by Georgina Lee
In the moonlight, all is quiet and peaceful, but just as the clock on the church tower shows two o’clock; there is the sound of horses hooves clattering on the paving stones nearby. Annie wakes with a start, thinking it is the baby, but she has not stirred. Then there is the sound of raised voices, so loud, that Annie thinks they are just below the window. She creeps out of bed to look and stifles a gasp. For down below at the entrance to the churchyard, a group of armed men are chasing a rider as he runs towards the church entrance. He has evidently dismounted, for his horse is being rounded up by one of the men. She does not hesitate, but goes round to the other side of the bed to wake her husband.
“What is it?” he groans sleepily.
“Come to the window, someone is being attacked,” she whispers urgently.
Her husband is a large framed man with fingers like sausages, who never shies away from trouble. For someone so big he is out of bed in a trice and peers towards the church, where the lone figure is seen opening the door and disappearing inside, his would be assailants not far behind. They increase their shouts and wave their weapons, frustrated that they are unable to follow. Some disappear round the side of the church to see if there is another entrance, but they return after a minute and look upwards towards the clock tower.
“What shall we do?” asks Annie.
“Nothing,” her husband replies. “Come back to bed, we have seen nothing.”
She is puzzled but joins him, waiting until they are under the covers before she asks him the reason. “Did you not see whose livery the men were wearing?” he mumbles, his eyes already closed.
“No, did you?”
“They are the Earl of Shrewsbury’s men. I wager they are chasing one of the Cavendish sons on his orders.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I could see their coats with the Shrewsbury arms on the back.”
“Was the earl himself there?”
“I doubt it. He would be no use on such a raid and only get in the way.”
“But which of the three sons could it be?”
Her husband thinks about it.
“It would not be Henry, he is liked by his stepfather. It could be William, although I did not think he could run so fast.”
“Maybe the threat of all those men spurred him on”
“No, my money would be on the youngest, Charles.”
“But why?”
“He must have done something to upset the earl.”
“Something quite bad,” she says. “Whoever it was, he must have been frightened.”
Her husband turns over, wishing to get back to sleep again.
“There is nothing you and I can do. He is safe in the tower if he has locked all the doors properly. We shall seek him out in the morning.”
Annie wants to talk about it some more, but within a minute he is asleep. She lies listening to the men disperse, and then the only sound she can hear is her husband snoring and the steady quick breathing of her granddaughter, oblivious to it all.
At the entrance to the church, Charles just manages to shut and secure the heavy door before the men reach him. Completely terrified, he pauses for a moment to catch his breath before sprinting towards the staircase that leads to the tower. There are two more doors that he locks, his hands shaking as his feet stumble on the stairs, clambering ever upward before stopping at the top of the tower to peer through the narrow aperture. Panting with the exertion, he can see the men looking up at him, shaking their fists and circling about. A few have gone round to the back of the church to see if there is another entrance, but Charles knows there is only one door. At that moment, the full moon comes out from behind a cloud and he also sees that the men are all wearing the Shrewsbury Coat of Arms on their backs. In a few minutes they disperse, and all is silent again.
After one final look to satisfy himself that the men have gone, he slumps to the floor in frightened relief; sweat pouring down his face, horrified to be the object of their attempted violence. At a loss to understand the reason for the ambush, his feelings give way to anger that he is now forced to remain here until daylight, some five hours away. Having been dining with friends nearby, he left quite late, but had been hoping his journey would only take an hour and he curses again, for he could have been in his warm bed now instead of sitting on a stone floor. Then a thought occurs to him. How did the earl’s men know he would be there at that time on that particular road to Chatsworth? Were they just lucky or had they been tipped off by someone? Either way, it is not much use to him now. He knows his mother will be furious and she will want to confront George at the earliest opportunity.
A chilly wind is blowing through the openings of the cramped space and he pulls his coat more tightly round himself in an attempt to keep warm. He hears scrabbling and sees a mouse running along a beam. A stale, rotten smell makes him swallow the reflex to retch and he curses again to himself in the darkness.
Charles spends the remainder of the night huddled in a corner. He cannot sleep and strains his ears constantly for any more sounds that the men have returned. It gives him plenty of time to think. He is mystified by his stepfather’s behaviour. Up until recently, George has been pleasant enough towards him and at one time encouraged his friendship with his own son Gilbert. But now, it is clear that any goodwill between them no longer exists. He can hardly wait to tell Bess about this frightening incident. Charles is no coward, he got into scrapes as much as any other pupil at Eton, but tonight he knew he was completely outnumbered and had no chance of reasoning with a mob of weapon wielding men, even if they were wearing the earl’s livery. When dawn arrives, and a grey light begins to filter through the darkness, he gets up and stretches his chilled, stiff limbs. Carefully retracing his steps out of the church, he takes some deep breaths, as the air is fresh and pure after the confines of the tower. Tenants from some of the dwellings are already stirring and trails of smoke rise up from chimneys. He stops in front of a man chopping firewood.
“Do you know if any of the earl’s men are still in the area?”
The man, recognising Charles, stops chopping to tug his forelock and nods slowly.
“I have not seen sight nor sound of them, sir. Last night were a bad business. Never seen the like before.”
“I have been forced to spend a cold, uncomfortable night in the church.”
The tenant’s wife appears, her face full of curiosity and concern.
“Can we offer you some ale, sir?”
“Thank you mistress, I will go on now, if I can find my horse.”
“Is it a chestnut mare? Over there, behind the oak tree.”
Charles thanks them again before going over to his horse. His expensive saddle has not been stolen, so he concludes that robbery was not the motive for this attack. He mounts, nervously looking about, and half expects the mob to reappear, but he completes the last mile in safety. When he finally arrives at Chatsworth, the grooms are already up and working in the stables. He hands his horse over to their care and makes his way inside through the large kitchen, where the servants look at him in surprise and curtsey. On his way, he picks up a couple of freshly baked rolls that are cooling on the table and eats them hungrily as he goes to his bedchamber. His manservant appears, full of apologies, and disappears to bring hot water and clean towels for him to wash.
“Her grace, your lady mother is downstairs in the Hall, sir,” he tells him as he helps him to change.
“Is she indeed?” replies Charles in surprise.
Bess is an early riser, but this is too early, even for her. He hurries down to find her standing by the door with one of the estate bailiffs, John Smyth, and they both look concerned.
“Charles – I have been worried about you. Where were you last night?” she kisses him and he explains what happened to delay his return. When he has finished, his mother is predictably angry.
“This is unbelievable!! You could have been badly hurt, how dare he do such a thing!”
“I am afraid it could
get worse, your grace.”
John is a mild mannered man who has worked for the Cavendish family since he was a boy. His brow is creased in concern and he looks between Bess and Charles anxiously.
“We have heard of another plan, worse than the two events that occurred last night.”
“There were two ambushes?” Charles asks.
“As I was telling her grace, some of the tenants in Rowsley were woken in the middle of last night by the earl’s men breaking down the doors to their homes, smashing window panes and furniture. They had fierce dogs and terrified the people out of their wits. Old widow Peters collapsed with the shock of it.”
“What do you mean when you say it could get worse?” says Bess.
“I have heard of a rumour that the earl is planning to storm Chatsworth and remove items that he believes belong to him.” John looks apologetic and shuffles his hat from hand to hand. “Nicholas Booth was there too,” he adds.
Charles looks quizzically at him.
“Your stepfathers land agent, sir. A tough man, and one I always try to avoid. He told the tenants they must pay their rents to the earl and not you, your grace. I am sorry to be the one to tell you.” He tries to hide his dismay, but it is all too obvious in his voice. “This is something I never thought to see. I advise you to leave Chatsworth immediately and take any valuable items with you. I think he will most likely do it under cover of night.”
“Yes, that is his style,” remarks Charles bitterly. “Ashamed of his actions, he knows they are wrong so he uses the darkness to hide.”
“How have you discovered his plans, John?” Bess asks him.
He gives a shy grin. “My daughter-in-law is a friend of one of the wives of his men. She walked the seven miles yesterday to tell me, and I rode here at first light.”
“I am grateful to you both,” she responds. “Now this is what I want you to do. Return here tonight before dark with some of your strongest men, and we will at least have some manpower. I will barricade myself in my chamber …”
“No!” exclaims Charles and John simultaneously. She looks at them sternly.
“You question my orders?”
“Lady mother, you must leave here tonight with Arbella. It will not be safe for you remain in your chamber.”
“But I cannot just leave …”
“Yes, you must. What would happen if the men were to break down the door?”
Bess throws up her hands in a reluctant gesture of defeat.
“Very well, I shall take Arbella with me to Hardwick Hall until it is safe to return. But I resent having to leave my own home in this way.”
John leaves with the assurance that he will return tonight with his most trusted men. Bess looks at Charles with concern.
“My poor boy, you must have been so afraid.”
“I was afraid, I am not ashamed to admit it.”
Servants have begun to lay the table for breakfast and the house is beginning to wake up; they move into the Hall beside the warmth of the fire.
“I wonder will the earl be leading the men when they come here?” Charles asks, rubbing his hands in front of the flames.
She stares at the hearth, her expression thoughtful.
“We shall have to wait and see. I am more concerned as to the reason this has come about. Why does he continue to resent me so much?”
“Perhaps because he is jealous that you purchased Hardwick Hall from your brother last year with cash, which he does not seem to have?”
“Possibly, I know he was furious at the time, but I was pleased to have it at last. I shall build a magnificent new house that will stand for centuries to come.”
“But all this trouble with your husband has been brewing for a long time.”
“I just wish he would not write to the queen, Lord Burghley and the Earl of Leicester about our troubles, but he continues more than ever. To write to the Earl of Leicester in this manner, when he was broken hearted after the death of his baby son, was unforgivable.”
“And also a blow to you, as Arbella was just betrothed to the little one, was she not?”
“My dreams came to nothing that time, it was very sad, as it always is to lose a child.”
“Why did the two of you arrange that marriage?”
“We hoped that the queen would declare Arbella her heir, and Leicester believed his family would be one step nearer to the throne. The Scots Queen was against it of course; she always thinks I am aiming too high for her niece. But I care not for her opinion any more. Her days are numbered.”
Charles is intrigued. “What do you know about her future?”
“Sooner or later the Scots Queen will make a mistake and incriminate herself. We both know what the end result will be. My husband is not within his rights to expect to take the money from my Chatsworth rents, but he has been doing it all the same.”
“He must know he is in the wrong.”
“But he will still try to frighten everyone into doing what he wants.”
“Does he not care for his good name any more? No-one will look kindly on these attacks and he will be thought a bully to wage a war on his wife and her family.”
“I know. He is desperate. You have not seen him as I have, these last years, worrying and fretting over the cost of all his expenses as if the whole world was his responsibility.” They stop talking as a servant enters with a tray of food and places it on the table.
“We have woken Joseph and he is on his way to see your grace,” she says, having found out already, in the way that servants do, that something is seriously amiss. Why else would John Smyth appear at dawn and Sir Charles be out all night unexpectedly? She curtseys and leaves, eyeing Charles under her lashes, for he is a handsome and charming young man. The cook has prepared fresh omelettes and there is also warm bread glistening with butter and golden honey beside pints of beer and wine to wash it down. They sit down and Charles attacks the food with relish, all the excitement has made him hungry.
“Did any of the tenants come to your aid?” Bess asks as she picks up her spoon and starts to eat.
“I should think they were all too frightened to come outside. They must have heard shouting and the barking dogs, I do not blame them. I saw a couple looking through the upper window; I think it was the gamekeeper’s house.
“He may be needed as a witness.”
“But to resort to this violence … has he ever struck you?” Charles has to ask although he suspects that Bess would never tolerate such behaviour.
“No, my dearest boy, he has not, so you need have no fear. He has become angry on occasions and waved his stick at me, but nothing more.”
“Not yet at any rate,” he observes.
She appreciates his thoughtfulness, grateful that he should ask such a sensitive question. Of her three sons, she feels Charles has always been the most vulnerable. Since losing his wife two years ago after only twelve months of marriage, and then his baby son William, he has struggled to overcome his grief and she hopes he will remarry and find happiness again before too long. “I will send someone to fetch William; I want you to stay here with him for a while until we know what the earl is planning. You will both lead our Chatsworth men against him and his men. I know it will not be a pleasant task, but we must pray for God’s help. Once it is clear that there is nothing of value here any more, they will go away. I do not want you going about the country until this has all settled down, you must promise me.” He knows she is right to be cautious and nods in agreement.
“I have this day now to make preparations,” she continues. “I shall arrange for my valuables to be packed and moved with me to Hardwick. The carpenters and locksmiths can get to work making the entrance doors and windows more secure.”
Charles looks worried and Bess squeezes his hand. “If he thinks to get the better of us, we shall prove him wrong. My family can rise to any challenge and he will regret starting all this trouble.”
Then Joseph descends the stairs quickly and they are pleased to
see him.
“Ah, Joseph,” responds Bess. “You find us eating to keep our strength up. There is much to do today.”
As darkness descents, the preparations at Chatsworth are almost complete. All day the servants have neglected their usual tasks and have been busy wrapping Bess’ most treasured and valuable possessions into straw lined crates; after which they are loaded onto waiting waggons outside for hasty transportation to Hardwick Hall, about eight miles away. Two carpenters have installed a substantial oak beam across the main doors to reinforce it. The downstairs windows have been boarded up, an unsightly result, but William believes it to be necessary. Across the narrow bridge that spans the river, bales of hay are being assembled to delay the earl’s men after Bess makes her escape. She looks around her home and is almost brought to tears to see it so stripped of her belongings. Her beautiful tapestries, valuable silver plates and goblets, carved oak chairs, oil paintings are all gone, leaving empty gaps and spaces on the walls and floors. Agnes waits by the door, having supervised the loading of Bess’ extensive jewellery collection and chests of coins.
“Come, your grace, Lady Arbella is already in the coach, we must leave now.”
“Have you my pearls? I should so hate to lose them.”
“Of course. I have everything, but we must make haste; they could be here at any minute”
Joseph looks worried, it would be very unfortunate if Bess were to meet the men on the road. William and Charles are examining the pistol that is usually kept under lock and key; they are disagreeing over who should have it.
“Stop arguing at once!” Bess tells them. “I hope you will not need to use it. Charles, you must find another weapon, but this is not the place for your sword.”
“Lady mother … please leave. We shall do our best, try not to worry.”
