Examination of the three showed two dead and one with his nose spread across half of his face; the man with the broken nose was clutching his groin and his face alternately, unsure which injury was worse.
“The one what you hit with the blunt bit of the sword has got a dent in his forehead you could put half a hand in, sir. He ain’t going noplace after that, sir. Good old sword that one! Rootes put a blade through the other bugger’s chest, sir – in and out the other side.”
“Very good. Neat and tidy work – just what we are looking for. What’s for breakfast?”
Inspection showed that the troopers had butchered and spitted two of the farmer’s pigs on the previous night and had been proposing to finish the meat together with a cask looted from the village beerhouse and bread they had brought with them for breakfast.
“Cooking up something hot for the officers, looks like, sir.”
“Typical! That’s what the King’s Men are likely to do all the time. Don’t see them sharing with the men. What about the farmer? Have you seen anything of him?”
There was no sign of the man, though inspection of the house as it grew lighter revealed the clothes of a small family.
“Ran off and left them to it, by the looks of it, sir.”
“Sensible man, Sergeant. No place to be with forty troopers billeted on you.”
Micah looked about the little farmhouse, decided it was a poor sort of place.
“What you get when the land’s still held in the old way, sir. Likely that the farm don’t belong to the farmer, sir. Chances are he pays a share of the crop – half and more – to the lord of the manor in exchange for use of the yard and barns and his acres. No money for a house and the lord don’t care he lives like an animal. Two rooms, sir, one up, one down and all the family to live in them.”
Micah knew now why Sergeant Driver had gone to the wars, and why he was fighting against the King and his land-owning followers.
“There is no justice for the little man in this country, Sergeant. Perhaps if we get rid of this King we may make a few changes.”
“Not much chance of that, sir. The rich will still tread on the poor. But, if we do the work right, there won’t be so many of the rich left alive!”
“Perhaps, Sergeant. Send a man back on one of the horses to tell Major Carew that all is well and he should bring the regiment down.”
“Done it, sir. Saddling up now.”
“I must go up the road to see Mr Eglinton.”
“Take an escort with you, sir. No sense being on your own when there’s a chance that a few of them might have escaped and be sneaking about trying to find a way to someplace safe. Ride, sir, even if it’s only a furlong or so.”
‘Don’t keep a dog and bark’ – sergeants existed to be listened to; it could never be right to wantonly disregard a sergeant’s advice.
“Rootes, you and two, please. We are to ride up to see Mr Eglinton.”
Ten minutes and four of the taken horses had been saddled and were ready.
“Good horse, this one, sir.”
Rootes pointed to the tall, dark stallion he had picked out for Micah.
“Officer’s horse, got to be.”
Sergeant Driver nodded.
“German breeding, sir. Black horse, they called them sometimes. Standing tall at the shoulder and good for a day on the march and give you a charge at the end of it. Hey, Schwartzer!”
The stallion nickered and turned towards Driver, recognising the name.
“Lots of ‘em got called that, sir, being as that’s the word for black. Came back with an English officer, I’d bet.”
Micah put a hand out, patted the big horse’s neck.
“You’re mine, Schwartzer. Come on, let’s go.”
The stallion allowed Micah to mount and showed quietly responsive to the rein.
“Behaves well, Sergeant.”
“Cost a load, sir. Always get the best of grooms and training to them black horses, most often, that is.”
One of the boy prisoners ventured a protest.
“I say there! That’s my horse, you know!”
A faggot of firewood swiped casually between his shoulders, knocked him face down in the mud. A loud voice called him to get up and stop lazing about. A hand hauled him upright and pushed him back into line.
“That was your first mistake, mister. You want to make a second?”
The boy stayed silent.
“Clever lad! See, you can learn sense, can’t you.”
Micah looked across to the source of the disturbance.
“Corporal Perkins, that is no way to treat a prisoner.”
“No, sir.”
“He is an officer and a gentleman and must not be thumped as if he were a common soldier. If he steps out of line again, shoot the bastard!”
There was a shout of laughter and Corporal Perkins was heard promising to obey his captain.
Micah tapped the black horse with his heels and they moved out of the yard, Micah berating himself for allowing the word ‘bastard’ to sully his lips. He had never said anything like that before.
Five minutes later, listening to Eglinton he was much inclined to use the word again. The boy lieutenant had made a cock of it, had lost the advantage of surprise and had allowed his men to be killed unnecessarily. Micah had thought the task to be simple but it had been beyond the youngster’s powers; the mistake was his, he should not have made such a misjudgement.
“We shall talk it over later, Mr Eglinton. For the moment, what is the position here?”
“We took five-and-thirty horses, sir. None of the mounts injured, sir, and none lost. We killed or took thirty-five men, sir, so the figures are right. Two officers dead and fifteen of the men either killed or like to die from wounds, sir. Eighteen more or less unharmed prisoners, sir; cuts and bruises at most. Twelve of those prisoners are youngsters, sir, who did not try to fight. They say they were taken from their villages over the last two days and forced to ride with the troop, sir. I have put them to one side.”
“What of their horses?”
“Their own, sir, or their fathers’ more likely. They come from the better-off local folk. They said that there was a regiment of foot as well that was picking up young men who had no horse.”
“Where?”
“Gone marching back towards Chippenham, they said, sir. The cavalry was making a sweep out further than the foot would risk.”
“Keep them to one side. Tell them to pick out their own horses and saddle up. Watch them to make sure they know what they’re doing and are not trying to lie to us. Major Carew must make a decision about them. What of the other six?”
“One cornet, sir, and five troopers. All of the men are experienced in war, I would say. The cornet’s name is Holmes, he tells me. A real bloody fool, sir!”
Micah laughed, asked why that might be.
“He has been making threats, sir. He is an important man. His father is a lord. He will see us hunted down and shot, every last one of us, if we do not instantly release him.”
“You’re right, Eglinton. It’s a fool indeed who makes threats when his hands are bound and he is a prisoner. Again, I’ll give him into Major Carew’s care.”
“About our own men, sir. I didn’t know what to do when they fired back and waited too long to make my mind up to charge. They should not have died, sir.”
Eglinton was close to tears. That had to be stopped if the men were ever to follow him again; an officer who broke down and wept was finished.
“You know your mistake, Mr Eglinton. Don’t do it again. If you do, put yourself to the front and don’t come back. For now, you have lost your men’s confidence and it is up to you to regain it. You are their leader and you must be seen at the fore shouting ‘follow me’. You will have the chance to redeem yourself next time we go into a fight. Take that chance and do not let your men down a second time. I made you an officer because I trusted you; I still do. Any man can make one mistake. Remember that when an
officer makes an error, it is commonly his men who die for it. Off you go now. Ensure the men are fed and that they are ready to march out when the time comes. Mr Halleck, here, please!”
The senior lieutenant had been waiting the call.
“What have you noticed, Halleck?”
“The men are carrying little by way of fodder for the horses and nothing for their own rations. I think they are to return to their base today, sir. Two dead officers were dressed in new uniforms, sir. New in the field. The cornet is loud-mouthed and wholly unlearned as a soldier. Freshly raised troops, a mix of men who have fought overseas and locally raised greenhands. Still short on numbers, I would say. I think this might be a regiment, not a single troop of cavalry. Making a ride through the countryside, a sweep to pick up horses and men.”
“You could well be right at that. We have an older officer – their major or colonel, I expect – and a pair of youngsters. Have you seen any of the villagers?”
Halleck shook his head.
“Run; hiding up in the church; dead – could be any of the three, sir.”
“If they are dead, the prisoners are going to the noose. The officers and sergeants, that is. Bring those youngsters over here, the ones newly forced into the ranks. They can lead their horses.”
“What happened to the local folk?”
One of the boys raised a hand.
“Beg pardon, sir. We were kept at the rear, sir. Under guard. They didn’t call us prisoners, but there was a sergeant and four of the older men watching us and they had pistols and we don’t. They gave us straight swords, sir, and said they would teach how to manage them on horseback when we got back to camp, which is over towards Devizes, so they said, sir. John White said he was not going to join them, sir, when they took him up, and they tied him to a post in the village – Larkhill, that is - and flogged him, sir. A hundred lashes as a traitor, they said. They left him for dead when we rode out and I did as I was told, sir.”
“You cannot be blamed for that, young man. You say you did not see what happened when they came here yesterday?”
“No, sir. I don’t think it was anything bad, sir. They weren’t talking about doing anything when we were brought into the farm here, sir. If they had killed them, or anything else with the girls, they would have been talking about it, I think.”
Micah was impressed by the lad’s sense.
“Well thought. What’s your name?”
“Parsons, sir. Henry. My father has an estate over towards Larkhill and Knighton Down, sir. I am second son and the soldiers said I must join as I was the right sort to be a King’s Man. My father did not want me to go; he told me to keep my eyes open and use my common sense to get away when I could and if I could not, to do as I was told.”
“He sounds like a clever man. I shall speak with my commander, Parsons, and tell him what I know of you and the others beside you. I do not know what he will decide. He is not a cruel man.”
Micah nodded and turned away as Sergeant Driver called from the road.
“Sir! Got a vicar here, sir. Come to the yard just now and asked for an officer so I brought him along to you.”
“Well done, Driver.”
Micah turned to the man in clerical bands, little older than himself, obviously screwing up his courage to speak to the ferocious soldiery.
“What can I do for you, sir? Do you have the village folk in your care? I cannot discover what has happened to them and fear for the poor people.”
“They are in the church, sir. The Lord protected all in his mercy.”
“Good. They will have lost much, I do not doubt. They have their lives and will not suffer more at our hands. I am Captain Slater. Major Carew, the commanding officer, will be here within minutes, I would expect.”
“I will speak to him, Captain. It would be to the benefit of the villagers was some of the horses to be left behind, that they might be sold at the Salisbury horse fair to make recompense for their losses.”
“I do not doubt that it would, sir. We need the horses to mount more troopers to go to war against the man of blood, Charles Stuart. I much fear that your request will be refused.”
Daniel agreed – the horses could not be spared.
“Should any be sick or lame, you might keep them and bring them to fitness, sir. Otherwise, the needs of war come first.”
The vicar shook his head sadly, suggested that the officers might have been carrying coins that could be passed into the villagers’ hands.
Daniel laughed.
“They might well have had purses, master vicar, but they will have fallen into their captors’ hands. I shall see nothing of them, and nor, I fear, will you. Soldiers are not inclined to relinquish their loot, however sad they may be at the sight of the destitute in your flock. Be thankful that your people live, sir. There are many who will not be so fortunate. Should any of your younger men wish to join our ranks, I shall pay a small bounty to their kinsfolk remaining here. Not a great deal – I do not possess it myself. I could find perhaps eight full crowns – silver coachwheels – for each man who became a soldier.”
It seemed clear that the village was too poor to supply troopers with their own horses.
The vicar shook his head, unwilling to send men away, possibly to die, almost certainly never to return; soldiers who had seen the wide world were unlikely to come back to a poor village. There was little alternative. Crops had been trampled and pigs had been slaughtered and the villagers would be hard pressed to bring in a harvest sufficient to survive the next winter.
“I will speak to some of the families, Major.”
“Tell them that their men will be given warm clothing and boots for their feet, and that they will march under my command and that of the Red Man, who is known to many. They will be fed and will have the chance to pick up a penny or two besides – and they will fight for the right and can be sure of the Kingdom of God if they fall.”
The cause was an afterthought – poor and illiterate villagers knew nothing of Parliament or King, and their lives would be unaffected by the victory or defeat of either.
“What of these forced recruits, sir? Should we make them prisoner or offer them the chance to join us or simply send them home again under pledge of good behaviour?”
Daniel was unsure.
“They have been poorly treated, it would seem from all you say, Red Man. The thing is, troopers have horses and that means the chance to quietly disappear and be ten miles distant before they are missed, perhaps. Desertion is far easier for the man on horseback. There is little gain to forcing them into our ranks – not like the foot soldier who cannot easily get away.”
“And hence the flogging of the poor fellow who shouted his mouth off unwisely – to strike fear into the hearts of his companions. I would not wish to be part of that, sir.”
“It was unwise, Red Man. That is the way for an officer to end up with a pistol bullet in his back. You have spoken to these youngsters. Ask them to join and give them permission to go home if they prefer – but without their horses. We need the nags. If they leave, then a writing under their signature that they will not go to war for the King – which might frighten them into good behaviour in future years.”
“If I join, Captain, will I be a trusted man, one who might be promoted one day?”
“If you ride with me, Henry Parsons, then it is as one of my troopers, on the same terms as every other. Show able, you may soon become a lieutenant; show cowardly, you may dangle in a noose. We are at war, as you know, and you could die tomorrow – or you could be a victorious officer, well rewarded by Parliament at the end of this bloody affair. The end you achieve will be to a great extent of your own making. I would wish you and all of your friends in the like situation to come to war at my back – and you will be a trooper like every other.”
“Then I shall join with you, sir. Johnny White was my good friend and should not have been treated so. We sat in dame school side by side and I will not forgive those who left him dan
gling, no more than a flayed side of meat!”
It was as good a reason as any to go to war.
The others decided to follow as well, but probably more for being unwilling to walk back home without their fathers’ horses.
The vicar brought four young men to the ranks and left with the eight pounds he had been promised and two more besides from Micah’s pocket, he having noticed a number of joints of fresh pork tucked away on the company waggon and suspecting that another one or two of the farmer’s pigs had come under the butcher’s knife.
The officer prisoners were a problem – they refused to give their parole. Daniel offered them their freedom consonant on their signing a pledge never to serve against Parliament, but they would not. The old colonel swore that he would ride for the true King at the first opportunity. That meant they must be held prisoner, which required them to be taken to a safe city such as Portsmouth where there were facilities for prisoners. To do that meant to send an escort with a horse and cart, probably to be gone for a fortnight and having no knowledge of where the battalion might have marched the while.
“I am tempted to hang them, Red Man. That would get them out of my way!”
Micah shook his head – he could not see that as right.
“Best they should march behind the foot, sir… Better yet, with the baggage train. Hands tied so that they may not escape and a rope to each neck and tied to a waggon so that they may not fall behind. A day or two marching in such fashion and they may well reconsider their parole, sir.”
“So they may, Red Man, and all done legitimately without torture or coercion.”
“Better treatment than they offered to the boy White at Larkhill, sir. They flogged him near to death for refusing to join them. If he did not die – and young Henry Parsons did not know that for sure – then he will likely never be a strong man again.”
“Cruel of them. I will deal with them fairly.”
Daniel called the four officer survivors before him
“You have refused parole. That is your choice. You will be held prisoner, marching with the baggage train until we reach the village of Larkhill. Once there, you will be given into the custody of the White family, to do with as they will.”
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