McCann, Maria - As Meat Loves Salt

by Balefanio

  'Isaiah? He's not dead, Tommy?'

  'Not that she knew. They took him before the magistrate. He had a whipping and was turned out of the house; they said he was more fool than knave.'

  Whipped. O Izzy, forgive me. 'If he was no knave, why turn him out?' I asked. 'He was a party to their going?'

  'Some said this, some that. They found a great many papers and pamphlets wrapped up secret and buried behind the stables, where this young maid who gave evidence, I forget her name, said the broth­ers used to go and talk. But again, he had stayed, and that argued in­nocence. The other servants gave him an excellent character.'

  And the Roches turned him out, I thought. I could remember the name of this young maid - young whore, young spy - if he could not. We had buried nothing behind the stables, all had been burnt. I knew now what they were doing that night when I killed the boy, and most likely other nights too. Poor babes as we were, burning our reading and thinking ourselves safe, when these devils had already laid a mine there could tear us in pieces. My breath came in gasps. Suppose I ever came up against Cornish again, my first thought would be to run, be he never so fat and grey.

  'They do say one brother drowned the young lad,'Tommy added. In the darkness it was impossible to read his face.

  'They had an old mother,' I said. 'I don't suppose you have news of her?'

  'You never asked for any.'

  'And have they heard anything of this Isaiah since he was turned off?'

  'Not that she told me.'

  'No. Thanks, Tom. I'll see you all right tomorrow.'

  'O, I nearly forgot. The heir is dead, poisoned.'

  I thought I would faint from the shock. 'Poisoned! By whom?'

  'The brothers, who else?'

  Most likely Mervyn had brought the thing on himself. Or had Mounseer had the last laugh after all, and at our expense?

  'God rot all poisoners, I ate some soup there,'Tommy said. 'As for you, you'll have to be cleverer.'

  'How, cleverer?' I thought he wanted more of the ration from me.

  'I called you Jacob a while back. You never noticed.'

  No more I had. As I tried to think how to recover my mistake Tommy moved away into the darkness. I heard him snort to himself, 'Prince Rupert, forsooth!'

  Anguish kept me awake afterwards. I was not sure that I had paid out my bread and beef for any good end. I could not make restitu­tion now, be I never so willing. Izzy might be a soldier, a pressed man fighting for the other side. I shuddered. But no, I could not see either him - or Zeb - being well enough. Izzy was not strong enough to bear a whipping — he would be sick a long time after. Thanks to me, my wife and brothers were all of them destitute. I told myself that Zeb and Caro had the jewels. Did Izzy understand what Cornish had done to him? Did he try to prove that those devils buried the papers themselves?

  I turned over and my thoughts flowed into a different channel. Now I marvelled at the coldness of Patience, who had lain in Zeb's arms and plotted his destruction. Carnality is of the flesh, but this was a pure deep drink of the Devil. As for Cornish, he knew who it was had killed his boy, and had doubtless laid plans for me.

  There are foes against whom it is no help to be tall and strong. I was afraid of a young woman and a man past his prime, because they outwent me in imagination. Now I was possessed of a friend who might help, yet I was afraid to lose him, as I had lost Caro, in the act of unburdening myself. Tommy had said I was not clever. I had spun myself a wretched web; but I would at least try to learn from my errors. Yet it was hard to see how that might be done, and I lay sleepless long after.

  Ferris was awake before me and shook me until I opened my eyes. 'Rupert. Tommy's back.'

  'We've already talked.' I rubbed my face. 'I'm not much wiser than I was.'

  'But he did get there?'

  'He went all right. But all he could find was, they have whipped Isaiah and turned him off. No one else has been heard of

  He patted my shoulder. 'You can do nothing, then. That's hard.'

  He was righter than he knew, for I was in no position to return the jewels.

  Grey air blew in through the barn windows. My friend sat beside me in the straw; he looked weary and when I studied his profile he seemed not much fatter than Tommy. I dreaded the day's marching after my broken sleep. I could hear men outside moving carts and cooking pots, and I remembered that my rations were forfeit. Ferris opened his sack and held out a piece of bread.

  I shook my head. 'No, keep it.'

  'I can't eat if you have nothing. Come on.'

  We descended to the farmyard outside the barn. Someone had found eggs and laid them in the ashes to cook; the farmer would be angry, not only for the eggs but for the hen, which was doubtless under some soldier's coat. Our morning food and drink was handed out, and mine went straight to Tommy. I had thought of refusing him payment, but could not in front of Ferris. My friend took some water from the cauldron in a pot he had and sopped half his bread in it, then offered the mess to me. Musty as it was, the smell of it broke my self-control and I ate, urgent as a starved dog.

  'It's warm at least,' I said. I hoped Ferris would not be too hun­gry without it. Not far off the thief was handing hot eggs out to his friends, laughing to see the men juggle them from palm to palm. I saw Philip come up and beg for one. He waved to me and I nodded

  back. The thief refused him a share, and I was glad. Then the prentice pointed me out to another man. There followed a series of curious gestures, followed by laughter.

  'Was that the lad cut my hair?' I asked Ferris.

  'What makes you think so?'

  I watched Philip pat his skull, grimacing in mock amazement. 'It was.'

  Ferris shrugged. 'What does it matter? It's been shaved since.'

  'You talked once of bodily dignity.'

  'I've seen heads shot off.'

  He seemed out of sorts. We had no drill that day, and as soon as the men had eaten and packed up their belongings we were ready to go again. Mud covered the road and we sank in up to our knees where those in front had churned it. The troops plodded on like cattle, heads bowed.

  'Do you still fear action?' I asked as the soldiers just ahead moved off.

  He nodded. 'So will you, when you're in it.'

  'When did you last engage, then?'

  'Bristol. We were there from late August to the tenth of Septem­ber. We began the real assault at two in the morning, and it was eight before the Prince appealed for terms. We were two hours at push of pike. Two hours.' He whistled.

  'A long time?'

  'You're a pikeman. Work it out.'

  'Last engaged at Bristol? I thought you were at Devizes?'

  Aye, Devizes! That was nothing. They surrendered straight off. But Bristol - first I got a blow on the head knocked me out, then a fellow who took a musket ball in the guts fell with his belly right on my face, bleeding into my nose and mouth. Russ pulled him off, else—' Ferris grimaced. 'I can still taste him.'

  I shuddered as we squelched onwards.

  'It was just after Devizes we found you, Prince Rupert. Some of the men reckoned you were Plunderland himself, others thought how a black man was lucky, and said you'd brought us luck already.' He grinned at the memory.

  'You didn't believe it?'

  'No, of course not! God decides these things, not a man's skin.'

  'Amen to that.'Yet I wanted to be lucky to him. 'Why you? Why were you the one to save me?'

  'O, it wasn't just me. The prentices helped.'

  'You mean they cut my hair. You were the one gave me food and drink.'

  'Well, you weren't very thankful just at first! They held you down while I poured it in.' He laughed, and turned to me. 'What does it matter? Rupert?'

  'It matters not at all.'I felt strangely cold. Perhaps I was sickening for something.

  'Are you well, friend? Nothing wrong?'

  'Only hunger,' I said and vomited up the bread he had given me.

  By the time we got to Winchester I was
sweating, dizzy, barely able to walk. Ferris dragged me onwards, saying that once we arrived I could he down.

  The troops had been ordered to conduct themselves in a Christian manner, to carry nothing away nor cause any nuisance or harm to the citizens, provided we were entertained without resistance and not obliged to assault the place. We waited, armed and ready, at the city gate while Cromwell summonsed the Mayor, one Longland, and de­manded access into the city 'to save it and the inhabitants from ruin'.

  Word went round that Longland had half an hour in which to reply. Men picked lice from their bodies, rubbed their hands and stamped against the cold, while I fixed my mind on standing upright so as not to be trampled should we go in by force.

  After a short time Longland returned to the gate, bringing the civil reply that the place was not his to yield up, but was in the gift of the Governor, Sir William Ogle, and that he himself would undertake to bring Ogle to it.

  At this Cromwell would tarry no longer, and we burst in regard­less of what Ogle might do or say. Their men barely resisted, so that the whole army was got in without hurt.

  'Sit here,' said Ferris, leading me to a low wall. 'If challenged, you are too sick to move. I will find out where you should go.' He pushed through the mass of soldiers towards the nearest officers. I sat head in hands, wondering if I should die there without having seen action.

  'Rupert.' Ferris was back and plucking at my arm. 'They are laying the sick and wounded in a church near here. We must get you in.'

  I rose, dazed, and allowed him to lead me where he would. Men were swarming like ants through the streets.

  'Ogle has shut himself up in the castle,' Ferris went on. 'So it's to be siege, after all. I won't be able to watch out for you.'

  He was short of breath. I clung to him, afraid that once fallen, I would never rise again.

  'Don't lean on me, you'll have me down,' he gasped. We staggered along; once I slipped on the cobbles and Ferris swore at me. At last I heaved myself up some steps and through the pointed archway of God's house. I heard Ferris cry, 'Help here, I beg of you,'before I sank onto the flags of the church.

  During the siege I lay on a hurdle, taking nothing but sips of beer and the odd spoonful of pease which someone gave me. At times methought I was talking to Zeb. At others I was with Caro, and newly espoused. I must have said something blushworthy, for the man who was in charge of tending the wounded grinned at me whenever he saw me after. Ferris told me later that the second day of the bombardment was a Sunday, which had boggled them somewhat at first, until Hugh Peter, chaplain to the train of General Fairfax, led them in prayer and preaching even as the artillery was set off. In the midst of this I lay drifting in and out of fever, perhaps coaxing the attendant with the honeyed words of courtship.

  When I came to my right reason I first saw the roof far above me, its carvings and gilt. There was a stench of blood and other foulness in my nostrils, and on turning my head I saw a line of sick and wounded laid along the nave. Their screams and prayers echoed from the walls of the church, then slackened to an exhausted muttering. Camp fol­lowers, wives and women who passed for wives, wept over the flayed and shattered bodies they were come to nurse; men crazed with pain

  called on long-dead mothers who could once kiss a hurt away. Near me one panted as if from a hard fight, while on my other side a man wailed something I could not interpret, the words twisting into a howl as the pain opened up in him. From time to time a young lad, burnt and slashed into fever, gabbled hoarsely to 'Jim'.

  A cracked bell chimed as the ground shook under us. That was the guns going off, and I thought at once of Ferris. Raising myself a little, I saw one of the attendants bent over a man nearby. At first with my dry mouth I could not raise my voice above a whisper, so I slapped on the ground with my hand. He came over at once, and I was just able to make myself heard.

  'Friend, what day is this?' I croaked.

  A great one, for you,' he replied. 'I never thought to hear you speak again.'

  'But how long is it since I came in?'

  'Three days, four.' He went off and came back with a cup of some herb. As I wetted my burning throat, he added, 'Your mate'll be glad to see you come through.'

  I stopped gulping. 'Has Ferris been here?'

  'There's a gunner came here every night. Is that his name?'

  'He'll come tonight, then.'

  The man smiled. 'If not, you'll be fit to seek him in a day or two.'

  I drank the rest of the medicine and lay down among the cries of agony, to wait.

  Hours passed. Part of the time I slept, and on waking remembered at once my friend was coming. There were tender places all over me from lying too long on the hurdle, and I fidgeted, trying to ease them. When next I woke it was night and the church roof a cave of dark­ness. Nearer me, candles shone here and there on the backs of pews. The wounded men were quieter, perhaps sleeping, but there was some­thing else, something strange in the air. At last it came to me that the guns were silent.

  Something echoed down the church: a hurdle banging against a door. At the other end of the nave I saw a small fair-haired fellow brought in, his face dripping blood.

  'Who's that?' I cried out to the bearers. They laid down their bur­den, looking to see who had called. One of them shouted over to me, 'How should I know? His mother wouldn't know him now.'

  I stared at the mangled features. The other bearer examined the wounded man, shaking his head.

  'No friend of yours, I trust,' called out the one who had first an­swered me. 'He's just died.'

  I turned on my, side and wept in a way I had never wept before, not for Caro, nor for my own brothers. I moaned like a woman; I cared not who heard me; I rocked back and forth.

  'Rupert? Do you know me?'

  I opened my, eyes. There was a split on his cheek where something had gouged it, the skin stiffening and all the side of his face bruised black. I looked over to the hurdle where I had seen the dead man. He was still there. I looked back at Ferris, and pulled him down to kiss him.

  'Mind my wound,' he said wincing. I kissed his hands instead, and clung to them, unable to speak. He was warm and solid.

  'You're a fine sight.' He smiled on one side of his mouth to spare his injured cheek. 'I did not think to find you so well.'

  'You were here before,' I said.

  He nodded. 'I have brought you some pottage.'

  It was hard to prop myself upright, and I had lost my spoon, or had it stolen while raving. Ferris gave me his. Without hunger, I began scraping up the food.

  'A man has been put to death,' Ferris said. 'In front of the entire army.'

  'A soldier?' I asked between mouthfuls. 'What for?'

  'Plunder. Cromwell wanted an example.' He looked about him. 'There are some sights here, Rupert—! You are lucky.'

  'Lucky, in my friends,' I said. 'You'll stay with me a while?'

  'Not now,' he said. 'They will want to talk soon to the artillery. Since we laid siege I have been here every minute I could. I will come back.'

  I dropped the spoon and seized him by the hands. To my amaze­ment, he prised off my fingers, breaking my grip.

  'See how weak you are? Eat. Keep the spoon.' He patted my shoul­der and walked off, hand to his torn cheek. I slowly finished up the pottage. Whenever I thought of him prising off my hands I felt like crying. It was the weakness. I was at his mercy; but then, he was a merciful man.

  The fever once over I came on speedily. Ferris brought me extra food - beef now, butter, whatever I could take - and I found later that he had eaten almost nothing himself. After another two days I was sent back to the ranks, where I discovered that he had also managed to beg extra rations for me, on the grounds that I was a big man and had not eaten for some days, and a few ounces of cheese might save them a rare pikeman. I devoured everything I could get, and hoped there would not be hand-to-hand fighting before I had regained my strength.

  In the event my luck still held, for there was none. It might
be a week after we first arrived at the city gates that Ogle sued for terms. He was let to march out with a hundred men and given safe conduct, after which the rest of the garrison were disarmed and let go. The defences were blown up with the Governor's own gunpowder, and we left for Alresford. What became of the wretches who had lain with me in the church, I never knew.

  Things were not as they had been. I was glad that men willingly did things for Ferris, that they delighted in his friendship, and I knew full well that it was this comradely way he had that had got me the extra rations - but I liked his company best when I had him to myself, and during my sickness some of his old cronies had taken up with him again.

  We were on the march from Winchester to Basing. I would have dearly loved to pass the time in private talk with Ferris, but had as usual to endure the others. There was Nathan of course, now talk­ing constantly of Winchester. There was also Russ. I judged Nathan to be no more than nineteen, seemingly of good family, and Russ, a

  man in his thirties, turned out to be the very soldier who had saved Ferris from drowning in blood at the siege of Bristol. He never tired of bragging about it, as if to say, What had I ever done for Ferris that was half as good? As for Nathan, he was the merest prating youth; I could not see why he had enlisted at all, for he had little stomach for fighting. Though he interrupted everyone else, he never tired of hearing Ferris talk. These two, Nathan and Russ, gave me sideways looks but went on speaking when they remarked that I was listening, where at one time they would have fallen silent. They were squeezing me out; well, if they declared war on me, they would find me more than willing. If Nathan went on one side of Ferris, I made sure to go on the other, for I would not let them separate him and myself, even in walking. Ferris meanwhile tried to make peace, and to bind us fast friends.

  'Rupert was a manservant, in one of those big houses we passed,' he said. I shook my head at him.

  But Nathan was not interested in me. 'Ferris, were you at Naseby-Fight?' he asked.

  Ferris said nothing.

  'What was it like?' Nathan persisted. I waited to hear my friend reprove him as he had reproved me but Ferris answered simply, 'What Cromwell said. They were stubble to our swords.' He sounded weary.