Bold and Blooded

by Andrew Wareham

  “They have to live, Sergeant. A wise man with empty hands cheers when soldiers pass by, if he wishes to survive, that is.”

  “A wiser man buys a gun of his own, sir.”

  Micah could not disagree with that statement.

  The rain set in ten minutes after they had dismissed the men at the castle.

  “The sun shone on the righteous, Captain.”

  “Only because the righteous got a move on, Red Man. Was all well?”

  “Small crowds but they cheered and let their children run along behind us. They showed no fear of us.”

  “Good. I have sent a message to Mr Fuller and he is to meet with us this evening, after dark, in the back room of the White Hart. He believes that to be seen with us might give warning to the ill-minded of the town.”

  They laughed as they caught each other’s eye. If the town was to come under the control of the King’s followers then Mr Fuller would have been wise to stay out of sight.

  “Running with the hare and the hounds, do they call it, Captain?”

  “Unkind, Red Man! Merely exercising due caution, as any wise man must.”

  “He is not a soldier, sir. One must not expect too much of him.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Years of Blood Series

  Bold and Blooded

  Mr Fuller was nervous. He had no great wish to be seen in the company of the officers of the garrison although he was aware that he had already placed himself publicly in the camp of the King’s enemies and that he was seen to be prospering from the downfall of the King’s friends. The King himself, however, was not defeated – the fight had yet to begin and still might not eventuate. The effect was that he could not draw back from his commitment to the cause of rebellion while being much afraid that the cause was to suffer at least a temporary setback.

  “You will appreciate, gentlemen, that it is by no means impossible that if the King’s supporters come to the fore, even for a few weeks, then I could be arrested and find all of my property sequestrated. It is likely that I would be sent to London for trial and could even find myself on Tower Hill as a traitor.”

  Captain Holdby gravely agreed that was by no means impossible. He made no attempt to reassure Mr Fuller, rather to Micah’s surprise; he caught Micah’s eye and winked.

  “What say you, Lieutenant Slater?”

  “Well, Mr Fuller, you have been prominent among those who have sought out the enemies of the people. There are, no doubt, those who might be prepared to give evidence against you.”

  Captain Holdby grinned and furtively nodded.

  “A very few, and all of them known malignants, Lieutenant Slater.”

  “If they are known, Mr Fuller, then it might be possible…”

  “To do something about them!”

  Mr Fuller finished Micah’s sentence eagerly, seeing the possibility of salvation in his words.

  Captain Holdby took up the thread.

  “Provided such malignants could be brought before a properly constituted court and put away in lawful fashion, Mr Fuller, then it might be very wise to clean our town of their influence. No doubt it is their presence which is preventing young men from volunteering to join our ranks and discouraging their elders from donating supplies and money to purchase powder and ball and perhaps some infantry guns that might accompany us to war when it inevitably comes.”

  Mr Fuller was no more stupid than most men, could easily comprehend the message Captain Holdby was giving. He had no wish to spend money on soldiers and even less desire to see his head on a block for the executioner’s axe.

  “I do not doubt that the good people of Stamford would wish to open their purses for the benefit of the soldiers who are their sole protection, Captain Holdby. They have been most remiss in not so doing as yet. I shall speak to them just as soon as the town is cleansed, sir.”

  “Very good, Mr Fuller. A list of names and their locations, if you would be so good, sir, and we shall descend upon them the day after tomorrow at dawn, arresting all and placing their premises under guard while they can be properly inspected. No doubt there will be a court already constituted and prepared to deal immediately with any villains who may be unearthed. I am sure that we would on this occasion discover the Bailiff prepared to execute any and all sentences set down by the court.”

  Mr Fuller raised a weak protest.

  “The people do not like to see floggings, you know, Captain Holdby…”

  “The whip does not exist to be liked, Mr Fuller. The cat is to cause pain and terror, Mr Fuller. Punishment for the evil-doer and fear in the minds of those of so ill a nature as to consider felony – that is the function of the judicial beating, sir. Perhaps if we had carried out the sentences handed down by our recent sitting of the Bench, sir, we would not be facing this evening’s problems.”

  Mr Fuller capitulated. There would be cats made up, ready and waiting for their proper use.

  “As it should be, sir. You will send us a full and thorough list of those whose presence is a menace to the peace of our town, sir. By mid-afternoon.”

  Mr Fuller would do so, he promised most faithfully. They left the inn separately, allowing Mr Fuller five minutes grace so that he would not be seen in their company.

  “Will he betray us, Captain?”

  “Probably not, Red Man. He has profited too much from the first set of confiscations to take the risk of presenting himself before the Lord Lieutenant. He will be prominent on the list of those who persecuted the King’s people. At the very least, he would lose his prosperity, and he values his wealth very highly, that one! No, Red Man, when the troubles are over Mr Fuller will be a very rich man, prominent in the whole county, or so I expect. He is no brave soldier but he will take the risks he now faces rather than try to run from them. He will not sleep well these few nights, that I am sure of, but he is committed now. He has cast the dice and he cannot recall them. He is ours or he is a poverty-stricken failure who lacked the resolution to carry out his schemes.”

  “And that one fears poverty more than death, I suspect, Captain. Nasty little man, but useful.”

  “Exactly, Red Man. Back to the castle now, we must be seen in the company of Lieutenant Badger this evening, talking quietly and expecting nothing out of the ordinary. We shall bid Major Figgis a polite ‘good night’ as he staggers off to his drunken bed and know no more of him until we are roused in the morning.”

  “More like until we are called away from the drill square towards noon, sir. Major Figgis is no friend of the dawn.”

  They sat in the messroom and discussed the London news and drank a couple of tankards, all as was normal, until it was time for sleep. Micah returned to his little room and dismissed Rootes for the day and made ready for bed, concerned and nervous of what the morning might bring and sure he would not close his eyes all night. He lay awake worrying for all of two minutes before sleep claimed him.

  He breakfasted with Captain Holdby and, as always, talked over the day’s routine with him before going to observe his company at their morning’s drill. He took Sergeant Patterson to one side.

  “Both companies will likely be out in town at dawn tomorrow, Sergeant. Assisting the civil powers again. I don’t know how many are to be taken up just yet. No passes out this evening – we want them bright and alert in the morning.”

  “I shall wake them for first light, sir. They will rise at three of the clock to be on parade for four.”

  “I will take their parade myself, Sergeant. I shall speak to Lieutenant Badger and he will bring his few along. There is a good chance that he will be making his numbers up in the immediate future. Loaded and lit, Sergeant.”

  “Have we anything in mind for the flintlocks, sir?”

  “Yes, but not until we get extra men and then only if we can make up a full section to carry them.”

  “A few more would come in handy, without doubt. We might just discover a few tomorrow, sir?”

  “With luck, Sergeant.”

  M
icah watched the men drill for an hour, performing the essentials of shifting from column of route into three lines abreast or into a square to receive horse. They needed pikes if they were to go to war. Shot on its own could prevail in town but the pike was essential in open country.

  “Trenches and guns, perhaps, Sergeant Patterson, but otherwise we must have pikes to protect the shot while they reload.”

  “We cannot live without them, sir. Bit of a fuss going on, sir, over at the officer’s quarters.”

  Micah looked around, saw Major Figgis’ servant making a noise. He saw that Rootes was there as well, waved him over.

  “Beg pardon, sir. Major Figgis’ man just found him in his bed, dead, sir. Not breathing at all, sir. Being as I was there and younger than his man I took a look myself, sir, and he’s cold as ice, sir. Stiff these six hours, so I would say, sir.”

  “Bad luck for the old fellow. Not surprising, the way he was hitting the bottle just lately.”

  Roots made no reply to that comment. It was not for a soldier-servant to disparage a senior officer.

  “I’ll go across to Captain Holdby, give him the news and discuss what’s to be done. Carry on, Sergeant Patterson. Set the men to shine up their shoes and look ready for the morning. Give them the afternoon free to draw their pieces from the armoury and make them ready. No passes tonight, remember. We do not want the men shouting their mouths off in town, passing the word that something is to happen in the morning.”

  Captain Holdby was in his office, writing a note to be taken into town, to the doctor, begging him to come and give his opinion of Major Figgis, found dead in his bed this very morning.

  “Poor old man, Lieutenant Slater. Found lying with his eyes wide open and stretched out and stiff as if taken by a seizure that woke him to a last few unpleasant minutes. The doctor will tell us all, no doubt.”

  Captain Holdby said no more, left Micah to puzzle until the doctor accompanied the runner back to the castle.

  They accompanied the medical man to the major’s room and watched as he rather theatrically examined the corpse and its surroundings, giving occasional cries of understanding as he uncovered evidence. The doctor seized finally upon a mug and bottle on the bedside table.

  “Here you have the answer, gentlemen! The good major took a comforter before retiring, it would seem. Is his servant to hand?”

  The soldier-servant confirmed that his master always took a warm drink before sleep, milk heated up with a little of nutmeg and cinnamon his favourite.

  “And is that all, man?”

  “Well, no, sir. He always topped it up with a nip from a bottle. He opened that one last night, sir.”

  “His final act, and a foolish one. It is a bad bottle. Do you take a sniff at it, Captain, and you, Lieutenant.”

  They did as they were told, noses wrinkling at the strong smell.

  “Schnapps, is it not, doctor? Or an English gin, perhaps, like the Swiss genever. But it does not seem entirely right to me.”

  “Was the gentleman entirely well when he retired, Captain?”

  Captain Holdby squared his shoulders and admitted the awful truth to the outsider.

  “He was drunk, Doctor, as was his habit.”

  “And he could not smell that the bottle was bad. It is part wood spirits, Captain. The fluid that painters use, cheaper far than drinking spirits. This will make a man drunk - but will commonly harm his intellects as well. In this case, poor man, it has ended his life for leaving him unable to breathe. I fear me that his death resulted from his own foolish excesses, gentlemen. I shall willingly write a certificate to that effect, Captain Holdby, if you will send a man to collect it from my chambers. He may bring my fee as well, sir. One shilling for attendance at the bedside and eighteenpence for my opinion and the certificate.”

  Captain Holdby bowed and ushered the doctor out of the Major’s room. Micah followed, wondering how the wood alcohol had been introduced into the bottle. A very tidy way of ending the old fool’s existence!

  “Has he family, do you know, sir? They would wish to be informed of his demise and to arrange a funeral.”

  Captain Holdby knew nothing – he would inform the Colonel at Newark and he would take the necessary action, no doubt.

  “I shall send a lad on horseback. We need a senior officer here as soon as is possible, Lieutenant Slater.”

  The doctor, present while they held their somewhat stilted conversation, agreed that all must be done properly and went off into town to spread the news.

  “A weight off our back, Captain.”

  “So it is, Red Man. Let us hope that Mr Fuller has been able to fulfil his part of our little bargain.”

  They waited quietly, doing their very best to give an impression of normalcy. A servant appeared in mid-afternoon, delivered a written note from his master, Mr Fuller.

  They peered at the sheet, written in haste and with blots from a stuttering pen.

  “Seven names and directions, Red Man, and the assurance that the whole Bench will assemble at ten of the morning.”

  That was a convenient number, Micah thought, almost suspiciously so, as if Fuller had worked out how many they could conveniently take up.

  “Seven sections and one left over together with Lieutenant Badger’s people. Guards for the court rooms and for the gallows in the market square.”

  “Let it be so, Lieutenant Slater. I shall go to the courthouse and ensure that all goes well there. Mr Badger to take the market square under his benevolent eye. You to accompany your people and mine, their two sergeants as well. You must spread yourself thin, Red Man!”

  “So I must, sir, if I am to be in seven places at once. Who are the names? Do you know any of them?”

  “Plummer again. I do not know who he has offended and wants him hanged. He has trodden on some local worthy’s toes, that is for sure. Perhaps he has grown arrogant, got away with it once and thinks himself invulnerable. I know none of the others.”

  “I’ll go to Plummer first, I think. If he is suffering persecution, then I may protect him. If he made a fool of me last time, then he can pay the price this.”

  Mr Plummer was upset to be woken with the early dawn, to be stirred from his lawful bed at just after four o’clock of the morning. He was bitterly disappointed that he had thought himself safe and had muskets, powder and ball in his workshop and not even concealed. There were bundles of pikestaves as well, leaning against the walls of his joinery shop and barrels of pikeheads to be fitted to them.

  “We meet again, Mr Plummer. I do not believe I am to send you away this time, sir.”

  Plummer managed to smile, to be courteous in response.

  “No. It seems unlikely that you will, Lieutenant Slater. What will become of me?”

  “I am to place you under arrest, Mr Plummer, as a most wicked villain who is gathering the materials of war, to the great detriment of the good people of this town. I fear for you, sir. You have appeared before the court previously and presented what must now seem to have been a specious defence. The Bench will feel that you made a mockery of them. I suspect you will be flogged at the very least, and that all of your property will be taken from you. At worst, you may hang.”

  Plummer retained his calm appearance, nodding and smiling ruefully.

  “You know, I think you may be right, Lieutenant. You are a most perspicacious young man. As such, sir, I can think of one very useful final service I may perform for my liege lord, King Charles.”

  Micah was puzzled by that little speech; he shrugged and took a step backwards to give two of his men space to take hold of Plummer. As he did so Plummer lunged across the nearest workbench to the rack of tools hanging on the wall behind and came up with a long gouge, a narrow and very sharply pointed woodworker’s chisel. He drew back his arm, rather theatrically, as if he held a gentleman’s rapier, and made a powerful thrust towards Micah’s chest.

  Micah twisted sideways and the gouge rattled across the plate of his breast and back, scoring t
he metal but not penetrating to the flesh below. Plummer stumbled under the force of his own blow, jerked himself around and lunged a second time, impaling himself on the blade of the hanger Micah had presented. The steel penetrated Plummer’s chest and stuck a good six inches out of his back. He died almost immediately, no time even to show surprised.

  “Quicker than hanging, sir.”

  “So it is, Sergeant Patterson, but rather messy.”

  Plummer’s blood had flowed down the blade and hilt, across Micah’s hand and up his sleeve – wet and sticky and smelly. He felt inclined to vomit but knew he must not do so.

  “Fill me a bucket with water, if you please.”

  One of the soldiers grabbed a wooden bucket and ran to the water butt.

  “Thank you. Deal with the necessaries, Sergeant Patterson. All materials of war to the wagon. Search the house and the workshop thoroughly. Take the keys, put the occupants out into the street and lock the place up, leaving four men on sentry. Is there a family here?”

  “Housekeeper and two maids, sir. Never took a wife, sir. One of the maids is a pretty enough girl, and dresses well for her station in life, sir.”

  “Does she now. Warn her to be quickly out of my sight or be arrested and face being whipped by the Bench for harlotry. Get the poor girl away. Tidy everything up.”

  Micah cleaned himself as well as he could in cold water and left the workshop; there were still six other arrests to supervise.

  It was not yet five o’clock. It had been a busy hour.

  He found the corporals in command of quiet houses and stores and workshops. There had been no violence and the malefactors had all been marched off to the cells. In each case the soldiers had found a small store of weapons, evidence that would lead to clean convictions later in the morning.

  “Warlike stores to the castle; all guns and pikes to go to the court rooms first. We must be ready for ten o’clock when the court sits.”

  The sections scurried and ran, all satisfied with the progress of the morning. They had taken weapons that might have been fired at them on a later day and that was much to be recommended.