by Smith, Skye
Rob laughed, and then coughed and brought up some more sputum, which he spat into the bedside spittoon. He sipped some more of the bitter soup to clear his throat so that he could laugh some more. He was in a good mood, despite missing a week of his life to an infirmity. After all, he was getting better now, and he still had both his legs. His wound was now healing faster than his lungs. "Weather like this certainly cuts Wellenhay off from the rest of the world,” Rob sighed. "What ever happened to your great plan of moving your clan to Bermuda?"
The two women in the room stopped what they were doing and looked up. This was not a subject to open with Daniel when the village was snowed in. Daniel had been pushing hard for three years now to have the clan move somewhere with warm winters. Although it was not his fault that they had yet to move, Daniel viewed it as a great personal failure.
"Rob,” Teesa called in an attempt to change the subject, "did you want to read these news sheets that the oregano was wrapped up in. "One of them is from Cambridge, and the other from London. They are four days old now, but you have been delirious for over a week, so they will be news to you."
Both men reached out for the sheets at the same time. Daniel had not been delirious, but he had been without news since they had set sail on the Alice from Chichester. "You can have the London one first,” he told his friend.
Sarah smiled a thanks to Teesa, for the men went immediately quiet as they read the news, but then Rob shook his head as if he were dizzy and leaned back against the pillows. "Why don't I read them to you,” she told the two men, "so you can both discuss them as I read.” She plucked the London one from Rob's fingers, settled herself down beside him, and began to read in her soft, calm voice. As was typical of London news sheets, the actual news was simply a list of facts and details with no commentary or explanation, for those would take precious space away from the true purpose of the sheets, the buy-and-sell notices.
"The weekly newsbook, the Mercurius Aulicus went on sale in London today, backed by Lord Digby, edited by John Birkenhead, and written by Peter Haylin. Its main news item described how none of Brentford's folk would have been injured during good Prince Rupert's stay there, had not Parliament's musketeers shot into the crowd of folk being led to safety by the prince. The descriptions of the heroism of Prince Rupert and other nobles is so long that it has left no space for buy-and-sell notices."
"But that is all lies,” Daniel spoke out furiously. "I was at Brentford. I know exactly what happened. Rupert's men behaved like murdering savages, and on his orders."
"What do you expect, what with Digby involved,” Rob said calmly. "When I read history at Oxford, I learned all about how the rulers of the past told subtle lies to the public to justify their bad behaviour. The only difference this time is that they have created a new weekly sheet rather than bribe or threaten the editors of existing news sheets. At Oxford, even in my days, they were saying that we need a new word to distinguish the exaggerated claims of buy-sell notices from the exaggerated claims of politicians. We can't go on calling them both propaganda."
Daniel said nothing more. He was trying to make sense of Rob's big words.
Sarah had understood all of them and was nodding in agreement. "The next item,” she told them, "is that Colonel Ruthven of the Parliamentarians has Colonel Hopton of the Royalist on the run across Devon towards Cornwall."
"Excellent!” Rob exclaimed, "I told them. Didn't I tell them. I told them to provision Ruthven from ships and then he could continuously advance on Hopton without needing to stop to wait for supplies to catch up.” He looked sheepishly at Sarah. "I was wounded while fighting for Colonel Ruthven. That was why I went myself to Chichester to organize some supply ships.” He looked at Daniel. "It worked, Danny. Ruthven will crush Hopton and the entire south coast will be ours. The queen's invasion convoy will have nowhere to land in the South. Think of it. With Hopton no longer a worry, and the queen unable to land, Essex's army can march on Oxford and force the king to surrender.” He looked again at Sarah and told her, "Don't you see, the war will be over in a month, and all because of my plan.” Rob was beaming.
"Prince Rupert is attacking towns along the road from Oxford to Bristol,” she read out, "and may soon have help from two thousand Welsh recruits led by William Seymour, the Marquis of Hertford."
"An act of desperation,” Rob told her. "They are trying to draw Ruthven north away from Hopton. No chance. Ruthven hates Hopton as much as I do."
"But what of those poor townsfolk?” Sarah asked. "What if Rupert does another Brentford on, on,...” she couldn't think of the name of the main town along that highway.
"Cirencester,” Rob offered.
"Yes, what if Rupert does a Brentford on Cirencester?"
"I doubt it,” Daniel said. "Because of the news from Brentford, clubmen militia are rallying in every town. The real news, not the lies printed by that royalist news book. What was it called?"
"Mercurius Aulicus,” she replied.
"Why didn't they just call it 'Royalty Today' and have nice stories in it about how the princes and princess are giving to charities and having cute babies?” Daniel growled.
"Oooh, yes,” she said mockingly, "and describe the gowns that the princesses wore to the ball and what all the duchesses were wearing.” She looked down at the newssheet so that she could keep a straight face, and read out, "The king has replied to the petition for peace signed by London's apprentices and delivered to him by the city council. The king is willing to return to Westminster to discuss peace, but only if the Lord Mayor and the leaders of the Reform Party are first placed under arrest so as to ensure his personal safety."
"Thus proving that petitions are a waste of time and energy,” Daniel grumbled, "unless the petitioners deliver it carrying loaded guns."
"In Edinburgh,” she read, "the Scottish Privy Council has bowed to the Presbyterian Covenanters and will allow the publishing of the English Parliament's declaration against the king"
"No surprise there,” Daniel remarked. "The Scottish Parliament made their own declaration years ago, and they've already won their war with Charlie."
"Umm, that seems to be all the news in this one, unless you want to know that the price of coal has gone up yet again,” Sarah told them. "Hand me the other one.” She read the news sheet from Cambridge, and then checked the date. "Well even though this local news sheet is more recent than the one from London, its news is older. I suppose they just copy whatever is in the London ones and then add the local news and local buy-sell notices."
"Go on, read it anyway,” Rob told her sweetly. "I'm feeling particularly useless laying here while my company of troopers is with Ruthven chasing Hopton out of Devon."
Sarah began. "Henry Grey, the Earl of Stamford has now taken command of Parliament's army in Devon."
"No,” Rob sat forward and looked over her shoulder to read it himself. "My God, how could they do that to Ruthven. Lord Grey is not loyal enough to the cause to command the army. Surely the Committee of Safety must know that. He's more likely to sabotage Ruthven's efforts by telling him to slow down and not chase Hopton into Cornwall."
"From what I saw riding with Colonel Waller, appointing untrustworthy officers is quite normal,” Daniel told Rob, and then told him five different stories of how the officers that Waller trusted were acting more like they were under the king's orders, or wanted to be under the king's orders. He ended these stories as he usually ended them. "Gentlemen officers will be well rewarded when they desert to Charlie's side. He is handing out knighthoods and titles for such treachery."
"Well then the good news is that Lord Grey is already an Earl,” Sarah pointed out. Her remark was waved away by both men.
"I've got to get back to my company in Devon,” Rob told them. "I'd rather send them home than have them risk their lives under Grey.” He called over to Teesa who was dozing and trying to stay warm under her own comforter, "Teesa, how soon will this sickness and weariness leave me so that I can travel?"
"Not sooner?” Rob asked.
"Rob, do you have any idea what has been going on outside these walls while you have been sick?” Daniel interrupted.
"Some strong cold winds, Nor'easters."
"Rob, outside it is cold enough to freeze the sea. There is a foot of snow on the ground, and four inches of ice covering the waterways, and your ship is a dozen miles inland from the sea."
"But that cannot be,” Rob eventually replied. "It doesn't feel that cold in here."
"That's because this cottage isn't made from stone and brick, so there is some chance of keeping it warm,” Daniel told him. "You are here until the river ice melts, and there is nothing you can do about it. You'll be lucky to get out of here within two weeks."
* * * * *
"Wouldn't it be faster to follow the old Fen Road towards Downham Market?” Rob asked as Daniel turned north along the banks of the River Nene. Since he was riding a normal sized horse, while Daniel was on the diminutive Femke, their heads were about the same height. It was not often that Robert Blake could stare any man in the eye without looking up. Daniel had fetched another of the clan's horses from Ely so that they could ride together to Lynn, rather than walk.
"The ice is thinnest over deep water, and over running water,” Daniel told him. "The River Ouse is both, especially where ever other rivers join it. The Fen Road would lead us just downstream of where the River Wissey joins it. We will have better luck finding an ice bridge across the Nene just downstream from here."
"Doesn't the Fen Road have a bridge across the Ouse?"
"If fell down. The new bridge is further downstream closer to Downham Market,” Daniel told his friend. He had to chuckle for the 'new' bridge was older than he was. The rickety Fen Road bridge had been swept away by a flood a few years back, and had not been rebuilt because no one knew if the Fen Road would still be usable once the latest drainage canals were dug. He chuckled again. Since the start of the war all work on digging new canals had stopped and meanwhile the local cottagers had been filling them in.
"If you'd have come here two hundred years ago, you would have found Wellenhay to be a village of poor cottagers eking a living through fishing and plucking feathers. You couldn't reach here in any boat larger than a punt, but then Bishop Morton dug a canal to redirect the River Nene towards the Ouse. Before Henry the Cock destroyed the monastic orders, we owned no fields. Before Lord Popham dug his folly canal, our deep pools weren't connected to the new course of the Nene. It's all different now. Wellenhay is now a thriving river port, well for small ships anyway. It's not often that the waters run deep enough to get the Swift this far."
It was Rob's turn to chuckle. To an outsider, a drylander, Wellenhay was still a village of poor cottagers eking out a poor living. The village had no grand buildings nor great estates nor paved streets. When the ship's pool was empty of ships, there was nothing else there to hint at any wealth. Well, perhaps there was. The folk were good humoured, fit, and well dressed and fed. All of them.
And there lay the difference between Wellenhay and other English villages. All of the folk here were well off, not just those who had inherited wealth. This village was a commune, where the work, the wealth, and the hardships were shared by all. While staying in the village Rob had heard that Wellenhay had just, in effect, taken over two other villages, both of which were larger than Wellenhay. Not taken over in the way of landlords and companies, through ownership, but taken over through the sharing of ideas and traditions and ventures. The folk of those villages had come to realize that with Wellenhay's help they no longer needed lords or landlords or bishops or priests, and had they were re-forming themselves accordingly.
That would not sit well with the landlords on either side of this war with the king. Rob chuckled again thinking about how well armed and well led the men of Wellenhay were. Woe be to any landlord who made trouble for them. He looked about him. These fens were low flat land similar to the marshlands near to his home in Bridgwater. Both places were filled with mud and grasses, and so usually had a filthy look to them. Not today, not here. Today everything was clean and white with snow, glaring white because of the sun. "It's above freezing. Why is the snow not melting?” Snow was rare in his home in Bridgewater so he didn't know much about it.
"Because the snow is reflecting the sun into our eyes,” Daniel replied contritely. "If you spread charcoal dust on the snow to keep it from dazzling us, it melts.” With Rob he didn't need to use simple explanations, for Rob was a smart and educated man. "This morning Teller gave me a task. He wants me to find out what your intentions are towards his mother."
"Is that Teller's question,” Rob asked, mainly to gain time to think, "or yours?"
"Teller is asking a logical question,” Daniel continued. "Sarah sleeps with you. I gave her my permission because she would have done so in any case. I think everyone needs to know where your relationship is leading, including you. Under our second-wife tradition, Sarah is allowed to look for another husband. I cannot forbid her a suitable match, however, before entering another match she must drop her claim as my second wife. That is a risk for her. Are you two discussing a trial match?"
"A trial match? Is this another tradition?"
"Aye, it is,” Daniel replied. "By tradition a man and a woman can live together under a trial marital contract for any term up to a year. If they are still together on their anniversary, then the marriage contract is fixed for life."
"But with such a tradition, a trusting woman could be used by a scoundrel and then abandoned. The number of bastards would soar."
"In that case, the woman is well rid of him, but I agree with you that such a traditions would be abused outside of a communal village. Keep in mind that in Wellenhay there is no such thing as a bastard. Since Sarah lives in Wellenhay, while Teller lives in Cambridge and you in Bridgwater, the lad's question has merit. When you leave here will you be taking Sarah with you?"
"You make it sound like you don't care one way or the other,” Rob said defensively.
"I care. Sarah is over thirty now, so if she wants another baby it must be soon and it may well be her last. If she does not find a husband, then she will soon face the choice between no more babies, or one by me."
After a silence while he carefully tooled his words, Rob said, "I could happily live with Sarah for the rest of my days, but that has little to do with my selection of a wife. I need a wife who will bear me many sons. Sarah already knows this, as do you."
"Rob, this war is turning vicious, and we are both being drawn into it. You just almost lost a leg, and to save your leg, you almost lost your life. If the shot had been a foot higher you would have lost your balls. Your balls, and your life. Ask Sarah to give you a son while you still have the opportunity. One son is better than none, and Sarah is a better woman than any you will find in Bridgwater."
Rob became defensive. "The same applies to you. You have not yet chosen a first wife to bear you sons. Venka is beyond birthing, which leaves Sarah. Why haven't you ..."
"Because she wants you,” Daniel hissed. "She has wanted to be Mrs. Robert Blake ever since she first met you two years ago."
To change the subject, Rob pointed ahead along the river. "I think we can cross there.” He hurried his horse ahead and then dismounted ready to test the ice himself.
Daniel watched his friend and sighed. Rob was a man of action, a decisive man, so why was he shirking from making a decision about Sarah? Daniel needed them to wed. So long as a fertile beauty such as Sarah was one of his second wives, he had almost no chance of finding a first wife.
"Rob, wait for me. We should tie our lines to your horse and send her across the ice first.” Daniel's warning came too late. Rob was already testing the ice mid stream, and Daniel held his breath. Had he saved this man's life only to have him break through the ice and be swept away under it to drown? Rob made it all the way a
cross, and then came back to lead his horse across.
Once they were both across the ice, they led the horses up onto a low dike that was older than any of the bridges along the Nene or the Ouse. On top of it was a bridle path, and that path led to a farm road that wound through dairy farms and eventually led to the bridge across the Ouse at Downham Market. On the other side of the Ouse was the main road to Lynn at the mouth of the River Ouse.
"You were fortunate to find that ice bridge,” Daniel said. If they had not found an ice bridge across the Nene, they would have been forced to turn around and take a long detour south to the bridge over the Ouse at Ely and then east through the middle fens to Prickwillow so they could use that bridge across the River Lark and then double back north to Downham Market. "Otherwise the detour would have doubled today's journey."
"What you really mean to say,” Rob replied, "is that if we hadn't found an ice bridge, then you'd have taken me back to Teesa's cottage for a few more days of healing, and wait for a thaw. That just won't do. I have to get back to my company in Devon. Teesa tells me that I'm not up to such a long ride, so I must find a ship. With all the rivers frozen, Lynn is my best chance, my only chance, of finding a ship."
Two hours later they rode into Lynn and immediately made for the tidal quays. The quays were full, of course, for every ship in the Fen's would have sought shelter from the ice and the storms. Ships were tied up three deep, including four of the Friesburn class of ships from Wellenhay. There were guards on the Friesburns, but Daniel recognized none of them. This worried him, so he told Rob, "Something is very wrong. We must find the crews. In this weather they wouldn't be living aboard so they are probably at the Valiant Sailor. Let's go there first."
