Bold and Blooded

by Andrew Wareham

  They all knew that to be a direct lie – the men would be happily drunk on every possible occasion.

  “And the loyal toast, sir?”

  “Every regiment has its own habits, Captain Bamford. We toast the King when appropriate.”

  “As you will. I trust you will not object if I call for a bottle of wine?”

  “Do, by all means, Captain.”

  Captain Bamford made his call and discovered that the mess had no cellar. If he wanted wine, he must provide it. He was inclined to be indignant.

  “The Yeomanry will establish its mess tomorrow, Major Holdby.”

  “As you wish, Captain.”

  The morning saw Captain Bamford informing Major Holdby that he intended to take the Yeomanry out to exercise on future days. They would rest that day after the long route march.

  “Of course, Captain. Better to keep to the lanes to the east. The crops are well advanced so you will not ride in the fields. To the west, on the hills, there are many quarries, possibly dangerous ground for horses. There is little of pasture in the locality – it is not ideal for horse.”

  “The horses must have their gallops, sir. Can you not order fields made available to our needs?”

  “No. If you wish, speak to a farmer or landowner and arrange to pay them the value of their harvest and make use of their land on that basis only. Any damage you do to crops or hedges or fences – not that there are many of those – you will pay for in full. You will not, of course, make free of their hay or other fodder.”

  “The Army has the right to requisition its needs from the civilian population, Major Holdby.”

  “In time of war, that is so, Captain Bamford. I was not aware that the Kingdom had declared hostilities, sir.”

  “But… the Scots invaded England!”

  “They did indeed and I and many of my men fought them. But Scotland is not a country. It is the North of Britain. His Britannic Majesty did not declare war against Scotland; he sought to put down a rising by the disaffected, or so I understand the case to be. You seem to be stating that Scotland is somehow an independent country, Captain Bamford. Those might be treasonable words, sir.”

  Captain Bamford explained that he had been misunderstood. He apologised for his carelessness.

  “Very good, sir. Might I recommend that you make yourself known to the Cecil family at Burghley House? They have a large park and might be amenable to your Yeomanry exercising there. They are a peace-loving family and have carefully avoided taking any side in the current unpleasantness between King and Parliament.”

  “That smacks of disloyalty, sir. No man has the right to stand aside from the necessary process of putting down the potential rebels against our Sovereign Lord.”

  Major Holdby shrugged – that was not a point of view held by many of the great families of the land.

  “Wiser for relatively junior officers to stand clear, Captain Bamford. There is no war as yet and we must hope and pray there will not be. War will be an unmitigated disaster for this country. Those of us who have seen the fighting in the Germanies are all of that opinion, sir.”

  “To wink at treason would be worse, Major. The King is God’s Anointed and to defy him is to jeopardise one’s soul.”

  “There are many who are good Christians who hold that he is the Antichrist and that to obey him is to blaspheme against the Lord, Captain. Wiser, I say again, for ordinary folk to leave the great causes to their betters.”

  “As a gentleman, I have no ‘betters’, sir!”

  “I am third son to a viscount, Captain Bamford, and might make the same argument, if I was sufficiently unwise. Good day to you, sir.”

  Colonel Knighton sent his paymaster to Stamford that week, adding to the grievances of the Yeomanry, none of whom had seen a penny since being called to Lincoln. The word was that the bulk of the King’s forces had not been paid that year; only those regiments with a rich colonel who would pay from his own pocket, adding to the King’s debts to him, received any of the wages due them.

  The two companies in Stamford naturally made great play of having received their tuppence a day, of actually having money in their pockets. They discussed what they intended to do with their pennies, loudly, in the hearing of the Yeomanry.

  There was in fact very little to spend their money on – the few beerhouses would not tolerate drunken roistering and there were no cheap brothels. To Micah’s knowledge, there was only the single house of ill-fame, which he patronised most weeks, having discovered a taste for the carnal. Most of the men would do no more than buy ash-key smouch for their hot drinks and perhaps purchase pastries and pies at the market – but that was more than was available to the Yeomanry.

  Nothing had arrived from Lincoln and the horse-soldiers were still existing on hard biscuit and salt beef; a few were already displaying boils from the inadequate diet.

  The foot soldiers ate fresh bread every day and were served green vegetables with their boiled meat in the evenings; they were often given cheese as well and received a quart of beer morning, noon and night. Most mornings there was a breakfast of hot oatmeal, commonly with milk. The men in Colonel Knighton’s companies ate at least as well as they had at home, for many of the men somewhat better. They enjoyed soldiering, for involving less work for more food than they had ever known and willingly accepted the trivial inconveniences of the military existence.

  The Yeomanry were not so pleased. They complained and they shouted insults, but they were many fewer than the foot soldiers so they trod carefully. Their officers were openly offended by the treatment they received. They tried to complain to the authorities in the town but Major Holdby had been there first, had warned Mr Fuller and the Bench that Captain Bamford’s people were unrepentant malignants, seeking to make trouble.

  “They have no money, Mr Fuller, and have asked me to requisition foodstuffs and fodder from the stores of the town, all without payment. Needless to say, I have refused, sir!”

  Mr Fuller was outraged, was thankful indeed that the good Major Holdby existed to protect their interests. He passed the word that the Yeomanry were no more than brigands.

  Matters came to a head a fortnight after the Yeomanry arrived in Stamford.

  Two officers had arrived from London on the previous day, a pair of long-experienced captains who had campaigned for years with Major Holdby. They had been made welcome and given a company each.

  The following morning saw Micah give up his desk in the company office with some relief, apologising for the state of the paperwork.

  “I did not know what to do for best, sir, so kept records as I could. I have a list of the men and of the issues that have been made to them. There is another paper here which sets them into their sections under the four corporals and Sergeant Patterson, who has told me what to do for the best. We have written down what each man has been paid, sir. I have another book which records all matters of discipline, which have been very few.”

  Captain Simmons glanced at the books and pronounced himself pleased.

  “All that I need is there, Mr Slater. You have done well. How are the men for drill?”

  “For parades, sir? We have none of them, except once a week and for pay. For true drill, they can form their column of route and then quickly transform to three lines or to square. Sergeant Patterson tells me they are as quick as any he has known. They can fire their one round in a minute, all of them together or by sections. Corporal Meadows’ section have all seen fire from the Scots, and they are good soldiers. The others? I think they will hold true when the time comes.”

  “Even better. They can learn a few of the tricks of the trade, but I suspect you have given me a damned good company, Mr Slater. Major Holdby tells me you have seen fire - and dished it out as well. A few months, sir, and we shall see you as a captain too.”

  Micah gave his thanks, relieved that he had not shown up as incompetent. Rootes appeared at the door, catching his eye.

  “Beg pardon, sir, but thy sister is here
, sir, and upset, sir.”

  Micah strode out to see what was amiss, found Rosamund in tears.

  “What is it, Ros? What is wrong?”

  Much flapping and flustering disclosed that she had taken her basket out to the bake shop, as she did most mornings, it being one of the little tasks she was entrusted with, and a man, a soldier, had come up to her and insisted on speaking to her despite her refusing to say anything to him. He had tried to make her tell him where she lived and would not go away and she had not wished him to know where her home was and had run off to the castle to her brother, but he had chased after her. Indeed, he was still watching across the big square there.

  Micah looked up saw Cornet Formby with a great smile and advancing towards him.

  “I say, Slater, do you know the young lady? Pretty little thing, ain’t she?”

  Without any word Micah swung a clenched fist, closed his leering mouth for him, knocking him off his feet and hard onto the cobbles of the bailey.

  “Rootes, be so good as to escort my sister back to the house. Have you bought your bread yet, Ros? No? Rootes, see to the bread as well, if you please. Here’s a shilling. Off you go, Ros. Nothing to worry about, my dear. Tell the others I shall be back on Friday, as always.”

  The soldier-servant nodded and picked up the basket, gave a half-bow and escorted his master’s sister away.

  Micah glanced about him, saw Jasper Albright and called him across.

  “A message to the Yeomanry, Corporal. Their cornet is littering our parade ground. Be so good as to take him away.”

  “Sir!”

  “Take four men with you. Under arms. Don’t go on your own.”

  “Sir!”

  Captain Simmons had watched with some amusement. Major Holdby had given his opinion of the Yeomanry over a beer on the previous evening so he was not surprised by the event he had witnessed.

  “A good, clean punch, Red Man! It will lead to trouble, of course. He will demand satisfaction, if he doesn’t run away. Do you know the sword?”

  “No, sir. I have swiped a man in the guts with one, but no more than that.”

  “Messy, ain’t it?”

  “Blood all over the place, sir. Down the blade and up my arm. Ruined a good shirt.”

  “It does that, blood. If it comes to it, I shall be your second, with your permission. Pistols. Second shots if the first don’t hit. Major Holdby has no doubts about you but thinks the Yeomanry officers are weak little boys. You’ll see to any number of them, Red Man. I’ve seen your sort before – the sort I like! For today, get the men ready for me to hold an inspection this afternoon, taking over. Draw matchlocks from the armoury, with powder, match and ball, ready for the parade. Be useful if the Yeomanry should wish to be silly.”

  Micah, somewhat upset after his sudden loss of temper, managed a smile and nodded.

  “Good man! Off you go. I’ll give Holdby the nod, tell him what’s in the wind.”

  Captain Bamford appeared and raged at Major Holdby, who was unimpressed.

  “Your boy insulted Mr Slater’s sister, sir. He is lucky merely to have lost, how many teeth was it?”

  “Two, and from the front!”

  “Irreplaceable, poor lad! Perhaps they will serve to remind him of the conduct expected of a gentleman, Captain Bamford. Pursuing a young country girl through the streets is not the behaviour I expect of my officers. Perhaps we have different standards in the foot, sir!”

  “Mr Formby requires an immediate and full apology for his assault from your man, Major.”

  “He won’t get it. He is a disgusting little beast and is more likely to be turned over Mr Slater’s knee and given the thrashing he deserves.”

  “You add insult to injury, Major. I must repeat my demand.”

  “Refused. I suggest your ill-conditioned brat should withdraw from the garrison, Captain Bamford.”

  “He will do no such thing, sir. I am to demand satisfaction on his part if you will not order an apology.”

  “You say he is to make his challenge, sir?”

  “Exactly so!”

  Major Holdby looked about him, spotted Lieutenant Badger out on the square with his men. He leaned out of his window.

  “Mr Badger, here, please.”

  Badger trotted across and Major Holdby requested Bamford to repeat his words in front of a witness from neither regiment.

  “There is a degree of ill-feeling, Captain. Better an independent man if it comes to an inquiry.”

  Captain Bamford drew himself to his full height and formally made a challenge to Lieutenant Slater on behalf of his own officer.

  “Well, if you say so, sir, then, yes, I hear you. I must say I think it out of the ordinary for your man not to make his challenge himself.”

  “His mouth parts are so hurt that he can hardly speak at all, sir! I am acting as his voice.”

  “Ah! I see. I will note that for the court, if one sits. When are they to meet?”

  “Tomorrow, at dawn, as is correct.”

  “If your man is injured, better to wait a few days, sir, for him to get well.”

  “No need. He can deal with this upstart perfectly easily as he is.”

  “As you wish, sir. By your leave, Major.”

  Badger saluted and returned to the square.

  “Captain Simmons will make the arrangements, Captain Bamford. I presume your man Wiggins will wish to speak to him. Now, if you don’t mind, I am rather busy today.”

  Lieutenant Wiggins had never acted in an affair of honour and had only a slight idea of how a duel should be conducted. Bamford could tell him little more.

  “Simmons has the choice of weapons, of course, in this circumstance. The challenged normally does, I believe. Don’t matter. I know young Formby has been taught short sword and long and sabre as well. His father was a known swordsman in his day. Just accept what Simmons demands, man.”

  Captain Simmons stipulated pistols, repeated shots until blood was drawn. He demanded the short-barrel officer’s side-arm rather than the heavy dragoon pistol. Wiggins obeyed his orders and agreed, unhappily aware that he might not be doing the best of services to his own man.

  “Tomorrow at dawn, provided it is not raining. Next dry morning, if the weather is foul.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Years of Blood Series

  Bold and Blooded

  Rain clouds set in from the east, dull and damp, more of a drizzle down the wind than a downpour but sufficient to make it probable that a pistol would misfire. Micah stirred from his sleep, looked out of the window and went back to bed – they would not be fighting that morning. It was not until three days later that the weather relented and they were able to meet.

  Micah made use of the days to spend extra time with his sisters.

  He explained that he might be called away at any time. If he was, Captain Simmons – who he introduced – and Major Holdby would be to hand to look after them.

  The three girls were perfectly happy at this arrangement – they liked living in town, it was so much more exciting than Collyweston could ever be. There were friendly people to talk to, including Mr Stamford who was such a pleasant gentleman, and now Captain Simmons. They were learning to read, all three of them, Mrs Jerningham coming five days a week for an hour, and could already spell out some of the verses of the Bible that they already knew by heart. No doubt Brother Jacob would come to visit them soon and be amazed by their comfort.

  Micah felt very old, listening to their artless chatter; he suspected that Captain Simmons was deeply impressed by them, and that might not be undesirable for whichever of the three caught his fancy. It seemed likely that Eleanor was attracted to Mr Stamford, and a cabinetmaker was likely to be a warm man, one who would make a very comfortable living. The girls were well protected, he believed, in the unlikely event that he was killed in the meeting.

  He took Eleanor aside before he left on the last afternoon and produced a heavy leather purse, more of a money-bag, in fact.


  “Tuck that away in a safe place, Nell. There is one hundred pounds in crowns and half-crowns. I have told Mr Stamford to pass the rent on his workshops to you each week and together with that you should be able to live comfortably if I go away for a year or two. I do not know where I might be sent and must obey orders if I go. I shall send word of my well-being, if I can, but that may not be possible. Do not go back to Collyweston! The town will be safer whatever happens.”

  She nodded gravely and called a blessing on his head.

  “Thou hast done so much for us, my brother. God bless thee now, in thy going and coming back again.”

  Cornet Formby looked pale and upset when he stood on the grass at the foot of the wall, looking out to the River Welland, the sun bright in the east and the pair north-south of each other at twenty yards. He had refused the apology for ungentlemanly conduct that Micah had demanded and held his pistol determinedly, even if with little familiarity.

  “On my word, gentlemen, you will take aim and fire in your own time. Do you understand?”

  Neither man spoke and Lieutenant Badger, chosen for his supposed neutrality, a member of neither regiment, called them to fire.

  Micah took a line along the sightless barrel, pointed it squarely at his opponent and squeezed the trigger. He missed, saw smoke around Formby’s barrel and knew he had done the same.

  “Can you compose your differences, gentlemen? No? Your seconds will bring you another barrel.”

  Captain Simmons pressed the second pistol into Micah’s hand.

  “You shot an inch or two high and a little right, judging by where the ball hit the wall, Red Man.”

  “Thanks.”

  He cocked the pistol, heard Badger call again and took his aim at Formby’s left hip, squeezing very gently as he felt the wind of a ball passing his cheek. He stood coldly unmoved as Formby fell face forward.

  Simmonds took the pistol from his hand.

  “No need for a third try, Red Man. He won’t get up from that one. Smack central in the chest. Very pretty. They say that red hair means a fiery nature, but that was cool enough for me, young man! You will do, sir!”