Mistress Agnes

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  But Dennis knew John had a good heart and he did not gossip. He was pretty sure John knew he was a deserter, he had seen Dennis in his tattered uniform before Agnes had caused the stranger to disappear from John's view, but somehow he trusted John not to tell anyone. Not even for a reward. Dennis had a feeling John approved of him, the reticent stable boy had never actually told him he did, it was all a matter of instinct.

  No, their conversation would not be worth mentioning, John would not be entertaining, but since they were going the way Dennis had come after his escape from the army camp, he hoped to see some places he remembered. His fear of being found out had faded until he could hardly imagine someone recognizing the worn-out, rail-thin young soldier in the self-assured, perfectly groomed gentleman he was now.

  A certain calm had come over him, no longer did he feel haunted by his past, he was still quite alert to his surroundings but that instinct had saved them before, he didn't mind so much. He was planning to use it now, to find clues where the robbers might be hiding.

  The view was great from the box, and Dennis could imagine it wasn't such a bad place to be when the weather was fine like today. In winter it would be pretty exposed, not an enviable spot in freezing cold or driving rain.

  'I'm actually very happy to have you up here, Dennis,' John said, 'with all this

  talk of robbers I feel much safer with a competent fighter guarding my back.

  Though you don't look like one, which is even better.'

  Dennis couldn't remember John ever talking to him, and he felt rather pleased to be welcomed aboard.

  'It is rather exposed up here, I can imagine you prefer to have an extra pair of eyes.'

  'The driver is always the first to die in a robbery. I like my job, but on trips like these I do feel vulnerable.'

  'But robberies are very rare, aren't they?'

  'I suppose they are, but contrary to what you might think I have a very lively imagination, and I have never been in a life-threatening situation. I suppose you have, so you'll know what to do, and you can handle that rifle. That makes me feel safe.'

  'You don't know what I can do?'

  'No, no-one ever told me. I remember you were in a uniform when the mistress saved you from the moors. So I guess you know how to fight and use a rifle. And you are always aware of what is happening around you. But I don't actually know.'

  'Dick never told you about me?'

  'He didn't. Said it was not his business, nor mine. I still have no clue why you disappeared for months, and how you got lost on the moors in the first place.

  It still is none of my business, except I'd like to know whether you are any good with that rifle. In case something does happen.'

  Dennis couldn't believe Dick had never told John about him, after what John had done for Dick, getting him pay for his work, then setting him up with the local spinsters. Maria was a treasure, and Dick had John to thank for her.

  These people from the moors were so different, they could gossip as badly as any townsman or -woman Dennis had even known, but once you earned their loyalty they would go through fire and water for you.

  'I was one of the best, John.'

  John could have turned him in a year ago but he hadn't, apparently Dennis was one of them by now.

  'I was a veteran of three battles before I was twenty, killed countless French, survived against odds stacked higher than those cliffs we marched up on the other side of the channel. I can hit a man's eye at a hundred paces, and I can disarm any man we're likely to run into out here. So I guess you're safe with me.

  I will not kill anyone, though, I'm done killing. The things I've seen and the things I've done, John, they brought me to the edge of reason, until I could no longer sleep with the images of cruelty and slaughter haunting me day and night. The mistress saved me from them, as she saved me from hanging. You and Cook, too. Thank you for not reporting me.'

  'You're a good man, Dennis, I'd gladly call you master and obey your orders.

  Cook and I never knew for certain you were a runaway, but by the time you emerged from wherever the mistress had kept you it was obvious she loved you, and Dick and the others were just as smitten. So you had to be one of us.

  Cook felt the same. It's great fun when everyone is speculating where you came from, they really think you're some noble. I'm glad you told me, and of course nothing will change. Even Beatrice won't know. She's not like Maria, she likes to talk.'

  Dennis had not expected to be talking with John, especially not this intimately. Maybe the stable boy would be willing to talk of his own life a little.

  'I suppose most women do, don't they?'

  John laughed heartily and replied frankly, 'Most people do, Dennis. You should hear what folks say about the manor, men as well as women, though the men generally seem to be pretty envious. It's just at the manor that people don't talk that much, everyone else does. Of course the mistress getting with child upset their image, in which she did every male in the house.'

  Which was true, excepting Cook, had John forgotten his time with Agnes?

  'They never get Guy and Patrick right, and you'll be very pleased to know that the tales on Dick are starting to change. Some have seen him walk his wife to work, then return to the manor with that cute little puppy of his, as happy as a man can be, and worshipping Maria. And they've seen his parents at the wedding, not happy at all at their son marrying into one of the most respected families hereabouts. People are starting to doubt the parents, and trust the son. A few more months and those rumours will be put to rest, but of course new ones are already forming, of veritable orgies taking place, with all the men worshipping the mistress, and her sharing the attention with Maria.'

  Well, that rumour might yet come true as well. Dennis certainly wouldn't mind.

  The ride had been very entertaining so far, they were still on the road across the moors, passing a small village every now and then. Dennis had visited

  some of them, this was still Agnes' property for miles in every direction. The soil was not good and the weather was atrocious in spring, fall and winter, but under her directions the countryside was thriving. Most of it was wild heath and moor, sheep husbandry the only source of income it could gain the hardy inhabitants, but there were some fields with good grazing to keep a few cows, and a patch of arable land here and there, well-tended and covered in some valuable food crop nearly ready for harvesting.

  'We're nearing the area where the burglaries have taken place, Dennis, better keep your eyes on the hills. Though it's hard to imagine anyone hiding out there, they could dig out a hut and cover it with sod, but it would be very uncomfortable and surprisingly easy to find: on a clear day you can see smoke plumes for miles. My guess would be that they're hiding in the thick woods some ten minutes ahead, there have been plenty of deserted cabins out there since the mistress' former steward cleared out all the people. He said she wanted it done to improve her hunting, but in fact she didn't know about it, she never even hunted then, he used it for his own ends. When Guy and Patrick came to live here they found out, the mistress was livid. She dismissed the steward instantly, but the people who lived in the forest had settled elsewhere by then, they didn't want to come back. It's even poorer pickings than the moors, you know.'

  Of course Dennis had heard all this from Agnes, but somehow John's matter-of-fact account combined with the nearness of the place made it come alive somehow. John's calm reasoning why brigands couldn't be hiding on the moors also made sense. Though Dennis had only consciously lived in the area for about half a year, being locked away in an attic didn't help getting to know the landscape after all, he probably knew the moors better than John did, even though the latter had been born and raised here. But the locals scared their children away from the dangerous moorlands, afraid to lose their children to one of the treacherous bogs.

  Agnes had taught Dennis everything she knew about the moors, and he knew even digging a hut was nigh on impossible; in winter the water table r
ose quickly and would flood any dwelling not at least halfway up a hill. And he had seen for himself that smoke really gave away human habitation, besides, all the moors hereabouts were Agnes', and it was common knowledge that she hunted all over them, accompanied by her small pack of hounds, armed with a rifle and an expert shot with it. And now there were the two of them hunting the moors, though no-one apparently knew that Dennis was a deadly

  fighter if need drove him to it. No, if Dennis were a burglar, which in fact he had been, he'd do what John expected them to do: he'd hide in the forest and come out for raids.

  The change in scenery was abrupt, the road climbed steeply and the barren moors changed into thick forest. But again John was right, the woods were not the rich habitat one might expect, the trees were mainly birch and pine, an indication that the soil was poor. There would be some game, but hunting rights were Agnes', hunting here without her written permission was poaching and a hanging offence.

  John followed the road along the edge of the forest, then turned back onto the moors.

  'It's the only way to reach the farms that were hit, at least by carriage. On horseback you could ride straight over. Are you still watching?'

  Poor John, he sounded nervous, he probably felt like a sitting duck here on the box, though this time Dennis was as likely a target. But Dennis was not afraid, he saw nothing to disturb him, he had a kind of sixth sense for danger and it was not stirring in the least. They had passed no free-standing farmhouses so far, just the few villages on the moors. There was so little to steal here, people here lived on the edge of poverty, closer to the manor the houses seemed more prosperous, the farmers there even kept some cattle, in this place there was no grazing and there were no tilled fields at all, no-one seemed to live here.

  He got more and more convinced that Patrick had estimated the size of the band accurately, more than three men could never live off the proceeds of their robbery, the frequency and the closeness of all raids suggested the robbers had no horses, no experience stealing, Dennis expected them to be hopeless losers.

  But dangerous losers, so far they had not killed anyone but not for lack of trying. All five farmers and their sons were seriously injured, the rumours said. Dennis didn't like to think what had happened to wives and daughters, unprofessional burglars tended not to think of the consequences of their actions, they probably thought that since these were poor, unaffiliated folk they could be robbed and raped without retaliation.

  'That's one of the farms there, Dennis. Let me do the introductions, I know someone who knows them, they'll talk to me. Of course they know of the mistress, they'll talk to her all right, but not like they'll open up to me. Trust me.'

  Dennis nodded, he'd also suggest to Agnes she'd let John initiate contact.

  Dennis would look his fill and listen in, he trusted John to ask the right questions.

  When the carriage halted someone walked towards them, a boy of about fifteen, who looked reasonably well. He was skinny, but as far as Dennis could see unhurt.

  'Hello there!' John called out to him, 'how are you?'

  The boy seemed surprised that anyone would ask such a thing, and while he thought of what to say, John jumped off the box and secured the horses to a post.

  As John stood talking to the boy, Dennis opened the door of the carriage and said to Agnes, 'John asked to let him do the talking for now. They trust him, he says.'

  Agnes nodded, Dick and Guy wouldn't start a conversation anyway, so they all joined John and the boy. John introduced the boy to them.

  'Peter here was out with the sheep when it happened, he went for help, but the neighbours don't have much to give them either. His father and older brother are still unable to work, his mother is not well. They're desperate.'

  Without being asked, Dick stayed with the horses as the rest followed the boy into the house. It was tiny, cramped, and very hot. Agnes was shocked, Dennis could see that easily. None of her tenants lived like this, this house would be as cold in winter as it was hot now. The boy was in clothes only a shade above rags. He was near despair, Dennis had fought to gain responsibility at that age, this boy couldn't handle it at all.

  The mother was sitting at the kitchen table, she didn't just look afraid and hurt, she looked really physically ill. There were no sleeping chambers, two curtains had been pulled back, revealing two bedsteads with a man in each.

  The older man sat up and talked to John, who introduced him to Agnes. The man's demeanour changed to servility instantly, had he been physically able to he would have fallen on his knees before her. It did not strike Dennis as demeaning, he remembered being at Agnes' feet clearly, and not without a very warm, safe feeling. Agnes was worth bowing to, she lived up to her reputation, Dennis had no doubt she would help this family even though they didn't have a single claim on her.

  She looked straight at Dennis now, wishing him to come closer.

  'Please tell us what they looked like, how many there were. I promise you we'll do our best to get them.'

  'There were just three, My Lady, and their only weapons were stout clubs such as a man can make in the forest, but they were so strong and vicious.

  My eldest boy was out for half a day with a knock on his head, and they broke my leg. They had their way with Marge, I can still hear her screams, she fought like a demon but they threatened to kill me. Please, master, hunt them down!'

  This last plea was aimed at Dennis, who apparently looked like a landlord.

  'Marge hasn't had a night's sleep since and I may never walk again. It's been a week, but the pain is not abating, I'm afraid it's set wrong. And look at Jack, he's in so much pain, they said he needs rest but Peter cannot handle everything, we have nothing left and Marge is sickening with something.'

  Agnes took his hands and kneeled before him.

  'I will send help this very afternoon, food and a real doctor who can set your leg and check out Marge and Jack. And I'll find some sturdy farmers' sons who know how to handle a scythe to patrol your neighbourhood until we've got the bastards. Now tell me what the other families need, I suppose you all know one another.'

  It was heartrending how little these folk had. Dennis wouldn't be surprised if they decided to sell to Agnes, she'd take care their houses were watertight and pull them through the coming winter. And Dennis found his resolve to never take a life again wavering, truly, a rage was steadily building inside him as Ken, the farmer, told them how breaking limbs and dealing out blows to the head had at least ten men out of action.

  The other women were in as bad a shape as Marge, the younger girls even worse, and everyone was so incredibly afraid they'd come back. There was nothing left to steal, but the brigands were so cruel they expected them to want to satisfy their need for more brutalities on their hapless victims.

  'I will not visit your neighbours today, I will use my time to get you help instead. But when that is done I will visit all of you, and we'll talk about the future. First you need help for today and tomorrow. Food, a doctor and protection. And then we'll hunt men instead of game, and when we catch them I will prosecute them for you, and we will get them hanged. Then you can sleep again at night.

  Peter, I must ask you to be strong for one more day, for I want you to run over to your neighbours and tell them help is on its way. And I want you to ask them to think of clues where we can find these brigands, they will not stop but rather become even more brutal since they know farmers cannot

  withstand them. Can you do this? I promise you will have everything you need tomorrow at the latest, even a special lady to tend to your mother and the other women.'

  'Yes, My Lady,' the poor lad said, trying to sound like a man.

  'Thank you so much, My Lady. Please save my mother and father and Jack.'

  They did not stay any longer, Agnes had that look in her eyes that meant business, there was nothing they could do for these people themselves, but there was plenty she'd do in the next village, or if need be in the next town.

 
Having said their goodbyes they filed back towards the carriage, John thanking Dick for his alertness with a clap on the shoulder. Before getting in, Agnes said to all of them, 'I'll send my own doctor and our midwife, I trust them to be capable. But I want these people under guard, John, do you know any young toughs who live close-by? I'll pay them to stand guard, five men armed with either guns or scythes must be enough against these three.'

  As John was thinking, Dennis felt obliged to point out a rather nasty possibility to Agnes.

  'My love, have you considered these may be deserters from the same camp I escaped from? Farm boys will not stop them, not even with scythes. Possibly not even with guns. It will only serve to arm them when they take the weapons away from the boys.'

  Agnes' face was deadly serious as she replied, 'I have, Dennis, which is why I will send someone to the camp to make a report on the incident. But I want you far, far away from here when they send an investigator.'

  Well, that was something Dennis couldn't object to.

  'Of course, how stupid of me!' John said, 'I'm sorry, mistress, I guess I was pretty upset seeing that family. The man with the hounds! It's not that far and he is a hunter, he knows guns, and he knows these woods. He has those dogs and three strapping sons. I suggest we drive ten minutes to his house, confer with him. He knows this neighbourhood, what if your own doctor won't come here? It is pretty dangerous with those brigands still out here.'

  Turning back towards the main road they soon drove deeper and deeper into the forest, and now Dennis started to feel edgy. He really was like a horse, preferring open spaces where he could see the enemy approach. Then he realized he was back to his old alertness, as if he was on patrol in enemy territory. Well, if the brigands were indeed deserters, he was, and he'd better keep his rifle at the ready.

  But nothing untoward happened, and they soon turned in a long lane, flanked by trees but with an open space beyond them on each side. The lane opened on a large, low wooden cabin, not a kind of house they knew, but fitting somehow in this extensive forest. As expected from a breeder of hounds, the carriage was soon surrounded by half a dozen of the creatures, barking furiously. Dennis noted they did not bother the horses, this was behaviour the hounds had been taught to impress visitors.