Red Man

by Andrew Wareham

  “A different sort of war to the Germanies, this is, sir… Give me time to think a bit longer, sir. You and Driver might be right, sir, but I been a sergeant for years now. Might not be so easy to be one of the men thinking up the orders.”

  “Willingly, Fletcher. If the time comes that you want to rise in the world, and we have the vacancy, just give me the nod. Being that you are neither of you just ordinary sergeants now and you can speak your minds… How is Mr Eglinton shaping as an ensign?”

  Both sergeants glanced around to be sure that none of the men had strayed within hearing before they would comment on an officer.

  “Bit stiff yet, sir. Not found his feet yet, you might say – normal enough for a youngster who’s come up in the world. Bit sharp with his orders, but not too much so and better that way than too soft with the men. He’ll do, I reckon.”

  Driver agreed with Fletcher – better the young fellow should distance himself from the men now that he was no longer one of them.

  “He’s got the advantage, sir, that he fought at their side before he rose in the world. They know he’s no chicken, which is useful for getting their respect, what an officer needs, as you well know, sir. Might be he needs to be a bit more forceful, you might say, in making up his mind what to do; there’s times when he dithers a bit, you might say.”

  “I’ll keep an eye to him. Difficult sort of thing – he has to have the chance to do the job on his own, but that gives him the chance to make mistakes.”

  When an officer made a mistake, he often killed his men.

  Micah shrugged – he must take the risk.

  “We shall see! I will ride out with the dozen who can sit a horse later in the week. We can equip them more or less from the pistols and swords and plate we took from Palethorpe’s people. Will you see to that for me, Fletcher?”

  “Easily, sir. For today, sir, just a glance about the lean-tos the men are putting up for themselves? Show willing, sir, but not too close a look without telling them the day before. One or two of the serving girls have picked up with a soldier, sir, and a couple of the others have shown willing to earn the occasional sixpence, you might say, and there’s no need for you to see what you didn’t ought by mistake.”

  Micah grinned and said he would be careful not to see what was none of his business.

  “Just to be sure that the latrines are clear of the cookfires and the air don’t stink, you might say, Sergeant. More than that, no need for me to poke my nose in.”

  “Just that, sir. The lads need to take it easy for a week or two. We can be a bit more serious about things when they’ve got over their first big fight – and forgotten their dead mates.”

  “Where to, Daniel? A quiet wander through the countryside or a parade through the main streets of whatever the local town might be?”

  “Go into town on market day. Be seen riding through – polite and courteous to all and showing weapons to hand and armour on your backs. No need to cause offence, yet you can announce that we are here and recruiting and paying cash money to any man who will come to the muster. Let it be heard that we have no wish to bring war to their doorsteps, but that we stand for ordinary folk in their liberties. Men who wish may pray in their own chapels, free of our interference and, while we shall not be bullied by bishops, we shall not persecute those who wish to attend church.”

  “A pity I do not have their speech on my lips – these Hampshire folk have a strange way of talking, Daniel.”

  “And you Midlanders sound peculiar to such as I who come from the South Country, Red Man.”

  “Perhaps so, Daniel. At least we are all English. We do not have the barbarity of the Scots – none of that ‘och aye, the noo’ gibberish!”

  Daniel laughed – those who had recently fought the Scots tended to be hard on them and their ways.

  “True indeed. They are our allies, or are to be so, you know? They are to send an army into England to match the King’s forces in the North. In exchange, we are to swear their Covenant - or so they seem to believe.”

  “Truly, Daniel?”

  “Well… Parliament has implied it will be so, but that may take a good few years to bring into effect, and the ordinary folk may have something to say about it in that time. But the army will be here, and the Covenant can be considered later, one might say.”

  It smacked of duplicity to Micah. He could not approve – but he did not have to, he was no Member of Parliament to make such a decision, or to take the blame for it.

  “To the Devil with the bunch of them, Daniel! I shall be content to fight this war, not to argue its rights and wrongs. I know the King is not for me and I am not for him and that is an end to it.”

  “Well said, Red Man!”

  “What is the Covenant, anyway?”

  “It is an agreement freely entered into by all godly men – and enforced by the local pastors. It says that all men are free to pray and discuss the Holy Writ, provided they do so in the fashion that the pastors approve. It is the usual sort of thing, Red Man – a way of getting ordinary people to do as they are told.”

  “Ah! I suspected as much. The pastors in Scotland are taking the place of a parliament, all because they know better than thee and me. They are all the same, you know, Daniel, all of these leaders who appoint themselves in opposition to the King and wish to become little kings themselves. Best we could do is to hang the lot of them – King and his courtiers; Parliament and all of its lords and members; pastors and bishops and popes; judges and magistrates. The country would then be a far cleaner sort of place.”

  “A commonwealth of equals, every man to have a voice in its governance – it is an idea, Red Man. The village idiot to be heard next to the academic at Cambridge; the dunnikin diver to be the equal of the skilled weaver; the private soldier to talk strategy with the colonel – it might not work so very well.”

  Micah laughed, was forced to agree that his first idea might need be amended.

  “I still believe that the noose would be the best tool for the reformation of this country, or the block. Parliament did well when it condemned Strafford and will do better when it removes Laud; there are a good few more who could go the same way to the betterment of all – and not all of them on the King’s side.”

  “Hush! We are the men of virtue, uniquely so. We must not be heard to cast doubt on the probity of our own folk. Go off and ride your horse, Red Man – best for a soldier to be seen and not heard.”

  Micah led his patrol to the small town of Petersfield, a little place with a market square and of no significance other than being on the road from London to Portsmouth and just far enough from the coast to make a sensible stopping place. There were two large inns and several smaller beerhouses, all making a profit from the passing trade.

  The town was prosperous, judging by the market stalls. There were cheeses on sale and sides of bacon, and buyers for them although it was early in the summer, well before harvest. The local people had been able to save money or had trades that brought them an income. There were several stalls selling iron goods, including one that had long guns on display.

  Micah brought the troop to the gunsmith’s tables and sat his horse, looking down at his wares.

  “I trust ye will sell only to good folk, Master Gunsmith?”

  “Any man that has silver in his purse is good for me, Soldier. These are farmer’s guns, for shooting pigeons and such, or knocking down a deer at most. I have none of thy murdering pistols and will not make swords, which have but one purpose.”

  Micah laughed, was forced to accept the honesty of that answer.

  “We are to keep the peace hereabouts, Master Gunsmith. We want no fighting in these parts and, provided any man will live in harmony with his neighbour, we shall not ask of that person whether he be King or Parliament. Do not go selling to those who will make trouble, that is all I ask of thee. If so be you lay your hands on short-barrelled pieces, with flintlocks, such as could be used on horseback by a dragoon, then bring them t
o Palethorpe’s old house, which is now our garrison, and we shall pay thee fairly for them.”

  “What if the King’s men say the same, Soldier?”

  “There are none in this part of the South Country, Master. Nor will there be. We are to keep close hold of the ironmasters of the Weald so that they may provide Parliament with the big guns it needs. The Navy as well is ours, and will be buying, Master.”

  “I come from over in the Weald, Soldier, selling here in Petersfield for it being well-off and having men what used the sea before coming inland a way to settle down. The town is neither committed to King nor to Parliament – and there be those what says that is to make it the enemy of both.”

  Micah shook his head, swung his leg over the saddle and dismounted to speak on a level with the Master Gunsmith, sensing that his words were important to the growing number of local folk who had wandered across to quietly listen to all that was said. He took his helmet off, letting his flaming hair, uncut in many weeks, blow in the breeze.

  “I am a captain in Colonel Jevons Regiment of Foot, sent to pacify the countryside and make it safe for Parliament. I will say here and now that no man is my enemy, except he takes up arms against me. If you send money and men to the King – well, best you should go with them, for I will have no welcome for you, that’s for sure, and Parliament may fine you. Fight against me, I shall kill you. Call a pox on both our houses and I shall regret that you cannot support me, but I shall not come in arms against you and nor will any other of Parliament’s people. That is my given word, and men will tell you that the Red Man is no liar.”

  They had not heard of the Red Man. Micah had no doubt his people would spread the word, with pleasure and much exaggeration.

  “In the same way, I would wish to ask young men to come to my colours. Strong young fellows may earn their sixpences and carry pike or musket afoot or be given a horse to ride like the brave boys at my back.”

  Micah glanced about him, spotted three powerfully built youngsters stood together at the side of the small crowd. If they were in work, they probably would not be free to lounge in the market square.

  “You three lads – you seem strong and stout. Will you march in my ranks? We shall go to fight the King’s bullies wherever we may find them. You will see London Town for sure, and many another fine city besides. Do you want to stay in this pleasant, quiet, old town for all your lives, or will you seek adventure as a soldier?”

  Two of the youths instantly about-faced and disappeared behind the crowd.

  Micah laughed.

  “Well, Master Gunsmith – that gave me an answer, did it not?”

  The tradesman joined in the laugh.

  “Don’t expect they’ll stop running till they takes hold of mummy’s apron, Soldier!”

  The crowd chuckled and then turned to look at the third, who had stayed still.

  “What of you, young sir?”

  “I ain’t running, Soldier, if that be what I calls thee. If so be I joins, does I get money?”

  “You will be paid as a soldier. You will be given clothes to wear and food to eat and a place to lay your head. It won’t be the best – but these men behind me will tell you it is not the worst, either.”

  “Can I change me mind if so be I don’t like it?”

  “No - if you are in, you are in and that is the end of it. These men have not changed their minds.”

  “Arr, well, now… Ain’t bugger all for me in Petersfield. No jobs for me, acos of me dad be no bloody good and run away two years since wi’ the constable after ‘im and going to bring him to the magistrates for stealing, if ‘e catches ‘im.”

  “We don’t care who your dad is. Half my soldiers don’t know who their dad is!”

  The crowd roared at this wit – it was the sort of thing villagers found funny.

  “Right, Soldier, I’m with thee!”

  “Welcome to my company, young man. You are a soldier now, and you call me ‘sir’.” Micah gestured to one of his troopers. “Jon Atkins, you have a powerful old nag between your thighs. Take the young soldier up behind you and ride back to Palethorpe’s with him. What is your name, soldier?”

  The boy was bright enough to realise this was for him to answer.

  “Dick Betts, sir.”

  “Well said. Off you go now, Private Soldier Betts.”

  They watched Dick Betts climb up on the horse, lightly, used to riding

  Micah nodded to the gunsmith, thanking him for a useful recruit.

  “He will make a dragoon, that’s for sure. That means an extra thruppence a day – seven days a week, which is not to be sneezed at.”

  “What of thee, Red Man, sir? Dost a captain make good money?”

  “I see forty-six shillings and eightpence a week – a noble a day - Master Gunsmith, for standing in front of my men, first onto the field and last off. It is not bad money for a young man who was no more than a labourer in a slate quarry not two years since. I tell thee honestly, Master, it was a good day for me when I took to the profession of arms. I know of more than one other young man who has done the same as me. I ride my own horse and carry sword and pistols that belong to me and wear my breast-and-back which will pass onto my son one day, I doubt not. I tuck my pennies into my purse and look after them and, when we have won this war, I shall settle to a way of life far better than I might have hoped for as a villager.”

  Many of those listening approved of his words – to rise in the world was something few could hope for. Risking a life on the field of battle was one of the few ways they had of making good.

  One aged gentleman, resting on his walking stick, shook his head.

  “How many of they men who started like you has got ‘isself no more than six feet of English dirt for ‘is own, Red Man?”

  “A lot! The chances of dying young are as high as of getting rich, old fellow. It’s not something for nothing, do you know – I stand there with the balls whistling past my ears and know very well that one of them may kill me. But they haven’t yet, and it’s a good life until they do!”

  “My old granddad went a-sailing fifty year ago, Red Man, and ‘er come back with gold in the hand and stories to tell and ‘er bought the cottage and land that I lives on. You’m right – and you’m straight. If so be you wants to risk your neck, then maybe you can get rich. That’s what I say to any youngster listening.”

  A woman a good few years older than Micah stood forward, a youth, her son presumably, on her arm.

  “If so be I sends my Bob with thee, Captain Red Man, will you look after ‘im?”

  “No, missus. I watch over all of my men, but I can’t put them to bed at night and make sure they wear dry stockings.”

  There was a laugh from the crowd, this being the height of bucolic humour.

  “No, and iffen you’d said you could, I ‘ave known thee to be a bloody liar, sir. So long as Bob stays in thy company, ‘tis all I asks for.”

  “Men are short – I will not be sending them away, or risking their lives without need, missus. But, and I say to thee honestly, soldiers sometimes die, or take injuries that stay with them all of their lives. I will not throw your boy’s life away, yet I cannot promise to keep him in one piece.”

  “Both ‘is brothers died when the spotted fever came through, year before last. Staying here ain’t no sure way of living long. He will join thee, Captain Red Man and, I much hope, will come back home again one day.”

  “I hope he may. He will come back a man who has seen more than a small town will show him. Come, Bob, stand up straight – you are a soldier now!”

  An hour and there were six more grown boys of sixteen or seventeen years in a line next to Bob, all except one sent by their mothers for there being little for them in the town. None of them had trades, there being few apprenticeships available; all said they would have drifted off to Portsmouth sooner or later and ended up at sea, with far less chance of coming home again.

  Micah asked about and was directed to the single stable
s in the town where there was a waggon which would load them up and take them out to Palethorpe’s for two shillings in the ostler’s hand. They set off, waving cheerfully, promising to come back again, one day.

  Micah watched them away and turned back to the gunsmith.

  “Not one of them asked whether I was King or Parliament, Master.”

  “It don’t matter to them, Red Man. You offered them a job and a wage and a chance of living through next winter better than they did last. Of them all, only the first, Dick Betts, is known to me, and that because he helped me with my cart most market days – he was here for the couple of pennies I would put in his hand. He can read and write, I know, but I would be surprised if any of the others can do more than make their mark. King and Parliament is for those who know what is what in the world, and that means able to read a pamphlet or a broadsheet. Ordinary folk have more important things to worry about. They will make good soldiers, good boys who will think of their families and hope to come back to them. Look after them, Soldier!”

  Micah wanted to protest – he was no nursery maid.

  “You asked they youngsters to leave their hearth and home, Soldier. They are yours.”

  Micah nodded reluctantly. He could not refuse the responsibility.

  “Best I should ride out again and find some more, Master.”

  “Do that. If it so happens that I pick up any dragoon carbines, I shall bring them to thee, Red Man, and at a right price. I am no King’s Man, that I will tell thee. I might say as well, that if thou wert to ride out another five miles, on the road towards the Meons, thou wilt come to a largish manor house that belongs to the Peveril family, and they are King’s followers and making a fuss about the fact. An hour before thou came to me, old man Peveril was at my stall ordering me to lay hands on horse pistols for him and his, and to deliver them to his house and not expect to be paid for the privilege of serving my King, God bless him!”