by Smith, Skye
"You made it look easy,” growled a familiar voice.
Daniel turned and asked. "Jack, what are you doing here? You couldn't possible have gone all the way to Chichester and back in a day.” A thought hit his mind and then turned his stomach. Had Jack hung the four men just so he wouldn't have to ride to Chichester? "Jack, you didn't ...."
"Who me? After you told me not to. Nay. We were half way to Chichester when we met up with a messenger looking for you. We exchanged missions with his escort. They took the four prisoners back to Waller, while we brought the messenger here. Nice job on the tower. We got here just in time to see it tumble, but weren't close enough to get covered in dust. The messenger is over there waiting for you."
"Tell him you couldn't find me. It will be some trick by Waller to get me back to Chichester instead of going home. Go on. Tell him you couldn't find me.” Daniel pushed at the big man's shoulders to hurry him away.
"The message ain't from Waller but from the admiral,” Jack replied, as he stood his ground.
"It's the same. They don't want me going home. They have some other mission for me."
"No Danny. They sent the message as a favour to a wounded man. Go, go now, and speak with the messenger."
They walked together across the dusty field towards a lad standing beside a fine horse. "We should 'ave strung them sons of lordly bitches up,” Jack said, "and then spread the word of what happened to them. You know. Just as a warning to the rest. Oh well, too late now."
"I fear you are right,” Daniel replied, "but what could I do. The women they ravaged had already forgiven them, so how could I lynch them. Let Waller handle it."
"Aye, I suppose so,” Jack grumbled, "but the next ones I catch are not going to get off so easy. Eye for an eye, the good book says."
"My clan still follows the traditional law,” Daniel told him. "For raping a mother you pay a heavy purse to the woman. For raping a wife with no children you pay the purse and get a good beating. For raping a virgin you pay the purse, and are beaten to death, unless the girls family allows you to live."
"There is merit in that, but it relies on courts and witnesses,” Jack replied. "That's fine for peacetime, but what about in violent times. What about when the only living witnesses were a party to it?"
"Then take the hand that does evil, as the good book says.” Daniel told him. "At least that way, if you punish an innocent man they still live."
"Life without a hand is not much of a life. How about a foot. That would stop them from chasing girls. No, not a foot, their balls. That's it, of course. I've turned enough baby rams into ewes in my lifetime, and I've not lost a lamb yet. Yep, that's it. I'll start carrying my lambing shears with me."
They both winced at the thought of it, and then Daniel said, "I can't believe you would do that. Not to another man."
"Not to a man, to a young nob,” Jack replied. "You wus the one who told me that folk like us will be trodden on until the ways of inheritance are changed so that the wealth of the nob landlords is shared out. Well while we are waitin' for the laws to change, why not change the way of inheritance one set of balls at a time?"
They stopped the discussion because they had reached the messenger. "I am Captain Vanderus. You have an urgent message for me?"
"Yes sir,” the young gentleman stood to attention and saluted, "a verbal one from the Admiral Earl, Robert Rich. You are to return to Chichester at once. Robert Blake has arrived and is gravely wounded."
"Captain Robert Blake of Bridgwater?” Daniel repeated the name to be sure.
"Yes sir. Robert Blake. He arrived yesterday morning on a mission from Devon. He sailed up the estuary on a most peculiar small ship. It had remarkable sails."
"Two triangles, one in front of the mast and one behind."
"Exactly sir. How did you know."
"That is his ship, the Alice. I gave it to him. We've been partners in business on and off for almost ten years. Once we even sailed to the New World together.” Daniel turned towards the castle gate and began to trot to fetch his horse and gear. The other men trotted along beside him. "Jack, I must get to Chichester as soon as possible, whereas you and the messenger need rest. The blasting is done. Can I ask you to take charge of the men and the gunners and this lad and see them all safely back to Chichester. There's no hurry. It's only I who must hurry."
Jack pulled back on both other men’s shoulders to halt their trot. To the messenger he said, "Your job is done lad. See the big man over there kicking at the rocks. His name is Boomer. Go fetch your horse and then ask him to arrange a bed for you for the night. Shout when you ask, for he is hard of hearing.” When the lad was out of ear shot, Jack told Daniel, "I'll not be going back to Chichester, Danny. Put one of the others in charge. Me and my men have decided to quit Waller's service and become clubmen."
"What you mean to say is that you want to keep the horses, the armour, the carbines, and the pistols but if you return to Waller they will be taken from you."
"It's very ungenerous of you to put it like that,” Jack complained. "We have decided to patrol the roads protectin' farmers and hamlets like them Familists. Every town now has clubmen to defend themselves, but what of the independent folk, the collectives, the hamlets, the villages. They don't have anyone defending them, and don't have the coin to buy weapons. We'll be their clubmen. We've already got it planned. We'll use my farm as a center, and from there we can send out patrols in every direction. This winter we'll protect the same farms that last fall we harvested, and next spring we will plant. You can tell that to Waller for me. So long as he is releasing them fuckin' noble gentlemen to prey on women and kiddies, we'll be out here making sure they don't."
"I can't fault your mission or your reasons, or your reasoning, so I suppose all there is left for me to do is to wish you all good hunting. As for me, I must ride through the night to reach my friend. I ask again, as a favour, would you take charge of my company and escort it to within a few miles of Chichester before you go your own way?"
"I will Danny, of course I will. Now what do you need to speed you on your way?"
"Some food for my saddlebags, a spare horse, and fair weather.” As he said it, Daniel realized that the Wyred Sisters were having big fun weaving his fate again. Waller had talked him into bringing the gunners here by convincing him that the road from Chichester to Farnham was too dangerous for him to ride alone. Now he was about to ride it alone in any case.
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The Pistoleer - Invasion by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-15
Chapter 12 - Blake arrives in Chichester in January 1643
"The man has a brilliant mind for strategy,” Warwick told Daniel. "Robert Blake has brought us a plan that will allow Colonel Ruthven to follow right on Sir Ralph Hopton's tail no matter how deeply he flees into Cornwall. Eventually Hopton must surrender his royalist army. It cannot fail. With Hopton's army captured, the whole of the West counties will fall to us. The entire south coast will be ours. The plan is so simple that I cannot believe that we hadn't thought of it ourselves."
"Isn't that always the way with good plans?” Daniel replied while stretching the long ride out of his leg muscles. Two aides walked by and looked down their noses at him. Now that Waller had moved his headquarters from the almshouse north of Chichester, to the bishop's palace within the walls, there was a growing formality in the attitudes of the guards and the aides. He had noticed before how grand palaces tended raise the noses of the servants. "Once they are explained they seem so simple. That is the key to all of Robert's plans. That is why they work. What is this latest plan of his?"
"To understand it you must be looking at the map of Cornwall,” Warwick told him and led him into Waller's command room where the maps were kept. Waller was already there and rolling out the map on the bishop's best carved table, which would have been worth a village or two.
"Captain Vanderus, welcome back. My officers and I have discussed your report,” Waller called out, "a
bout the misbehavior of the prisoners I have been releasing. We have agreed not to release any more. We will keep them under guard in Chichester until there is another ship to take them to London.."
"Tis for the best Colonel, what with Jack Lantern and his clubmen patrolling the roads."
"Jack Lantern?” Warwick questioned, "The hard man with the tattered face? I wouldn't like to meet the likes of him on a road after dark."
Daniel sighed. It was typical of these two nobles to be more worried about the danger Smilin' Jack posed to the released sons of nobles, than the danger that the sons posed to the folk.
Warwick was now standing beside Waller at the table, and looking down at a map. "Danny, come over here and look at this map of Devon and Cornwall. You can immediately see why Ruthven is having such difficulty defeating and capturing Hopton. It's all about these long estuaries, like the Tamar that runs inland from Plymouth. Hopton retreats across them, and then defends their banks so that Ruthven cannot get across."
"And if Ruthven does get his forces across,” the colonel added, "then Hopton is retreating along his supply line, whereas Hopton is stretching his. Now that I have had time to think about Blake's plan, it just makes sense. If we supply Ruthven by ship, then those same estuaries work for us, rather than against us. Not only can the ships use the estuaries to reach Ruthven, but then he can use the ships to take his men across the estuary, use the ships guns to secure the landing beach, and then land his men refreshed and resupplied. The ships are both ferry service and supply line. No matter how fast Ruthven must advance to chase Hopton, he can still be resupplied."
"And since we now control most of the navy,” Warwick said proudly, since it had been he and his deep pockets who had convinced the navy commanders to distance themselves from the king's wishes, "then we can use the same tactic over and over against any of the king's forces that are close to the sea."
"Umm, in truth I didn't come here to find out about Blake's plan,” Daniel told them, "but to find out about Blake's health. The messenger told me that he was badly wounded. Where is he?"
"Down the hall in the small room on the right,” Waller told him. He watched the tall captain spin on his heels and rush out of the room without a salute or even a 'by your leave'. "That man shows no concern for authority."
"But a great concern for his friends, and a good knowledge of treating wounds,” Warwick replied. "Remember that if you are ever wounded. I think I too will go and look in on Blake, just in case he has more to add to this plan of his."
Daniel found the door to the small room and stepped inside quietly without knocking in case his friend was sleeping. Despite it being early afternoon, the room was dark and airless and there was a stench of a wound going bad. As his eyes became more accustomed to the dark, he saw that there was a man standing beside the one bed. In truth, the man had his hands up and was backing away from the bed, for the man propped up in the bed was pointing a pistol at him. A cocked pistol.
"Rob it's me, Danny. Lower the gun, man, before you hurt someone."
"Thank God you're here Danny, and none too soon. This blackguard of a barber just told me he was going to take off my leg."
"It must be taken off to save your life,” the army surgeon spoke out. "The wound is deep and it has festered. If its poison gets into your blood vessels, then the poison will spread and kill you. I must take it off today. If I do it today I can do it below the knee. If I wait longer I may have to cut higher up."
The pistol filled the room with noise and smoke. Daniel stepped to the window and threw open the coverings to let some light into the room. The barber-surgeon seemed to be unhurt for he was making a mad dash for the door. He bumped into the admiral who was coming in as he was trying to get out. The admiral pushed him back into the room so he could step inside. Waller was on his heels. Behind Waller were other officers who had run towards the sound of the shot. "Be still,” the admiral told the surgeon. "He had but one shot and he chose to shoot the wall rather than you."
"He tried to kill me,” the surgeon complained.
"Rob is a good shot,” Daniel spoke up. "If he'd been aiming to kill you, you would be dead on the floor. He was just trying to frighten you.” He ignored the rest of the men as he opened the rest of the window coverings. "How can you work on a man's wound if you can't see it,” he mumbled irritably under his breath as he thumped the window to open it. Fresh cold air rushed in and pushed away the stench of rotting skin. There was a low stool beside the bed, and he settled on it, and then pushed Rob back against his pillows. "May I inspect your wound?"
"Please do."
Daniel pulled back both blankets. The linen sheet was damp with sweat, which meant that Rob was feverish. He carefully lifted the linen off the wounded leg and then bunched the linen and one blanket over Rob's chest to keep him warm. "You should have thanked the surgeon for changing the dressing, rather than taking a pot shot at him.” He oh so carefully lifted off the linen bandage. The stench of corruption rose up and fouled the air again. "Is the ball out of the calf muscle?” he asked Rob softly.
"Yes, about an hour after I was shot on the banks of the River Tamar, and the wound closed and seemed to be healing, so I thought it safe to sail here with reports from Colonel Ruthven. I was wrong. When I stepped ashore I tripped and ever since then the wound has been troubling me. It was healing, once, so there must be an alternative to cutting off my leg."
Daniel explained in a soft voce, "They got the ball out and cleaned the wound, but have left something inside it. Likely a small scrap of cloth. The main wound closed over and tried to heal, but the trapped cloth festered from within.” He turned to the surgeon, "Do you agree? I'm sorry, what was your name?"
"Roger Miles, sir, barber, dentist, and surgeon. There is certainly something festering from underneath. The wound is hot and oozing puss constantly. The leg must come off."
"Have you tried to find the source? Tried to clean it out?"
"It's too late for that. A waste of my time. Do you think he is the only wounded man in this camp. The leg must come off."
"May I borrow your tools?” Daniel asked softly. "I want to try to find the corruption."
"No ye may not. They are for my use, and I have other men to see to.” The surgeon grabbed up a leather bag and began to walk towards the door.
Warwick reached out a hand and caught the barber by the arm and dragged him back. "You will stay here and help the captain, and yes he may borrow your tools.” He took the leather bag from the man's hand and passed it to Daniel.
The bag opened into two halves and showed off a goodly assortment of knives and saws. Daniel chose two long needles, like steel knitting needles, and then looked around the room. "Where is the vinegar?” he asked the barber, "Or do you use aqua vitae to clean the tools."
"Vinegar, aqua vitae, what a waste of coin. I clean them by wiping them on the spent bandages."
"Colonel, you are closest to the door,” Daniel said calmly, though he did not feel calm. "Could you send someone to the kitchen to fetch me a pot of clean vinegar, and some moldy old bread. Blue mold. Admiral, do you have your flask of genever on you?"
The Colonel spoke to someone in the hallway, while the admiral passed over his flask and said, "Are you going to clean everything with my genever. That's best Dutch genever you know. It'd be a pity to waste it."
Daniel opened the flask and took a quick nip. It was good. He passed it to Robert. "Here, best load up on this. It's a deep wound and the corruption will be right at the bottom of it. When I begin digging it will feel like I am scratching your bones with these needles."
"Anything to save my leg, Danny. Anything."
"I don't know if I can save it, Rob, but I'm willing to try. Keep drinking. Close your eyes and concentrate on anything else beyond this room."
"Tell me more about your plan to supply Ruthven by ship,” the admiral called out. "Tell me about what could go wrong."
It was a good question to take Rob's mind off his leg and his
pain. "Many things can go wrong. The army will be traveling inland and crossing estuaries while the ships must travel off shore and go up and down the estuaries. They may be out of contact for days at a time, and completely lose track of each other. Ruthven need to post signalmen on all the headlands, and they must be taught the navy flag codes. Frankly it would be safer if you attached a marine company to the army so they could be used as the signalmen."
"Good to know, what else?"
"Like I said, there are so many things that could go wrong. Perhaps we should approach the question from the other side. What is the worst thing that could go wrong?” Blake went silent in thought. "That the ships fall into Hopton's hands. That would be a disaster that would completely turn the advantage away from Ruthven and towards Hopton. Ruthven's army would have to run for their lives and may get caught short of supplies and blocked by the last estuary they crossed. It would be worse if Ruthven didn't know that Hopton had taken the ships, because he would continue to march forward into a trap."
"So then the ships must always trail the army, not lead them,” the admiral pointed out.
There was something being left unsaid, so Daniel said it. "It means that you must be absolutely sure that the captains and crews of the ships are faithful to the Good Ol' Cause. You can't afford a turncoat. Ruthven can't afford a turncoat.” His words hung heavy in the room. During the course of this rebellion, there had been a constant problem of officers switching sides and joining the king. After all, the king could reward them with honors, knighthoods, and titles. Meanwhile the vinegar and spoiled bread had arrived.
It took every man in the room to hold Blake still with his leg propped over the stool, while Daniel first cleansed the puss from the wound with the vinegar, and then use the vinegar-cleansed needles to poke deep into the wound. The biggest problem was that he couldn't see what he was doing. It was the type of job that needed bright sunshine lighting up the wound, but the winter sky's were overcast and grey. Eventually he gave up on the needles and tried to flush out whatever was still in the wound with vinegar. Nothing came out, or at least, nothing he could recognize, for everything was red with blood and running with vinegar. When it seemed to him that Blake could not stand any more pain, and the men holding his legs and arms still were exhausted from fighting him, he gave up.
