Bold and Blooded

by Andrew Wareham

  “Pass me thy jack, Red Man. Close thine eyes. Now take a sup of this.”

  Micah came close to choking, manfully swallowed the mouthful he had taken.

  “What was that, Sergeant?”

  “Captain Holdby got hold of a couple of bottles yesterday. Schnapps, he calls it, having served in the Germanies. I say it be no more than gin – and not the smoothest of that – but it will send thee to sleep this night. Drink up!”

  Micah woke early, having slept undisturbed the night through. He was hungry and alert, decided there was much to be said for the odd sup of gin.

  Sergeant Patterson joined him as he ate.

  “A good friend, gin can be. A nip at the right time will do you no end of good. Ye have seen what it can do to those who come to rely on it. Be careful!”

  Micah nodded seriously – it was a dangerous potion, as like to kill as to cure, perhaps.

  “I shall not forget thy words, Sergeant. You are a good friend to me.”

  “I am a good friend to all my officers, if they are capable of the job. You will be, and I am no more than thirty years of age and will serve perhaps another twenty years. You will be giving me orders for most of those years, so I suspect. There is a war coming, so I think. Listening to what men say, there is a bad time coming to this country. We – you and me – are going to be in the middle of it, Red Man. So learn the trade quick and don’t die too young!”

  Micah gave his orders and rousted his section out of their blankets and made certain that all had eaten and had packed their knapsacks properly and were carrying properly full apostles and had ball in their pouches, all of the necessary little jobs that must be done right if they were to come through a fight.

  He called the section into line for a final inspection and to tell them what they were to do that day. He wondered if he might not lead them in a prayer, the day being out of the usual perhaps. Second thoughts said he was no pastor, and he did not know what the church might be for each man. There was too much chance of causing offence and they were not to be upset before going out on this day.

  “We’re going north, behind the other two sections, and we are to find a place to lay up three or four hours out. We need to be at high, to see them coming back and to keep an eye out for any bugger chasing them. If needs be, we do what we can for them. With luck, there won’t be nothing for us to do at all. Ned, keep an eye on the trail behind us as we go. You are to be runner if we must send word back and you must know the road.”

  “Yes, Corporal. Should I leave my matchlock behind here, in case I have to run fast?”

  “No. If I send you back, I will take it. I can carry two, and there’ll be no harm in having two shots if the need arises.”

  Jasper raised a hand, polite as always.

  “Do ye think there will be a need, Corporal?”

  “Might be. Captain Holdby has not told me so for sure, but the Scots might be pushing again. They know our army is weak and they might wish to frighten the King by pretending to make another invasion. No way of telling. It might be that some of the Scots might want to stray south to take another town or two for plunder, disobeying their own general’s orders. We don’t know, so we must find out, if we can. That’s why Ned must run, to tell Captain Holdby, if the need arises.”

  They nodded gravely, all knowing Ned’s age and of the opinion that he should be kept safe if there was to be fighting.

  “Right! We shall move out now. Is everybody ready?”

  It was not the official way of doing things, of giving orders, but it would do for the Trained Bands.

  They formed into their pairs and walked out to the north in a casual column, chattering as they went.

  “Could do with a pipe, if so be there was any baccy.”

  “Catch a Scotsman and see if he’s got some spare, Dick. None of us ‘ave.”

  Micah did not approve of tobacco – Pastor Doddington had been strong against it as a waste of money as well as an alien habit. The people of Collyweston did not need the foreign weed, so he had said.

  There was no sense in announcing his dislike of the noxious leaf – they had none with them and it was none of his affair if the men chose to smoke in their own time. He still did not like it.

  He wondered if he might not send two of the men a furlong or so ahead, to act as scouts. Better not. They were too few to split up.

  Two miles of easy walking along the dale, the hills to either side growing higher, and he decided it was time to climb, to be in a place to take a view of the country as they went.

  Right or left? East or west?

  The hill to the left was the taller, would possibly offer a more distant view. It was not so easy to climb, however, being a little steeper. It was still the proper one to use. He waited another hundred yards until he saw an easier route up the side, one that might have been used by sheep in peaceful times.

  “Up the hill, now. We’ll stop just below the crest line.”

  There was no moaning as they picked their way up the side of the valley, weaving between clumps of heather and avoiding outcrops of loose rock. They knew they must go high and were happy to walk slowly, making no attempt to push the pace. There was a long day ahead of them and it would not do to tire themselves early.

  They knelt in the heather and looked cautiously about them as they reached the crest. There was nothing to see other than more high ground to the west and north and slightly lower to the east and just possibly the line of the sea far in the distance. The land was grey under the morning sun, a feel of autumn coming down the wind. It was barren, empty of humanity.

  “Far distant, a bit east of north, Corporal. Is that cloud or smoke?”

  “Miles off, Jasper! No telling. Keep an eye to it as we go. If it’s smoke, there’s a lot of it. Might be a cornfield on fire. Sort of thing the Scots might do.”

  Burning out the countryside to put pressure on the King – it made a hard sort of sense.

  They walked on another mile or so, slower for being on rougher ground on the uplands, until Micah spotted a dip of fifty feet or so, with heather and a face of clear rock showing a small overhang.

  “We can light a fire out of sight there. Rest up for half an hour.”

  The stems of old heather would burn, started with powder from the one of the flasks taken from the dead Scots of a few days before. They could not waste their own loads, but the captured powder was another matter. Ten minutes and they had a pan boiling on top of a clear, hot blaze.

  “Ned and Alfie, climb up to the top again and take a look around. All about, to the south as well, in case any of them have got behind us.”

  They were drinking their hot, bitter tea when the pair returned.

  “Your jacks are over there. Anything, Alfie?”

  “Not a thing, Corp. That bit of cloud, or smoke, ain’t there anymore. Couldn’t see nothing else.”

  Ned agreed – they were on their own.

  “The other two sections ought to be on their way back, but they could be five miles and more north of us yet and well out of sight.”

  They kicked the fire out and picked up their loads and fell into column again, quickly and quietly, the men becoming more skilful, better able to do their work. Micah was pleased with himself for having soldiers at his shoulder. No longer a mixture of a few volunteers and a bulk of pressed criminals, they were all his men now. He doubted they would run from a fight – a month before and he would have been less certain of that, but they had become used to the way of life of the soldier. He wondered, vaguely, what they would do after this campaign was over, what he must do.

  Sergeant Patterson thought there would be war between the King and his enemies in Parliament before too long, and that meant making a choice.

  Pastor Doddington had no doubt that the King was a wastrel and a friend to the Antichrist, but Collyweston was far distant. Right was ever-present, he reminded himself. If it came to war – and he prayed it might not – then he must fight for the right. He much doubted th
at the King was the exemplar of virtue. What side would Sergeant Patterson take, or Captain Holdby? He would be unwilling to oppose either.

  Leave it for now. He must concentrate on what he was doing.

  The moor rose another fifty feet or so to the left. They were walking on a shoulder as the line of the upland took a curve to the west. It looked as if there was a river valley in front of them, cutting in from the east, from an expanse of flatter land.

  “Ned, Alfie, forward to the edge of the valley. Have a looksee. Jasper, you and Bob go up on top and look all the way round. Rest of us, stay here till they report.”

  Less than five minutes saw Ned and Alfie coming back at the run.

  “Jasper’s waving, Corp!”

  Micah looked up at Dick’s word, saw Jasper point north and then northeast, signalling two different sightings. He responded with a beckoning arm, calling him back.

  Ned arrived, faster on his feet than Alfie.

  “There’s Scots down in the valley, Corporal. Dressed like those we killed. Bare legs and blankets wrapped round. They’ve all got muskets. A company, I think. Thirty or forty men. They ain’t moving, settled around fires, look as if they’ve been there since last night. On the little stream there. They’ve got sentries out on both sides.”

  Jasper came down at a controlled trot.

  “Horse, Corporal. Two parties, probably a mile and more distant from each other, coming in this direction, more or less. Down low in the dales there.”

  “Could you see our people?”

  “No sign of either section, Corporal. But I’d say they were hunting for them.”

  “Makes sense. How many of them horsemen?”

  “Too far to count for sure. A dozen in each, maybe?”

  “Too many to take in an ambush. More horses than we’ve got muskets. Ned – did you spot any place we could lay up, out of sight from below but able to see what’s happening?”

  “Maybe, Corporal. The hillside goes down in two drops, not one smooth slope. The first bit goes sort of shallow, then there’s a bit of a flat, maybe thirty or forty yards across, and then it drops away really steep, almost like a cliff with the stream at the bottom of it. Along that flat bit, there’s bushes and scrubby trees, blackthorn and that sort. If we got down there, we would be well hidden.”

  “How far down?”

  Ned shrugged – he could not say exactly.

  “Hundred yards, maybe, but they’d see us going down.”

  “Best we should see if there’s a way down. The hill curves a bit here. Might be possible round the bend.”

  A quarter of a mile to the west and they were out of sight of the picket down in the valley. They could still see one of the parties of horse.

  “Do you reckon they soldiers is going to be looking up here, Corporal?”

  “Maybe not, Dick. Do you want to risk it? No easy way back up the hill if they do spot us.”

  “What do we do if we hide down there, Corporal?”

  “Not much, Jasper. You’re right. No point to going down there and getting stuck with them coming up from the sides and maybe circling round behind us. Better we get up high again.”

  They scrambled up to the very top of the hills, where Jasper had been, and settled to watch, chewing on the rations they had brought with them.

  “Bloody tough, this beef, Corporal.”

  “Better than sod all, Henry. Not much, though. Do you see something moving, about two miles off, down low to the north, in that patch of brushwood?”

  “Going to the west, slow-like? Making towards the hills here?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Can’t see for sure. Might be our lads.”

  “On your feet! Keep back from the crest. We’ll see if we can get across that way. Pick ‘em up if they’re ours. Give them a surprise if they ain’t.”

  They trotted across the tops, came to a point just opposite to the brushwood in less than thirty minutes. The slope was shallower here and could be walked up with some ease once the party had crossed the shallow beck.

  “Quarter of a mile of open land, Corporal. Dead flat, too. Then it rises up to us.”

  “We can drop down lower, make a line about a hundred feet up, if there’s a place to hide up.”

  They inspected the slope, saw there were patches of bare rock, boulder strewn and offering some cover.

  “We could stop the horses if they was chasing up there. Going to be slow on the hillside, Corp.”

  “Follow me. Ned, give me your piece. Back at the run to the farmyard. Stay high. Tell Captain Holdby that we are trying to pick up the remains of the patrols, that they are being chased by horse and that there are pickets of foot in company strength holding the edge of the hills. You have that?”

  “Clear, Corporal Slater. I’ll be back there before dark.”

  “Keep your eyes open. Off you go.”

  Jasper nodded approvingly.

  “Better he’s out of this one, Corporal. Could be nasty down there.”

  “So it could. We have no choice that I can see. But he’s too young for this sort of business.”

  “So he is. He’ll be safe if he stays high.”

  They made their way to their chosen position, found that the boulders provided adequate cover and rests for their heavy muskets. Then they settled to wait, spread out over thirty yards, each well hidden from below.

  They would have to stand to reload, it was not possible to ram a musket while lying down.

  “Jasper, Bob, Henry, Dick! When I shout, you shoot, then load. Charlie, Ned, Alfie, Jem, wait till I shout the second time, then you fire to give cover to the others while they’re standing. Jonathan! Put it away, Jonathan. When I say so, pull the trigger.”

  Jonathan pulled his hand out of his breeches and smiled, having understood part of the order at least. He knew how to fire his musket when stood in a rank but was lost now, expected to shoot on his own. Micah hoped he might at least frighten a Scotsman. He edged over and took the sharp knife out of Jonathan’s pack and put it by his hand.

  “You might need it, sunshine. Do what you can.”

  It was a sad world when naturals had to go soldiering.

  “Over on the right a bit, Corp. Just by them blackthorns, do ye see?”

  A few shapes, kneeling men, hiding in cover as they surveyed the open land in front of them, to be crossed before they could reach the protection of the high moors. They were wearing breeches and coats, too far to be sure of the colour.

  “Looks like our blokes, Jasper. Can you spot any bugger chasing them?”

  “No.”

  “Keep an eye out left and right for horse coming on the open turf land. They won’t be pushing through the scrub if they can avoid it.”

  They stared, could see nothing to the north. On the southern side the open land took a turn to the east after a furlong or so, gave far less visibility.

  “Shall us call ‘em in, Corp?”

  “Too far, Alfie. Keep out of sight. We ain’t sure yet just who it is. How many do you count?”

  “More nor ten. If it’s them, then both sections ‘ave come together. Might not be them. Don’t know if maybe some of they Scots wears breeches and coats like us.”

  “Wait and watch.”

  Three or four minutes of inactivity and then a group of five or six scuttled out of cover, holding low and running to the beck, stopping a few seconds and then waving the main body forward.

  “Making sure it’s shallow and can be crossed, I reckons, Corp.”

  “Makes sense, Alfie.”

  Some of the men stayed silent and watched; others had to speak, to say something to break the tension. Some found another solution.

  “Put it away, Jonathan.”

  They watched as the men below ran to the little stream and pushed their way across. Two were being helped by a pair each at their shoulders.

  “I count sixteen, two wounded, Corporal.”

  “They’ve been fighting, Jasper. I can’t recognise them at
this distance.”

  “That’s Jack Drewitt at the front, with the scouts, Corp. I reckon Corporal Meadows is last, keeping ‘em together.”

  “Makes sense. One to watch for trouble and where he can give the right orders quick.”

  Micah wanted no suggestion that Drewitt was leading the retreat, was out in front of the running men. He was probably in the best place to react to trouble, even if it did place him closer to the cover of the hills. He might not wish to rely too much upon Corporal Drewitt, but he would not see him condemned yet.

  “All across, Corp. Maybe a furlong to go.”

  A half of a minute, the retreating men making good speed, and Micah stood and shouted, waved them in.

  “Over here, Jack!”

  They were tired, could not run faster, but turned to join them.

  “Down south, Corp! Horses!”

  “Run, Jack! Coming from your left!”

  The horse had maybe a furlong to travel, the running men less than fifty yards…

  “Ready to get them horses, lads. Aim at the beasts, they’re bigger.”

  “Going to be tight, Corp.”

  “Could do with some pikes, Alfie. We ain’t got ‘em, so shoot straight!”

  “Just one of they patrols we saw, Corporal. Ten of them, no more.”

  “Could be worse, Jasper. Ready, now.”

  The leading five came scrambling past them, dived down behind the loose rocks. The others were stretched out over twenty yards, the wounded being heaved along at the rear.

  “Wait for it! Jack, get your men loaded and ready. Take your aim, Jasper’s men!”

  The nearest horse were just feet behind the wounded, leaning out in the saddle, short swords in hand. They wore leathers, Micah noticed, shoes, not boots, no armour of any sort, pistols in holsters on either side of the saddle but relying on their blades just now.

  “Shoot.”

  Four loud shots in a volley, then one as Jonathan reacted to the noise. Three horses fell immediately, one screaming as it lay thrashing. A fourth horse was rider-less, Jonathan’s shot having knocked its trooper down. The half a dozen remaining reacted instinctively, pulling away from the cloud of smoke and trying to see what had happened.

  “Charlie’s men, shoot.”