McCann, Maria - As Meat Loves Salt

by Balefanio

  Hill. It was on Walshe's land. We had been approaching for some time before I knew the place, for I had only once before seen it from that side. The recognition hit as hard as seeing the gallows, with the noose knotted up for me and dangling ready.

  'What ails you, Rupe?' someone called.

  I was reeling as if drunk.

  'Devil's in him,' came a voice from behind.

  'Got the staggers,' Ferris said over his shoulder. After a few min­utes he whispered to me, 'Well?'

  'That hill. One lives there who hates me, who'd burn me alive.'

  'Burn you alive? Burn?' He stared at me.

  'Burn, hang — anything cruel.'

  'Ah,' Ferris murmured. 'Courage, he won't get the chance. Who is this mighty hater?'

  A man — there's a woman too.'

  'Do they have names?'

  I was silent. We trudged onwards, and I managed to straighten up.

  'I'll shave your head tonight,' he said after a while.

  'Thank you.' I wanted badly that he should understand me, at least a little, and went on, 'Do you remember saying that some men warm themselves at others' sins?'

  'No.'

  'Well—' I had made an ill start, but as usual could not leave it alone. 'It was you told me about them. And I find there are others, who may be soiled and hurt by another's sins. I cannot always speak freely of myself to you. I would not infect you.'

  'O, you fear my emulation? You think you're the first sinner I have met with?' He laughed. 'I do recall now our talk of men and sins. You were asking me about Naseby-Fight! Do you not think that might have infected me?'

  'Yes of course, you have seen — things — but my own acts give me bad dreams. I would not give such dreams to you.'

  'I've plenty of my own.'

  'You said you were afraid of me sometimes.'

  'Mostly when you talk like this. Confess, have you burnt a village in their beds?'

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  'Well, that's the way you get me thinking. You suffer from pride, Rupert. I wager you think God can't forgive you.'

  'I did think so. But not now he has sent me such a friend.'

  This pacified him somewhat. It was getting dark, and soon we struck camp. He was as good as his word, heating a bowl of water over the fire and shaving my head with surprising deftness, his hand firm on the back of my neck. I watched his face and saw there absolute concentration, the absorption of a craftsman, as he passed the razor over my skin. The blade being coarse, he could not help nicking me in places, and each time he did so he frowned.

  'You would make a good barber,' I said when he was done, finger­ing my shorn scalp.

  The firelight showed me that he was smiling, whether at my grati­tude or at my strange new looks I could not tell.

  'This puts me in mind of old times,' I went on. 'The servants out on a fine evening and the work mostly done. Sitting with my broth­ers. We were reading pamphlets,' and despite everything I warmed at the memory. 'About God's commonwealth in England. Zeb and Peter had tobacco and we took it in turns to read aloud. We would go down behind the stables and hide from the steward, and the maidservants would come too, if they could. I affected one of them, Caroline.' I hoped that in the darkness he would not see how her name made me wince.

  'What were your pamphlets?' Ferris asked eagerly. 'Not stuff your master would like?'

  'Not a whit! We had All Men Brothers and Of Kingly Power and Its Putting Down and some others, bits and pieces. I was rapt with them.'

  'Could you all read?'

  'My father fee'd a tutor for us three.'

  My friend looked his surprise at me.

  'We were not always servants,' I said. 'Another time I'll tell you how that was. Our Izzy taught Caro her letters when she was a child.'

  It came back to me with sweetness and pain, my brother bend­ing over her, pointing out a line in the hornbook. He had been her

  champion and favourite all through childhood; his reward had been self-denial and sacrifice, which I had at last trampled under my feet. He would never call his precious one sister, kiss her innocently at Christmas or see her happy with his brother's babe in her arms. Some­where, if not dead - no, that was not possible, God would not be so cruel — they must each be wondering what was become of me.

  Ferris was speaking.

  'I am sorry?' I said.

  'In London. I wrote just such pamphlets, printed them too.'

  'What, those same ones!'I wrenched my thoughts away from Izzy and Caro.

  'No. But very like. I kept company with men of ideas, not useless projects but all that might bring Adam out of bondage. Our chief design was that the commons, that fought the war and bore the free quarter, might not be ridden over by little kings at home, for then where was the use of having fought at all?'

  I thought of Sir Bastard and nodded.

  'Now is the time,' he went on, 'when we might do just such a thing. These poor people that starve at the door of Dives, that cannot take a turf of the common ground and dig on it while all the game and suchlike is shut up in Milord's park — now is their day. The coun­try is up in arms, and the work will be brought about!'He clapped me on the shoulder, laughing, and I remarked that thus animated, the fire shining full in his face, he was comely. I smiled back and we regarded one another an instant.

  'Are you married, Rupert?' he asked.

  'I am,' I answered, surprised into truth.

  'I had a wife, Joanna. She helped me with the pamphlets.'

  'You're a Widower?'

  'God rest her soul. She couldn't write, but she helped bind the pages. I was teaching her to read, from the Bible. I sometimes wish she were here, but what a place for a woman.'

  'Perhaps she is with you in spirit.'

  'Sometimes — as just now — I feel suddenly persuaded all will be well. That may be Joanna acting upon me. We were merry together; we liked each other well.'

  'How long were you married?'

  'Not long. She was but sixteen when she died. She would have been brought to bed about now.' His voice thickened. 'One day she was sick and fell to bleeding, the next the child was born dead. She never got out of bed after that, grew weaker every day. The curse upon Eve, the doctor said, agony of childbed. They see so many dead that way.'

  I wondered whether Caro had fled the wood with my child within her. 'Still,' I said, 'a man must have issue.'

  'The child was not mine.'

  I put my fingers into my mouth for shock and wondered if I had understood aright. He was breathing fast. I looked about to be sure no one else could hear him. The rest of the men were roaring at some jest.

  'It was not mine,' he repeated. 'I knew of it, she was in her fourth month when we were contracted.'

  'She had been widowed?'

  'Forced.'

  I could scarce believe what I heard. 'Why didn't they marry her to the man that did it?'

  'He was already married.'

  'Why didn't her father act against him?'

  Ferris laughed savagely. 'Why indeed? My manservant - he was courting their maid - dropped a few hints in my ears. The mother was long past beauty and troubled by a sickness of the womb. The father was a man of strong lusts — once word got out, 'twas no matter for her dowry. None would bite.'

  'None but you?' Was it possible that he had been so pressed for money as that?

  Ferris answered, 'I should have said, no worthy man would bite: there was one who offered, one who despised her. In the end I took her without the dowry.'

  'Why, when the other would certainly have had it?'

  'Her father disliked my butting in, and would else have concluded the thing. So I made love to his purse; it was either that, or deliver up Joanna to the other man.'

  'Was there liking between her and you?'

  'O yes.' His voice was grown soft. 'I had already thought of asking for her, before all this came about.'

  'But you could not be expected to give a name—'

  Ferris ignor
ed me. "They had her locked up. Every day I saw her staring at me from the window opposite. Once she looked at me with such misery that I opened the casement to talk to her, but she ran into the back of the room.'

  'Afraid of you.'

  He nodded. 'That cut my heart. I began to consider, whether hus­band rightly meant owner, or protector and friend. I had a thousand uses for the dowry, and refusing it meant the old man profited by his wickedness. But it was the only way.'

  'You must have brought contempt on yourself as a wittol,' I whis­pered.

  'A wittol's wife is his property, only a property he rents out,' he hissed back. 'This eternal curse of property! We own our brethren — our wives too are chattels—'

  'You would practise community of wives?' I asked, shocked to think Ferris might be the author of that very pamphlet over which I had quarrelled with Walshe.

  'You miss my meaning entirely! This selling the girl off was— was a second rape, and no remedy for the first. Why are good people so slow to see this? Many of my friends, calling themselves Christians, urged me to stand aside and do nothing.'He was agitated. I patted his arm and he went on, 'It would have come right. On our wedding night she put her arms round my neck and wept. I wept also, and told her that I would never reproach her with the child. I loved her, and what the godless and the heartless said was nothing to me.'

  He had turned his face aside; I heard him snuffling and struggling for breath.

  And then,' he forced out, 'she died, and her father was safe. He never came to see her on her deathbed, or me afterwards. I buried her and the baby — it was a girl — sold up, left the money with my aunt, and joined the army.'

  On his cheek were tears, which I wanted to dry but dared not

  touch. I held his hand, feeble and hopeless. I was quite unable to speak. How might a man like me comfort one like him? He had said simply that he showed mercy where he could, but excepting mere brute strength, he was beyond me in every way.

  We sat together in silence as the fire burnt down and I thanked God inwardly for showing me what a Christian might be who, like the apostle Paul, considered Charity as the chiefest virtue. I vowed that if I ever had the chance I would atone to my wife and brothers, and I thought how both Izzy and Ferris, neither of them fighting men, had yet endured much to protect those they loved — but that way lay great pain for me, and I got off it. We turned in for the night and after a while I heard Ferris's breathing light and rapid. He was perhaps with his Joanna, for he laughed once or twice in his sleep and it was such a joyous laugh as I had never heard from Ferris the soldier. Sleepless, I watched the fire. When the ardour of my prayer had cooled, I found in my breast a sneaking wish that I had stopped his talk. After such an outpouring I could never, never tell him what had passed between myself and my wife, and sooner or later he would ask.

  The next day things went on as usual for the other men. Nathan prat­tled of politics while I suffered an agony of terror as we drew nearer and nearer to our house.

  'Courage,'said Ferris. 'None would recognise you.' 'I have others to fear for. What if the news be bad?' At last the hills parted, as in some evil vision, to discover Beau-repair. A cold hand griped my innards as I looked down upon the buildings. They were most of them well back from the road in low sheltered land, and we were able to survey them first from the side and then from the front as we skirted the walls of the park. We crossed in front of the lodge. Behind the house I could see the gate (now closed) where I had ridden out behind Zeb and Caro, with the field and wood beyond. I wondered if the gate-keeper had lost his place. There was my old chamber window, and a man, perhaps Godfrey, slowly crossing the herb garden.

  Ferris looked on the house, and on me, and on the house again. 'Did they use you well?'

  'Some of them,' I answered. "The Mistress had her good side. But Sir John was a sot, and the son ...'I could not find words strong enough for the son.

  'I was never in a house like that,' he went on, staring at it. 'So big.'

  'Don't the citizens have big houses in London?'

  'Here, Fat Tommy's behind us.'

  We fell out and loitered. I rubbed my sore feet to colour our idle­ness and Ferris kept watch for the thin soldier. It was not long before he came up, bouncing a little on his skeleton's legs.

  'Tommy, how would you like more rations?' said Ferris. 'Prince Rupert here wants tidings of his friends at that house.'

  I showed him the different windows and doors while Ferris kept off Nathan and the rest of the men straggled past. Tommy was quick to learn. Then we got back into the lines and together went through the story, that he was a beggar. I warned him to keep mum before Godfrey. He was to try for a talk with Isaiah Cullen, or Peter Taylor, and find out what was become of the runaway servants.

  'On no account say a man in the army sent you, unless you can talk with Isaiah alone,' I urged. 'Alone with him, you may give my likeness.'

  'Once we strike camp,'he said, nodding. 'If I can get off.'

  We agreed on a day's ration, beer included, to be paid when he brought back the intelligence. Ferris and I would try to distract atten­tion from his departure.

  'Your luck is in,' said Ferris to me as I pushed forward to my former place.

  'What do you mean?' I panted.

  'We won't stop here, or in the next village either. There's too much daylight left and they want to get to Winchester, then to Basing-House. Cromwell's afraid the weather will break and mire his artillery in the mud.'

  'You didn't tell me this before.'

  'Nathan told me while you were with Tommy.'

  'Oh.'Nathan again, chattering to Ferris about the New Jerusalem.

  'Why do you frown, Rupert?'

  'You know, I should go back, and make restitution.'

  'I said, why do you frown?'

  Restitution. It had a glorious sound. I could offer myself for punish­ment; it was most likely only a choice of deaths, for my head might be shot off in the field. Though powerless in the matter of Caro and Zeb, I could clear Isaiah's name. But even as I warmed myself at this vision, something gnawed at me. I pictured myself back at the house and my resolution wavered: I could be brave enough now to deliver myself up, but once there, I knew my heart would fail me. At last I saw that it came to this, that Ferris would march on with Nathan, Russ and his other friends while I faced justice alone. At this thought my courage shrivelled like a withered gourd.

  We put up for the night in one of those scoured villages. The men were ill content after passing more comfortable billets, and there was much grumbling as they pulled down bales of straw and spread them­selves to rest. Tommy was bedded in the barn with us, which was surely the hand of God in my affairs. I asked the officer, who came round to see how we did, if this Basing-House was what they said, the lid on top of a secret hoard of treasure stolen by Papist priests.

  'It's a nest of Papists entirely,'he said.'John Paulet, that's the Mar­quess, is a declared recusant and he has sworn to hold Basing House for the King. To death, if need be.'

  And the treasure? Is it really so much?'

  'Who can say? They have golden idols in their churches. We'll find out, my lads.'

  The men returned his grim smile.

  'Why are we to besiege a house?' asked Ferris. 'When there are whole towns held by the Cavaliers?'

  I saw Tommy step out through the door and close it behind him.

  'It gives courage to the enemy. And, what some might consider worse, it blocks the wool trade, and there are solid citizens in Lon­don bothered thereby.' The officer's voice was steady. I looked at his creased face, the scars on his right temple, and wondered had he been at Naseby.

  'Their godless riches can be put into godly hands,' he added in the same flat voice. This was a heart I could not read; I wondered if Ferris could.

  We lay down in broken straw. In the night there was a storm overhead. I listened to the usual snoring, then the cough and stir of every man around me under the hammer of the rain and sudden boom of th
under. Some groaned, perhaps for the wet roads and the labour of the coming day. Waiting for Tommy, wondering if he would get back in time, I had not slept at all. When the storm went off I dozed a while, and was woken by water running down my neck. I shifted, and a hand touched mine. My messenger was wintry cold and the rain dropped from his hair onto my shaven head so that I jumped.

  He whispered angrily, 'That's nothing man, it's right through to my skin.'

  'I'm sorry for it, Tom. What news?'

  He lay down beside me. 'Rub my hands, for the love of God. They're ice.' I did so, and blew on them. Such cold and bony flesh, it was hateful. He could hardly keep his teeth from knocking together. That was like Zeb, feverish.

  'Thin folks feel the cold the most,' he said.

  'Keep your mind on the ration,' I suggested, chafing warmth into his fingers. 'There, put them under your arms.'The carcass hands slith­ered out of mine. 'So, what news?'

  'What do you most want to know?'

  I was unsure where to start. 'Well. Who did you speak to?'

  'I couldn't come at any Isaiah or any Peter. There's no such men there.'

  My heart sickened. 'What, then?'

  'A maidservant.' I almost cried out, but he went on, 'French, pretty as you'd see anywhere.'

  Madeleine. If My Lady had kept her on, Caro could not be re­turned. Or she might be in gaol. I waited in terror to hear Caro or Patience spoken of, unsure which prospect frightened me more.

  'But you asked after Isaiah?' I urged.

  'To be sure. She said that she remembered him, and that he was

  run away; there was a great hurly-burly with the servants, just about the time you joined the army.' He laughed hoarsely, throat full of phlegm. "There's two men run off with a maid. That was the second maid they lost, she said, and a lad found dead in the pond. Fine house, by the sound of it.'

  'They've caught neither maid nor men?'

  'Still looking for them. Not in the right place, eh, Jacob?'

  'And the third brother? Isaiah?'

  He hawked and spat.