by Amy Wolf
“I see where we are!” I cried.
With a gesture, I bid Jeffries follow until we sat before my lone birch.
“Captain, may I borrow your dagger?” I asked.
Reaching down, he grabbed it from his boot and I commenced digging. As soil flew all around me, I spied the corner of a black cloak and the sheen of a green doublet! There followed breeches, stockings, hat, mask: even my old sword!
Jeffries turned his horse as I shed the skin of Margaret and regrew that of Megs.
“You may look, sir,” I said at last, clambering into my saddle.
“Great God!” Jeffries exclaimed. “My old companion is back!”
I reveled in the freedom of sitting my mount astride, of being unconstrained by tight bodice and stomacher.
“That is better!” I proclaimed, stretching my arms. “I am just as I once was.”
“Let us hope our friends are too,” said Jeffries.
“Yes,” I agreed. “But where are they?”
“That is what we must discover. I suggest we begin by finding Carnatus. He is much more likely not to have left England.”
Carnatus. In my excitement, I had not thought overmuch on the way we’d parted. Now, my spirits sunk.
“Do you think he will . . . accept me?” I asked. “Last time we met, he wanted to shoot me dead.”
Jeffries nodded.
“It is risky,” he said, “but we need him. We must take our chances.”
“Where do you think he could be?” I asked.
“His range is vast,” said Jeffries. “He might be in York, or London.”
“But London itself is vast!”
“True. We should start with his usual haunts: taverns and cookhouses.”
“Did he have a particular favorite?” I asked.
“Yes. All.”
If he was cowed by the prospect of finding Carnatus, Jeffries did not display it. Once we rode into the city, we visited various taverns—all rebuilt like the Whale—and every cookhouse in sight. After a day of this hard duty, we put up at Jeffries’s house.
“Oh, Mr. Megs!” Moll cried, as we entered, “I beg your pardon, Mistress Margaret. That is—”
“At present, please call me Megs,” I said.
I withdrew a handful of guineas and placed them in her palm.
“Please accept this small token as a wedding gift for you both,” I said.
“Thank you, Mr. Megs!” she cried.
“Just Megs, if you please,” I told her. “We are practically family now.”
As she rushed off to dispense with the coins, I elbowed Jeffries in the ribs.
“Since you are now an old married man,” I asked, “are you sure you can take on this endeavor? Perhaps you are not quite fit.”
He gave me a swat on the head.
“May I remind you, Megs,” he said, “that this ‘old man’ can still hit a twig from fifty paces!” He patted both grips of his pistols.
“I do not doubt you, sir.”
Alas, his skill with a flintlock could not aid our present mission. Over the next few days, we tramped and rode over London, covering every neighborhood. We visited so many taverns that by week’s end the smell of beer nearly turned my stomach.
On the seventh day of our search, a young boy in rags appeared on Moll’s doorstep.
“Have you heard something, Jack?” Jeffries asked. I knew the boy as one of the captain’s “spies.”
“A bit,” Jack said. “‘eard Phil’s man was ‘angin’ about the Garden. Lookin’ shifty as ever.”
“Excellent!” Jeffries cried, handing the boy a shilling before turning to me. “Megs, we’re off! Perhaps Gad can be collared.”
“Yes sir,” I said with a sigh. After all our walking about, I confess that I was weary. Still, I slapped on my hat and followed the captain out.
How different the Garden appeared, compared to my last visit! Flower sellers shared space with folk hawking produce from a line of booths. Though the colorful fruit looked delicious, Jeffries’s mind was elsewhere.
“Megs, head west and north,” he said. “Meet me by the fountain at ten.”
I nodded, keeping my eye on the crowd as I moved among their numbers: there were housewives bargaining mightily, dandies posing like peacocks, and scores of yelling children getting underfoot. How changed was London! One could never imagine that only five years prior, it had been leveled by fire . . .
I shouldered my way through the mob, most giving way to my not-so-gentle entreaties. Where was that devil Gad? If I knew him, up to no good. After a fruitless search, I waited for the church bells to strike ten before striding back to the fountain. Approaching me directly was Jeffries, who held by the ear a reluctant captive: Gad!
“Nabbed the blackguard before he could run,” Jeffries said.
“Well now, what’s this?” I asked the lad. “Do you dare flee from your master’s master?”
“I have been instructed," Gad said, “to say that Mr. Carnatus does not wish to witness you.” He nodded up at Jeffries. “An’ that goes double fer ‘er.”
Jeffries practically shoved him into fountain’s pool.
“Shhh!” the captain admonished. “Have you no brains in your head?”
As Gad considered the question, Jeffries put a hand on his sword.
“Take us to Carnatus,” he hissed. “Or I will skewer you like an eel!”
Gad placed both hands on his midsection.
“Please don’t, sir!” he pleaded. “You kin let go a’ me now.”
It did not take long to march him back to Moll’s so we could retrieve our horses. Gad, still gripping his stomach, leapt behind Jeffries on his saddle.
He led us down several blocks, crisscrossing back and forth, until we reached a block of plots where I knew that houses had stood.
“This better not be a ruse,” I growled. “Why would Carnatus choose to be among vacancy?”
My answer arrived forthwith in the form of a merry sight: on one dusty plot sat the portly frame of a man, ensconced on a French chair and waving a turkey leg!
Jeffries jumped off his mount.
“Carnatus!” he cried. “My old friend!”
“Jeffries!” Carnatus roared.
Despite his strictures to Gad, Carnatus seemed overjoyed. He leaped from his chair, upending it, and nearly smothered poor Jeffries like an affectionate hound.
“What the devil are doing here?” Jeffries managed to gasp.
“Had a bit of a contretemps—at a cookhouse,” said Carnatus. “I thought it might be safer to enjoy my repast alone.”
He gave Jeffries a wink, but when his glance fell upon me, his good humor turned to menace.
“It is him. Her,” he sputtered. “That unnatural creature! Did I not make it clear at Islington that I never more wished to set eyes on it?!”
“You were clarity itself,” said Jeffries. “However, there is a matter at present which requires our full company.”
Carnatus narrowed his eyes.
“What would you say,” asked Jeffries, “to learn that the king’s survival depends wholly on us?”
“Preposterous!” roared Carnatus. “How can we be of such consequence?”
Even though the plot was otherwise deserted, Jeffries lowered his voice.
“There are great webs woven at court,” he said. “Charles seeks to ally with France to fight against the Dutch.”
“Bah!” said Carnatus, waving a hand. “We just waged two wars with Holland. Of what import is a third?”
Jeffries moved closer.
“There have been . . . secret dealings with Louis,” he said. “Charles is to receive millions of tournois if he favors France.”
“Pfft!” Carnatus shrugged. “What care I for these millions if they are not given to me?”
“There is something else.” As he had at the Whale, Jeffries sounded grim. “Something so peculiar—dare I say, doltish, that Charles risks his own crown.”
“Will he permit the French to
invade us?” Carnatus asked.
“My friend, I regret to say that the truth is a thousand times worse.”
Carnatus adjusted his sky-blue cloak. “Is he being wrought up then?”
“Well . . .” Jeffries thought. “In a sense. But this scheme, I fear, is mainly of his own doing.”
“The fool!” Carnatus cried. “Gad, you were right. ‘Stupid lies the head that wears a crown.’”
After giving me a rancorous look, he bid Gad to fetch his horse.
“I will join you,” he said, “but I have specific terms: under no circumstance will I be forced to speak to, nay! even acknowledge, that person known as Megs.”
He leaped into his saddle as Gad clambered behind.
“You have my word,” said Jeffries.
What about mine? I thought. Was I to be thus despised, lower than Gad as far as our company’s order? It would seem so, for as Jeffries rode north, Carnatus kept to his side, with myself firmly in the rear.
A False Robbery
Despite my misgivings, my whole body shook when we halted. I nearly blinked back tears when I saw where we were: at a bend of the Great Western Road! I took a moment to marvel at the dusty expanse which to me was an outdoor chapel.
Yet why stop here? I wondered. Was it the captain’s desire, in order to finance our mission, to rob a coach or two? If that were indeed the case, I confess I could not wait to embark as Megs again! All thoughts of respectability—mingled with those of Ned—floated off on the summer breeze.
“Shall we make for our usual hill?” asked Carnatus.
“Yes,” said Jeffries, “but we wait on a given coach. I learned at the Garden it is due to pass this way soon. I would suggest that one of us keeps watch while the others remain out of sight. I shall proceed first.”
I sighed, since that left me nearly alone with Carnatus. He rode up the hill and wheeled his horse, deliberately, so that its backside faced me. I knew I should feel slighted, but instead, stifled a laugh.
“Carnatus,” I cried, addressing his horse’s tail, “Cannot we set aside this feud? Regardless of my sex, was I not a true companion during our years on the road?”
My words were greeted with silence. Still, I made a second attempt.
“Did I not heal Aventis?” I asked. “Allow myself to be taken to spare Jeffries from the king’s men? Endure the horrors of Newgate while not breathing a word of betrayal!”
The only effect of my queries was that Gad’s back grew stiffer.
“Very well,” I said. “Wish me out of existence. But when the moment comes, as always, Megs will be at your side.”
Three long hours later, Jeffries called me to the watch. From behind a copse of beeches, I observed the passing of coaches, yet not the one we sought. In an attempt to stay alert, I dismounted and practiced my swordplay, using a tree as a foe.
That night at our old hideout was one I never wish to repeat. Carnatus, once so generous with his ale, refused to pass me a mug. When it came time to distribute the gamebirds he’d caught, he made Jeffries hand me my plate. Though the captain was kind, I felt the sting of rejection when half our party decamped to sleep away from me. Well, if they did not wish to share the fire, that was their misfortune!
“Our coach should appear today,” Jeffries said the next morning. “Let us all ride to await it.”
As I affixed my mask, I smiled widely beneath it. To be a high tobyman, even in this broken company, sent a chill through me which I had not felt in years. I made sure my pistol was loaded as I sat my horse with the others and calmly awaited our prey.
This was not long in coming, and when it did, there could be no doubt: not with that gilt finish or distinct coat-of-arms. This time, the coach was accompanied by at least four others.
“To it, lads!” Jeffries cried, and I set off with Carnatus, all thoughts of discord between us ground like dust beneath our horses’s hooves.
More than anything, I wanted to give the cry.
“Stand and deliver!” I shouted, blocking the road with Jeffries. Six magnificent horses came to an ungainly halt. “Well,” I said to the driver, “I believe you know what comes next!”
Carnatus and Gad held him, and though he was armed with a pistol, he decided to discard it when faced with four of ours.
Jeffries’s boots hit the ground as he approached the main coach’s door.
“Bom Dia,” he said, removing his hat and bowing. Slowly, silk draperies parted, and, as if the past were replaying, I saw Queen Catherine’s head.
“Do I not know you?” she asked, staring at Jeffries’s mask.
“Yes, Your Majesty. We met when our company boasted a man we call Aventis.”
Her expression did not change.
“That is to say,” said Jeffries, “Count Bernardino of Spain.”
“Ah,” said the queen, tossing her head and causing her pendants to sparkle. Idly, I wondered how much they would fetch in London . . .
“I beg your pardon,” said Jeffries, “but we desperately seek our friend. He is needed to foil a plot against your husband.”
“What is this ‘plot’?” she asked haughtily in her accented English.
“Queen Catherine,” said Jeffries, “the king’s wishes with regard to France are known to me.”
She arched her dark eyebrows.
“So?” she asked. “We must oppose the Dutch merchants.”
“That is not the danger,” said Jeffries. “It comes from others who have reason to hate the king and wish to see him dead.”
The queen looked unalarmed.
“All monarchs have enemies,” she said. “It has been so since the days of Rome.”
“And before,” Carnatus muttered.
She looked us over as if we were her servants.
“Tell me,” she asked, “why should I give credence to criminals?”
Carnatus’s face turned crimson. With his hot head, would he dare chastise the queen? Thankfully, Jeffries stepped in.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “we rode with the Count of Castillo and he is as spotless as—” he gulped, “—the Pope. Surely you trust Bernardino?”
Catherine stared at Jeffries through her large dark eyes. Though I had seen prettier women (perhaps even myself), her air lent her a dignity that beauty could not bestow.
“Bernardino,” she whispered. “Yes, I would trust him with my life.”
“Then I beg you to help us find him,” said Jeffries. “Is there a possibility he corresponds with Your Majesty?”
Catherine looked down and sighed.
“Very well,” she said. “He is at the Abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.”
Though Jeffries and Carnatus nodded, I had not a notion of where this place could be. Perhaps the Holy Roman Empire? After all, the Romans had called it Germania.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Jeffries was saying, his voice infused with deep feeling. “You will not regret this confidence.”
She overlooked us again.
“See that I do not.”
The queen offered her gloved hand, and like Aventis before him, Jeffries kissed it with reverence. She gave a signal to her driver, causing her train to depart with the crack of iron on dirt.
Now that she was gone, the realization struck me.
“She could have had us all hanged!” I cried. “And strung up next to Hind!”
“Happily, she did not,” said Jeffries. “Now, we ride to the south.”
The Abbey
We traveled near seventy miles in a day and a half, stopping at an inn for the night. Though Gad was permitted to sleep in the bed beside his master, I took his place on the floor.
Very well, Carnatus, I thought. I shall not gripe for Jeffries’s sake. The next morning, despite my stiff neck, I gave him and Gad a nod.
As we sat down to a quick breakfast, I addressed Jeffries beside me.
“Excuse me, captain,” I asked, “but how do we get to Germania by riding the English countryside?”
“What nonsense
does it spout?” Carnatus asked in amazement.
“His name is Megs,” said Jeffries. He turned to me. “Saint-Germain lies in France. Which means we make for Dover.”
“Ah.”
Why must I appear the fool before Carnatus? I thought. Gripping my mug tightly, I determined to keep silent.
We continued our southward trek and arrived at last in Dover, its dock teeming with ships. Jeffries sold our horses for far less than they were worth, but due to our mission’s gravity, even Carnatus shrugged. That day, we bided our time in a seaside tavern until the sun finally set behind Dover’s white cliffs.
Carnatus, Gad, and I proceeded to follow Jeffries as he led us down to the docks.
“I have some old friends here,” he said while scanning a tangle of masts.
I could only imagine just who these “friends” were: smugglers who shared a kinship with the pirates of Barbary. Still, these sailors took no prisoners and only ferried goods from here to Calais and back.
“Hullo! George, is that you?” Jeffries called down to one such fellow.
This George was young, with shoulder-length hair constrained by a woolen cap. His boots, cracked and waterlogged, must have seen their fair share of weather.
“Captain Jeffries!” George cried with a wave. “Been a long time, ain’t it? Las’ time I seen ye, you was with the king!”
“These days, I don’t keep such grand company,” said Jeffries, “but I do have a request. Can you ferry my friends and me? Price is really no object and circumstances demand that we depart soon.”
“Like, for instance, now,” Carnatus growled.
“Sure thing, cap!” said George. “Everyone climb aboard. She ain’t much but she’s made the trip least an ‘undred times.”
He pointed with pride to his boat . . . dingy . . . rowboat, and I found my heart sink even faster than this craft would!
I approached it with trepidation.
“You are . . . quite sure,” I asked, “that this bark is seaworthy?”
“My ‘friend’ here is overly cautious,” Carnatus said. “Delicate constitution.”
Behind him, Gad sneered.
