The Voice Within

by Roger Penfound

  She reached the front door and lifted the latch. It groaned more loudly than she had expected. Once outside, she stood in the shadow of a tree, hidden from the house.

  The night was cool and a shiver ran through her body. Since John's message, she had been driven by a sense of adventure and a longing to see him again. But now, as she waited, she felt a surge of panic. What if it was a hoax? Supposing she was being set up? Maybe her father was waiting at the end of the drive to apprehend her and administer the most appalling punishment.

  "Mistress."

  She jumped and almost screamed out.

  "Mistress. Don't fear. I'm Ben. My master, John Trebarfoot sent me. I'm to take you to him. Come with me."

  Her relief was palpable. Eagerly she followed him into a dense wooded area where two horses were tethered.

  "Master says you can ride like the wind. Reckon you'll be OK on this one."

  They mounted up and she followed Ben towards the back of the estate. The wall here was broken and untended in places.

  "Bit of a jump here, mistress. Do you think you can manage that?"

  She had jumped higher before but that was some years ago. She patted the horse's neck then turned to face the wall. Spurring him on, she eased him over the jump without difficulty and they were into the meadow beyond. Following Ben, they cantered across open ground, their way lit by a small crescent moon. At the far side of the meadow was a wood. They entered with caution, careful to avoid the overhanging branches. Once inside, their eyes acclimatised to the dark and the path widened. Soon they were at a gallop, horses sweating, hooves pounding as they sped on.

  After twenty minutes, the wood opened up onto a gently rising hill. They made their way slowly, careful that the horses didn't stumble on protruding rocks. At the top they stopped. From this high ground they could see for miles in the dimly lit night sky. Stars shone down overhead and a light breeze rustled the trees. Kate felt more alive and liberated than she had in a long time. For more than two years she had been a virtual recluse and a prisoner. Now, out here, under the night sky, she felt free. She determined that she would never again let herself be a prisoner – whatever it took.

  "Mistress. Down there, in the hollow. The shepherd's cottage. That's where the master's meeting you."

  She followed his wave. Nestling on the other side of the hill was a cottage. She could see a large black horse tethered outside.

  "This is Trebarfoot land. You'll be safe now. The cottage is empty. The shepherd was killed fighting for Cromwell."

  They eased the horses down a narrow path and cantered to the cottage. On hearing the sound of their arrival, John emerged. He seemed taller and broader than when Kate had last seen him – less of a boy and more of a man.

  "Kate, my love. Come to me."

  He helped her dismount and she fell into his arms. They kissed with a passion driven by separation and pain. Then he held her at arm's length and roared with laughter.

  "What a funny young man you are! I've never kissed one of my own before. Lucky I know what's underneath all that dour attire. Let's go inside. Ben'll look after the horses and he'll take you back later. We don't have long. I have to be back with my regiment by dawn."

  Inside, the cottage was bare, save for a wooden trestle table and a bench. Candles lit the room and reflected a warm glow from the granite walls. Kate noticed a bed of hay at one end of the room covered with a blanket. Her heart raced.

  "Let's talk, my love. There are important matters to discuss."

  He poured them both wine and set out a plate of cheeses and bread.

  "The fighting is fierce, Kate. Yesterday we clashed outside Launceston, We fought all day and took ground from the Royalists, but then their reinforcements arrived and we were forced back. But we are getting stronger by the day. Soon we'll have those Royalist thugs in retreat. There will be another major battle in the next few days, I am certain of that, and soon after will be our opportunity to escape. We'll go to the city – Plymouth or Liskeard. We can take on new identities and be together, my love."

  He seized her with uncontrolled passion and kissed her again.

  "You must be careful, John," she urged. "Make sure you come back for I couldn't live without you."

  "I have to fight. To be truthful, Kate, it's a cause I believe in strongly. It's not right that one man and his lackeys govern the land without redress. We need a parliament that's accountable to the people. But we're up against many in the King's army who have fought abroad and know how to wage war."

  "Then how will you be victorious?"

  "We're learning fast, Kate. In the beginning, the Royalist cavalry would always thrash our foot soldiers. But now we've trained our own horsemen – me included. With Black Thunder outside there and others like us, we're a formidable force. We're turning the tide, Kate. Our land will be free. But enough from me. What of you and that tyrannical father? Has he troubled you again? And why won't that fat brother of yours stop him?"

  Kate told him of her virtual imprisonment, her father's rages and his promise to kill any Trebarfoot who set foot onto his land. But she kept silent about the beatings and the physical abuse. It shamed her and she knew it would have to remain a private agony.

  "After the battle, Kate – that's when I'll come for you. There'll be confusion throughout the land. I'll try to get there before your father and Robert return. That way we'll avoid confrontation."

  He led her from the table to the hay bed and snuffed out all but one candle.

  "So, let's see what this young man is concealing," he laughed as he began to remove her clothes. She let him take Robert's outer garments off her until just her silk underclothes were left. Then she watched as he pulled off his own clothes. She marvelled at the physical change that had taken place in the young boy she used to play with in the fields. Gone was the lanky and uncoordinated body of a youth to be replaced by a man with a firm torso and trim waist. A large angry scar ran the length of his chest, testament to a recent battle.

  John slipped beneath the blanket and removed the rest of her clothes. Their bodies locked together in hungry passion. For Kate it was an awakening which transported her out of the realms of dull misery and into a new dimension filled with taste, sensation, desire and fulfilment.

  As they lay in each other's arms afterwards, Kate knew that she could never again be the tortured child she had been. Whatever it took, whatever price, she was owed the right to be herself.

  They dressed in the flickering candlelight, both aware that this could be the last time they would be together. The battle loomed and John had to survive. And what of Kate's father and brother? Perhaps they would perish. Or, worst of all, John might perish and they survive. In that case, thought Kate, suicide would be the only option.

  They kissed again by the open door of the cottage. Then Ben helped Kate onto her horse and they set off up the hill. At the top, she turned to look back at the cottage. But the horse had gone. John was already on his way back to join his regiment.

  She dismounted outside the broken wall and bade farewell to Ben who had to join his master at the forthcoming battle. Then, silently, she made her way back into the house and up into her bedroom.

  Lying on her bed, unable to sleep, she looked into the cold eyes of her father. This time they seemed distant, almost translucent. It was as if a door had opened into the new world she had now discovered – a door to other places, to other times – to other dimensions. The cold stare of her father's eyes no longer imprisoned her but offered her a way out and others a way in.

  Chapter 13: Sourton Down, April 25th 1643

  It was early morning when John reached Okehampton to re-join his regiment. As he approached the main square he was surprised to find it full of men and horses preparing for battle. He called down to one of the young grooms.

  "Boy – why are these men not sleeping? What has roused them?"

  "There's to be an ambush, sir. The Royalists are on the move and are coming this way. Major General Chudleigh pla
ns a surprise for 'em."

  Determined not to be left out of any ambush, John pressed on through the throng until he came across his own troop. His captain, a young man little older than himself, quickly explained the situation.

  "After that disaster at Launceston, the Royalists think they have us on the run. The scouts tell us that their army is on the move this very night, commanded by Sir Ralph Hopton. He's leading a force of over five thousand men through the night to take Okehampton in the morning. We're to surprise him and drive them back over the River Tamar."

  "But we've only two hundred cavalry here at the most. How can we drive back a force of over five thousand? It's madness."

  "The Major says it's down to surprise. In the dark they won't see us. He's reckoning that as most of them are untrained volunteers, they'll throw down their arms and run."

  "Major General Chudleigh hasn't exactly been right in the past or we wouldn't be in this situation."

  "You'd best mind your words, young Trebarfoot. This is not a time to seem disloyal."

  "I certainly wouldn't ..."

  He was interrupted by a bugle call summoning the cavalry to a briefing at the southern end of the square. John joined the throng of men making their way to the meeting. Many were like him, in their early twenties. But there were also older men, some with their sons, fighting side by side. He felt proud to be a part of this movement, idealistic and forward thinking. The days of monarchs who ruled autocratically 'by the grace of God' were over. Today the land-owners, the merchants and the middle classes had a right to be consulted. Parliament represented these people and it was their right to be heard that he was fighting for.

  At the end of the square, a wagon had been drawn up as a platform. Major General Chudleigh strode out of his headquarters to address his troops. He was a young man in his mid-twenties, the son of an old land-owning family from Devon.

  "Men, tonight we are charged with a most daring and audacious assault. Our scouts tell us that the Royalist battalions are on the move, heading this way towards Okehampton. If they take this town we will have lost an essential base for recruitment and re-stocking our army. It is essential that this advance is stopped. However, our main force of foot soldiers is not yet ready to face the enemy after the fierce battle at Launceston. So I have decided that we will use strategy and cunning as our weapons. We will ride out to Sourton Down, less than five miles from here. Once there, we will split into six squadrons of horse. I calculate that the Royalist force will reach Sourton Down before dawn. Our scouts tell us that they are merry with wine and ill-disciplined. They won't see us as we'll be drawn up in the shadow of the hill with the rising sun behind us. On my command, we will ride out at full charge, shouting and screaming whatever obscene thing comes to your mind."

  A ripple of laughter spread through the assembled men.

  "They will be taken by surprise. Many of their recruits are untrained and will run like chickens from the field of battle. Your duty will be to follow them relentlessly and slay them. Show no mercy because they have shown none to us."

  There was a murmur of assent from within the ranks.

  "Now return to your steeds and mount up. We leave in thirty minutes."

  John felt a surge of excitement run through his body. All too often the cavalry were held back in battle until the foot soldiers were exhausted. Then the horsemen would ride in and drive the defeated soldiers from the battlefield. This time it was to be a full cavalry charge calling for the very best of his horsemanship and his skill with musket and sword.

  At four in the morning, the force of two hundred horsemen rode out from Okehampton. John wished Kate could see him. He wore breast plates to the back and front and a heavy buff leather coat which afforded some protection from sword strikes. He felt an integral part of this fighting force – young, idealistic and motivated. He was ready for whatever came his way.

  By five in the morning they had reached Sourton Down and divided into six squadrons. John's squadron, led by young Captain Drake, was ordered to lead the first charge. The cavalry lined up one abreast and were sworn to silence lest the Royalists were forewarned.

  After twenty minutes, a strange noise could be heard coming from the east. It sounded like a small town on the move. First, the banging of a lone drum. Then the sound of singing and laughter. Then the noise of horses and the rumble of wheels moving over the wet moorland. At first it seemed to the Parliamentary forces that some satanic force had been let loose and was making its way towards them. But then, lit by the first rays of a rising sun, the straggling line of men came into view. They looked less like an army and more like a travelling circus. They clearly had no expectation of imminent battle. Major General Chudleigh signalled to his men that they must hold their ground and hold their tongues.

  As they waited, thunder clouds rolled in from the Atlantic and the first rumbles of a storm could be heard echoing over the moor.

  The Royalist Army, led by an advance party of dragoons, was making its way slowly down a ridge and onto the moor. Major General Chudleigh waited till most of the force had reached the flat ground. John's body tingled with the anticipation of battle and his horse quivered beneath him as the signal to charge was given. With a ferocious roar, Captain Drake led his cavalry towards the dragoons, each letting off a shot from their muskets as they came within range. The dragoons were taken completely by surprise and seemed unable to respond. Instead of taking up a fighting formation, they rode in different directions seeking cover from nearby woods. Behind the dragoons came the main force of foot soldiers. Mostly untrained, they fell over their weapons, ran into each other or tried to surrender. By now, Chudleigh had released the other five squadrons and there was pandemonium on the battle field. To the Royalists it seemed as if they were under attack from a full fighting force, not the two hundred horsemen that made up the charge. In addition, the storm took on a ferocious and frightening spectre. Bolts of lightning struck from the sky, igniting Royalist powder kegs. Men were thrown into the air as these exploded, their cartwheeling bodies silhouetted against the morning sky. Then came torrential rain, turning the battlefield into a quagmire. Soon the Royalists guns were bogged down in the mud and deserted by the fleeing soldiers.

  As men ran and staggered from the scene of the battle, Captain Drake gave the order to his cavalry to follow the enemy and strike them down. John found himself riding with three others into the nearby woods in pursuit of fleeing foot soldiers. One by one, men were cut down as they sought shelter in the undergrowth.

  Coming across two men caked in mud and reduced to crawling in their torn uniforms, John prepared to put them to the sword, but just before he struck the blow, he caught sight of the face of one of them. Fat and caked in mud from head to toe, the boy shook as he looked pleadingly into John's eyes.

  "Do it then – do it,'' said the other man. He was older and covering his eyes as he spoke.

  "Father, it's John. John Trebarfoot," stammered the boy.

  The old man unshielded his eyes and John saw that it was Arthur – not the proud and arrogant man he had known but now reduced to squirming in the mud as he faced almost certain death. Next to him, crouching on the ground, was Robert.

  John stared in disbelief.

  "Sir, I bear you no personal malice but it is my duty to dispatch you." The words choked in his throat as he uttered them.

  The older man raised himself up on his knees and clasped his hands together in a gesture of piety.

  "But wait. Have a thought for Kate, young sir. How saddened and grief-struck would she be to find that her beloved father and brother were killed by her lover? Surely she would never want the man who carried out such a terrible deed?"

  "I have no choice, sir – it is my duty."

  "Spare our lives and I will not stand in the way of you wedding Kate. You have my word on that. She shall be your wife."

  John paused, his sword poised over Arthur's head.

  "I have your word on that?" he whispered.

 
"As God is my witness."

  "Then I will leave you, though I know I fail in my duty. But my love for Kate is greater than all else. Stay low and I will try to lead the others away. Rest assured, sir, I will hold you to your word."

  As the torrential storm continued, neither side was able to make further ground. Some of the cannon captured by the Parliamentarians was re-captured in a Royalist counter attack. But the advance had been stopped and, for a short while, Okehampton was safe. The Parliamentarians had won an important victory. Both sides would now need time to regroup and prepare for the next battle.

  Chapter 14: Exeter, April 25th 2011

  Arriving in Exeter the next morning, Doug grudgingly parked the Mercedes in an expensive multi-storey car park and made his way again to The Barge. To his amazement, his son was already there.

  "You were on the front page of the papers yesterday, Dad – fighting."

  "I wasn't fighting. I was trying to get into court through that bunch of demented reporters."

  "You seem to attract conflict, Dad, wherever you go."

  "I don't let people walk over me, if that's what you mean."

  "Sometimes, I think it's better to listen and not let your emotions take control."

  Doug decided that now was not the best time to become embroiled in a philosophical discussion so he swallowed hard and broached the main topic.

  "Tell me about Aleena. Why has her brother turned against her?"

  Nick's countenance changed. He looked suddenly confused.

  "Hakim's got in with a religious group – radical Muslims. He spends all his time with them. We used to be friends. He used to date an English girl. The four of us would hang out together. There was this tacit agreement that it was OK as long as their father didn't find out. But he's changed. Become surly and distant. He told me to stop going out with Aleena – said it was anti-Muslim. Then he turned cold towards Aleena – started calling her names – nasty things. Next thing, there's a call from Aleena's father saying she's got to go home."