He tried to think when the change had taken place. Was it after seeing her in town, when she had gone to help Mary with her market stall? Perhaps she had seen him talking to Lowri and in her childish manner had become jealous of the woman. But no, Olwen was not the sort to sulk, she was far too outspoken. He smiled as he imagined her scolding him for his flirtation, her small hands on her hips, like a nagging, gnawing wife.
Perhaps she was considering herself as a wife? Perhaps she had found someone whom she was learning to love? The smile faded from his dark face; the thought of someone loving Olwen brought surprising aches to his heart. His stomach twisted, a sick feeling enveloped him and he realized that the jealousy he felt was real and quite painful.
He saw her as he was heading back to the village on Thursday, the second of August. He was in a hurry to finish as the boats were due that evening and he was probably needed to ride out again with messages. Olwen was walking slowly through the fields towards him and he pulled on the reins and dropped them to allow Jethro to crop the grass. He didn’t call, afraid she would walk away from him, but waited beside a bush, half hidden by the shadow of it against the evening sun.
The day had been a dull one and it was only as the sun began to set that the clouds revealed it and allowed it to give a short but beautiful glow to the day’s ending.
‘Where are you going, Olwen?’ he smiled. ‘Want a lift, do you? Jethro will be more than pleased for you to ride.’
She turned, startled, and began to walk away. Barrass dismounted and followed her. Taking hold of her arm he asked, ‘Olwen? What has upset you? My truest friend turning from me? What have I done to deserve such a thing?’
‘You have done nothing, but I want you to keep away from me.’ She ran from him and he watched as she pushed her way through a weak part of a hedge and disappeared.
Tethering Jethro to a convenient tree, Barrass followed. He peered through the hedge in time to see her crossing the next field and once she had pushed her way through the further hedge, he followed. He soon realized where she was heading: the Morgan family’s house. He felt hurt that she had not asked him to accompany her; she had admitted that the brothers made her uneasy.
He watched as she went through the door and he stood for a long time waiting for her to re-emerge. When she did it was with Madoc. She was carrying a dead rabbit. So, Madoc was still giving her presents, and Olwen was accepting them. Unable to go away, he watched as the girl left the cottage and wandered idly back towards the village. To his surprise she threw the rabbit into a hedge.
When she arrived back at the place where Jethro was tethered, he ran and caught up with her.
‘Come on, Olwen,‘ he said firmly, shocked by the sadness in her eyes. ‘You are riding home with me.’
‘No, Barrass. No!” Her voice had the edges of a sob in it as she once more ran from him.
Startled and hurt, Barrass waited until she was out of sight, then remounted and rode home.
Between delivering messages to Markus and William Ddole, and the time to go and assist on the beach, Barrass walked to the house of Carter Phillips and his sister, Harriet. He had gone with the intention of losing his miserable mood with Harriet’s generous attention, but he could not. The vision of the young, fair-haired girl with the sad eyes crept between him and everything else.
* * *
The activity on the shore, hauling in the boats, carrying the heavy cargoes up to where the horses, donkeys, men and women waited to disperse them, had never been more welcome. He revelled in the physical exertion, stimulated by the need to forget his rejection, energetic and enthusiastic in the way he helped. He ran from each completed task to help with another, a frenzied energy kindled and rekindled until the work was done and the beach empty of sight and sound of the night’s business.
Even the frantic hour that exercised every muscle didn’t help him to sleep. He was overwrought and completely unable to relax. He tried to deny it, but his body was crying out for love and the woman he was so desperately in need of was Olwen.
The straw with which he had recently refilled his mattress made a gentle, scratchy sound and eventually Arthur sat up and asked, ‘Barrass, you sound like your bed is filled with fleas! Can’t you sleep?’
‘No, but I’m sorry if I woke you.’
‘You didn’t. I too have something on my mind.’
‘A woman?’ Barrass teased, knowing that although he was past his sixteenth birthday, Arthur had never walked out with a girl. He was surprised when his friend said, ‘Yes.’
‘Who is she?’
‘Someone I love more than my life.’
‘But who?’ Barrass demanded. ‘You can’t tantalize me with such a small part of a story!’
‘Someone whose parents would not have me for a son-in-law,’ Arthur replied. ‘That must be sufficient for you.’
Barrass sifted through his knowledge of all the likely young girls whom Arthur would know but failed to find a candidate for the boy’s affections.
‘I fear we are in the same predicament,’ Barrass said. ‘I have loved too many girls too often—’
‘—and too well,’ Arthur interjected.
‘—but now I think I am to be punished, I have been rejected.’
Arthur chuckled ‘I can’t help thinking this is something you deserve, Barrass, but sorry I am all the same.’
The dog crawled out of his barrel at the end of the cellar and tapped his way to where Arthur was lying. He crawled up on the bed, slowly sidling up until he was in Arthur’s arms.
‘Seems I must get myself a dog. It’s all we’ll have, unless a miracle happens,’ Barrass sighed.
* * *
Olwen went to visit the Morgan brothers each time Madoc told her to. She was so afraid of him doing as he threatened and telling the Keeper of the Peace that Barrass was involved in the robbery that she dared not argue. She didn’t say anything to anyone, not even Mistress Powell who was the recipient of most of her secret thoughts. On the day Madoc asked her to walk out with him after church she thought she would die of despair.
‘No,’ she said, ‘that I cannot do.’
‘You will risk me telling Daniels that Barrass was at the scene?’
‘I don’t think you are really as wicked as that.’ Her chin was out but she was quaking inside. ‘I don’t think Vanora would be pleased if you did that.’
‘Leave Vanora to me,‘ Madoc warned.
The look in his eyes made Olwen want to run, but she stood her ground.
‘I want you to find out where the new route takes Ben Gammon,’ Madoc said.
‘But I can’t. I won’t.’
She stared at him and he suddenly softened. ‘Very well. We’ll find out from someone else, but,’ he added, ‘in such a way that the information could have come only from Barrass.’
Madoc watched the girl walk away from him, saddened by the realization that no one had ever loved him as deeply and as bravely as Olwen loved Barrass. Perhaps, once he and Morgan were free of the sickness that troubled them, she might be persuaded to reconsider how she felt, although he doubted it.
The following Sunday, he called at the house on the cliffs. having brushed his hair down with water, and persuaded Vanora to tidy his clothes.
‘Come to walk Olwen to church,’ he announced to Mary when she appeared at the doorway with Dic struggling in her arms. Mary stepped back into the room and after a whispered conversation, she reappeared with Spider and Dan behind her.
‘Olwen comes with us,’ Spider said firmly. ‘And after the service she will walk home with us.’ The three of them turned and closed the door. Madoc stormed away so fast that when he was only a short distance from the house he was holding his chest and coughing until his face reddened and he was gasping for breath. He was sitting watching the top of the path as Olwen and her family set off down it to the church.
* * *
Annie waited at her front window, watching the sorting office in the hope of seeing Kenneth. She could n
ot go to Mumbles to visit him and she had no idea how likely it was that he would come into town. He had no business now with the post, and as the days passed she tried to think of another way to get the information she needed.
On every morning and evening when the mail arrived and departed, the usual crowds gathered, those with business to see to, those who came to read the letters for people unable to manage their letters and those who waited to hear Ben spread the news that had filtered down from London and the other towns to intrigue them. When Annie saw Kenneth sheltering under the big tree outside the inn, she waited until all heads were turned towards Ben, then called for Sally Ann.
‘Go and tell Kenneth I wish to see him,’ she instructed and when Kenneth came she invited him to enter.
‘Best we aren’t seen talking,’ she said, smiling pleasantly. ‘Sally Ann will say nothing and I think those outside are too interested in Ben to have noticed.’
‘What do you want?’ Kenneth frowned.
‘I want to know where the new route takes Ben.’
‘Easy that is,’ Kenneth said importantly. ‘There’s only one way he could go.’ Taking the paper and quill she offered he carefully drew the new approach to Swansea, describing the journey with care. Annie politely invited him to take tea and food. He hesitated a moment, looking at the handsome woman and wondering if there was a chance of being invited to stay. Then he looked into the small, deep-set eyes in the smiling face. He quickly changed his mind, and left.
* * *
Daniels knew there had been a delivery on the previous night. With a rare carelessness, one of the silent workers had left a torn and crumpled news sheet on the cliff. It was written in French, and Daniels was convinced that it came from the boats. It would not have been part of the wrapping on some illegal import, they would never have been so foolish. Perhaps it had fallen from the pocket of one of the seamen, although he knew they usually did not leave the beach. Uninterested in how it came, he was convinced it had been brought with the illegal boats.
In his room where he wrote his reports, he studied the paper, willing it to give up its secrets, then he thought of the letter he had found. It had been marked, 2 A 2. Could it have meant the second day of August and two of the clock?
What if the post was how the smugglers communicated? He thought excitedly that he needed to glance at all the letters before they were handed to Walter. If the smugglers used the post once, they would surely do so again. He decided to do something that normally he would never contemplate; he would break the law in the hope that it would stop others breaking it more violently. Setting off on Saturday morning before it was light, he headed for the place where he could intercept Ben.
A mist had come with the dawn and clouded the land. It brought distant sounds closer and Ben hastened his mount through the more isolated area that lay to the north of the town. The birds were subdued, their cheerful song absent from the morning. The few twitterings and piped melodies were muted by the deadening, moisture-laden air.
To Ben there was an ominousness about the quiet. It was as if something were waiting, just out of his sight, for him to reach a certain point. To allay his fears and prevent panic from rising, he began to sing, loudly, suddenly, making a family of snipe flutter up from close by and give their scraping call as they flew away twisting and turning. For a moment the horse faltered and Ben thought it was the trap he dreaded. Then, when nothing further happened, he recommenced his song and patted the neck of the horse as if it were the animal needing reassurance, not himself.
He heard rustlings, the sound of men approaching, and steeled himself for a blow, trying to tell himself that it was only an innocent traveller, no one yet knew of his new pathway. He sang boldly, and only wavered on a few top notes, but the song was shortened as a man stood up and aimed a long stick towards the back of his head.
Daniels waited silently for a while, standing under a tree to which he had tethered his mount. He guessed that the time when Ben should have passed was long past. There had been a distinct unreliability about the man’s timekeeping of late and he wondered idly if a woman or an alehouse were the cause of it. Leading his horse, he walked along in the direction Ben would appear in the hope of meeting him. Then he saw the horse.
Lathered and obviously frightened, the animal was panting, struggling to free its reins from a low branch. The saddle had slipped and there was no sign of its rider. Daniels approached the animal talking soothingly and was able to ease the saddle into the correct position and tighten the girth. Loosening the pistol in the holster on his horse’s right shoulder, he walked slowly on leading both horses, listening for any sound to betray the presence of someone else. He found Ben lying across the path, his head covered in blood. To his relief the man was groaning. At least he was alive.
Having made the man comfortable, Daniels searched the area, but this time there was no carelessly abandoned letter to help him. The baize-lined bag was thrown aside and empty. He helped Ben remount and together they slowly made their way to the sorting office and the complaints from Walter at Ben’s lateness.
When the two horses entered the square beside the sorting office, the murmur of voices attracted Annie’s attention. She sent Sally Ann to enquire what had happened and watched as the man was helped from his horse and into the inn.
‘There’s been another robbery, and poor Ben Gammon silenced by the attack, would you believe? There’ll be plenty of stories from Ben in a day or so for sure,’ Sally Ann reported, ‘but for today the waiting crowd will have to disperse disappointed.’
* * *
To Pitcher’s delight, The Posthorn Inn had been full all day, with customers waiting for Barrass to arrive with the post and the gossip. Men and women with little else to occupy themselves came once their few chores were done to play chess and draughts, dice and the new dominoes; old people pushed out of the way by their family, those too old or too sick to work who survived on what their relations could give them, the wanderers who could for a few pennies feed well and spend the day in convivial company.
Besides these, there were the businessmen and those who came to spend a few hours taking in the fresh sea air. And for this high-class clientele Pitcher opened up the second room, where good upholstered chairs and a few rugs made the room that bit more like home.
It was there that William, Edwin and John Maddern sat wondering with the rest what had happened to the letters. When Barrass finally arrived and had only a few local letters for them, they were alarmed.
‘Were they all taken?’ William demanded.
‘Nothing there but a wounded Ben and an empty bag.’
‘Will you be going on your journey today?’ Edwin asked the young man and on seeing Barrass shrugging and shaking his head he asked, ‘Then will you do something for us?’
‘Well, I did have a mind to enjoy my freedom and spend a few hours with Olwen,’ he said. ‘She’s unhappy of late and I want to try and cheer her.’
William was silent for a while, then he mumbled, ‘Wants to come back to Ddole House, does she?’
‘I’m sure that will help!’ Barrass said eagerly. ‘She complained a lot before you told her to go, but it was mostly on account of the new housekeeper who treated her less than kind.’
‘I confess I miss the cheeky young woman,’ William smiled. He turned to Edwin and told him how she had criticized him for sending Penelope away. ‘Impertinent she was, but she alone sensed my loneliness.’ He suddenly looked at Barrass, remembering that it was on his account that his daughter had been sent from her home and growled, ‘You can tell her she can come back, but I don’t want to see you hanging around the house, mind.’
‘I’ll come only when there’s a letter,‘ Barrass promised. His dark eyes were glowing with the prospect of telling Olwen she could return to Ddole House. Surely that would take the sadness from her eyes? Then he remembered that first he would have to deliver the messages for William.
‘I’ll ask Pitcher for some paper and pens, shall I?
’ he sighed.
The letters were brief, consisting mostly of one short sentence. None had a name on them or a signature and Barrass was told where to leave them. Some were left at houses but many on trees, bridges and in barns. Barrass hurried about the deliveries fearful that with Daniels determinedly seeking out both robbers and smugglers, he would be in a dangerous position if found with them on his person. The last letter was fully written and signed and was addressed to Markus.
The watchman was there as usual and when he saw the letter knew that no payment or reply was needed. He nodded briefly to Barrass and disappeared inside the gloomy house. Barrass waited a while to make sure Markus didn’t need him, then turned Jethro and headed at last for Olwen’s home.
She wasn’t there. His disappointment was comic to Mistress Powell.
‘Gone for a walk to see them Morgan boys no doubt,’ she chuckled, ‘and there’s no use you looking so disappointed. You’ve never given the girl a hint that you cared what she does,’ the old woman went on, ‘or, things might have been different. Taken to them she has and all because of a few gifts and plenty of flattery.’
Barrass was very thoughtful as he rode across the fields to search for her.
He didn’t have to go far. She was sitting beside a small stream, her feet in the clear water, watching a frog stretching its long legs and scooting across the surface to crouch, half hidden on the opposite bank. She had not heard him approach and when she did, she jumped up and the sad expression faded first to relief then to anger.
‘Stop creeping about like that, Barrass!’
‘Creeping about?’ he laughed. ‘And me with the biggest feet in the village and Jethro snapping twigs and warning all the neighbourhood that we’re about?’
‘Well I didn’t hear you!’
‘Dreaming, were you, little Olwen?’
The Posthorn Inn Page 28