Shadow on the Highway

by Deborah Swift

  I struggled to make out the rest of her words, because she kept turning her head whilst she was putting things away. ‘Mind, he slashed down a whole band of roundheads ... cut him off his horse. Praise God, he got away, but lost his foot. Terrible thing. He’s sharp as a falcon, mind, despite all that.’

  I managed to get rid of the broken egg into the pig bucket. She turned round and I put on my innocent face.

  ‘These days nothing comes from Grice’s purse without Sir Simon’s say so,’ she said. ‘Not unless it’s for weapons for the young King.’

  ‘When will Mr Grice be back?’ Already I did not like the sound of him.

  ‘I don’t know. But you’ll know when he gets here, because the whole house sits up to take notice. Now, stop standing about and…’ She turned away to the sink and then gave me a mouthful of instructions that I didn’t catch.

  ‘Beg pardon, Mistress?’

  She turned again and spat out more words. I caught, ‘silver,’ ‘polish’, and ‘board’. But I still did not really understand. I twisted my apron in my hands and begged her, ‘Please, would you say it more slowly.’

  This made Mistress Binch even crosser and her words shot out twice as fast. Too embarrassed to ask again, I hurried from her sight and through to the main chamber. I was relieved to see three rows of ornate silver spoons laid out there on the table. It was a fine collection, such as people show guests to prove their wealth in company. We’d had some like it ourselves, before the accident…

  I pushed that thought away. I must hurry with this if I was to sweep the house too. Next to the spoons was a small glazed pot with a lid. I searched for a polishing cloth and saw one on the sideboard. This must be what she meant. I was to polish the spoons.

  I lifted the lid of the pot and saw it was filled with a greasy brown paste. It smelt foul. I sat on the bench and scooped the spoons into my apron. They had a family crest of horseshoes and a motto I recognised, ‘Dieu Donne’, which I knew meant ‘God Gives’, implying of course that God also takes away, something I knew only too well.

  I dipped my cloth in the pot and slathered a generous quantity of the paste over the first spoon.

  I was just putting polish on the last one when the light from the doorway disappeared and it made me glance round. It was Mistress Binch, an expression of outrage on her face. Instinctively I stood up.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said.

  ‘Polishing the spoons… like you said.’

  She was over at the table in an instant. ‘I said to put them away! In the cupboard! What’s this?’ She picked up a spoon and it slipped from her fingers. ‘What the…?’ My face fired up with heat as she pounced on the pot of polish. She thrust it under my nose, her eyes popping, ‘My duck liver paste! It was just setting. I’d left it there to set. And you’ve stuck a dirty rag in it.’

  I backed away. But she followed me, jabbing her finger towards my chest, her eyes accusing. ‘Do you know how many ducks died to make that? It was for tomorrow’s dinner. And you’ve used it on the spoons –’

  The realisation of what I’d done robbed me of words. I cringed back against the wall. Mistress Binch was opening her mouth wide now, so wide I could see the gaps and black stumps of teeth.

  ‘I can’t believe it. How dare they send me some witless numskull who can’t even follow orders? Isn’t my life hard enough?’ She turned from me, unfastened her apron and threw it down on the table. ‘That’s it. Enough. Lady Katherine can find herself another cook.’

  ‘No. Oh please don’t do that.’ Shame flooded through me. ‘I didn’t understand. I’m going. I should never have come. Sorry Mistress Binch, sorry.’

  I fled from the room, past the stiff figure of Mistress Binch and out through the back door. I ran and ran until I was out of sight of the house and then I leant on a five-barred gate and tried to stop the hot tears seeping from my eyes.

  I pressed my hands to my burning cheeks to cool them. I was never going back there. The humiliation of it, to do something so foolish. I’d have to go home. But the thought of going home scared me too; Elizabeth would laugh and poke fun at me with her sharp tongue, and what would I do then, where could I go? I’d never be taken on again, not after this. The stupidity of it. I’d never live it down.

  *

  When I pushed open our cottage door Ralph took one look at my face and said, ‘What happened?’

  It was such a relief to see his dear face and his easy familiar way of speaking that tears sprang to my eyes again, but I caught hold of myself in time. For Jacob Mallinson was there too, at our table, and I did not want him to see them. That would be just too shaming.

  ‘I’m just going,’ Jacob said.

  ‘No, it’s all right.’ I pulled myself together. I liked Jacob, he was dark and handsome and just to look at him gave me a breathless fluttery feeling inside. I hoped I did not look like I’d been crying. I tried to be casual, behave normally. I took a deep breath and said, ‘Shall I get you some small beer?’

  Jacob grinned and said, ‘Now that’s a nice thought.’

  ‘Where’s Mother?’ I asked.

  ‘Luton, at the market,’ Ralph said. ‘Elizabeth’s got a day off, she’s taken Martha out for a walk.’

  Martha was my little sister. I went to peep in at baby William, who was sleeping in his crib. I did not kiss him for fear of waking him. It was so good to be back in our cottage where everything was within reach and in its right place. I never ever thought this crumbly little place would feel like home, but today it did. I felt like I’d been away for weeks and not only one night.

  ‘Is there no bread?’ I asked, looking into the empty cupboard, and turned to watch Ralph reply.

  ‘There’s no more flour,’ he said. ‘Last year’s harvest wasn’t enough to last us, and there’s no money for grain to grind.’ Ralph’s hands were signing to me too, in a way that made him easy to understand. ‘But Jacob’s said he’ll exchange some of our dried peas for corn,’ he said.

  ‘Glad to,’ Jacob said. ‘But things will be different now. Now we’re following the Diggers way.’

  ‘Aye. It’s time. It can’t come soon enough,’ Ralph said. ‘I swear, Mother will never go hungry again. That bailiff was here again this week, demanding our tithe. And I’ll warrant it will go straight from the Fanshawes’ bailiff to the King, like always. And from the King to his blasted Army to kill good honest men like my father. I’m telling you, when that bailiff showed his poxy face on our doorstep I nearly put my boot in his mouth.’

  ‘Then it’s a mercy someone was there to stop you.’ Jacob said, laughing.

  I agreed with Jacob, though I was too shy to join in the conversation. My brother had such a temper. Like milk waiting to boil over. Not that you’d guess it to look at him – with his angel face, his fair hair shining like gold. I paused in my thoughts to ladle ale into a tankard.

  But he was unpredictable, as if two Ralphs lived in his skin side by side, and you never knew which Ralph you’d meet. Often he was on fire with some new enthusiasm, but other times he’d be bitter and morose. Once he’d nearly strangled a tinker man who’d cheated him of his change, and Elizabeth and I had to pull him away. But Ralph was always ‘good Ralph’ with us and never ‘bad Ralph’.

  Ralph and Jacob continued talking, poring over a printed pamphlet that was out on the table. I leant over Ralph’s shoulder as I put down the beer and read the headline. A New-year’s Gift for the Parliament and Armie. Further on, the word DIGGERS appeared in big letters. Another of Ralph’s crazed ideas, no doubt.

  How could I tell Ralph I wasn’t going back to Markyate Manor?

  Just then the door burst open and my older sister Elizabeth flew in. ‘Ma not back?’ she asked, untying her bonnet.

  ‘Not yet,’ Ralph said. ‘You know Jacob, don’t you?’

  Elizabeth threw her ribboned bonnet down, revealing her curly hair, and gave him a cursory smile. I couldn’t help but notice how Jacob’s eyes lingered on her and it gave me a choking
sensation in my throat.

  ‘Is Martha outside?’ Ralph asked.

  Elizabeth nodded. ‘Playing with the chickens.’ She narrowed her eyes in my direction. ‘What are you doing here?’

  I didn’t want to explain in front of Jacob and I could feel my face getting redder. The atmosphere thickened.

  ‘I’ll be going.’ Jacob downed his beer in one long gulp. ‘Till Sunday,’ he said, already at the door. He turned to wave a hand at me.

  ‘See if you can rally a few more for our cause, won’t you?’ Ralph said, ‘We’re going to give this world a good old shaking.’

  ‘Aye, I will. If you think we’ve not had shaking enough,’ Jacob said, then ducked away out of the door.

  As soon as he’d gone Elizabeth stood in front of me, arms folded. ‘The grand manor not suit you, then?’ The smile that was trying to creep to her lips was only just under control.

  I turned my head away. I wasn’t going to listen to her taunts. I went to the window, and stared out into the orchard, but she followed me, pushing her face in front of mine.

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t last two minutes. What did you do?’

  ‘I haven’t done anything.’ But I knew my face told a different story. ‘Go away!’ I shouted, and turned my back to her.

  But I knew Elizabeth would be talking to Ralph and sure enough when I turned back they were arguing with each other but looking at me.

  ‘I suppose you’ll let her get away with it again,’ Elizabeth said, whispering, thinking I couldn’t make out her words. ‘Abi this, Abi that. It’s always about her. She’s deaf on purpose half the time.’

  I cast her a cold look on my way out, and slammed the door so hard I was sure it would rattle the house. Curse Elizabeth. She’d no idea what it was like to be me. She should try it. See how she liked it. Then she’d know what it was like to work so hard, and strain every minute just to be part of the conversation.

  I picked my way through the bare trees of the orchard down to the chicken shed. The hens were all out, scratching in the dirt, fluffing their feathers, ignoring me. They’d always been my task. Who’d fed them this morning, I wondered. Not Elizabeth, the lazy fox.

  Five minutes later Ralph came after me. I turned my back on him, but he took hold of my shoulder to bring me round.

  ‘Pay no heed,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t mean anything. She’s jealous that’s all. She wanted to go up to the big house herself. She’s got this foolish idea that it’s beneath her to be a serving maid to the apothecary. Even though they pay much more than the Manor.’

  ‘Let her go to the Manor then.’

  ‘What is it? What’s happened?’ His pale blue eyes searched mine.

  ‘I can’t do it. It’s hopeless. I can’t understand them. The Cook doesn’t open her mouth when she talks. Lady Katherine, well she’s…she’s just not what I expected.’ I couldn’t tell him, not even Ralph; that I’d nearly killed my mistress, or that I’d been such a clod as to try to polish spoons with duck paste.

  ‘Did you give them notice?’

  I shook my head miserably.

  ‘Come on then, no harm done. I’ll walk you back. Mother need never know.’

  ‘I’m not going back.’ I felt the words snap from my tongue.

  A shadow crossed his face. ‘Sure you are. You’re a hard worker, they’ll be glad to have you back. You were only gone from here one day and we missed your hands about the place – feeding the chickens and laying the fires.’

  He was coaxing me, holding me by the elbow, and I knew how it worked with Ralph. He flattered people – always got his own way, he had a knack of smoothing everything over so it looked all spick and span when really it was all confusion underneath. He used the same tone when he’d done something bad and wanted to hide it.

  ‘Remember when Mother took you round the village?’

  I cringed. It was the most humiliating experience of my life. Mother thought if people could see how bright and willing I was, how good with my letters, that they’d take me on. Door to door we went, looking for an apprenticeship, or any sort of work, with Mother looking more desperate every minute. Every place we stopped they looked me up and down doubtfully, and every villager shook her head, until by the end I was so hunched and sullen that nobody would even look twice. I could have borne it all, except for their pity – that I could not endure.

  Ralph squeezed my hand. ‘It’s hard for Mother with the two little ones since Father was killed. She despaired when nobody would give you a chance. And you wouldn’t do that to her would you? Give up at the first try?’

  I pictured the hopeful look on Mother’s face, when we’d tried to find work, and the thought of it tugged at my heart. It was my fault we had lost everything and I just couldn’t bear to think of failing her again. Ralph was right. It wouldn’t be fair to give up so soon. After all, nobody else had ever offered me any sort of work.

  I squared my chin and took a deep breath. ‘But I didn’t ask for leave.’

  ‘A month’s trial, that’s what’s usual,’ Ralph said.

  ‘What will they say, though when I go back?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll talk them round.’ He squeezed my arm and I believed him. Things never looked so bad when my big brother was there. Before I knew it we were on the road and Ralph was talking, to keep me from thinking. He knew I had to keep watching his face and hands in case I missed anything. ‘It will only be for a while anyway. In a few years we’ll have our new Digger community running, and you can join with us. Once the trouble’s died down. And I’m telling you, there’s bound to be trouble.’ It sounded as though he relished it.

  ‘Wait.’ I was breathless trying to keep up with his stride and to read his words as we walked. We stopped then and leaned up against a wall. ‘Tell me,’ I said. ‘Tell me again. I didn’t understand it all. What trouble?’

  ‘Some of us are settling on common land, ours by right. They call us the Diggers, because we’ll dig the land ourselves and make our own living in service to no-one.’

  ‘What land? You don’t own any land, do you?’

  ‘This land.’ He stamped his feet up and down in the grass. ‘God’s land. We’ll plough the common land that belongs to us all. Cultivate it and live from it. People have already tried it in Wycombe and in Iver, led by a man called Winstanley. I’m telling you, it’s the only way forward. Jacob and I are going to see Winstanley next week.’

  ‘But taking common land – doesn’t that make you as bad as them? As bad as the landlord who takes our best grain, as bad as the Fanshawes?’

  ‘No, you don’t understand. Any of us can work it, that’s the point. It’s common land, for the common people.’ He ran his hand through his hair, opened his eyes wide and spread out his arms as if he would blast me away with his idea. ‘It belongs to us all, every man whatever his position in life. There’ll be no buying or selling, no profiteering. Each man can take what he needs. Everything will be held in common.’

  No buying or selling? I took a step back. I couldn’t imagine it, that people could survive that way. Just the idea was frightening. How would they get soap, or linen, or laces if they didn’t buy them? I pulled up a grass stalk, sucked on the sappy root. ‘I can’t think it will go down well with the Sheriff. Who will he tithe, if not us?’

  Ralph shook his head at me in frustration. ‘Look, it’s a new idea, see? It’s simple. We just share everything, work together for the common good. If someone has flour and another needs it, they can just help themselves. Won’t that be fine! They tried it on St George’s Hill, Winstanley’s men, but folk came and fired their houses. But fast as they tread us down we spring up again, like the corn.’

  ‘And what about Jacob, is he for it?’

  ‘He’s right behind it.’

  I let this sink in. If Jacob believed in it, it couldn’t be all bad.

  Ralph strode about, warming to his theme. ‘There’s about twenty of us, mostly young folk, but some older ones too that fought in the last skirmish
for Parliament, ones that are forward-thinking. We’re after building a new world. What’s the point of Father dead on some field somewhere and all his fighting for nothing? If we don’t take our land now, after fighting for it, what kind of men are we?’

  I missed my father, though I could barely remember him, he’d been at war so often. I could remember the smell of him, the feeling of being held safe in his arms. But now he was lost. We’d heard reports of his death from his regiment.

  I dragged my thoughts back to the conversation. ‘But what about those who graze their sheep on the common land? Won’t they object?’ I said.

  ‘Oh don’t throw problems at it before it’s begun.’ Ralph sighed. ‘They can still use it just the same. There’s plenty of room for us all.’

  ‘Can I come with you then, to the common, to see for myself?’

  ‘See what they say at the house, they might not let you have the day off.’

  His face told me he didn’t want me there with his friends. I sighed. I’d probably do something stupid there, too. I should go back to Markyate Manor and Lady Katherine, try and do something right for once, make amends for the trouble I’d caused everyone. And I wanted to prove Elizabeth wrong. I’d see her laugh on the other side of her face when I’d earned enough to buy that plot of land for Mother.

  Ralph set off ahead and I watched his purposeful strides as he loped along. Other men were jealous of Ralph’s radiant good looks, the way he drew the women’s eyes, and wherever he went, sure enough, trouble always followed. The Diggers was another of his fads, I knew, and it sounded like robbery to me, taking land that wasn’t yours without anyone’s say-so. My stomach pitched with fear for him. Anyone could see it was an idea that would find no favour with either Cromwell or the King. It could even be treason.

  4. Rule of Thumb

  Mistress Binch was drawing water from the well. She stood up from cranking, watching us approach, hands on hips, face black as a storm cloud. And all the while my pace became slower, as I hid behind Ralph.