by Georgina Lee
He produced the document from his bag; Mrs B. and Francis signed as witnesses; my own signature was somewhat shaky, but legible enough. Once this was done, he returned to the business in hand.
“Do you have a definite date for your journey to Durham?”
“It has been put back so many times, but 5 June is now the day I am expected to leave; I do not think I will be able to delay any longer.”
William was thoughtful, as if something had just occurred to him.
“You must write to the king and give him your word that you will leave for Durham on that day. It will reassure him.”
“How is his majesty now?” I asked fearfully.
William looked at Francis for affirmation, who shook his head.
“Not very good. I had a letter from a friend at Court who said the king is suffering with a terrible facial rash and has not been seen in public for several weeks. But there are other symptoms too, violent headaches, vomiting and acute pain.”
I flinched as these symptoms are similar to my own, but I have never told William the true extent of my health, which I was convinced would improve once we were together.
“Just as I am starting to feel better, the king is becoming more ill.”
“We shall soon be free of him. You must regain your strength, my love. The journey to France is long and it will not be easy. I suspect you will not be a very good sailor.”
He gave me a gentle nudge and laughed. It was a relief for us to smile at one another and he began to explain the escape plan. It all seemed very straightforward, but I knew any number of things could go wrong. The knot in my stomach got tighter, but I was determined to be with William, whatever it took and whatever the cost.
As spring gave way to that unbearably hot summer of 1611, I thought of little else but my freedom and being with my husband. At night, I would lie awake with the perspiration trickling off my skin and the bed covers thrown back in an effort to be comfortable. Mrs B. and I fanned ourselves whenever the temperature became too much, but there was no respite from it. Sir William’s garden became parched through lack of rain and the scorched, brown grass gradually disappeared completely. Nearby wells had dried up, so our washing was restricted and the servants went about their work with red faces, moving slowly in relentless heat.
The day of our escape dawned and I had not been able to sleep at all with excitement. Mrs B. urged me to eat a good breakfast, but the food stuck in my throat. She left the house first, telling Sir William that she was going to visit a sick relative, but would return in time for supper later that afternoon. He then asked me if I wished someone to take her place for a few hours and I pretended to think about it, before replying that I would rest until she returned later.
In the meantime she made her way to a house in Southwark, to temporary lodgings of Edward Rodney. One of my own servants had delivered a large bag to the house, which was to be conveyed to St Katherine’s Stair down river by the landlady. Edward and Mrs B, on the pretence of being mother and son, left together, also travelled down river before separating. William was to let it be known that he had toothache and therefore not going about his usual routine. In fact, William had disguised himself as a barber with a false beard and a yellowish brown suit, fooling the guards, who were used to seeing such a man regularly and thought nothing of it.
It was now up to me to carry out my own escape. I had been playing the part of obedient subject lately, telling anyone in the Parry household that I realised the king was right and I would be ready for Durham as commanded. Sir William was pleased to hear I was a little better and co-operating at last. When I asked if I could visit my husband once more before I was sent up north, it took all my acting powers to convince him that I was sincere and nothing more than a helpless female. He felt sorry for me and agreed I may visit William, “one last time.”
“There are many amongst us at Court who are sympathetic to your cause, my lady, and believe the king will change his mind in time, and release you both,” he told me as he left my chamber with a formal bow. “After all, your health is poor, and I doubt you would be able to run from here, even if you wished to. Crompton shall have the care of you until you return later tonight. I wish you God speed.”
If only he knew how those words cheered me, but I nodded in agreement with a sad expression on my face. I waited until after my meal had been cleared away and the house became still. This time of day was the quietest and I knew Sir William liked to sit in his garden, often falling asleep in the warmth of the summer afternoon. All my windows were flung open and the sounds of summer drifted lazily across the chamber, the hum of bees and the gardeners’ tools digging the dry earth.
Reluctantly I had to leave almost everything behind, if it was discovered that I had taken clothes and precious items, it would raise the alarm sooner than I would wish. So I had to be content with a few personal items, which I hastily stuffed into a leather pouch. Crompton was waiting in the passage for me, and we made our way passed a couple of bored guards playing cards.
“Her ladyship has permission to visit her husband for the last time,” Crompton told them and they waved us through. We quickly went across the hall and through the front door, outside into the bright sunshine. Just as we thought, Sir William sat in the shade of an apple tree, his head resting on his chest, fast asleep. Laying nearby on the grass, his old dog stirred, but closed his eyes too in disinterest. We began at once to walk the mile or so to the inn where horses would be waiting to take us to Blackwall. The leafy lane was deserted save for a couple of ragged urchins playing with sticks. They approached us begging for coins, but Crompton firmly saw them off.
“I have your disguise here,” he told me as we hurried along. “We must find a large bush for you to change behind.”
Events started to take on an unreal quality and I found myself hiding behind a well placed shrub, pulling on a pair of French fashioned hose, a dark wig, a man’s doublet and cloak, a black hat, brown boots and a rapier at my side. All this sat on top of my gown, which modesty forbade me to remove here in the open air, and anyway there was nowhere to hide it. I could not think I looked anything but comical, but Crompton told me that I was quite all right and I had to trust his judgement.
Luckily, no one passed us and we continued on our way. After only a few minutes, with all these clothes, I became very hot under the afternoon sun. My heart was pounding with the unaccustomed exercise and my legs were as heavy as lead. By the time we reached the inn, I was feeling faint and sick. Refreshments were brought to me and I sat in the shade for a few minutes to recover. On mounting my horse, the ostler remarked that he did not think I would make it to London, but playing his part well, Crompton replied, “the lad is fine now, we must be on our way.”
I did not speak, having no talent for impersonating the male voice. Our ponies were fresh and sure-footed, so the first 14 miles of our journey to Blackwall was accomplished by six o’clock. It was heartening to see William Markham, my friend from Hardwick, and Mrs B, who were waiting for us when we arrived at the riverside inn.
“Where are my husband and Edward Rodney?” I asked at once, having dismounted.
“They have not arrived yet. We expect them shortly, m...” Mrs B. told me, hiding her amusement at my disguise and only just remembering in time not to call me m’lady. I was not worried because so far, all was going as planned and I always knew the timings would only be approximate.
“Come and see our wherries,” Markham told me and we walked to where two vessels were secured for us. They were unremarkable boats, of the type seen by the thousand on the Thames, with space for five passengers and two oarsmen. One was for our trunks and the other was for us to sit in. This was the transport to take us for our rendezvous with the French ship, which would be waiting at the mouth of the Thames.
Our party had been noticed and we were receiving curious stares. Crompton said we must be on our way shortly and we sat as unobtrusively as possible to wait. I kept glancing all around for any sig
n of them, but as one hour stretched into two, we realised we could delay no longer as the tide would soon change. The weather clouded over and the best of the day had gone. The boats seemed sturdy enough and we embarked one by one. I found a corner astern, where I pulled my hat down over my eyes and wrapped the cloak tightly, despite the warm evening air. The two oarsmen were summoned from their reverie and the rope freed from the quayside.
I had been on the river a hundred times before, but never in disguise or under such secrecy. Once we were away and passing other boats, no one paid us much attention. The oars swished backwards and forwards, lulling me with their rhythm. The water was dark and murky, swirling around eelgrass beds and shoals as we navigated our way with care. I stared into it and tried to imagine what I would say to William when I saw him. Mrs B. looked queasy, she did not like the water and I smiled encouragingly at her.
At Woolwich, we stopped for a while, but there was still no sign of William and Edward. I was starting to become worried, but the others were quick to reassure me, and we resumed our journey. The light was beginning to fade, and the sunset behind us started to cast long shadows over the water. Lamps were lit at each end of the wherry, but the oarsmen grumbled and moaned that the struggle to avoid mud banks, creeks and inlets was becoming too hard, before finally refusing to go any further.
Crompton, the master of tact and diplomacy, persuaded them to go on, but I suspected that doubling the fare had a lot to do with their decision. Our next stop was Leigh, and we all disembarked again for a few minutes to stretch our legs. By the light spilling from nearby houses, we saw the quayside was deserted and we could hear male voices singing from the inn, only yards away. The lingering smell of fishermen’s nets and eel pots that were hanging out to dry along the wall, made me feel queasy. Slimy strands of old seaweed had draped itself over everything and it was slippery underfoot, Markham offered his arm to steady me. The feel of his masculine strength was very comforting and I wished more than anything for it to be William’s, which please God, it would be very soon. We saw no one, but it was good to be on dry land, if only for a short time. We resumed our positions on the boat and began the eight miles to where we hoped Captain Corve’s barque would be waiting for us, with William safely on board.
I said that I had not been very efficient by failing to provide sustenance for everyone.
“But luckily, I have an alternative,” Compton replied with a grin, and from under our seat produced a wicker hamper. “It is basic fare, but it will be welcome, I have no doubt.”
We fell on the contents with cries of relief. Anyone would think we had not been fed for days; I supposed the excitement and sea air must have given us all an appetite. Inside, he had put a large wedge of cheese, apples, manchet bread and two flagons of weak wine. As we consumed this feast, nothing stirred except the cry of an animal in the distance and a few little river insects attracted by the light. It did taste good, better than any food I have ever had at the finest banquet.
The wind picked up, blowing from the east and I detected the tangy smell of the salt marshes further downstream. My eyes started to sting from the effort of peering into the inky darkness of the previous hours, and I rubbed them fiercely, willing myself to stay alert and awake. We were subdued, waiting, hoping. It started to rain, a fine drizzle from nowhere, which was enough to dampen our clothes in a short time.
I was beginning to despair. Where was William? Had something terrible happened? These questions went unanswered and I could see by the look on everyone’s faces that they were thinking the same. We were tired, cold and despondent. The plan was not proceeding as it should, and I did not know what to do about it. William should have arrived long ago. Having rowed as slowly as possible in the hope he would catch us up, there was still no sign of him and no word of his whereabouts.
Above us, more dark clouds had gathered, scuttling across the moonlit sky as an eerie atmosphere descended on the river. A swirling mist danced round the boats, enveloping us like a grey veil; we were almost afraid to speak on this journey into the unknown. With every lap of the oars I could feel my hopes and dreams disintegrating, I had to stop myself from screaming in frustration. It grew chilly and I blew on my hands to warm them. The night dragged on and some of us managed to snatch a little sleep, nodding off as we sat and coming to with a jerk.
Facing east, we were now able to watch the summer sunrise in all its glory and I shaded my eyes against the strength of it. Our surroundings gradually became slightly clearer in the rawness of the early morning. A couple of fishing boats passed us about 100 yards away, its occupants gazing at us with curiosity. Our oarsmen began to point out the names of the screeching birds that swooped and dived above us; oyster catchers, sea gulls and wader birds on the shore.
My limbs were stiff from lack of movement, and ached in the damp air, which had penetrated through to our very bones. But I was not as bad as poor Mrs B. who had been a little seasick and suffered with a troublesome cough for hours. I wished I could help my friend in some way, as she looked the worst of us all. Markham and Crompton, being clean-shaven, had both developed a manly stubble on their faces, but I had no idea about my own appearance, which was the last thing on my mind at that moment.
Then Crompton looked through his eyeglass and suddenly cried out, “Look! Over yonder!”
We all turned to starboard, and in the distance, we could just make out the tall sail of a ship. As we rowed nearer, we could see the sailors waving at us.
“This will be Captain Corve, waiting for us m’lady. Be of good cheer, our plan is proceeding as it should,” Compton told me with a smile.
My heart leapt, it would not be long now before I was reunited with my darling William. It took what seemed like an age to reach the side of the ship, but when we did, the French captain told us that he was not on board yet. We loaded all our luggage and bade farewell to the oarsmen, who looked relieved to be rid of us at last. My eyes brimmed with tears of disappointment. I experienced a terrible stab of doubt that he had forsaken me, taken all the money and disappeared.
“I know what you are thinking,” Mrs B. whispered to me. “Your husband has not abandoned you. Do not give way to these feelings; I know he loves you more than his own life. We have obviously missed the ship carrying his lordship. He may have gone ahead or be behind us...”
“Or have been captured,” I interrupted with a sense of dread.
“There is no reason to think that, m’lady.”
We turned to listen to the captain and I struggled to hear what he was saying above the sound of the waves. It appeared that because we were late to reach him, we would have to wait another two hours for the tide. I was content to wait, as I did not wish to proceed further without William, so our party went below. We sat round the table used by the crew for their meals and Markham found some cards in a drawer, so we played Gleek and Primero, although none of us really concentrated on the games.
“We must stay positive,” Crompton told everyone as he lost for the third successive time.
“It is not easy to do so,” I replied with a heavy sigh, picking up my cards and looking at them.
Then Captain Corve appeared and bowed gracefully before addressing me in perfect English, albeit with a heavy French accent.
“My lady, I am pleased to tell you that we are now ready to set sail for Calais. The tide is with us and the wind is favourable, I await your orders.”
Everyone looked at me and as I gazed back at their faces, one by one, I realised that it was time for me to make a decision. The choices fluttered across my mind, although I knew in my heart there could only be one response.
“ I cannot leave for France without my husband.”
“But if we do not leave now, we shall miss our chance,” he told me.
“I will not.”
“Very well, I shall inform my crew.”
Corve’s expression showed surprise, but he merely bowed again and left us.
“Are you quite sure m’lady?” Crom
pton persisted one last time.
I shook my head and stubbornly refused to take his advice. We continued to wait.
It is a strange occupation to sit waiting in a cramped cabin, bobbing up and down on the water, going nowhere and without knowing how much longer you will be required to do it. You begin to know the faces and mannerisms of your fellow sailors almost as well as your own. One’s companions in this confined area are inescapable of course, just as they were on the wherry. I think Markham saw it as a huge adventure; he was young and no doubt did not fully appreciate the gravity of the situation and the possible consequences. We could not remain here much longer. With every passing hour, the chances of us being caught became more likely, as the others tried to tell me, but I would not listen.
Crompton had been scanning the horizon and suddenly picked up his eyeglass again.
“What is that?” he said and we all turned to look at a ship, approaching fast from the direction of the coast.
Within seconds he had left the cabin with Markham close behind, and we heard running on deck above us. After a few minutes, one of the sailors opened the door and without ceremony told us that an English ship, the Adventure, was close to, and was in the process of sending a small boat, armed with shot and pikes, to board their ship.
“Captain Corve has given orders to throw out all the sails and try to outrun it. He says you are both to wait below and on no account come up on deck.”
I nodded fearfully and we had to sit quietly as the scene aged on deck. There was a lot of activity above us, but within a short time, it became clear that we were not going anywhere. To my horror we heard the sound of shots being fired and more shouts from the men. Mrs B. and I looked at one another, and I knew what I had to do.
“I cannot allow this to continue, men may lose their lives because of me.”
No further words were needed, and after a rallying hug from Mrs B, she accompanied me up the steep stairs. On top, it was chaos. We picked our way across the deck to the bridge, where Captain Corve stood, shouting orders at his men. The sailors were frantically pulling their lines and trying to catch the wind, but now there was not even a slight breeze to fill the sails. Clouds of gunpowder smoke hung in the air, making me splutter, and one of sailors saw us, pausing as he reloaded his pistol.