Red Man

by Andrew Wareham

  “We will be forced to fight again, now that the guns have been fired, lads. Back in the summer, it seemed likely that we could argue the King into common sense, that we could show him we were capable of picking up pike and musket but that we had no wish to kill his followers. He has refused to listen to reason. He will not allow us to keep our liberties as freeborn English and Welshmen. He has encouraged the Papist Irish to butcher our kin and the word is that he is bringing the wild savages from their bogs to slaughter ordinary folk in England and to steal our all while they are at it. We did no more than block his way this day and what did he do? He brought up cannon and shot at us! We did not shoot at him – he was the transgressor against the peace.”

  They nodded and nudged each other and agreed that to be true. It was a sad day for England when the King believed he had the right to turn guns on his people for daring so far as to beg him to alter his wicked ways.

  “Remember Brentford! He loosed his savagery on the ordinary folk there – peaceable men and women in their own houses made his victims. He is truly a Man of Blood, this Charles Stuart! He is not fit to be our King except he does as he is bid by Parliament. When the spring comes, we must march to settle his hash for him. He must learn that Englishmen will not lie down at the feet of the tyrant.”

  “Well said, Red Man!”

  “Amen to your wise words, brother!”

  “Hear him! Hear him!”

  They applauded and sat back to hear more, men clustering around, coming from the nearby fires to listen.

  “I am going from the Trained Bands, as is Captain Carew. We are to join the Army. We shall march out of London at the Earl of Essex’ command. It seems to us that we are unmarried men with no great burden of family or work to tie us to London and we must go where the need is greatest. We are soldiers and must follow the drum when it calls, marching with like-minded folk to defeat the Man of Blood.”

  There was a contemplative silence, dragging out for two or three long minutes. One of the younger men suddenly spoke out.

  “I ain’t got no missus nor no children, Red Man… Can I go with thee, marching at thy side?”

  “If it is your true wish, then I shall be glad to welcome thee to my company, brother. But you must know, we are to go as soldiers, not as good-hearted neighbours of the Trained Bands but as disciplined men, obedient to command, like it or not.”

  “I can do as I am told, Red Man. I can be as good a soldier as the next.”

  “Then bless thee for a hero, brother. Think on thy course overnight and, if it still seems good to thee in the light of morning, then come to me and I shall write thy name in on the enlistment scroll.”

  The older, settled family men murmured their support, one of them venturing to stand and be heard.

  “I have a family to feed by the labour of my hands, Red Man. I cannot walk away from them. Was I young and free of attachment, then I should march at thy side. I cannot leave my children to fend for themselves, but what I can and shall do is to promise that if a man leaves his old mother or father behind, then I shall see them to keep a roof over their heads and put a hot meal in their bellies. With the aid of my good neighbours and friends assembled, we may protect all of those left behind.”

  By the end of the evening a dozen young men had pledged themselves to exchange from the Trained Bands into the Army, to march behind Red Man. He suspected there would be more by the morning, single men and apprentices encouraged by their elders to go the wars in their stead.

  “There are many who wish to fight, Daniel. Did you find the same in your half of the company?”

  “Young men who think they have a duty, Red Man, and as well hope there may be a great adventure. Most of them expect a short campaign and a victory and then to go home as heroes before the cold weather comes again. They suspect they might spend the next few months in a warm barracks, learning the soldier’s trade – though most of them think that they know it all by virtue of their hours parading with the Trained Band!”

  “They will learn, Daniel.”

  “I hope so, Red Man. We are to report to the Earl’s lodgings in the morning and there we shall be brought under his command and told our regiment and rank in it. I would expect you to be made a captain, for having a known name. I might have a company at your side or may be made major. I much hope we shall be placed in the same regiment – and that our colonel may be a man of virtue!”

  The Earl himself was busy, it transpired – but that was not unreasonable for a general with a campaign in hand. An aide, a young man in civilian dress greeted them in his name. They glanced casually at the jerkin and breeches, saw no evidence of wear, of leather straps rubbing, of cross belts over the chest – he had not worn armour in that working dress, had never carried a pistol belt. He was no more than a boy, fresh from his mama’s side.

  “Captain Carew and Lieutenant Slater of the Blue Trained Band – you are very welcome, gentlemen, the more for both having prior experience of war. The Earl would wish you to take commissions in Colonel Jevons’ Regiment, which is now forming. He thinks it best that you should both be captains, taking the first and second companies – Captain Carew the senior, as is only right. Colonel Jevons has appointed his brother as Major to the Regiment; I am his grandson and am to be a lieutenant, gentlemen.”

  They stared at the young man, guessing his age to be about twenty. That made Colonel Jevons a man of more than sixty, probably a lot more.

  “Ah… Major Jevons is, one trusts, the younger brother of the Colonel?”

  Daniel tried his best to keep the scepticism from his voice. Judging by young Lieutenant Jevons’ flushed face, he did not succeed.

  “My uncle is some twenty years the Colonel’s junior, sir, by a second wife. I am eldest son to the Colonel’s first-born, sir.”

  “Which is to be your company, Mr Jevons?”

  “I believe I am to be aide to the adjutant, sir.”

  That translated as hanger-on with no particular function in the Regiment.

  “I see. How many other captains are there? Are the rank and file recruited yet, Mr Jevons?”

  “There are nine other captains, sir, and some twelve of lieutenants and seven of ensigns. Captain Prothero is adjutant. We are as yet rather short of sergeants and of pike and shot. It is hoped that the Trained Bands may furnish some of the men required.”

  “They will undoubtedly provide some, sir. I doubt they will number many more than one hundred. The Bands are Londoners and concerned to defend their own rather than to march about the rest of the country.”

  “The Earl said that as well, Captain Carew. My uncle has some intention of recruiting in the countryside near our home. He will wish to discuss that with you but is not present today. He is arranging the purchase of necessary military stores together with Captain Prothero. You are, gentlemen, to present yourselves at our barracks which is at the town of Sevenoaks in Kent. I am to tell you that your names are entered onto the roll and that you should bring yourselves and your servants to the muster this week if you possibly can.”

  “Today to make our farewells and collect our belongings, Mr Jevons. We can ride out tomorrow. We shall arrange for our sergeants, such as are joining us, to march the volunteers to Sevenoaks by the end of the week. I shall send them to you to arrange billeting and rations.”

  “My uncle has given me money for that purpose, Captain Carew. I think I can do that.”

  “Very good, Lieutenant Jevons. Are you to join us at Sevenoaks, sir?”

  “I am to equip myself and ride there, when I have performed the tasks set me by my uncle, sir.”

  “Excellent! I look forward to seeing you in martial array, sir.”

  The two were wearing their full equipment, breast-and-backs, swords to their hips, pistols on their crossbelts to the right shoulder, helmets tied to the left. They wore high boots and leather jerkins and breeches, all of their apparel showing signs of wear, of days in the field. They looked, intentionally so, like fierce, hardened warrio
rs, mostly to hearten the men of the Trained Bands, but also from an enjoyment of making a show in front of the townsfolk. It was fun to swagger, just a little and occasionally.

  Lieutenant Jevons wondered if Captain Carew’s last comment had been at all satirical; he debated taking him up on his words, avowing that he was not to be patronised. Somehow, he could not find the right thing to say before the pair had left.

  It took an hour to speak to the sergeants who were to join them and to arrange their march.

  “Four days on the road. A blind eye to those who drop out – they may have been full of zeal last night but second thoughts often supervene. Bring only the truly willing to join us. The most of the new men will be country boys, it seems, sheep-shaggers, knowing little and needing to be brought to their duty. Many of ours will soon become corporals, I suspect, so we need the best and keenest.”

  “They will come, sir. I will expect to bring two hundred with us, sir. The name of the Red Man will do much good, sir, when it comes to recruiting.”

  “Thank’ee, Sergeant Fletcher – I am glad to hear that.”

  Daniel was wryly amused – very much the junior figure in the men’s estimation, it seemed.

  “If it is at all possible, Sergeant Fletcher, it might be useful were the men to carry their firelocks with them…”

  “That can be arranged, sir. Don’t want them marching with great long pikes over their shoulders, sir, not if it can be done different. Easier to lay hands on pikes than on muskets as well – the local smithies can turn out pikeheads and the woodworkers can knock out staves. I shall see to it, sir.”

  Philip Skippon was not displeased to see them go.

  “We have done our job, boys. London is safe now – I doubt the King will make another attempt on the town. We are to build breastworks over winter and will be able to emplace cannon on all of the main roads in. He will not march an army past the defences we can put up. That being so, experienced and able men such as yourselves should be in the field, not sitting back on the drill square. You have worked well for me – and I have made your names know to my own masters as sound men to be remembered. Now, go off and work for the Earl. I have spoken to the paymaster and he will see to you as you leave.”

  A practical man, one who knew that soldiers needed pay, a lesson that his own masters sat on the benches of the houses of Parliament were unwilling to learn.

  Micah and Daniel took a last breakfast at Bayliss pastrycook’s little shop.

  “I must leave London for the while, Kate. I am sent with Daniel by Sergeant Major General Skippon himself to a new regiment which is mustering in Kent at Sevenoaks. We shall march where we are sent in spring – I know not where. It will not be easy to send letters or to take leave and I may well be unable to return. I do not know. I must go off to battle, and from that, as you know, men often do not come back whole, or at all. I can make no promise ever to see thee again.”

  Micah thought that made it clear that he was leaving and would not be back.

  She heard an honest man unable to pledge himself in advance of going to war.

  “Go with God, Micah. Come back when you can. I shall be here.”

  Chapter Four

  The ride east to Sevenoaks in Kent was pleasant even in winter weather.

  They had hired a wagon and pair for the two servants and their baggage, which had grown in the months of relaxed service in London. The officers rode behind the wagon at little more than walking pace, talking and enjoying the open countryside after the months cooped up in the metropolis.

  They needed the wagon, had filled it with their gear, rather to their own surprise.

  Micah for the first time in his life had more than one pair of breeches and five separate shirts. He had a best pair of boots as well as those he was wearing and seven pairs of knitted stockings, one for each day of the week. At Daniel’s advice, he had bought extra woollen small clothing to keep him warm over winter. Both had bought heavy frieze overcoats and fleece waistcoats to wear underneath them; they would be bulky but warm in the months of frost and snow, which they were told were worse in Kent than in other parts of the South Country. He had mittens as well, an idea that was new to him – he had never seen gloves previously, other than leather gauntlets to wear when riding to war, to protect the fingers rather than to keep them warm.

  He had written a letter before leaving London, addressed to his sisters and explaining where he was away to. General Skippon himself had promised to see the missive placed in the hands of a safe rider going north with despatches to the garrisons in the east of the midland counties. With good fortune, the letter would reach Stamford within the week; the chance of a reply ever reaching him was slight.

  The road to Dover was well used and had long been kept up by the Kings of England for military purposes. News from France came into England on that route – and notice of war came that way too. The roads to the major ports – Dover, Portsmouth, Bristol and Norwich, which was close to the sea, were normally kept open through the winter, as was the Great North Road which connected with Scotland, although that last deteriorated as the distance from London increased.

  They could make an easy twenty-five miles in the daylight hours but chose to spend two nights on the road, enjoying themselves in the long evenings in the biggest roadside inns. Armies did not campaign in the winter months and there was no urgency in the last days of November.

  “Four months before we can reasonably expect to go to campaign, Daniel. What do we do in that time?”

  “If it is up to me to order, then march the men first. They must learn their fifteen miles a day before anything else. That will get rid of the weaklings before we waste our time training them, as well as hardening those who will stay. It will make them obedient to command as well. In January we will put them to drill with pike and musket both. Best that any man can turn his hand to either. The biggest and strongest should go to the pikes when it comes to marching out in April or May. I wish we had the new muskets for all – the flintlock is far the better weapon.”

  “Costly. I have a pair on the wagon, bought from a godly man in Bedford who charged me only what he had paid, and that was thirty shillings for the brace. We can hardly afford to equip ten companies at seventy-five pounds sterling each.”

  “A rich colonel might equip one company, but even then he would wince at the cost – few men have as much as fifteen hundred shillings to spare!”

  They paid their pennies for their night’s beer, food and lodging and agreed – it was an impossible sum. They also admitted that they were only captains – the colonel and his appointed second, the major, would give the actual orders.

  The new regiment was housed in the yards of a large estate outside Sevenoaks. Barns had been laid with straw and stables swept out for the men’s use. There were four hundred there already and more came in every day. Recruiting was easier in winter when food was short and unmarried men especially saw small platefuls at each meal. The Regiment had made a great noise of the fact that the men would eat meat at least once every day and that they would be fed morning, noon and night. Most labourers saw nothing between their bowl of gruel in the morning and their bread and, if they were lucky, stew at night. Army life was easy to get used to in exchange for a full belly of hot food.

  The officers were accommodated in the great house itself, the family gone, apparently to another of the several manors Colonel Jevons owned.

  A great old Tithe Barn had been made into an armoury and now contained more than five hundred each of pikes and muskets and barrels of powder and shot and long coils of slowmatch. The Colonel had been prodigal with his fortune, it seemed.

  “He has set his money to God’s work, Daniel. A man of belief, it must seem.”

  “A good man, Micah. Let us trust he is a sensible man, too.”

  Major Jevons was, as expected, one who would never see forty again, but he was within reason active, light on his feet. He was not very clever, but soldiers did not need to be of shinin
g parts, after all. He greeted them kindly, with a degree of relief in fact.

  “Thing is, we need a professional or two. Urgently! You might say that other than for a couple of the sergeants, who have seen the Germanies, none here have been to war. In fact, I don’t know that any of the officers have ever learned military ways. Good lads, all of them, but of the men here and still willing – for some have thought better of their first desire to shed blood – not all of them are even wholly happy on top of a horse. The sons of lawyers and apothecaries and such, and the vicar’s boy and the estate agents’ two lads, although they know the horse at least. Not the cream of the gentry but from good families who worship the Lord as they should.”

  “How many, sir?”

  “Captain Prothero, who owns the largest of the stores in Sevenoaks, is adjutant. A good man for the post, too – he can supply foodstuffs, knows where to buy and who from. My nephew, who you have met, assists him. Besides that, we now have seven captains and eight lieutenants, but only four of the ensigns. Many of the ensigns were mere boys and their mothers stamped their foot down hard when they heard their youngsters were off to war, so they thought. Some three or four have been sent back to their schools with their backsides still tingling from the strap.”

  “So, sir, we have ten companies and nine captains, us included. Simplest is if we take one of the companies and disband it, split its men half to me, half to Captain Slater. We will have companies of one hundred and fifty, which is large but not impossibly so. We will need then but one more lieutenant and five of ensigns, if you can find them. Ensigns are not so very important – they are of little use for their first months, but they can learn the trade and be handy lieutenants by the end of a first campaigning season. It is worth the nuisance of them to train them up, I think.”