At first he jogged painfully, falling first one way then to the other, teetering on the brink of crashing to the ground but always at the last moment righting himself again. The horse complained as the reins were pulled in an effort to keep him upright, and it jigged across the path as if considering throwing its inconsiderate rider into a convenient holly bush.
He finally remembered that if he rose to each alternate step things would become easier; then after a while the horse made it clear that walking was preferable once it had got rid of the high spirits resulting from a long stay in the stables. So eventually, he remembered more of what he had been told and gripped with his thighs instead of hanging on to the reins, and they got along well enough, but with unresolved dislike, each for the other.
Stiffness wore into him as muscles held too tight began to complain, but with the stiffness came a sense of achievement and he realized, as he approached the point where the bag would be handed over, that he was enjoying himself.
When he reached the end of his uneventful journey, he saw Ben’s son waiting for him. Barrass had forgiven Ben (and his son, probably its originator) for the trick played on him at Nant Arian, so now he greeted the son with a smile as he handed over his precious leather bag.
‘So, they gave the job to you. Well, are you pleased? I said, “My goodness me what a treat it would be for the boy who searches for his father to follow in his footsteps”, I said. So Father, he said, “Goodness what an idea, I do believe they would do it if I suggested it,” so, here you are!’
‘Thank you,’ Barrass said, as usual a little confused by the way Ben’s involvement was told. ‘I suppose there is no news of anyone who could be my father?’
‘Dear me, no. Now, if you’ve a mind, there’s a mulled ale to cheer you before you set off home.’
‘I thought your father stayed overnight and went back…’ He faltered as the young man shook his head.
‘No need, my fine friend. Your work is done and done well, and so I will say to any who asks. No, all is well again and Father’ll be up and running afore you can touch a pillow with your head. Fit as a flea and twice as lively he is. “Why I do believe,” he says to me, “I do believe that me ague is gone like a sea fret in the summer sun.” Now over there is a fresh horse so when you are rested, you can be off back to all the girls that cried to see you go.’
* * *
Darkness had returned when Barrass reached the Swansea sorting office. He handed his horse to a stable boy who was not pleased at being woken to attend to him, then set off wearily on the walk back to his lonely home. His legs ached dreadfully, the muscles on his thighs, overstrained by lack of experience, were painful and filled each step with dread. He thought he would do better to find somewhere to sleep and walk home on the following day, but a million stars showed in the heavens, the trees and hedges sparkled with frost, the ground was hard underfoot, and he knew that he would not find anywhere safe from the bitter winter night.
He was disappointed that his new position had lasted but a day, but the prospect of seeing Penelope sooner than he had expected cheered him and he walked along more easily, anticipation giving a sprightliness to his steps.
He slept long into the next day, rousing occasionally but retreating back into sleep in face of his aching muscles and the icy cold. The only sounds were of waves thrashing impatiently at the rocks close to where he lay, and an occasional scream of a seabird. Then he slowly realized that the call was too regular and he opened an eye reluctantly to see Olwen standing at the mouth of the cave, her face shadowed.
‘Olwen!’ He was awake in an instant, rising from the layers of blankets to greet her, groaning as the sudden movement reminded him of his strained muscles and sore flesh. ‘Come in, warm yourself or you will be frozen into a statue.’
She moved slightly and her face was revealed. She was glaring at him, and the sight of her smallness, showing such an adult scowl, made him laugh.
‘Come and warm yourself in my bed,’ he said, pulling the covers back and inviting her to sit among them. ‘Come on, you will freeze and what would I do without you?’
‘What you always do, find yourself a woman to give a baby to.’
For a moment his heart seemed to stop. Had there been another claim of fatherhood to lay at his door?
‘What d’you mean?’ he asked warily.
‘Penelope Ddole – and what her father will say I daren’t think! Oh, Barrass.’ She left the entrance and ran to him. He put his arms around her, his cheek resting on her fair head.
‘You don’t understand such things,’ he said.
‘I do! I know that you can’t look at a girl without wanting to crawl into her bed, burrowing under her clothes like the fleas you carried for so long!’
He led her to the still warm covers and persuaded her to sit. She surprised him by clinging to him. Her amateur lips screwed up like a fir cone, her eyes tightly closed, she planted a kiss on his lips that made him laugh all the more.
‘There,’ she said, glaring angrily. ‘I can kiss too.’
‘Oh Olwen, it was lovely,’ he laughed.
‘Was it? What was it like?’ Her heart was beating fast and there was a reciprocal tic in her cheek but the feeling was swamped by anger as he laughed even louder and said,
‘It was like being kissed by a dried walnut!’
She hit him and they fought like they often had in the past, but this time the anger in Olwen was real, the disappointment of his rejection cruelly felt. After a moment, Barrass realized it and he held her arms tightly, crooning to her like a baby until her struggles and tears subsided.
‘Olwen, you are my best and truest friend, what I feel for you is something completely different from what I feel for people like Violet and Penelope. The loving is almost a game, one I cannot resist playing when it is offered so readily. But I would never treat you like them. Or,’ he added in a firmer voice, ‘or allow anyone else to treat you in that way. Kill them I would, and don’t you forget it.’
‘I think I will kiss Arthur,’ she mumbled, ‘he has shown that he would like to. If you won’t kiss me I must try others.’ If she expected him to argue and insist she did not, she was again disappointed.
‘Arthur is a good friend and if you put your trust in him I don’t think he would treat you any way but properly.’
She began hitting him again.
Sitting amid the blankets, arms around each other, they talked for a long time – something they had not done for many weeks. They shared their experiences of both Olwen’s work at Ddole House, and Barrass’s journey on horseback to replace Ben Gammon, albeit only for a day. The companionship they had always enjoyed but which had been lacking of late seemed easily repaired and both were happier for it. Then Arthur appeared at the cave entrance, the dog under his jacket, puffing.
‘Barrass, you’ll have to move and be quick about it.’ He began pulling at the blankets they were wrapped in, saying nothing to Olwen, but urging Barrass on.
‘But why? What has happened?’
Arthur began throwing out the rocks that formed a wind barrier at the cave mouth. ‘Help me hide all evidence of your staying here, I’ll explain later,’ he said, his voice almost a squeak. ‘Move if you value your life and ours.’ He recognized Olwen’s presence for the first time.
The dog sat against the dead ashes of the fire while the three people jettisoned the wood and stones that had made the place habitable, then he was once again deposited in Arthur’s jacket.
‘The customs men are coming here, they’ve been told the cave will be used for contraband on the next tide. Hurry! There’s a crowd of them already in the church collecting guns and weapons from the town chest! Hurry!’ His thin face white with fear, his adam’s apple dancing madly, he handed the blankets to Barrass and the cooking pot to Olwen, and dragged her out. Barrass was kicking the fire ashes over the edge when Arthur ran back, Olwen still in tow.
‘Too late, they are already at the top of the cliff. We’d better hide in the cave.�
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They waited in the darkness, Barrass hugging Olwen and Arthur soothing the dog, when a shadow crossed the mouth of the cave, and silhouetted against the sky they saw, not an excise man, but Penelope.
‘Barrass?’ she called softly, ‘are you there?’
She looked doubtfully around her, surprised to see the emptiness, her heart falling at the thought that he had moved away.
‘Over here, quickly,’ Barrass called and he darted out and took her arm. He shushed her involuntary scream, then Olwen spoke and their secrecy was hurriedly explained.
‘Did anyone see you?’ Arthur asked.
‘I am sure not,’ Penelope replied. She was excited by the turn of events, disappoinUnent changing in an instant to thrill at the prospect of an adventure.
They had just settled quietly when they heard footsteps and the figure of Daniels appeared, closely followed by a tall, uniformed man, a gun held at his side. The soldier was followed by others until in front of them, like the opening of an Interlude, the stage was set for the arrest of the boat crew expected on the next tide.
The soldiers and customs men made no effort to be silent, but chatted and laughed, with one standing outside and listening for the warnings to be shouted down from others dotted about the cliffs. The guns and the makings of shot were casually placed beside them as they lolled comfortably against the rock walls. Some settled at once to sleep, wrapped in their cloaks. Others ate or drank and even lit pipes, although orders promptly came to put them out, as the smoke would be smelt by the wary boat men.
Barrass thought it worth trying to move further inside the cave while there was a chance of their not being heard. He had explored a short distance, and now, with tapers and a flint filling his pockets, he whispered his plan to the others, placing a kiss on Penelope’s soft cheek in the darkness as he did so.
Using his hands to feel the way, Barrass guided the rest in line-astern convoy through the dry black passageway deep under the hill. When he was certain they had turned enough corners for the light not to be seen, he struck the flint and lit a taper. Soon they all carried one of the cheering yellow lights and they sat to explore with their eyes the place where they found themselves.
Penelope was worried. As soon as the excitement had eased, she thought of her father, and John, both undoubtedly involved in the deliveries to come, and both likely to walk into the trap.
‘My father will come,’ she whispered. ‘They will capture him and this time he won’t escape prison, or worse. We have to do something. Please, Barrass, help them. I couldn’t bear to lose my father so soon after my mother’s death.’
‘There is nothing we can do, except go on along this passage. The air is not stale, there’s hope of another entrance, but where it will be I cannot imagine.’ He had little belief in a second entrance – he could feel no draught and surely if there was an opening, they would feel some movement of air?
He and Arthur led the way along the uneven path which sometimes narrowed and occasionally appeared to end, but always widened out again, allowing access. He urged them to be silent, afraid that sounds would echo and alert the men. Then to Barrass’s amazement, they turned a corner and a gust of wind blew out his taper.
He warned the rest to stay well back, afraid that their route had led them in a circle and they were back facing the sea. His pupils widened and seeking light, he realized with a flood of excitement that in the distance, the blackness was less dense. Slowly, feeling his way, he moved towards it. The opening in the rocks was so sudden that the daylight all but blinded him. He did not recognize the place, but that he was among fields and not close to the sea was apparent. Birds sang and the trees were tall and straight, not bent and distorted by the relentless sea-driven winds.
He was tempted to explore before calling the others, and stepped out into the weak sunshine. To his utter disbelief, he came face to face with Violet.
* * *
‘Barrass!’ she gasped. ‘What are you doing here? Why did you come?’
‘Yes, that is a question I would like answered too!’ Edwin appeared beside her. ‘Well? Have you come to disgrace my wife further?’ Edwin stood, fists raised in a threatening posture, and Violet, ungainly with the expected child, stepped back with a shout. Servants came running and in moments Barrass was surrounded.
‘I’ve come to warn you,’ he said quickly, ‘the cave at the far end of this tunnel is full of soldiers waiting for the boats coming in on the tide!’
‘What’s this?. The tale is a fancy one – you do not lack imagination!’ Edwin stepped closer, his arm bent ready to strike a blow. And he would have, but out behind Barrass came Arthur, the dog a bulge under his coat.
‘It’s true and you haven’t much time to warn the others!’
Disbelief brought a foolish expression to cover the rage on Edwin’s face, and then it became even more comical as out behind Arthur and the dog stepped Olwen, with, last of all, Penelope Ddole.
He believed them then, and sent his servants scurrying with messages for the local people who had intended to help unload the boats that evening.
‘Come with me,’ he told Barrass, ‘we’ll have to light a fire on the cliffs.’ He turned to Arthur. ‘Take these ladies home and tell Pitcher what has happened. Run!’
Running beside Edwin made Barrass’s stiff muscles protest and he was afraid that he would be accused of delaying the warnings. He forced his legs to keep up with Edwin as they sped across the fields to the cliffs.
A tangled pile of cut gorse had been set ready, needing only to be lit to be seen far out to sea. But when Edwin reached the spot it was gone, kicked over the edge by the sharp-eyed Keeper of the Peace.
‘No time to gather more,’ Barrass panted, ‘we’re likely to be spotted at any moment. He snatched the flint box from Edwin’s hand just as voices called and they saw men coming in their direction – though they hadn’t yet been spotted.
‘Go you,’ Barrass said, ‘show yourself and make them follow you. I’ll see that the fire is lit.’
He hid out of sight while Edwin ran down the slope away from him, then struck impatiently at the flint. It lit at last, and he blessed the weather that had dried the grasses and heather. Once the flame grew in strength, the hillside began to rip and roar with it. The fire began to surround him and he was hard put to escape from its furious progress. Though not a concentrated beacon, the flames would be enough to make the boats abandon the landing.
Dirty, stiff with running and half choking on the smoke, Barrass managed a laugh. He had saved the men from capture mostly by good luck, but once again, unbelievably. he was without a home!
‘Tonight,’ he muttered, ‘surely tonight no one will refuse me a bed!’ He skirted the cliffs, moving cautiously until he felt he was safe from the soldiers, and made his way to Olwen’s cottage.
Dan and Spider were sitting by a low fire, Mary was hugging Olwen whilst rocking baby Dic’s cradle with a foot, and Mrs Powell now a confirmed resident, was dozing in a corner. They smiled a welcome when Barrass walked in, Mary easing Olwen away from her and rising to make him food.
‘Tomorrow,’ Spider said, ‘I will call a meeting of the council. You will surely be believed after this day’s work.’
* * *
Penelope was escorted home by Arthur and his dog. She went through the kitchen, an almost unrecognizable figure with her cloak filthy and her hair falling from its plait.
Bethan followed her to her room and arranging for bath water and fresh clothes, settled her in a chair to wait for them.
‘Your father is out,’ Bethan said lazily. ‘Best you get to bed before he sees the state you came home in.’
‘I think he will not be angry,’ Penelope said, allowing Bethan to remove her soiled shoes and stockings.
Curiosity was never strong in Bethan, it seemed to be too much trouble to try and work out puzzles like this. She went to fetch the hot water, and by the time the second pair of buckets had been carried into Penelope’s bedroom,
she had forgotten any questions she might have harboured in her slow brain.
William heard the story before he reached home – the story quickly concocted about Arthur, Penelope and Olwen being on the cliffs to ask Barrass about his journey with the letters, seeing the soldiers and customs men and, being afraid of involvement in some violence, hiding in the cave. He was doubtful when Penelope suggested that the adventure cleared Barrass of suspicion so far as informing the customs was concerned.
‘The men arriving while you were there might have put him in a difficult situation,’ William said. ‘He had to invent a story to hide his involvement. And how did he know about the cave leading to Edwin’s garden?’
‘He didn’t, Father, I’m sure he didn’t,’ Penelope said hotly.
William smiled at her. ‘There must be something special about that boy. He has survived unharmed through the winter without home or food—’ he raised a quizzical eyebrow, but she did not respond to the tacit question – ‘and has fathered babes on some of the village’s prettiest women. And, my dear, I suspect that even you, my level-headed daughter, are more than a mite smitten.’
‘I was with Olwen, and the rest happened around me. He led us to safety and could have escaped unseen. But he chose to face Edwin and warn the men. I can’t think how you can still suspect him of being the spy.’
‘Oh yes. He risked his life on the cliffs too, setting the heather ablaze.’ He smiled again, patting her head as she sat against her pillow, the candle light showing the red amid her brown hair. ‘Very well, I will ask the council to consider carefully the case for believing him innocent of befriending the law-enforcement men. But if there is any further reason to doubt him, I fear he will disappear over the cliffs where he spends so many hours of his time. Tell him, will you? If you should see him? That for a while it’s best he stays away from the cliffs?’
* * *
Barrass was on the cliff path as William spoke. Spider had given him the message that Markus wanted to see him. With some trepidation, he had left the cosy bed Mary had prepared for him on the opposite side of the fire to Mistress Powell, and set off in the darkness. He whistled as he went, making sure that should anyone still be about, his appearance did not in any way seem furtive. He was deathly tired, but kept up the cheerful whistle, even when someone appeared out of the bushes and walked by his side.
Summer’s Last Retreat Page 32