The Monmouth Summer

by Vicary, Tim

  "A pleasure indeed, Miss Carter. I see that I was not misinformed about your attractions."

  Ann paled with anger, all amusement gone. She was in no mood to blush and simper at such remarks from any man. "I am sure all of Chard is talking about my attractions by now, my Lord."

  "Forgive me." She was pleased to see a blush on his face rather than her own. "I must apologise once again for the actions of my men. Though I trust you will have received ample apologies, and satisfactory redress, by now."

  "I have had a bellyful of apologies, Lord Churchill, and two of the men have been punished, if that's what you mean. But I don't believe they regret what they did."

  Lord Churchill's blush deepened slightly, conscious at once of the accusing look in Ann's wide, bewitching eyes, and the compelling shape of the young body beneath the worn blue dress which Robert had bought – or perhaps borrowed – from the innkeeper’s wife.

  "Regret? I think ... I am sorry to say that that would be asking too much, Miss Carter. You must remember that I, and my men, have just returned from two years fighting the King's battles in Tangier, which is a very different country from our own, and where honest Englishwomen are a rare sight indeed. Any women are, in fact. And so perhaps they have forgotten some of the decencies of normal behaviour."

  "Forgotten?" Ann felt her voice rise in fury, but she could not help it. "And you excuse them for it? Then all I can say, Lord Churchill, is that I thank the Lord that this invasion of ... of our country by foreign savages will soon be swept into perdition where they belong! You needn't fear my father or Tom Goodchild treating little girls like that if they find them! God bless the Duke of Monmouth!"

  "So your father is with the Duke?" Her rage calmed Churchill; he was used to being in command of his feelings when others lost control of theirs. This, Ann realised when she thought about it later, was the difference between him and his old friend James Scott, the Duke of Monmouth; under the surface similarity of their easy charm and boyish good looks, John Churchill hid a calm level-headed self-confidence, a severe unchanging certainty in the success of his own decisions, which his former friend constantly aspired to and seldom attained.

  "He is, sir - as I hope you and your soldiers of Satan will find to your cost soon enough!"

  "Indeed! But I thought he was marching away from us, towards Exeter, now!"

  "No, Bridge ... water." Ann's voice trailed away as she realised how she had fallen into the trap. She shut her mouth and bit her lower lip to keep it in place, glaring at him.

  "Bridgewater!" The two men smiled at each other. "Well, that's what your troops said, was it not, Captain Pole? So it seems we must go after them, if we can get past the guard they left in Taunton. Let us hope your father isn't among them, eh, Miss Carter?"

  But Ann was not to be drawn this time. She had already said too much, though perhaps Robert had known it already. The two men looked at her quizzically. Oh, why did they have to be so rich, so handsome? At any other time it would have honoured her for two such men to be paying her close attention. But then, devils could take the most pleasing shapes imaginable; her eyes widened as she remembered the words of Israel Fuller's sermons.

  "Tell me, Ann, is your father well armed? Surely he must be, for you to be so confident of his victory?"

  "Well enough."

  "And what does that mean? A scythe blade tacked to the end of a pole?"

  "My father is armed with the spirit of the Lord, sir, as is all the Duke's army. That is why they will beat a thousand of your Papist devils!"

  "Amen. But the Lord often uses earthly means to put his wishes into practice. Even Oliver Cromwell's men did not go into battle wholly unarmed."

  "They had muskets when we met them coming out of Colyton, sir, as I told you," said Robert. "Killed old Will Danvers with a shot in the chest, damn 'em!"

  Ann's eyes shone as she saw the pained, bitter look in Robert's face. She had not known Will Danvers, but she knew her father had been at the bridge and the thought of it hurt Robert badly. Just now that filled her with a fiery, vindictive pleasure that she had longed for all day.

  "Yes, that was my father did that," she said, her eyes drinking up Robert's reaction. "And he's got a better musket now, they all have. Brand new muskets from Holland - and they know how to use them, too.” She broadened her accent deliberately. “So I wouldn't go riding too near the likes o' they, Robert Pole, if I was you. 'Twon't be like that night you met us after chapel; not this time!"

  She saw John Churchill watching carefully, and did not care. This was between her and Robert. He stared back at her, his nostrils flared with fury.

  "Will Danvers was a good friend of mine! The man who did it will hang for that, when I catch him!"

  "You'd better pray he don't catch you first, Robert Pole! The whip's in t’other hand now! The men of Colyton have got their company in the Lord's army, and they're out looking for you! If my father don't get you, there's always my lover, my betrothed, Tom Goodchild! You remember we spoke of him, that day on Colyton Hill? Well, he be out lookin' for you too, with an army of five thousand men and the spirit of the Lord behind him!"

  "You told them!" Robert rose to his feet, white, his lips shaking as he spoke. “You went home and told them what I said to you, and laughed! Ann, you vile, tattling ...”

  "Captain Pole, be quiet, sir!"

  "But ... "

  "Hold your tongue, sir! I will not have you air your quarrels in my presence, do you hear! I am come to interrogate the girl about the rebel army, not to listen to a lover's tiff! Sit down, sir!"

  Robert subsided into a chair, staring bitterly at the triumphant fury on Ann's face. Churchill turned to her, suave and polite.

  "I was not aware you had met Captain Pole before?"

  "Oh yes, sir, I have met him before. He promised me all kinds of things, too, to tempt me to do his will. I was to go to London, and live in a fine house with a servant of my own, and I know not what else besides. Only when I did not agree, the next time I saw him he was firing a pistol at myself and my father on the roads at night, like any common highwayman. I see now what a fine officer he makes, for soldiers such as yours!"

  "We were policing the roads in search of dissenters, sir," said Robert stiffly. "She has already admitted she had been to chapel."

  "To worship the Lord in the proper way, instead of bowing and mumbling all your Papist high church idolatry! We worship as everyone will do, when we have a Protestant King!"

  "Quite so, Miss Carter. But that day is hardly upon us yet, when the Duke of Monmouth is wandering around the countryside at the head of a rabble of fanatical yokels with no horsemen and no guns, now is it?"

  "He's got guns, all right! Four great field guns. I've seen them. And horses - I took him some!" In her anger with Robert and all men Ann did not care that she was telling Lord Churchill vital information about the Duke's army. It was not as though she were showing them its weaknesses. She had seen the army, and knew it was far too strong to be beaten. What did it matter if she enjoyed frightening them a little with its strength?

  "You took him some horses? How many? How?"

  "Six. We rode them from Colyton. And half a troop of militia joined us on the way. There was militiamen running in to join us all yesterday, and the day before."

  "I see. But militiamen do not have horses. How many horsemen do you think the Duke has?"

  Ann looked at him carefully, thinking hard. She knew it was an important question, and she knew the Duke's army was short of horse; that was why she had taken her pony to join them in the first place. But what kind of number should there be? What number would impress this man, frighten him? She tossed her head, carelessly, affecting boredom.

  "Oh, I don't know. Hundreds."

  "Hundreds. How many hundreds?"

  Hundreds was too few. He tried to hide it, but his tone had been a shade too patronising, too complacent. His eyes were as intent as before. She took her time, enjoying the game now that her rage had subsided and
she knew some of the rules. She started by making the numbers small, to build up their hopes.

  "Well, there was near on a hundred in the troop John Clapp was in, I saw that. And he said there was three hundred that come from round about Lyme. But that was when we were here in Chard." She was near the truth of the matter here, as perhaps Churchill would know; but she had no intention of stopping there. “And then there was a troop of - how many did they say it was - five hundred come in to us from North Devon when we was near Taunton. And then the Taunton men themselves, of course - how many would that come to? Must be well over a thousand by now, I suppose. Maybe two - 'tis difficult to count so many."

  He watched her steadily, but she could see he was shaken. "Five hundred from North Devon, you say. And when did they arrive?"

  "The night after we came to Taunton. There was a lot of folk cheering 'em in the streets when they came in, and the Duke looked mighty pleased."

  "As well he might be. You would not lie to me, now, would you, Miss Carter? I think your father might say it would imperil your immortal soul."

  "My soul is safe enough, my Lord Churchill, whatever I do. And I have no need to lie to you about our new King's army. Everyone in the county is flocking to join it, to rid us of such devils as your dragoons from Tangier."

  Churchill watched her for a moment longer, and then turned aside to Robert, evidently uncertain what to believe. "Then 'tis strange he should not turn back on us here, don't you think, Captain Pole? What would you do, with an army of five thousand men and a thousand troopers, if you knew that your enemy numbered barely four hundred horse?"

  "Turn on them, sir, as we thought he would do yesterday. But perhaps he doesn't know we are here."

  "It is his business to know! If I had a quarter as many troopers, and as much support in the country, I would know everything for fifty miles around - and those in our position would be selling their souls dearly, like the last guard in Thermopylae! And yet here we have him marching off to Bridgewater - not Exeter, which might do him some good, but Bridgewater - and so making us a present of another day or so to bring our forces together! By Heaven, Miss Carter, I shall need better evidence than this to convince me that the Almighty is riding with James Scott, however many horsemen he has!"

  "I pray that you shall have it soon, sir." But despite the warmth of her answer, Ann could see that her words had dented the man's confidence less than she had hoped, and a shiver of doubt went through her. What if the Duke of Monmouth were making a mistake, and leading her father and Tom into danger instead of victory? And Churchill said he had only four hundred troopers - he could easily be beaten. She must get away, and find the army again, to tell them.

  John Churchill had got to his feet, and took up his hat from the table by the door.

  "You shall have your wish soon enough, young lady, but I fear the result will hardly be to your liking. In the meantime, I trust that your friend Captain Pole will see that you have everything you need, so far as we can provide it." He bowed, as though to take his leave, but she interrupted.

  "What I most need is a horse, to make my way home from here. My mother and sisters will be missing me."

  He stopped, his eyebrows lifted in amusement.

  "Then I am afraid they will have to miss you a little longer. You have pretty eyes, Miss Carter, but not so pretty that they can beguile me to give away horses to an enemy of the King, especially when you are likely to ride to the rebels before you go home, and tell them the weakness of my forces, as you have told me the strength of yours." He paused, and looked at her knowingly, in the way all men had looked at her that day. "In any case, after your experience of yesterday I would never forgive myself if I let you loose on the roads again without an escort, in such dangerous times."

  She swallowed, and felt a weight like lead in her stomach. "Then what am I to do? Stay here in Chard?"

  "I doubt you would stay long in Chard if I left you here. No, Miss Carter, there is only one thing for it. Much as I disapprove of women following the army, you will have to be an exception. I can only hope that further acquaintance will do something to improve your opinion of us. We will ride at first light tomorrow. Captain Pole will see to your requirements."

  He bowed, and went out. Ann turned her back on Robert, and stared bitterly out of the window.

  22

  THE RAIN was trickling down Adam Carter's neck. He hunched his shoulder to try to keep it out, and only succeeded in dislodging a further puddle that had formed in a fold in his collar. His feet were sodden. For the twentieth time that day he slipped in the endless mud, and barged sideways into Philip Cox.

  "Steady, lad." Philip grunted, himself sliding in the mud and struggling to keep his balance. "This bain't no place to sit down."

  "Be faster if we did," Adam muttered, nodding wearily at the long, slippery slope in front of them, a road crammed with wet, stumbling figures like themselves. Then he looked down, forgetting conversation in his concentration on the endless task of finding firm ground for his feet.

  Even those few words were welcome. It had been raining heavily out of dull grey misty skies ever since they had left Bridgewater, and all spirit and humour had long since been washed out of the ranks, leaving each man plodding along slowly in his own sodden silence, hugging the fire of his own hopes and courage deep inside his drenched, mud-spattered coat.

  How far away it seemed from last night, when they had entered Bridgewater so triumphantly - with drums beating, bells ringing, and people lining the streets to cheer and welcome them into their houses, putting them up free of charge for the honour of having one of King Monmouth's men at their hearth! Adam remembered the little grandmother, red and shrunken and wizened and cheery as a winter apple, who had busily led away himself and John Spragg and Philip Cox, proudly shown them her little cottage, asked about their favourite food so that she might cook it, and given up her own great bed for them to sleep in. It had not seemed so great, with three full-grown men in it, but it must have been better than the chair where she had insisted on sleeping herself.

  He wondered what Mary did, alone in their great bed, waiting for news. How much had the militia really disturbed her? But they would not harm women, surely - they would be too afraid of what would happen to them, when the husbands returned. Perhaps they would put up in the house, that was all.

  And Ann? But she was safe enough now, in the schoolmistresses' keeping. That at least he had solved wisely. It had been like Ann, to bring those horses. She had always been impulsive - he remembered a day when she had been little, seven or eight. He had complained to Mary about his supper, and Ann had stumped out of the house when their backs had been turned, down to Dick Symonds, the butcher, to insist that he gave her a better piece of meat for her father. She got it, too! He smiled at the memory.

  But an army was no place for children, nor for girls of her age either, especially with Tom Goodchild around; the arguments in Taunton had proved that. The boy would settle down well enough now that she had gone. Adam remembered how worried he had been by that look in the boy's eyes when he had been with her - hungry, eager; it made Adam a little sick, a little frightened. Ann wasn't a little girl any more, he must accept that, he wouldn't be able to protect her for ever; but she should be married first, then all that would natural and proper.

  If only the boy didn't swagger so!

  If only he himself were not so afraid.

  It was no shame to be afraid, he told himself again. Anyone could be afraid, if he was marching to shoot and be shot at, to stab and be stabbed. The shame was not in being afraid, but in letting your fear master you so you could not do your duty. But no-one seemed to be as afraid as him. The others laughed and joked and boasted and mocked the militiamen who had run away, which he could never do, somehow - he understood too well why they ran. And so again the darker fear came, like a well opening in the back of his mind - perhaps they were the chosen of the Lord, and he was not.

  He slipped again in the mud, and another
trickle of rain dripped down his neck. He staggered upright and marched on, pushing his gloom away, determined to keep up with the rest. He might be afraid, he might be damned, he might never have been one of the Elect, but at least no-one knew. Not yet. He still had his self-respect. So long as he did not show himself a coward in battle, they need never know.

  23

  "YOU HANGED him?" Ann stared at Robert as he stood by the door. Her outraged voice echoed in the tiny panelled room. "In God's name, why?"

  "In God's name. And that of King James, more important. He would not recant, but swore that his Majesty was the devil incarnate, and that we were Papist traitors to serve him, when we should be serving the Duke of Monmouth." Robert's voice was harsh and defiant, as though he had been caught stealing and did not care to repent.

  "So will they hang me too, then, if I say the same?"

  "No, of course not! Not at least unless you ride in arms against us, and curse everyone in a loud voice, as he did." Robert ventured a half-smile, which froze on his face as she watched him.

  "Oh, Robert! What are you doing?" Her hushed, horror-struck whisper seemed to fill the room, so that for a chilling, irrational moment the ridiculous fear came into his mind that she might be a witch.

  "We are protecting the country against the King's enemies. This is a war, Ann, a rebellion, not a children's game."

  He came forward into the room, carefully, and sat down on the bed, feeling her sullen rejection as he did so.

  "And am I just a children's game?"

  "No." The words slowly dissolved into the silence between them as they read each other's faces. There were hard, tight lines about Robert's eyes and mouth, and a thin determination in his lips, that she had not noticed before; yet behind them were the same spare, freckled features and the slightly puzzled, earnest, intent look, as though she were a problem he could not solve. Her own face was harder now, though she did not know it; her wide green eyes more prominent, her skin somehow finer and clearer over her bones.