Civil Conflict

by Oliver, Marina

  *

  They were unable to go far that day, for Lady Fenton could not ride fast, but with Tom's help they easily obtained rooms at an inn, and after two more days of easy travelling came to the house of Lady Fenton's brother. It was situated a few miles from the coast near Flamborough Head.

  They were received warmly by Mr John Wade and his wife Mary. Tom wished to say goodbye immediately, but they pressed him to remain the night, for it was almost dusk when they arrived. They retired thankfully to bed, for it had been a trying time.

  The following morning Lysbeth was awake early and, unable to settle, she dressed and made her way out into the gardens. She strolled away from the house and came after some time to a little summer-house which was set in the side of a slight hill, with a view towards the distant cliffs and the sea, which could be glimpsed in the morning sunlight.

  She rounded the corner of the summer-house, then stopped with a startled exclamation, but realised as soon as she had uttered it that it was Tom who sat there gazing pensively at the sea. He turned at the sound and smiled welcomingly to her.

  'I am pleased to have an opportunity to speak with you before I leave,' he said. 'Come and sit down.'

  Lysbeth smiled and walked over to him. The days of riding had calmed her and she had suffered no hurt from her experiences, apart from a rooted dislike of the Parliamentarians now as well as the Royalists. Tom looked at her for a while in silence.

  'I regret that I was not of more assistance, that I did not appear a day earlier, to prevent what happened,' he said at last, somewhat diffidently.

  'What could you have done?' she asked bluntly.

  'I might have had some influence over the troopers,' he replied a little haughtily. 'I am, after all, a Captain in their army.'

  'But not of that troop, thank goodness,' she said quietly, 'for I could never forgive them.'

  'We do not all behave so,' he said quickly, looking at her.

  'No,' she agreed, 'for you could not behave as those brutes did, I know that, Tom.'

  'There are more like me than like those wretches,' he assured her.

  'Are there?' she asked quietly, a somewhat sceptical look in her eyes.

  'Have you lost faith in our cause?' he asked suddenly, after a few moments of silence. 'I deplore what has happened, but it has not changed our cause, and you seemed to agree with that before I went away.'

  'Yes, I did. Oh, Tom, I know not what to think. There is wrong on both sides, as well as right on both sides. What shall I do?'

  'Believe me!' Tom said urgently. 'I have faith that Parliament is right. Can you not trust me?'

  'I do not know,' Lysbeth said with anguish in her voice. 'With you on one side and Arthur and my father on the other, how can I choose between you and say one cause is right and the other is wrong? They are both right and both wrong.'

  Tom had to be content with this. 'At least you do not call me wrong,' he said with a slow smile. 'Please stay believing that.'

  'It is not much to believe,' Lysbeth said. 'It is a negative thing.'

  'Perhaps I can make it positive soon.'

  Lysbeth looked up at him, slightly puzzled, but the warmth in his glance was so obvious she looked away quickly in embarrassment. She did not know how to respond to it, or even how she wanted to respond to it, and so she tried to ignore it.

  'I believe this fighting will soon cease,' Tom told her gently. 'Whatever the outcome, we will remain friends?'

  Lysbeth nodded. 'People can remain friends though they have different political beliefs, can they not?' she asked.

  'That is possible,' Tom reassured her.

  'Then we can always be friends,' she said.

  Tom did not reply, but picked up her hand. She stole a glance at him, but did not know what to do, whether to withdraw her hand or leave it where it was. It was simpler to leave it, and they sat for a few minutes in silence.

  'How old are you, Lysbeth?' Tom asked suddenly and unexpectedly.

  'Why?' Lysbeth looked at him in surprise. 'I was fifteen last December. I am almost fifteen and a half,' she told him. 'But I thought you knew that.'

  'I was not sure,' he replied. 'I merely wanted to make certain.'

  He smiled down at her, and gave her hand a slight squeeze. 'You are young, Lysbeth.'

  She began indignantly to deny this, but he continued, ignoring her.

  'There is much I would say to you, but mayhap 'tis better to wait until the war is over. Think kindly of me, Lysbeth. May I come and see you here, if my duties permit it?'

  'Why, of course,' she answered, somewhat breathlessly. 'My mother and I will be glad to see you any time you can come.'

  'Good.'

  He stood up quickly and pulled her up with him. His quiet mood seemed to have left him.

  'Come,' he said, boyish suddenly, 'I'll race you across to that stile.'

  Laughing, she picked up her skirts and set off without waiting for him, and he stood for a few moments watching her graceful figure, smiling contentedly to himself, before with a boyish whoop he set off after her, soon overtaking her with his long legs and reaching the stile well in front of her. When she came up, laughing and breathless, he grasped her round the waist and swung her on to the stile.

  'You need to grow, Lysbeth,' he teased her. 'I gave you fifty yards start, and still beat you.'

  'You are older than I am,' she laughed down at him, 'and not hindered with petticoats! But wait until I have grown some more!'

  *

  They soon returned to the house, for it was time for Tom to take his leave. The following day Sir Francis left also, to join the King, and the next few months passed very quietly for Lysbeth and her mother. There was much to do in the way of household tasks, and Lysbeth helped all she could, for her mother's health was worse, and for much of the time she was confined to her bed, leaving Lysbeth to wait on her, and to entertain her by reading aloud, or just talking with her.

  They heard constant news of the war, and in general it was good news from the Royalists. Yorkshire was won for the Royalists by Lord Newcastle. The Queen had managed to transport the supplies she had obtained from Europe to the King, and by midsummer she and the King were back in Oxford. Prince Rupert showed great valour in winning Bristol, and many other towns surrendered to the Royalists.

  Nearer to Yorkshire, a setback occurred when a Parliamentary army won a battle at Belton. The commander of this battle was a man called Cromwell, and he was reputedly an excellent commander whose troops were exceedingly well disciplined.

  Later in the year the Royalists suffered another setback when Essex and Rupert, racing one another towards London, met at Newbury, and Essex got through. In the latter part of the year the Parliament armies had things more their own way. They won several battles, relieved Hull, which had been besieged by the Royalists for some months, and captured several more towns. The situation became still more confused when, in the beginning of the New Year, Scottish supporters of Parliament marched over the border.

  Towards the end of January the King opened a Parliament at Oxford, and news came from Sir Francis, who was there with the King, of crowded and unpleasant conditions in the town, where hundreds of Royalist supporters were crammed into lodgings.

  In February, Sir Francis paid a short visit to his wife and daughter, and was able to give them more news than they had gleaned from his letters and from other people. He told them how well Arthur was doing, that he was a Captain in Prince Rupert's cavalry, and Lady Fenton's and Lysbeth's hearts glowed with pride, tinged not a little with fear. This visit, however, had to be very short, and soon Sir Francis returned to Oxford and the King.

  Life continued uneventfully for Lysbeth till one morning, after she had been out riding and had come back glowing from the exercise, she found some strange horses in the stableyard. She gave her own pony quickly to the groom, and ran into the house, anxious to discover who the visitors were. As she approached the parlour, she heard familiar voices, and without pausing she burst in and ran
across to Arthur who was sitting on a chair near the fire which burned cheerfully in the great fireplace.

  'Oh, Arthur, how wonderful to see you! Why, my dear, where do you come from? How do things go? How are you?'

  It was only after she had flung these questions at him that she noticed his arm was bound to his side.

  'Arthur, are you hurt? Were you wounded? Tell me! '

  He laughed at her enthusiasm. 'Steady, my little sister,' he replied calmly. 'I am wounded, but not seriously. However, I am not of much use in a fight at the moment, so I've been sent home to recuperate. But you must not ignore our guest.'

  Lysbeth turned round in confusion. She had not noticed the other man sitting well away from the fire at the other end of the room.

  'Your pardon, Sir,' she apologised, dropping a graceful curtsy. 'Please forgive me, 'twas my eagerness to see my brother.'

  The man had risen at her entrance, and now stepped forward, laughing and offering her his hand.

  'There is no need to introduce us, methinks,' he said, smiling down at her from a great height.

  'You remember Sir James Howard,' Arthur interposed. 'He came to us before.'

  'Yes, I remember,' Lysbeth answered in a somewhat strained voice.

  Sir James smiled at her. 'Greetings, Mistress,' he said. 'I hear you have now become a Royalist.'

  'I am neither one nor the other,' Lysbeth replied coldly. 'I think both sides have done unforgiveable things.' Somewhat rudely she turned from him. 'Arthur, can I get you ought? Are you being attended to?'

  He frowned slightly at her discourtesy to Sir James, but nodded.

  'Refreshment is coming. But I must go to see Mother. Can I leave you to entertain James while I go upstairs?'

  She inclined her head graciously, and with a smile and a wink at his friend, Arthur left the room.

  *

  'Pray be seated, Sir,' Lysbeth said in her politest voice. 'Would you care to tell me something of the recent events?'

  Sir James's lips twitched in amusement. 'Why, I am sure you are not interested in that,' he said lightly. 'Would you rather not hear of the fashions at Oxford? With Parliament meeting there and all the Royalist supporters crowding in, 'tis a lively city despite the seriousness of the war.'

  Lysbeth's eyes narrowed. 'I am not in the least interested in frivolity,' she snapped. 'How did Arthur receive his wound, and is it so slight as he maintains?'

  'Oh, 'tis but a sword cut, a clean wound,' Sir James replied airily. 'It will mend ere long. It is unfortunately his sword arm, but a few weeks of rest and good care will soon put him right.'

  'At what battle did he receive it, Sir?' Lysbeth persisted.

  'At a skirmish outside Newark,' Sir James replied, 'but he will tell you of it himself, I am sure.'

  At that moment a maid came in bearing wine and cakes on a salver, and Lysbeth, in a quiet fury at Sir James's offhand treatment of her serious questions, busied herself with pouring the wine and handing it to him, afterwards pressing him to sample the cakes.

  'Mm, delicious,' he approved. 'When we subsist on army fare we appreciate more delicate offerings. Are these of your baking? If they are, I must compliment you.'

  The cakes had indeed been baked by Lysbeth, but she was determined not to allow this condescending Royalist to patronise her, so she did not deign a reply. She took a glass of wine and seated herself on the windowseat.

  'We hear conflicting reports,' she began. 'At the beginning of the year the Royalists seemed to be winning all the battles, but over the winter it seems to have gone the other way. How think you the tally is?'

  'Why, as always in wartime, we cannot tell till the end of the war. Battles are won, battles are lost, but 'tis the war that is important.'

  Lysbeth frowned in vexation. She thought he was playing with her, but she made another attempt.

  'What think you of this man Cromwell? Is he such a good commander as is reputed?'

  'I have not yet met him,' Sir James replied, 'but he seems to have disciplined his men better than other Parliamentarian commanders. Where did you hear of him?' he asked, a little intrigued that a young girl should be so interested and appear to know something about the war.

  'Oh, we do have some news,' Lysbeth replied airily in her turn, 'but no doubt my brother will give me the sort of information I desire. Would you care to see the garden, Sir?'

  With a smile at the snub she had intended, Sir James agreed amiably to her suggestion, and decorously she led him out, showing him somewhat bare gardens, since it was only March. He dutifully admired the few blooms to be seen, and both of them were heartily relieved when Arthur came out to join them.

  Lysbeth escaped as soon as she could, and made an excuse not to go into the dining hall for supper. As her mother ate in her room, Arthur and Sir James had the room to themselves when the servants had retired, Mr and Mistress Wade having pleaded a journey on the following day and retired early.

  'What think you of my little sister?' Arthur asked idly. 'I trust she has not annoyed you?'

  'I certainly seem to be under her disapproval,' Sir James laughed. 'Does she still hold the sheep incident against me?'

  'Oh, she will never, I think, forgive that. I am afraid it set her against the Cavaliers altogether.'

  'I feel too responsible,' Sir James said ruefully. 'But methinks she has little love for the other side either? What happened to your home must have turned her against them even more completely.'

  'It did, I suppose,' Arthur agreed slowly. 'I cannot truly understand her. She is avid for news of the war, and has a better understanding of the issues than one would expect from a girl, but she is torn in her loyalties. She hates both sides, yet our father and I are fighting for the King, while a childhood friend who has, I fear, too great an influence on her, is one of the Roundheads.'

  'Poor child. It is a difficult time. Is she really anxious to discuss the war? I thought she was trying merely to be polite when she asked me of it. I fear I tried to turn the conversation into what I thought more suitable channels for a young lady!'

  Arthur looked at him, a grin in his eyes. 'Fashions?' he queried. 'Court news?'

  'Aye. I could not understand why she was so offended at my conversation.' He fell silent, smiling reminiscently.

  'I would we might lessen her antagonism. She is a most delightful companion when she chooses.'

  'You are very close to her?'

  'Yes. There is ten years between us, but we have always been close. She used to trail after me when she was but a tiny creature, determined to join in my pursuits. She would walk miles when I was out shooting, or sit silently for hours when I was fishing. I suppose it is because there were only the two of us, and Lysbeth had little female companionship. My mother has ailed for many years, and there were very few girls in the neighbourhood. I am afraid you have seen the worst of her.'

  'Then let us hope she does not keep her determination to be angry with me. I should like to know her better side some day.'

  *

  The conversation turned on other matters then, and the next morning, with great impatience, Lysbeth lay in bed for longer than usual until sounds convinced her Sir James had departed.

  Rising eventually, she crept quietly down the stairs, and found Arthur sitting alone in the parlour. This time she went in cautiously and looked round the room before asking, 'Is he gone?'

  Arthur smiled at her. 'Yes, but why do you dislike the poor man so?'

  'He treats me as if I were still a child!' Lysbeth burst out. 'He would not answer questions. He thought all I was interested in was fashion and Court gossip!'

  Arthur smiled at her vehemence and the disgust in her tone. He tried to placate her by giving her details of the battle in which he had received his wound. It had been occasioned by the Parliament besieging Newark. Prince Rupert, in a brilliant manoeuvre, had ridden and relieved the town, but Arthur had been wounded and sent away until he had recovered.

  'Why did Sir James have to come with you?' Lysbet
h asked, somewhat petulantly.

  'It was difficult for me to ride and manage alone,' Arthur replied gently. 'It was very good of him to come far out of his way, and I expected he would receive a better reception from you.'

  Lysbeth frowned, but did not have a chance to reply.

  'Will you promise to try and be more friendly when he comes again? He truly did not understand you are interested in the war. Most females are not. He asked me to extend his apologies as he had to leave before you came down, and he could not tell you himself.'

  Reluctantly, Lysbeth made the promise, but inwardly hoped she would never see that most irritating man again.

  Within a few weeks Arthur had improved sufficiently to leave again, but only two days after he had left, another visitor arrived. This time it was Tom. He came early in the morning, and explained he had spent the night near by, but was due to ride back to York that day. Parliament was now in control of the city.

  'What is happening, Tom?' Lysbeth asked anxiously. 'Who is winning? The reports are so confusing, with news first of the King's successes, then of Parliament's.'

  Tom did his best to explain the events of the previous few months, and Lysbeth understood quite a lot more when he had finished.

  'Will the King try to recapture York?' she asked anxiously.

  ' 'Tis almost certain. He had much support in this area, and York is one of his principal cities. He will make some move soon, I feel sure.'

  After a very short time Tom had to leave. Lysbeth went out with him to the stableyard. He put on his gauntlets and turned to her as she held his horse for him.

  'Do you recall what we spoke of when I was last here?' he asked quietly.

  She looked quickly up at him, though the affectionate look in his eyes caused her to drop her own again quickly.

  'Yes, I do,' she whispered.

  He smiled, content to say no more, and with brief farewells they parted, Lysbeth standing looking after him for a long time as he rode off towards York.