Red Man

by Andrew Wareham

  It seemed a reasonable expectation.

  “Then we must choose our ground, sir, and hope they are too green to see what we are doing. Do we know any names of those opposing us?”

  Daniel did not – he had heard of none of the local commanders.

  “There will be some like myself who have come back from the Germanies and know what we are doing. I suspect – and much hope – that the most senior men will be those of rank and position and money, and very little experience. There will be those like my foolish brother David who firmly believe that aristocratic breeding and natural virtue far outweigh military knowledge and discipline and training. I do hope so!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Camp early this afternoon, Red Man. Two miles or so this side of Upavon, before the valley becomes too shallow to protect our flanks. Keep an eye out for a stretch of convenient ground for our purposes. I don’t know this part of the Plain too well, but I seem to recall grazing lands down on the flat here, not too well drained and too much likely to flood to be used for a wheat or barley crop. Can’t understand it, myself – all that is needed is a few ditches and rough pasture can be turned into good ploughland. Short sighted landlords who won’t spend coppers now to make silver in the future!”

  “Common land, perhaps? No single holder to have the authority to make the change?”

  “Not in this area, Red Man. The sheep lands of the Downs, and the valleys in between, were all brought into enclosure in Queen Bess’ day. Made my family’s fortune, that I know!”

  Micah had heard of enclosure in the sheep pastures. It had happened in parts of Lincolnshire and he knew at second hand of the distress it had caused in the previous age, of the dispossessed villagers who had walked miles in hopeful search of work in the slate quarries and been sent on their way empty-handed.

  “So, the landowner hereabouts is too mean or too stupid to improve his lands, you think, sir?”

  “Most likely living in London, knowing how to spend his money on fashionable diversions but with no concept of making more, of benefitting his whole family. A lounger about the Court whose sole skill lays in kissing the King’s arse!”

  Micah frowned – there were too many such in the country.

  “With luck, he will have gone to war at the King’s side, there to die. His successor may be a better man.”

  “If we are fortunate, Red Man. We shall bring a cleansing to this country of ours, if all goes well. Let us do our own best in this valley of the Avon.”

  They came to ideal ground a little further than they wanted from the village, but not so distant as to make it ineligible.

  The river was not so wide but was a good five feet deep, impossible for a laden soldier to ford and impractical for a squadron of horse. There was no bridge in easy reach.

  “The ground is dry enough for horse but they are not about to take us from the flank. We can anchor our left here in safety.”

  Micah listened to and agreed with his mentor.

  “A good two furlongs width of rough pasture, crossed by the roadway and ending in scrub on the edge of the downland. Haw and sloe bushes mixed with brambles climbing the side of the chalk for nearly a hundred yards and too steep beyond that for marching men, let alone horse. We can set our line, a little wider than I might have wished, perhaps. Good enough to hold, though.”

  “My troop of horse must need be careful, sir. There are rabbit holes in places, especially near the scrub.”

  “A walk rather than a gallop, Red Man. No matter. We hear a lot about charging cavalrymen but dragoons do better at a more precise pace, bringing themselves to position to use carbine or pistol effectively. The wild boys attract the stories but it is sober men who win the day more often.”

  It seemed likely.

  “What do you say, sir? Sit here and rest the men for two or three days, hoping that Colonel Barebum may have shouted his people into action? Should I take a platoon up to the village to make a stir, asking of the location of the houses of malignants? That should move some of them to send for help, with luck.”

  “Do that, Red Man. Be ferocious in your demand for the location of King’s Men to burn out. Try not to actually find too many – we do not wish to scatter about the countryside chasing down the ill-disposed.”

  The village was small and poor. The thatch on the roofs was blackened, the cottages damp and dismal. A few children mooched about in the single street, too poorly fed to have the energy to run and play. Micah found a few pennies, handed them out; the boys took them and ran while the little girls screamed for their mothers, yelling there was a dirty old man offering them coppers.

  “So much for Christian charity, Sergeant Driver!”

  “Unknown in these parts, it seems, sir.”

  Doors slammed shut as the children disappeared. There was no village store and only a single, empty beerhouse.

  “If we want to know anything, sir, best we go inside. The barman will be there.”

  Micah dismounted and went in, Rootes at his shoulder.

  The single bar smelt of piss and stale beer, the two hardly distinguishable. There was one table with a wooden bench on either side and a short wooden counter, a single barrel behind it. A scrawny middle-aged landlord scowled at them.

  Micah was horrified – a village was poor indeed if its publican could not afford a belly.

  “Captain Slater of Colonel Jevons’ Regiment, in the service of Parliament. Who is the landowner here? Where will I find him? Speak up! Quickly now!”

  “Beg pardon, master. Ain’t got one. ‘Er’s dead, this four year. The mistress don’t dwell round these parts no more, nor the young squire what ain’t no more nor a little boy anyhow. The land agent, Mr Willis, do live in Amesbury and don’t be seen next or nigh to us except come Quarter Day when ‘er comes for ‘er rents.”

  “Is there only the one owner?”

  “Always ‘as been, round these parts. Squire got the lands for all of we folks. Ain’t been no squire these last years and ain’t been nothin’ done for the likes of we. Can’t do nothing whiles young squire ain’t of an age. Ten more year, if us don’t starve first. Half the places are empty for the folks going off to find a living some place else. Nobody don’t care for we.”

  Micah had never seen such misery, could not find anything to say.

  “Pass the word that the regiment shall be camped down the valley a way for the next two or three days. Any man who wishes to carry a musket or push a pike can come to us to join. We need drummer boys as well. There will be pay and a belly full of food – most of the time.”

  Micah turned away – there was nothing to be gained by asking any more questions. There was no prospect of messengers going from the village to the King’s forces – they had no horses. He made his way back to the camp, reported on the state of the village.

  Daniel was surprised but could understand what had happened.

  “No master and none to replace him for years. Best you should send parties of scouts out, Red Man. Three or four together under a sensible corporal or senior man. Ride out a few miles to see and be seen and draw the attention of the King’s people. The news will spread that there are strangers riding the Downs – or so I hope.”

  Nothing happened next day except for the men moaning that their snares were empty. There were no rabbits left in this poor country.

  “Short of songbirds, too, sir. Everything they can eat, they have taken.”

  Micah shook his head; Sergeant Fletcher said he had seen the like overseas where the armies had repeatedly tramped over the fields and destroyed the harvests, but he had not looked for it in England.

  “They don’t care none for ordinary folks, not in this part of the woods, sir. Ain’t like it every place in the country. Bad hereabouts. Do you see they watching us, back in the bushes, sir?”

  Micah glanced about, spotted movement, well concealed.

  “Looking to see if we empty out the leftovers from the stew pots, sir. Or for peelings and leaves from cab
bages what we can’t eat. Some of them going to go home and tell them we got food. Watch what happens come the morning.”

  Micah took an early breakfast and looked across to the lines, hearing noise there.

  “How many, Sergeant?”

  Captain Vokes’ company had the guard and had collected the hopefuls as they had come into camp.

  “Eight of men, sir, or big enough to be called that. Five of boys what wants to be drummers.”

  “Are they fit to march?”

  “Just, sir.”

  “Take them on. Get them some grub. Talk to your captain and if he does not want the burden of so many underfed objects, spread them through the companies. Let Captain Prothero organise that.”

  The Adjutant would have to be informed of the extra names for the payroll, had as well do the rest of the work.

  Micah was surprised that none of the village girls had come overnight to pick up a few coppers. Perhaps most of an age had already drifted away to make a living in the towns; there would be little other choice for them.

  Villages were hard on women. He was glad he had been able to do something for his own sisters.

  The scouts rode out in their threes and fours, going to the roads leading towards the towns on the edge of the Plain where the soldiers might be expected.

  Mid-morning saw one of the men coming back at some speed. Not riding hard but making good time. Micah walked across to Daniel’s tent to listen to the report.

  “Coming down from the north, Chippenham way that is, so the locals said, sir. I saw a regiment of foot and a troop of horse to the front and dust behind, sir. Corporal sent me back, sir, while he rode round to see what was coming up from their rear. Horse was no more than thirty troopers, sir, with long swords and maybe pistols. Couldn’t see for sure, didn’t look like they had long guns. For the foot – no more nor eight companies and them not so big as ours. A good hundred less than us. Might be that was another regiment behind, sir. Way they’re marching, well, they’re eight miles, more or less, distant and I reckons late afternoon afore they gets here. Didn’t feel like they was old at the game, sir.”

  “Well done. That is a good report and tells me much that I need to know, soldier. Can you say anything about the officers?”

  Micah noticed that Daniel did not give a direct question, guiding the scout towards any particular point. He allowed the man to tell what he had seen and what he thought was important.

  “They was all of them a-horseback, sir. Not all with their companies, sir. They was in groups, you might say, half a dozen of mates all talking and laughing together. There was one lot at the front what I reckons was the colonel and he had seven or eight round him.”

  “That is worth knowing, too. Poor discipline! Well done. I shall send you out again, soldier. What is your name?”

  Micah answered.

  “He is Trooper Ayreton, sir, who joined us in Romsey and has shown very willing and is one of those who may well rise from the ranks, sir.”

  “Thank’ee, Captain Slater. I shall remember your name, Ayreton. I am always looking for good soldiers who can become sergeants and possibly officers.”

  Ayreton rode off, sitting tall and proud.

  “One of the gentleman’s sons, sir. I sent him as a scout despite his lack of time in the battalion because he has ridden since boyhood, is one of our best horsemen.”

  Daniel agreed with Micah’s decision; they had too few of men experienced in the saddle.

  “Take the rest of your squadron, Red Man, just to the other side of the village and up onto the downs on either side. No enemy scouts to see what we are doing. I doubt they will advance beyond Upavon today – it will make a sensible place to hold. I would like them to come on us in the morning unexpectedly. Set your Lieutenant Halleck to place the company and dig a trench for the muskets. The pikes cannot use fieldworks so well. Can Halleck be made captain in your place? I would like you to stay with the horse and recruit more to make your number up to a good eighty, within the week, if possible. In time, we can make you into commander of two or more squadrons, if we can lay our hands on pistols and horses.”

  Micah had not realised the extent of Daniel’s ambitions for the regiment whose command he had inherited. It seemed he wanted to lead a powerful unit of horse as well as his increasingly large and experienced battalion of foot. He wondered just how expansive his plans might be, decided to go fishing.

  “Those half dozen of demi-culverins might be useful at the moment, sir. With them dug in behind earthen walls we would be able to hold our ground with no difficulty at all.”

  “You are, of course, entirely correct, Red Man. We shall return by way of Palethorpe’s, I do not doubt. If we cannot pick those guns up, possibly we could purchase sakers or falcons from the Wealden ironmasters. Smaller guns, admittedly, but handy for events such as these.”

  ‘Horse, foot and guns’, Micah mused.

  He cocked his head enquiringly.

  “We become our own little brigade, sir.”

  “Why ‘little’, Red Man?”

  “Do you have it in mind to pacify our own country and hold it against all comers, sir?”

  “Not as such, but the general who held a substantial part of the land for Parliament might well seek some reward for his pains, think you not?”

  “He might indeed, sir.”

  Micah decided to pursue that question no further. He made his farewells, collecting his horse together and leading them up the road north.

  “Eyes out for scouts poking their noses south of Upavon. None to see the regiment down in the valley or get any idea of our numbers or where we are to be found exactly, or what is happening. The Major wants them to stumble across us all unprepared in the morning. In pairs, in sight of each other and to form a line on either side of the river where it turns east.”

  Micah remained with Rootes and four troopers on the road half a mile north of Upavon where he could be easily located. Two of the scouts sent out at dawn found him within the hour.

  “What news, Corporal Weaver?”

  “Sent Ayreton back earlier to say we’d found ‘em coming this way, sir.”

  “You did. He told us of a regiment of foot, smaller than ours, and a small troop of horse.”

  “That’s right. There’s another one back a half mile or so, out of the dust. It ain’t much. Don’t reckon it to be four ‘undred strong and no muskets. Reckon as ‘ow it’s no more than the tenants of three or four big estates been put together at the muster. They got some pikes and short halberds and old swords and some are carrying felling axes, like they was foresters. Not marching proper-like, more like wandering along. Got about a dozen of officers on horseback and some of they ‘as got old-fashioned helmets and such. Got a flag up, they ‘as. They don’t look like soldiers do. Don’t mean they ain’t up for a fight, sir. Reckon as ‘ow they might be proper bad-tempered buggers, if you’ll excuse me, sir.”

  “Well said. Go back to Major Carew and tell him all that you’ve said to me, Weaver. You have done very well. I am pleased with your work.”

  Weaver nodded – he thought he had done his job properly, was pleased to be acknowledged.

  “Have you spotted any of their scouts around this area?”

  “Don’t know they got any out, sir. That regiment in the lead don’t look like they knows a lot about what they’re doin’, sir. Tell thee one thing, sir, what I did see and was going to tell thee and damned near forgot. That boy with the big mouth, the cornet, what you sent into Salisbury all bare-arsed and red-faced? Never did hear his name – big-mouthed and shouting off what he was going to do to every last one of us. He’s riding with the front of them, next and nigh to the colonel.”

  “Holmes? He gave his written parole! If you’re right, Weaver – and I believe you when you say you saw him – then he’s one to have his neck well stretched as soon as I lay hands on him. Little sod! Breaking his pledged word, his very honour! Oh, I shall see to him, watch if I don’t! Tell Major Carew, if y
ou please.”

  Major Carew was displeased. The parole was central to the concept of honour – it was part of the very soul of the soldier. To breach parole was to deny the existence of military decency. He sent a message back to Micah, in writing, a rarely formal order.

  ‘It is reported that the man known as Cornet Holmes, who gave his parole at Salisbury, has been seen in arms at the head of a force of Royalists. If such be true then all efforts shall be made to take him captive that he may be placed before a court of honour and then be subjected to the noose. There is to be a reward paid in gold to the man or men that takes him alive. Inform all of your troopers, if you please.’

  Micah passed on the message, assuring the men that even if Holmes was taken by the efforts of a whole platoon, every man involved would see a gold coin in his hand.

  “What if us kills ‘im, sir?”

  “Bring the body in and you will be paid a smaller sum. He has dishonoured his name and should be hanged publicly if at all possible.”

  They nodded thoughtfully, quietly working out that they could half-kill him and still pick up the full reward. That might be easier than taking him unwounded, considering that he must know the treatment he would receive if he was taken a second time.

  The royalist force camped for the night to the north of Upavon, settling in two separate bodies, as they had marched. No scouts on horseback set out before nightfall.

  Micah fell back on the regiment south of the village.

  Riding in, he saw that there had been an attempt to dig trenches and build small earth walls. They had been successful in the area on the right of the position, the slightly higher side, but closer to the river the trenches had filled with water as soon as they were dug.

  Daniel was not too concerned.

  “It will push them into a smaller stretch of land, Red Man. They are bound to funnel across to the less obviously defended part. I have switched the companies about so that there is an extra block of pikes closer to the river. That should slow their push down and allow our shot to work upon them. I am a little concerned about this half-battalion of irregulars – they will not know the rules.”