by Smith, Skye
After walking back and forth across the bridge, they all sat on a log beside it while Daniel sketched out a diagram of a Dutch canal bridge. When he was finished he explained it to them. "You want the center span to pivot up from the village side like a castle draw bridge. To do that you first need to replace the logs of the center span with something much lighter made of joists and planks. Now see these towers I have drawn on either side of the bridge. The lift beams for the span are balanced on top of them. One end of each beam is chained to the far end of the span while the other end holds a counter weight."
They all had a good look at his diagram, but all shook their heads so Daniel explained some more. "You've all seen the mason's booms that they use to lift and swing heavy stones into place. It's the same thing but it lifts the span of the bridge. The counter weights should be just heavy enough to keep the span up and open unless it is locked down or weighted down. When the span is up, no horse can cross that canal. Also when the span is up, you can hide behind it and shoot at any buggers on the other side. Now do you understand?"
"So the span is left open at night, or when there are strangers about. How many men would it take to raise it?"
They still weren't understanding. "The counter weights do all the heavy lifting. The beams above the bridge are balance beams ... like a market scale. A child could raise the span just by unlocking it. If it is balanced well enough, then a child could also lower the span. And don't fret about building it. Some of the Wellenhay men have spent enough time in Holland to know how they are built. Come on. Let's get on with our walk. I'm getting hungry."
They walked to the Freiston bridge just to make sure that it could also be converted to a draw bridge. To the east of that bridge the main canal had been filled in to thwart the earls enclosure of one of the grazing commons. "You'll have to dig this out again," Daniel told them.
"What? It took all of our courage to fill it in." Mathew grumbled. "Great, that's just great. Years and years of risking beatings and prison by filling in the bloody drainage ditches and now you want us to dig them out."
"Only some of them and only enough to stop a surprise attack. Certainly you must circle your village with them. It doesn't need to float your dinghies, so not as deep or as wide. Just a normal ditch."
Mathew looked around at the others on the committee and then said, "In truth, friend, we had already decided to barricade the roads and paths into the village and to build pale walls between the outer buildings."
"A lot of work and a waste of time," Daniel replied.
"And you think that a ring of ditches will protect us better than some stout walls. Even this canal won't stop an attack if they come at us at low tide."
"I would agree with you if your enemy were the trained bands of Boston or some other infantry regiment," Daniel told him, "but your enemies are nobles like the Earl of Lindsey and their cavalryer gentlemen. Gentlemen, right, and gentlemen don't like muddy boots. Getting their boots muddy is exactly what they would have to do to lead their horses through a ditch with a muddy bottom. Give them the choice between dismounting and getting muddy or moving on to the next village, and moving on is what they will do."
"Listen to him, and listen to him well," Cleff told them. "He spent years fighting the Empire's gentlemen over in the Low Countries. Take away the cavalry's horses and all that is left is an infantry company carrying the wrong weapons and wearing the wrong armour. The trouble with cavalry is that you can't catch the buggers, but if you did catch them, which of you couldn't take some pup of a gentleman and break his back over your knee. Make the buggers dismount and walk, and they'll give up soon enough. Listen to Danny. Digging some muddy ditches will defend you against being surprised by the speed and fierceness of a mounted attack."
"So no pale walls, and no barricades?" Mathew confirmed.
"Nay. Just ditches and horse traps," Daniel told him. "Perhaps a few small walls scattered along the dikes for the pickets to hide behind, but nothing more. The dikes of course should be mounded up on the village side of any ditch."
"What kind of horse traps?"
"Pointed stakes mainly. Drive them into the dikes facing out to stop the horses from leaping the ditches."
"So we will need some new bridges across these new ditches. More draw bridges?"
"That would be best," Daniel replied. "They would be much smaller bridges than the ones across the canal. A days work, no more. You could build them first as a practice before you tackle the bigger spans."
"And how many sentries would it take to keep watch on a ring of ditches?" another man asked.
"One," Cleff beat Daniel to the answer. "Up in the church tower. The rest can be done by your dogs. Not big brave dogs, mind you, but little scared dogs tied up out near the ditches. Little yappy dogs who will sound out at anything that approaches. Feed them in the morning so they can sleep all day and be hungry and nervous all night."
"So how far do you want us to go when digging out the main canal?"
"How far does it go?" Daniel asked.
"All the way to the next village, Butterwick, but we filled in only the section that ran along our common."
"Is there a third bridge at Butterwick? Yes. Then dig up all that you filled in, and get Butterwick's permission to turn their bridge into a draw bridge too. I doubt they will say no."
"I've a sister in Butterwick," Mathew told them. "I'll talk to her first just to find out what they are doing about their own defense. This canal ends at a natural stream that runs just the other side of Butterwick down to the sea. There is a bridge across it too."
"Well then you are in luck, Matt," Cleff told him. "Thanks where thanks is due, the bloody earl's canal has put your three villages and a lot of your fields onto a large fen island. The Haven to the west, Butterwick stream to the east, the main drainage canal to the north, and the sea to the south. That takes care of your outer defenses. Once you circle your villages with smaller ditches, they will be on islands on an island. You couldn't be safer."
"What about the folk whose houses are outside the village ditches?"
"Each family must decide whether to move into the village, or sleep in the village, or accept the risk that they will not be as safe as the rest of you," Daniel replied. "Enough. My stomach is growling. I'm turning back to Fishtoft. I need breakfast."
"We'll get a better breakfast at my mom's in Freiston," Mathew told him, "and she'll be glad of the company what with everyone else in Fishtoft. Her house is just over there beside the church."
Mathew's mom did them up proud and hovered behind Daniel urging him to eat more. And why not, for this was the man who had sent her precious son back to her from a bloody battlefield.
Once some eggs had taken the edge off their stomachs, it was the newly elected warlord of Fishtoft, Samuel, who first spoke of the changes that their entry into the mutual aid pact would make to his village. "I've been sayin' we should have a bathhouse for years, but times have been hard so I was ignored. With so many of Boston's coastal ships laid up for lack of cargos, a lot of our men have been cast adrift. Crewing on Boston's ships has been a steady source of coin for us for longer than anyone can remember. Makes sense, don't it, seein' as Fishtoft is on the banks of the Haven which serves as the outer harbour for Boston."
"Couldn't they get work on the river barges that go north from Boston towards Lincoln?" Cleff asked.
"You'd think, but nay. They've built tow paths along them rivers now, so the barges are pulled by horses not pushed by poles. I mean, we still eat pretty well from fishin' and clamin' and farmin' but we've no coin in our pockets save the coppers we earn from watchin' over the ships that are pulled up on the mudbanks near the village. Even them coppers are hard to collect since the ships ain't workin' no more. The effin' earl owes us for six months of watchin' his ships."
"Good luck collecting coins from a dead earl," Daniel told him as he made the decision to use some of the precious sugar on his bread rather than the local honey ... just to please the
mom. "The Bertie family will be squabbling for months over who gets what now that old Robert is dead. The Berties are a vicious lot, so there may be others deaths in the family before the inheritance is settled. Even then it will take a while to sort out what there is, and what is owed, and what is to be paid, especially with so many of the Berties' retainers and tenants away with the king's army."
"Ships," Cleff interrupted. "You said that the earl has ships in the Haven? What kind? How many?" Everyone stared back at him. All of their mouths had stopped chewing at the same time. All of their minds were racing ahead of his questions.
"Four," Samuel was the first to speak despite a mouth full of food. "Coastal traders. When we pulled them above high tide the hulls were sound enough, but he wouldn't pay us to tar them so there could be some rot in them by now. Ere, are you thinkin' what I think yer thinkin'?"
"Why not?" Cleff replied. "We converted six coastal ships to our Bermuda rigging to carry our folk to Bermuda, and we just converted three more for those of our clan who are staying behind to keep Wellenhay going in case our Bermuda venture did not go well. Them's all done now and winter's comin' on when a lot of our men will be idle. We haven't bought more old hulls to convert cause, cause frankly we didn't have the coin to spare, and we didn't have men enough to run the ones we had. We've be usin' women as crew."
"Nout wrong with yer women crews," the mom told him. "I've heard they've been sailin' rings around the other ships in The Wash. And wasn't it your women that manned the ships when they ferried the Norfolk militia over to chase the earl's army away. Nothin' wrong with women crew if they can do the work."
"Aye, love," Cleff told her, "but now our pact includes Fishtoft, and their men have been cast ashore. Finish your breakfast lads. I think Sam should show us these four ships."
"But they belong to the Bertie family," one of the alternate warlords argued.
"And do you think anyone in the Bertie family even knows that they own them, or even where they are, or even cares about four idle ships?" Cleff asked. "The bloody earl died owing Fishtoft the coppers for watchin' them, so why shouldn't we take them in payment? What do you think Danny?"
"I can't believe that they haven't already been taken in revenge for what the earl did to these villages."
"Well the thought had crossed our minds," Samuel explained. "That was why we didn't burn them out of spite. That and fearin' the wrath of the earl if we had. But now that fucker is dead so what is stoppin' us. Nothin'. Come on then. Let's walk back to the Haven."
"You take Cleff to see them," Daniel told Samuel. "The rest of us should see about getting the men digging out some old ditches."
"We'll see to the ditches, Danny," Mathew told him. "You've more important work to do. You have to build the first small draw bridge for us so we have a model for building the others."
By the time they got back to Fishtoft, the remnants of yesterday's fete were already cleaned up, and the folk of two villages were all busy working at one thing or another. Under Venka's direction the bathhouse had been pegged out in an empty patch of land behind the rectory and work was underway digging out where the drains would run. Other men were bashing down some non bearing walls in the rectory to create a large common room.
Daniel grabbed some men who were leaning on their axes chatting and put them to work carrying the freed up planks and timbers along the road to Freiston to begin building a bridge over a ditch that had yet to be dug. The placing of the bridge was obvious, because there was one section of the road at the edge of town that was always muddy. Since this first bridge was to serve as a model, he decided to build it quickly using lashings in the seafaring way, rather than with joins and pegs in the way of carpenters.
They had just finished raising the first thick post into a newly dug hole, when Teesa came to visit. The two jugs of ale that she carried made her even more welcome to the sweating men than her comely smile. "How much longer must you work on this bridge?" she asked.
"Give over," Daniel said, still panting from the effort of placing the heavy post. "We've only just begun." He poured some ale into his mouth and passed the jug on.
"Well it’s just that Cleff is stealing some of the earl's ships, and these villager are stealing some of the earl's fields."
"They aren't stealing them, they are claiming them, re-claiming them."
"Well whatever they are doing, it will end badly if the king is quick to confirm the earl's son Montagu as the new earl."
"What do you know about Montagu?"
"I remember him from my time with Robert in London." She meant Robert Rich, the Earl of Warwick. "He was the captain of the king's lifeguard, the ones that stormed into parliament and tried to arrest the Reformers. Robert pointed him out to me and told me to stay well clear of him. Robert warned that Montagu's good looks hid a twisted mind. The king made him a baron, Baron Willoughby, and put him in the House of Lords, so he is a favourite. A favourite courtier and a soldier and a beast.
"Ahhh, now I place him. Lord Willoughby. No fear love, he's a prisoner. When I shot the father on the battlefield, the son surrendered to stay by his side and see to his wound. Now that the father is dead, the son will be safely locked up in Warwick castle with the rest of the prisoners waiting for a ransom or a prisoner exchange. There, does that ease your worries."
"Not really. He is the king's favourite, so he will be the first exchanged, and immediately confirmed as the new Earl of Lindsey. I think you should go to London, and soon."
"London? But I just got home, love. I'm looking forward to doing some peaceful, useful work like building this bridge or refitting Cleff's new ships. London. No, I don't see me going to London. What ever for?"
"Because the reformers in parliament owe you big," she told him. "You can ask them to delay the release of Willoughby."
"They won't listen to the likes of me."
"Then I will go with you. They will listen to the Earl of Warwick."
"And you think that you can convince Warwick to speak on our behalf?" he asked softly.
"I know I can. And if I can't, then Britta surely can."
Daniel sighed and rued the day that he introduced his two step daughters to Robert Rich. Britta was devastatingly comely, and was living the high life in London as the guest of the Rich family. Teesa was so headstrong that if he didn't go to London, then she would surely go without him. "Alright, I will go, but not until after I finish this bridge, and certainly not with you. You stay here and continue your training as a Seer. If I need help in London, I can always ask Britta."
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The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014
Chapter 9 - London's woes in November 1642
Daniel again pounded on the solid oak door of the swanky Holborn town house where his eldest step-daughter Britta lived, and lived rent free... or at least free of coin. The topic of why the Rich family willingly subsidized his daughter's high lifestyle was a topic he had never opened with Britta. When she was ready, she would tell him all, but until that time he was probably better off not knowing.
"Come on, I'm chilled to the bone," he complained to himself while waiting impatiently for any sound from within. He blew into his hands and his breath turned to mist as he blew. He was about to pound again when a window opened above the door and a lad's voice called down, "Step backwards and look up so I can see your face." He did as he was asked.
"He looks like a peddler with a sack of his wares," the voice explained to someone else inside. "Well I don't know why a peddler would be knocking on doors after the curfew. All right I will ask him." More lights were being lit in other windows, not just in this house but in neighbouring houses as well. "You down there ... state your name and business."
"I am Daniel Vanderus, Mistress Britta's father, and I am bloody cold. Open up else the night watch that escorted me here will think that I lied to them." A moment later he heard the door being unbolted, so he turned and held some coins out to the two rou
gh looking men at the bottom of the steps. They put their fingers to their hats in a polite salute, and then climbed back into the horse trap. As the trap rattle away down the cobble street, Daniel stepped inside the house. As usual, Britta would not deign to take his hand, never mind hug him.
"Mon Dieu, Daniel. Every time you arrive you look like something the cat drags in. And what is that smell?"
"Save your praise, love," he replied curtly. "I'm too cold and hungry and tired to listen to it. The Cambridge coach was hours late because the Earl of Essex and his army are choking the roads north of London."
She turned to a lad of about fourteen who was standing behind her and peering over her shoulder. "Rob, go and wake my maids and have them heat some water for a bath. They don't need to carry it upstairs ... the kitchen will do." The lad eagerly ran off to do her bidding.
"He's a bit young for you, isn't he?" he jested.
"His mother asked me to show him heaven and then teach him a few things about women, as a favour to her. I don't mind. He is sweet and clean and ever so grateful."
"I'll bet he is," Daniel replied sarcastically. Just a smile from Britta would send most men to heaven. "His last name wouldn't happen to be Rich, would it?"
"Of course. What's your point?" she asked in a clipped tone.
Her eyes were harder than he had remembered them. After some fast thinking he said, "He looks a lot like his grandfather," and he tried to make it sound innocent and uncritical. So now three generations of Roberts had mounted her ... and within the same year. He wondered if this latest generation was some contrivance of the lad's mother to keep Britta away from her husband ... the middle Robert. It worried him that of his two lovely step daughters one was becoming a seer, with the ever present danger of being decried as a witch, and the other was becoming a courtesan, with the ever present danger of being decried as a whore.