‘What has happened here today will not be forgot,’ Edward began. ‘We are not soldiers but today we have staved off hired men who deal in murder and robbery. The good Lord has been with us and you have been with us too. Margaret and I thank you.’
The group were quiet. There were still issues that needed addressing.
‘We did not provoke such men to attack us but you have been well trained,’ he smiled at Buskette, ‘And Burcroft—our home—has already begun to recover itself. The scars on this place will fade so that we will once again be about our business.’
Still nothing.
‘You protected me today. You protected my daughter. For that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But make no mistake, my friends, you protected yourself. Burcroft is a sanctuary for us all. We live in harmony here—no factions, no un-godly superstition and hatred. Where else, in these times, does such a place exist? Do not believe that if Moorcroft and his thugs had overcome us, he would have taken only your masters! He would have have had no mercy. None of us would have survived his wrath.’ Edward let his eyes fall on Elijah and then met his father’s eyes. ‘You heard Moorcroft threaten us all with Matthew Hopkins. You know his reputation. Such men thirst for blood.’
Nods and a murmur of agreement rippled through them and then Benjamin spoke. ‘Sir, all you have said is true but the man—Moorcroft—he declared that he wanted the return of his wife.’
Florence, who had been standing beside Nat, a little behind Edward and Margaret, felt the heat of pairs of eyes on her and while Edward composed his answer, she stepped forward and gave them truth.
‘I was forced to marry Denzil Moorcroft. He threatened my life and that of Nathanial Haslet. He was cruel to me and no Christian husband. I believe that God does not require women to suffer abuse and cruelty. If you are offended by our presence here, be assured that we will be leaving as soon as we may. We thank you—sincerely—for your resistance to Denzil Moorcroft. Sir Edward and Mistress Margaret have shown great charity towards us. They risked themselves by protecting us and we are humbled by that. They are good, God-fearing people and you have no cause to doubt them.’ There was a sense of uncertainty and Florence wondered if she should have kept quiet.
Benjamin spoke again. ‘If Sir Edward and Mistress Margaret have seen fit to protect you then we will do no less.’ He turned his head around to gather support from his friends and family and the mood relaxed.
Edward bestowed a warm smile and addressed them again. ‘All men deserve a Christian burial—even thieves and low murderers such as these men were. In better times, we would call for the minister, dig deep and pray for their redemption. Today is not a time for such. My friends, we must dispose of these bodies so that none may find them. The safety of our whole household lies in this gruesome act. Our attackers spoke false claims of witchcraft and devilry—wicked falsehoods—but the times are full of suspicion and we would all be tainted by such blasphemies spread abroad.’ Edward needed these people, loyal as they were, to be in no doubt that their own safety was at stake. ‘We must light a pyre for these bodies and pray that their souls are released.’
‘ ’Tis a heathen practice, Sir.’ Benjamin had become their spokesman and Edward heard the murmur of agreement.
‘No. It is not the way of the Church,’ Margaret’s voice rose above them and she walked to stand beside her father.
Edward looked straight ahead. Surely Margaret wasn’t going to side with them?
‘Consider this: if this event escapes Burcroft and those sniffing out supposed witchcraft come here, bodies would be found—dug up from the earth. No questions will be asked then. Accusations will be made and some of us will be taken for further examination. Should you believe that I will be the only one quizzed, think again. You have all heard of Matthew Hopkins. His habit is to take anyone—especially women—who might be persuaded to confess their part in what he deems to be unnatural practices.’ She drove the point home, ‘Some of you will be taken and who can say what methods will be used, to convince you to confess to evil where there is none?’ She paused, allowing them time to work through the process. ‘My father has the right of it. A pyre is almost too good for these wicked men who, by the grace of God and our own cunning, we have rebutted. Had they defeated us . . . well, I doubt that we’d have been offered any such mercy. Burn them I say and be done.’
Margaret held them for a moment with the power of her voice and then softened and moved aside. It had worked. Edward gave them a deep nod—almost a bow—and left them to Buskette.
They washed off the mud, dust and blood and ate simple fare. The crisis was over and Nat and Florence, Margaret and Edward, could speak of their extraordinary lives.
Edward began, ‘We have had a sudden beginning to our acquaintance but perhaps we are bonded by our struggle—and our circumstances? Our common enemy is dead. Let us begin by toasting that.’ They raised their glasses but Margaret could restrain herself no longer.
‘Tell us your story, please.’ Margaret had been itching to hear since the moment she met them. They settled into their chairs and Nat began with his arrival eighteen months earlier. He told them about who he’d been—a professional solider—an officer—and that he’d come through in 1987. Margaret gasped and Edward’s eyes burned with questions. Nat told them about encountering Florence and then she took up the story about her own arrival.
‘I was born in 1997.’
Margaret squeaked.
‘My dear, let Florence tell us before you expire,’ Edward laughed.
‘I was an Aborologist—a tree specialist—expertise in ancient oaks. I went in to the Major Oak in Sherwood Forest—you might know it as the Cock Pen?’ Blank faces. ‘When I woke up, Nat… met me and tried to explain what had happened.’ She described their misunderstanding with some humour.
‘Yeah, well. Wasn’t my finest moment but how do you make someone believe that they’ve just been transported nearly four hundred years back in time?’
‘Quite,’ Sir Edward agreed. ‘And one is unlikely to absorb such information immediately I think.’
They all nodded at that and sipped their drinks.
‘Yes. It took some time to realise what had actually happened. Nat found me again in Edwinstowe and we thought that we might go to Oxford and find someone there who knew about the watchers.’
Edward’s ears pricked.
‘I’d met a watcher who told me about a secret organisation but she died before she could contact them.’
Edward raised his eyes at this.
‘Then, on the road, we came across a dying man called Hugh Gilbert.’
‘Gilbert! Yes. We know him. A Taxane!’
Florence’s heart leapt. This was what they had wanted to hear. The Cavendishes knew about this Taxane Order. They would know how to help them.
‘Somehow, Hugh Gilbert seemed to know of me,’ she half-turned in apology to Nat. ‘Before he died, he said Montebray to us and then he was gone.’ Florence paused as she recalled the man dying in her arms. She thought for a moment how inured she’d become to such events and how her life before had been sanitised against such unpleasantnesses. What she would give to be cocooned again.
Nat continued, ‘We came upon Montebray within the day. We didn’t know anything about Moorcroft or the fact that he was the one that Gilbert had escaped from.’ He wanted to skirt over the next bit as quickly as he could. ‘Florrie and I..well, we were tricked into doubting one another and she was forced to marry the bastard. I left and joined with Lord Fairfax’s men.’
Margaret looked from one to another, a million probing questions bursting to escape but Edward interrupted her in a timely fashion, ‘My dear, we must not press our friends for details upon delicate matters which they do not wish to share.’
Margaret decided that she’d worm it out of Florence later.
Florence lowered her eyes as she recalled it. ‘The thing is, Montebray Hall, ’ she shuddered. ‘I know it—from before. It can’t be coincidenc
e. My family—the Brocks— had lived there for generations. It’s called Locksley Hall in my time. Can you imagine coming here to this time and then finding your home? Not only had the Taxane told us of it but I actually belonged there. I didn’t want to leave.’ She was conscious of Nat beside her and she looked at him when she said, ‘I married Denzil Moorcroft for all the wrong reasons.’
Nat held her gaze steadily. He wouldn’t desert her again.
‘I married him because I was sick and tired of being nothing and no one.’
Margaret tilted her head, curious.
‘You don’t know, Margaret. You’re one of the fortunate ones but even you… Look. Where I come from, I have a career, status, independence and I make my own decisions in life. Here? Well, women are the weaker sex. They’re owned by men, with no rights, no voice, nothing. It suffocates me. At least you have the advantage of being your father’s daughter with the power that comes with that. I was…nothing. I had nothing—no money, no family, no man’s protection. Once I realised that I was stuck here, I wanted more for my life here and I tried to trick Denzil Moorcroft into giving it to me. I was so wrong. He knew what I was and he trapped me. He was the one deceiving me but that doesn’t excuse my actions. There is more,’ she whispered. ‘I was a fool not to listen to Nat and to believe Moorcroft. He was twisted, a vile monster… he… ’ she saw Edward’s eyes narrow a little. This was not material for his daughter.
There was silence from Edward. He looked at his daughter and gave a small cough.
Margaret planted her feet firmly. She would not be ushered away at this fascinating point.
It was Nat who broke the tension, ‘We both made mistakes but I don’t blame you, you know.’ The words were spoken between the two of them.
Florence managed a small smile and continued, ‘Much later, after Nat had returned with Fairfax, we discovered that Moorcroft holds people like us captive in an oubliette below Locks . . . Montebray. We think that he was trying to find out what they knew. I hope that they’re dead now. For their sake.’
Nat cast his eyes down. They had both heard those pitiful cries, from confused and lost souls who must have thought that they passed into hell.
Edward was appalled, ‘Who knows what will happen at Montebray now that Moorcroft is dead. His man—Holless?He will return there no doubt. I can send Buskette on a mission to attempt to recover these poor folk. If they still live, she can release them and give them over to the Taxanes where they will be sure of tender treatment. Perhaps, Nat, you might tell Buskette of how to reach them?’ It was agreed and Nat and Florence felt the relief that they had not after all abandoned their fellow travellers.
‘There’s something that we should tell you about Moorcroft,’ added Nat. This was crucial. ‘I believe that he was a time-traveller himself.’ He told them all about the Dinky car kept secretly in his chamber and then found that he had to explain what it was.
Florence added, ‘He taunted me constantly with hints of what he knew about me and Nat. He spoke in riddles about what might happen to the King,’ she lowered her voice at speaking such a treason. It was still shocking even at a distance of nearly four hundred years. ‘I don’t understand why he didn’t simply…torture me.’
‘He did,’ added Nat.
‘Yes. A mystery.’ Edward agreed, ‘Perhaps because you are a person of interest to the Taxanes? He may have thought that he might keep you…whole—as a hostage to his demands or some such? We will never know.’
Nat turned to Edward. ‘What about your story? You seem to have done well here—I mean no offence—you married well.’ Nat paused, conscious of Margaret.
‘There are no secrets from my daughter. She knows all. Speak freely.’
‘OK,’ Nat was sanguine.
Margaret giggled at the strange word and Florence thought that she should remind her not to repeat it.
Nat needed information. ‘We want to know when you’re from—how you got here—but more than anything. Can you tell us how to get home? God! We need to know that!’ He twined his fingers into Florence’s.
Edward had walked over to the door, briefly unlocking it to allow Buskette in. He exchanged a brief conversation and offered a small bow to her before locking the door behind them. Nat thought that it was the first kind gesture he’d seen from Edward towards the woman. And then he began to tell them of Hugh Gilbert’s visits to Burcroft.
‘I had thought that I was the only one who had ever travelled through a tree,’ he snorted. ‘Such arrogance! Imagine my shock when Gilbert arrived and told me that I had been observed by the tree’s watcher, who had told the Taxanes of me and that they had known about me for some years. It seems that my journeys to and fro were of no concern to them. However, Margaret’s education was.’
Margaret looked rather pleased with herself.
‘They had heard of Margaret’s progress it seems and had even monitored which books I ordered from London for our library here. I strongly suspect that there is a watcher amongst us here at Burcroft, who reports back to them. They are certainly very well informed. And then, of course, there is Signora Buskette. She is dedicated to Margaret but she is a Taxane and since we owe our lives to Buskette, I must believe that these Taxanes wish us no harm.’
Constantina Buskette made no reaction whatsoever but Margaret, grinned at the woman and was rewarded by a disapproving frown at the girl sipping from a small glass of wine.
Florence wondered why the Taxanes were not concerned about Edward’s impact on the timeline. He brought back objects from a future age and made innovations based on his own advanced knowledge. Why were these not threatening?
‘On his final visit here, Gilbert told me of you, Florence. It is fitting that you are told what I know of The Taxane Order. Within the Order, there are those who are most sensitive to the timeline, who can detect anomalies in its proper course. One of these such, told Hugh Gilbert of your arrival and that you must be found at all costs.
‘If Hugh had been to Montebray,’ Nat added, ‘It may be that he’d been held by Moorcroft. Somehow he’d escaped, poor sod. Don’t know how he made it that far. He was dying but you could see the shock when he recognised Florrie.’
‘Indeed. Her importance to the Taxanes seems significant and yet they have not detained her yet.’
Florence laughed. ‘Apart from being able to travel through the trees,’ she gave Margaret a sympathetic smile, ‘I can’t think of anything that’s special about me. All we want is to go home.’
These clothes weren’t designed for embraces but Nat put his arm around Florence anyway, feeling something give in the stitching.
Margaret, who had been concentrating on her glass, interjected, ‘You think yourself ordinary, Florence but the Taxanes do not. We must respect this. It seems clear that we must do all that we can to protect you. Is that not so, father?’ she enunciated her words carefully.
‘We must, Margaret. You have seen the right of it my dear. Now, I think that you have enjoyed your wine sufficiently and perhaps you are ready to retire?’
Margaret was just beginning to list her objections but her father already had unlocked the door and Buskette awaited her unsteady charge.
‘Good night,’ they all said.
‘Unfair,’ Margaret muttered as she left with Buskette.
17
Dropped Jaws
Margaret’s departure changed the dynamic of the room. If they had been careful not to offend her young ears, that consideration was no longer there.
‘I am grateful for your restraint before Margaret, Florence. She thinks herself quite mature but she is not yet as worldly as she believes herself to be. Perhaps you might share a little more of your history so that we might understand your significance to the Taxanes—and to Moorcroft?’
Nat thought that the man was quite deft in avoiding explaining his rise to fame and fortune here but the hour was late, the wine was good and he let it go.
‘OK,’ there was a certain rebelliousness in using th
e slang, ‘well, you know that my family live—will live—at Locksley Hall.’ She paused for a moment, ‘It’s the hereditary seat of the Barons of Brockhampton,’ she met Nat’s astonished face and addressed him. ‘I don’t go around telling everyone. Feels a bit weird when they react.’
Nat began to laugh but then saw that despite the effect of the wine, she was serious. He quickly adjusted his expression. ‘So, you’re a ‘lady’?’ His face was open and full of humour, enjoying her embarrassment.
‘I’m an Honourable,’ she giggled.
‘Oh yeah?’ he giggled. It was good wine.
‘The Honourable Miss Florence Brock,’ she inclined her head graciously.
Nat spluttered and Edward cleared his throat, ‘Then I take it that your father is…?’
‘Nope! My mother is Baroness Brockhampton. Dates from 1704—childhood friend of Queen Anne got the title. Not as uncommon as you’d think. I’m a Baroness in waiting—totally honourable!’ Florence guffawed. It was hilarious.
‘Edward poured the remaining rhenish into his own glass.’
‘I become Baroness Brockhampton when my mother dies—but she hasn’t been born yet has she!’ Florence wheezed, barely able to say it, hysterical with the notion. The combination of knowing that Denzil was dead, speaking to another time traveller who might help them, knowing that they were not alone here—and the wine— was wonderful. She hadn’t been so relaxed in a long time. Even Edward was infected with the humour. After a few false stops, the laughter quelled and they began to sigh and feel their aching ribs and jaws.
Florence wanted to explain more to them. It was an outpouring of honesty. An unburdening. ‘Bet you didn’t know that there are some titles that can pass through the female line?’ They didn’t. ‘Well, my mother’s can and since I’m the only child, seems that I will become Florence, twenty-second Baroness of Brockhampton when she goes.’ The thought of that suddenly sobered her. ‘But I won’t be there, will I?’
TAXUS BACCATA: Book Two of the Taxane Chronicles Page 11
