by Dan Davis
‘I will, sir.’ Archer definitely would.
‘Officially, your company is under command of General Fairfax who coordinates the infantry. But I think I’ll want you covering our flank during battle so you’ll no doubt be following the orders of General Ireton. Ultimately, of course, you’ll be at my discretion so be prepared for anything.’ Cromwell paused. ‘The men will know you’re one of my favourites so I’m sure no one will insult you too much or cause you any overt trouble but you may find many officers and men resent your sudden elevation. Whatever happens, I am sure you can handle it without contacting me for assistance.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Archer said, aware that he was being told that from now on, he was on his own.
‘Excellent,’ Cromwell said as they got back to where they had started. ‘I’ll let you gather your company and inform your men yourself. But I shall put the orders in writing and have your commission sent to you. Good day to you, Captain.’
‘Sir.’
Cromwell mounted a horse one of his attendants brought over and he and his men rode off leaving Archer standing alone, with dozens and hundreds of soldiers and camp followers hurrying back and forth past him. Grown men, all of them. Even the youngest soldiers, who were seventeen or sixteen, towered over Archer. It suddenly seemed completely ludicrous that he would be offered command of a company, even a small one like the sharpshooters.
Looking round, he half expected Cromwell to jump out from behind a wagon and tell him that actually it was a big joke.
Instead, he walked over to his men who were still shooting at the targets. Sergeant Jones was talking Corporal Harry and Old Wicks about something and they laughed.
No one noticed that Archer had returned and Archer did not know how to tell them about his promotion.
Poxy Tom was reloading at the line.
‘You had your shot, Tom,’ Harry called out. ‘My turn now.’
‘Ain’t finished,’ Tom said.
Archer cleared his throat. ‘Sergeant Jones,’ he said.
‘Archer,’ Jones walked over and looking round. ‘Where did Cromwell go? What did he want?’
‘Well,’ Archer lowered his voice. ‘He said he wanted me to join the sharpshooters.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ Sergeant Jones said. ‘Hey, lads.’ A few of the men looked up.
‘Wait,’ Archer said. ‘He told me he was making me an officer.’
Jones’ smile dropped from his face. ‘You what?’
‘He made me a Captain and... gave me command of your company,’ Archer said.
Sergeant Jones’ jaw dropped. ‘Are you sure?’ He peered at him with his one eye, suspecting a joke.
‘Yes,’ Archer said. ‘I know it’s strange. I didn’t believe it myself but it’s true. Cromwell said the written orders will be sent.’
Sergeant Jones scratched his head. ‘Well... you could knock me down with a feather.’ He just stood there for a long moment, staring off.
Archer could well imagine what Weaver would have to say about this.
Poxy Tom and Corporal Harry were raising their voices.
‘I ain’t following your orders,’ Poxy Tom was saying. ‘What is a corporal, anyway? You’re not even sergeant. You’re nothing.’
‘Hold on a minute, Archer. Sir.’ Sergeant Jones strode over through the men and roared at Tom. ‘Private, you are on notice. Hand your rifle to the corporal. No rations tonight and all day tomorrow. And you’re emptying the latrine pits tonight.’
‘I ain’t even done nothing,’ Poxy Tom said, growling with anger. ‘I’ve had enough of this army.’ He continued to grumble but he gave his rifle to Corporal Harry with an evil look.
‘Men, gather round,’ Sergeant Jones said. ‘You saw Cromwell go off with Archer, here.’
Twenty pairs of eyes turned to him. The men strode over. It was getting late, and no doubt they wanted to have a drink and some grub, but they waited patiently for their Sergeant.
‘Well, Cromwell gave him a job to do. Captain Archer, do you want to tell them?’
Archer cleared his throat.
‘Captain?’ Poxy Tom said, loudly. ‘Did you say Captain?’
‘Shut your mouth before I shut it for you,’ Sergeant Jones shouted. ‘Go on, sir.’
‘It’s true,’ Archer said. ‘Cromwell made me a Captain and gave me command of this company.’ He hesitated, not sure what else he should say.
‘This is a joke,’ Tom said. ‘And if it ain’t then this whole army’s a joke.’ He laughed until someone elbowed him in the ribs.
‘Come on, lads,’ Sergeant Jones said. ‘Welcome Captain Archer, will you?’
A couple of the men mumbled some sort of congratulations. Men like Harry and Old Wicks but the rest of them just stared with dumb expressions on their faces.
‘I know this is a unique situation,’ Archer started to say but then there came the sound of a mighty cheering in the distance and the men peered in that direction to see what was going on.
The cheering came nearer and nearer through the road of the camp. It was almost entirely dark but there were plenty of campfires and lamplights to see by and the sky to the west still glowed blue.
The cheering came from a company of horse that cantered past with the men laughing and yelling a word, over and over, and then Archer realised what it was they were shouting.
‘Weaver! Weaver! Huzzah for Weaver!’
She had to show him up, didn’t she.
Weaver’s Nature
‘You had to show me up, didn’t you,’ Weaver said to Archer in the morning while they broke camp ready for the day’s march.
‘Me?’ Archer said, as if he was all surprised. ‘You’re the one they were cheering last night. Everyone in the whole army knows what you did. I was waiting for the latrines this morning and the men were talking about how you saved Captain Smith’s entire company from certain death. And then they were talking about it when I was in line for the porridge.’
‘And at the forge last night,’ Keeper said without looking round from feeding Burp cabbages up on the wagon. ‘The Master Smith kept chuckling to himself all night long while we worked. Everyone is sure we’re going to win the battle now because we have Weaver to protect our brave lads.’
‘It weren’t nothing,’ Weaver said and she meant it. ‘Not compared to what we done at the Tower when I made that fort out of earth and everything. That was hard work. I didn’t even feel very tired after this one.’
‘But this army didn’t arrive until after you did that,’ Archer said. ‘They heard stories about us and what we can do. But I bet no one believed it until your company of horse saw it with their own eyes. And the rest of the army believed them because they’re real soldiers.’
‘I was happy when they said I could be a soldier,’ Weaver admitted. ‘But I not an officer, am I. I’m as low as it gets, just a trooper. You’re a proper officer. Don’t make sense why would they make you an officer and not me. Don’t they know I’m the best fighter?’
‘I know. I’m not sure I believe it,’ Archer said, like he was feeling down about it. ‘It seems too good to be true.’
Weaver laughed at him. ‘Never happy, are you?’
‘Well, it’s like Cromwell gave me exactly what I wanted,’ Archer said.
‘Can’t you hear yourself? You’re the one person I ever met my whole life who could sound miserable while saying that,’ Weaver said. She didn’t understand how a boy could be clever about some things and so stupid at the same time. ‘You got to appreciate what you got in life.’
‘You can talk,’ Archer said to her.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Weaver didn’t know what he was getting at. ‘I’m always happy.’
‘You got to be joking,’ Archer said.
‘Are you trying to start a fight with me, Archer?’ Weaver said. ‘Because if you are then it’s working.’
‘Oh do me a favour,’ Archer said, probably because he was scared.
There was a muffled bangi
ng sound from the wagon. ‘Shut up, Stearne’s arm!’ Weaver shouted.
‘Look out, Weaver,’ Keeper said, standing high up on his wagon. ‘Winstanley and Susan are coming.’
‘Oh great,’ she said. ‘Coming to get me to go smell some flowers or something.’
‘Good morning, my friends,’ Winstanley said walking his horse up to their wagon.
Susan bid them good day and hushed her horse, who was frightened by the presence and smell of a dragon nearby.
‘And of course, many congratulations are in order,’ Susan said.
‘Yes,’ Winstanley said. ‘Weaver, I swear that you are the talk of the entire New Model Army. And Archer, a captain. I must say, I was surprised to hear that.’
‘Not as much as I was,’ Archer moaned. ‘I suppose I better go and get my men ready for the day’s march. And I have to see about getting myself a uniform made for me.’ He said good morning and stomped off across the camp, his narrow shoulders hunched.
‘So you had a successful raid yesterday,’ Winstanley said to Weaver. ‘It must have been frightening.’
‘No,’ Weaver said. ‘Well, I mean obviously it was frightening but I wasn’t afraid.’
‘You’re braver than I am, of that there’s no doubt.’ Winstanley smiled but he seemed sort of down, like Archer had been.
‘Are you eating properly, Weaver?’ Susan asked her, all concerned and as if it was any of her business.
‘Yeah, well enough,’ Weaver said. ‘Had a bowl of lumpy porridge for breakfast, same as everyone else.’
‘Do you want me to come to your camp tonight and cook you a nice hearty stew?’ Susan asked.
Weaver shrugged. ‘Suppose so. If you want.’
‘Then I will,’ Susan said. ‘Someone should be looking after you sweet children.’
‘We don’t need looking after,’ Weaver said. ‘We’ve been doing well enough without anyone.’
Susan and Winstanley looked at each other but Weaver wasn’t sure what they were thinking. She had been looking after herself for ages.
‘Captain Smith’s coming,’ Keeper said, pointing away through the camp.
Smith rode his horse at a walking pace toward her. He was leading a grey pony behind him by the reins.
‘Here she is,’ Captain Smith cried as he drew up near. ‘The hero of the hour. My saviour. It is Athena herself, verily.’
‘Eh?’ Weaver didn’t know what he was talking about. ‘My name’s Weaver. I told you I don’t remember my real name. But it definitely weren’t Theena.’
‘Oh, no.’ Captain Smith looked embarrassed. ‘No I simply meant... you see, Athena was the goddess of war and wisdom in ancient Greece. But that’s not important. So tell me, how are you today?’
‘Ready to ride out with you again, today, Captain Smith.’
She knew the Captain had only agreed to take her scouting once. But after what happened yesterday she was sure she could wangle another. ‘I could be useful, if you run into any trouble.’
‘Indeed you could, Weaver,’ the Captain said. ‘Which is why Cromwell has agreed that you can officially serve in my company. Had confirmation in writing just this morning.’
He clicked his tongue and pulled the second horse closer.
‘And that is why I have brought you this fine mare. Her name is Artemis.’
She was the most beautiful thing Weaver had ever seen. Her coat was grey and white, dappled all over and it shone like silver.
‘A horse,’ Weaver whispered. ‘For me?’
‘A pony,’ Captain Smith said. ‘A pony is what we call a small horse. So she should be a well enough fit for you. She is intelligent and strong. She has great stamina and soundness. Trained for battle and will not shy at noise or movement. A touch long in the tooth now but not lost much of her spirit for all that. Irish, as I am sure you can tell, with a touch of Welsh and strengthened with good Andalusian and Arabian stock.’
Weaver had no idea what he was talking about but she took the reins from Smith and held out her hand. The beautiful pony sniffed it, the bristles on her nose tickled Weaver’s palm.
‘Hello, Artemis,’ she whispered. The mare lowered her head and leaned it against Weaver’s chest and face. Weaver put her arms around Artemis’ neck. She was warm
‘I knew you’d get along,’ Smith said. ‘Do you like her?’
‘You’d let me ride her?’ Weaver asked. ‘I barely know how.’
‘Everyone had to learn once. Do not worry, I shall teach you how.’ Smith grinned. ‘All you have to do is ride at waking pace to keep up with the infantry.’
‘If I fall off will you let me try again?’ she asked.
Smith laughed. ‘She is yours, Weaver. A gift from Cromwell.’
‘For the day?’
‘For ever,’ Smith laughed.
‘Look at my horse, Archer! Look, Winstanley.’
Winstanley helped her to mount and he was smiling. ‘I’ve never seen a horse as beautiful.’
‘Me either,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Winstanley.’
She sat on Artemis’ back all that day and not once did she feel tired, sad, or lonely. Smith rode alongside telling her how best to sit and how to move with the pony and what noises to make and how to pull on the reins.
Artemis ran across the fields going faster than anything had ever gone before. Weaver could feel the drumming of her hooves thudding into the ground over and over. At first, it was hard to hold on. But she didn’t mind.
All through the day it was like she and Artemis were getting to know each other. Learning about what each other was like. It felt like getting to know a real person, just like when she had moved in with Archer. He was the first friend she’d ever had. Writer was alright even if she was stuck up but she’d never gotten to know her. And Keeper was an idiot and his dragon just wasn’t right, no matter what Archer said.
But with Artemis, even on that first day, it felt like she’d made another true friend.
‘You have done well today,’ Smith said as the sun was going down and he led her to the where Smith’s company, her company, were setting up their camp. The men were looking after their own horses and feeding them oats and apples.
‘I’ll teach you how to brush her coat down and look after her now,’ Smith said. ‘You must look after your mount. It is your lifeline. It is your way out of danger. It could save your life or end your life so you must take care of it.’
‘Like friends.’ Weaver said.
Smith shrugged. ‘If you like.’
He showed her the stiff bristled brushes that she had to use to scrape out the mud from her pony’s legs and how to do it.
Artemis whinnied, tossed her head and scraped her hoof along the ground.
‘You see how much she enjoys being cared for?’ Smith said. ‘You get them to trust you and that way they stick by you when things get scary.’
‘I’ll look after you, Artemis,’ Weaver leaned over and whispered into her ear. Artemis whinnied. It was the best sound.
‘I suppose I’ll have to get you the right uniform,’ Captain Smith said.
‘Why do I need a uniform?’ Weaver said. ‘I don’t want to look like everyone else. But I’d like one of them helmets everyone’s got.’ She thought they looked good. They were metal hats but had a steel grill thing over the front and overlaid, hinged plates down the back of the neck.
Smith chuckled. ‘The uniform lets everyone know which side you’re on. In a battle, there is so much gun smoke that you one cannot see properly. You can become rather jumbled up and mixed around with the enemy so you do not know who is a friend and who is trying to kill you. So when you get like that you need to see right away who’s wearing the same gear as you.’
‘Oh, right,’ Weaver said. ‘Makes sense, I suppose. So where do I get the helmet?’
‘I’ll speak to the armourers and see if I can get a small helmet made for you. Your very own lobster tail pot, imagine that. The lads would like that, I bet.’
‘Why would the
y like it?’ Weaver asked.
‘They’d probably find it funny,’ Smith said.
‘What’s funny about it?’ Weaver asked.
Captain Smith looked embarrassed or something and he ignored her question. ‘Perhaps you would enjoy using a carbine? Or a large pistol? I would think a carbine too awkward for a girl of your slight frame.’
‘I could handle a carbine easily,’ Weaver said. ‘But I don’t want one. They stink of rotten farts. I wouldn’t mind one of them swords, though.’ She gestured at the one hanging from his saddle.
‘A sabre?’ Smith looked thoughtful. ‘They would of course be too long for your height. We shall have to find a big knife, perhaps. Or even get one reforged with a shorter blade.’
‘Keeper could do it.’ Weaver said. ‘He’d make me a blade, I bet you any money he would.’
‘Your friend with the dragon?’ Captain Smith said. ‘He is an apprentice at the forge, is he not? Fine, fine. Get yourself a sabre, why not... Hopefully you shall never have to use it.’
‘What’s the point of having it if I never use it?’
‘Well, quite,’ the Captain said. ‘Quite.’
Weaver brushed down Artemis, as well as anyone ever could.
‘This here stuff is oats mixed with honey and a little bit of beer,’ Captain Smith said and Weaver held out lumps of the sticky stuff.
Artemis gobbled it up, like she was starving, her nose and lips snuffling and slurping all over Weaver’s hand.
‘She loves this stuff,’ Weaver said. ‘Ponies eat better than we do in the army. All I get is water in my porridge and maybe a bit of salt.’
‘This is not every day food,’ Captain Smith said, chuckling. ‘This is special food for today only. This is just to make Artemis know that you care about her and if she is good for you then she gets rewarded.’
‘Oh,’ Weaver said, stroking Artemis’ nose. ‘Like a trick?’
‘Of course not,’ Captain Smith said. ‘It is not a trick if you truly mean it, is it?’
‘No,’ Weaver said, relieved. She didn’t want to trick Artemis into anything.