloaded his pistols while Aventis used his sword to cut down two more men.

  “You must fly!” I gasped to Jeffries, my hand now dripping blood. “Aventis, take him and ride.”

  “Never!” said the two together, but they started at the sound of pounding hooves. Round the bend came a tightly bunched cavalry, each man attired in red.

  “Go now!” I shouted. “You must!”

  They exchanged a helpless look, then crouched as more shots rang out.