A Woman of the Road

by Amy Wolf

  “Dammee!” the giant cried.

  Outside in the hallway, we heard the French nobles scrambling. But that was nothing compared to the rage of Phillipe.

  “Qu'est-ce que c'est?” he cried. “Comment oses-tu me parler d'un traité avec la duchesse, pas même froid ?”

  “What did he say?” I yelled to Jeffries.

  “Well,” the captain replied, amidst a duel with Smith, who had grabbed a sword from the wall, “he wants to know why we talk of a treaty when his wife is hardly cold!”

  “And well he might!” I replied, hooking the tip of my blade to Smith’s coat and hurling him to the rug.

  “You can’t win, Jeffries!” cried Cromwell, picking up Smith’s purloined sword as he ducked through Carnatus’s legs. “You have nothing to offer! Nothing but loyalty to a king who cast you onto the road!”

  “That may be true,” said Jeffries, feinting like Aventis. “But loyalty has no price. And either, I think, does the duke!”

  This sparked something in me. As I ran toward Hyde, who was wresting a sword from its case, I yelled to Aventis, “Please translate for me!”

  “Duke,” I addressed Phillipe, as my blade now clashed with Hyde’s, “your late wife loved her brother. Who, this man, Richard Cromwell, wishes to dethrone.”

  There followed some French from Aventis, then the duke.

  “He says,” said the former, just escaping Smith’s upturned blade, “he does not care who sits on the throne in England. His only concern is for France.”

  “Then please tell him,” I asked, as my blade ripped a hanging in two, “that a king deposed in England could mean trouble for France.”

  Phillipe stroked his chin. In disgust, he seized back his sword from Hyde, then used it like a master to stab him through the shoulder. Hyde collapsed amid groans.

  “Thank you, Monsieur!” I shouted. “I hear you were a great general. But your brother will not let you fight due to your . . . uh, proclivities.”

  “That is true,” said Phillipe in halting English. Beside him, Jeffries and Cromwell toppled a priceless chest. “Also, he is jealous. None may outshine the sun.”

  Giving Hyde a push with my boot, I nodded.

  “Monsieur,” I said, “all these years, you’ve been despised for what you are: a man who loves men as well as women.”

  “Yes,” he said, watching Carnatus stab Smith and dangle him off the floor.

  The duke gave me a deep stare.

  “I too am despised,” I said. Putting down my sword, I swept off my hat, letting my long hair flow. “I have dressed as a man so that I may be free. And you have dressed as a woman for much the same reason.”

  He nodded as Cromwell went flying across the room.

  “We two have more in common than you ever will with him,” I said, pointing to the bloodied Puritan. “We have been renounced for sin, but in our hearts, we believe in king and country.”

  “That is all we can offer,” said Jeffries, breathless from his skirmish. “Not money or land. Merely loyalty to our king.”

  “I see,” said Phillipe. He turned to Smith, who was creeping up behind him, with his own restored sword. “Put down your arms, you Puritan pig!” Smith quickly complied. “Well,” said Phillipe, “I think the choice is clear. For Charles and my brother, and—” he turned to me, “—comrades-in-arms, I grant you this.”

  He turned to the chest of drawers which lay sprawled in pieces. Removing a sheaf of papers, he displayed them to Jeffries.

  The captain nodded.

  Monsieur then seized a lit candle from a bent table lamp. As he drew the wax tip to the treaty, Cromwell shouted, “No!”

  “Stop bleeding on my Persian rug,” said Phillipe.

  All of us English watched this last copy dance with flame, then blacken around the edges. As darkness spread over the treaty, Phillipe flung it from his hand, grinding the embers with the toe of one heel. Hi”

  Phillipe extended his hand to Jeffries.

  “C'est fait,” he said. “It is done.”

  He gave me a wink as Cromwell whimpered.

  Honored Guests

  After the rigors of our adventure, it was a relief to sail home, then procure horses (legally) and ride to London. On the streets, there was still talk of Papist plots and the king’s complicity, but now at least—praise God!—there was nothing in writing.

  “My dear friends,” I told the company, as we picked our way on the streets, “why not celebrate tonight at a certain inn in Middlesex? Since I am the owner, food and drink are on the house!”

  “A wonderful plan!” cried Carnatus, now speaking to me again. “After that fancy French fare, I could do with a simple fowl—or four!”

  “Sounds heavenly,” said Aventis. He gave me a smile. “Much like Saint-Germain.”

  “Not as grand as all that,” I said, “but at least my walls are new!”

  “Let us ride,” said Jeffries, and we followed him to the Heath.

  Once there, I bid the company pause before a lonely tree. After a dig with my sword, I hid behind the trunk and transformed—this time, back to Margaret. I wanted to talk to Sally to see how we’d gotten on, and do so, I must be me. It was thus with apprehension that I rode—side saddle no less!—to the Whale’s forecourt. Leading the other three, I slammed my way in.

  Good news! The main room was overflowing with patrons, with service so obliging I need not have returned!

  Seeing me there, Sally ran toward me.

  “Ms Margaret!” she cried, grasping both of my hands. “We been eatin’ ourselves up wonderin’ where you been!”

  “As long as customers are eating,” I said, “you have no cause for concern. I have been . . . abroad,” I told her, pointing to my companions. “You remember Captain Jeffries? Well, these are his friends, and are to be treated like so many earls!”

  “I would prefer a prince,” said Carnatus, sliding onto a chair. “I shall have two of everything. That includes two gallons of ale.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Sally, then drew me aside. “Mis Margaret, I must tell ye that Mr. Ned’s been beside himself since you up an’ went. He stops in every night, hopin’ you’ve returned. And, I must say, he’s bin drinkin’ more’an his fill.”

  “Oh no,” I groaned, my cheeks flaming. God help me, but Ned had not crossed my mind—not for these many months! And he had been waiting on my answer. How could I be so careless?

  As the church bells outside tolled evening, I tried with all my wiles to usher my friends upstairs.

  “You will each have your own room,” I said, “with feather beds soft as a babe. Food and drink will be brought to you the whole night if you wish!”

  “Let us go!” said Carnatus, rising.

  Of course, that very moment, Ned swung through the door. He did look careworn, his normal good cheer having given way to gloom. And, as luck would have it, once he entered the room, he choose to face Aventis.

  “Ned—” I began, wondering what to say.

  “Margaret!” he cried, a beaming smile overtaking his face. In his joy, he ran toward me and took me in his arms!

  “Heigh ho,” said Carnatus. “What’s this?”

  From being my staunchest foe, he now played my protector.

  “Who is he?” asked both Jeffries and Aventis. They each bore a look which usually preceded violence.

  “Only her fiancé!” Ned cried, removing a ring from his coat.

  “WHAT?” cried my three friends, rising.

  “Ned,” I whispered between clenched teeth, “I never gave you an answer. Do not you think—?”

  It was then that he fully noticed my company: three men, all dressed in black, bristling with weapons, and looking for all the world like the highwaymen they were!

  “Margaret. Who are they?” Ned asked, taking a step back. “Did you spend your time in their company?”

  “Well . . .” How to explain? That I was one of them?

  “And what if she has?” growled Carnatus. “Do you think, sir, that w
e are not good enough to ride with the fabled Megs?!”

  Now this was a turn of events!

  “I do not know a ‘Megs,’” said Ned. “I see only Margaret.”

  “It is merely a nickname,” I told him.

  “And you are ‘fabled’?” he cried, “and ride with these blackguards?” Why, they are cutthroats and outlaws! The high tobys who plague our roads!”

  “You should not have said that,” I told him, as Carnatus withdrew his pistol and pointed it straight at Ned’s heart.

  “Disarm!” Jeffries ordered. He sighed, looking at me. “If that is Margaret’s betrothed, we must respect her choice.”

  For the first time, Aventis spoke.

  “Must we?” he asked, stroking his chin.

  We all turned to stare at him.

  “You, sir,” he addressed Ned. “May we infer from your speech you do not like our profession?”

  “Indeed!” cried Ned. “I cannot think of anything lower.”

  “Then logic would require,” said Aventis, “that Margaret, by having such friends, is tainted by association.”

  “Dam’d right!” Ned cried. “If I hadn’t seen it directly, I could not have believed it. Mistress Margaret—so decent, such a hard worker, in the company of men like you!”

  “You do not know her,” Aventis said softly.

  “And I do not wish to!”

  Ned quickly snatched back his ring, then started for the door.

  “I am sorry,” he said to me. “I must withdraw my proposal. Your companions are not to my taste!”

  With that, he swept out the door.

  “Ah, Megs,” said Aventis blithely, shaking his head in mock sorrow. “God forbid we have done you a disservice!”

  “If you did, I would make you say ten Hail Marys,” I said. “As it is, I owe you ten guineas for making him quit this place.”

  Carnatus bellowed with laughter as Jeffries’s whole body shook. Taking advantage of their distraction, Aventis bent close to me and brushed his lips to my hair.

  “Margaret, I love you,” he whispered. “I even love Megs!”

  I put my arm on his shoulder.

  “Stand and deliver!” I said.

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