The Winter Siege (Daniel Cheswis Book 1)

by D. W. Bradbridge

  “I know you,” roared Bressy, jabbing his musket butt into James Skinner’s solar plexus. “Your shooting eye is among the best, you can be of use to us.”

  Before any of his brothers could react, Skinner was grabbed by Bressy and two others and muscled away back into the royalist lines.

  “No! Jim!” screamed Skinner’s brothers simultaneously, but it was to no avail. Within seconds, James Skinner had disappeared from view. The elder of the two brothers made to charge off into the midst of the royalist hordes, but, spotting his intentions, Alexander grabbed him round the neck and hauled him back behind the hedgerow. Bradshaw, who had seen Bressy’s act of bravado, was over in an instant.

  “Stay back here, you fool,” he screamed, spittle showering the elder brother’s face. “Do you want to get yourself fucking killed? Concentrate on shooting as many of these bastards as you can.”

  Fighting back tears, the two brothers picked up their muskets and started to reload.

  The battle did not last much longer. Within a few minutes, the parliamentarian centre and our group met in the middle and separated the two halves of the royalist army. The royalist left flank, which I later discovered to be Robert Byron’s regiment, gathered together what infantry it could from the centre and left the battlefield as quickly as it could in the direction of Chester. Many of those trapped on the battlefield surrendered on the spot, whilst the remnants of the royalist right wing, surrounded on three sides, was slowly pushed back until those who could still run were forced to flee up the hill, back in the direction of Acton’s church. Byron’s army was now fully routed, and, for the first time, I started to realise that we would be able to return safely to Nantwich that evening. The whole battle had lasted no more than an hour and a half.

  Dusk was falling as the remaining royalists enclosed themselves in Acton’s churchyard. In utter confusion, many of them surrendered rather than resist any longer and were put under armed guard. The remainder barricaded themselves behind the church’s substantial walls, hoping that we would retreat back to Nantwich in the dark.

  However, Fairfax and his men were in no mood to let the royalists off the hook that easily. With the tension of the past weeks finally released, the men of the garrison combined with Fairfax’s troops to build huge fires in the field known as the Lady Field, opposite the church, and sat down to wait for the last of the enemy to surrender. Many of Fairfax’s troops broke up into groups and began to hold impromptu prayer meetings. I listened in the darkness and picked out the soft melody of a psalm spreading across the battlefield.

  Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered: let them also that hate him flee before him.

  As smoke is driven away, so drive them away: as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God.

  But let the righteous be glad; let them rejoice before God: yea, let them exceedingly rejoice.

  A strange irony, I thought, that such music should be coming from a killing field, where so much godlessness had just taken place, while there was no music coming from inside the church.

  35

  Nantwich – Friday January 26, 1644

  The scene in Nantwich the next morning was one of unrestrained celebration. People teemed out onto the streets in jubilation, and much ale was consumed in the taverns. By mid-morning, farmers and tradesmen had started to come in with foodstuffs to replenish the stocks reduced during the siege. With Fairfax’s troops, as well as the garrison soldiers, flooding the town, Nantwich was full to the brim.

  There was also the matter of the sixteen hundred prisoners taken, many of whom were marched into the town amidst loud jeering and imprisoned in St Mary’s church, guard being maintained by the garrison soldiers. Many of these prisoners would eventually take up arms for Parliament, but not before they had created an unholy, stinking mess in the besieged church. Mats and rushes would need to be burned, pews cleaned, and the floors brushed. In the meantime, church services would be held in the Crown Gallery, in Townsend House, and at Lady Norton’s.

  The defeat and the loss of half his army must have been a severe loss to Lord Byron, for among the prisoners were some of his most senior officers; Major General Gibson, Sir Michael Erneley, Sir Francis Butler, and others.

  As for myself, I had not slept a wink. During the long night, I spent some time with James Skinner’s brothers, who, distraught at the loss of their sibling, had been unable to join in with the general rejoicing.

  “What will happen to Jim, do you think, Master Cheswis?” asked Jack, the elder brother.

  “I don’t know,” I replied, truthfully. “My guess, though, is that he’ll be made to fight in Byron’s army. I hope for his sake he accepts. It will be better for his prospects than if he refuses. Things could be worse, you know. Most of these prisoners will end up fighting on our side. Most of them have no more love for the King than they do for puritans. So long as they’re paid, most soldiers will fight for either side, especially if the choice is between a full stomach and a damp cell.”

  I looked at the younger brother, Robert, and realised I had done nothing to lighten their mood. There was little I could say, so I settled for telling them I would do my best to find out what had happened to their brother.

  Next, I had to cope with Colonel Booth, who sought me out in the Lady Field once the action had died down. As I anticipated, Simon had already informed him about Furnival’s role in the affair, and he congratulated me on my timely intervention the night before. However, the news that Furnival was dead and that Hamilton’s documents were lost was not welcomed with quite as much enthusiasm.

  “That is disappointing,” he said, clicking his teeth in irritation. “Is there any chance, do you think, that the papers might be recovered?”

  “I confess it highly unlikely, sir,” I said. “The Weaver was a raging torrent last night, and, as the papers were thrown into the air by Furnival as he fell, they could be anywhere between here and the Irish Sea - that is if they are in a fit state to be read at all.”

  I didn’t tell Booth about what had happened to Alice, nor about how we escaped from Dorfold, which was my next destination. As soon as the Colonel had excused himself, I attracted Alexander’s attention and we headed off back down the road towards Dorfold House, grateful to escape the Colonel’s presence, even though I had expected Booth’s wrath at the loss of Hamilton’s documents to be greater than it was.

  A number of royalists had retreated back to the house during the fighting and several had been killed, the remainder having been rounded up and made prisoner. Curiously enough, though, of Alice there was no sign. This particular mystery was quickly solved by an audience with Roger Wilbraham of Dorfold, who explained that, having seen what Alice had done for Alexander and myself, he had given her the opportunity to escape once it became clear who had won the battle. Alice had not needed to be asked twice. Borrowing a servant’s clothes and taking only a winter cloak with her, she had fled in the middle of the night.

  Alice, though, was much less of a concern than Jack Wade. Fortunately, the royalist physician had been able to treat him before the house was recaptured, but, to my despair, I discovered that he had been unable to save Wade’s foot, which had been amputated above the ankle. He was now propped up in bed, sleeping off the liquor he had been plied with, his stump swathed in bandages.

  I felt ransacked with guilt about Wade’s situation. The young man had followed Alexander and I at my bidding, and now he would be a cripple for the rest of his life. I had no idea how I would make it up to him. Once daylight broke, Alexander and I borrowed a cart from Roger Wilbraham and transferred him back to my house in Pepper Street, so that Mrs Padgett could care for him full time. He was my responsibility now, and I swore that, if nothing else, I would make sure he was nursed back to health.

  Mrs Padgett was delighted to see me still in one piece but less pleased to see the patient I had brought with me. Consequently, she spent the next quarter of an hour muttering and moaning about being constan
tly at my beck and call when I didn’t even appear to live under the same roof as her any more. Despite this, we managed to get Wade comfortable in my chamber upstairs, allowing Alexander to take his leave and return to Margery and his children.

  “You are a soft touch, Daniel Cheswis,” complained Mrs Padgett, as I made my way downstairs and headed for the kitchen. “We cannot take responsibility for this young man.”

  “Nonsense, woman,” I snapped. “Jack has lost his foot because of me. It is my duty to look after him.”

  “But another mouth to feed,” insisted my housekeeper. “How will we cope?”

  “We’ll find a way,” I said. “We always do.”

  I wasn’t sure what food I would find in the kitchen, but, having not eaten for the past twenty-four hours, I was truly famished. To my surprise, I saw some bread and boiled bacon in the middle of the table and headed straight for it.

  “So you’ve been out already I see,” I said.

  “Food is still hard to get hold of,” replied Mrs Padgett. “The whole town wants feeding, not to speak of all the extra soldiers and prisoners. They even brought in over a hundred women prisoners, many of them armed with knives. You know, if I didn’t know better, I could have sworn Alice Bickerton was amongst them.”

  Hiding my surprise at this turn of events, I looked at Mrs Padgett curiously and noticed a hint of a smile appear at the corner of her mouth. I said nothing but took a knife to the bacon and sliced at it venomously.

  As I ate, I realised that there were still plenty of issues that I needed to take care of. Firstly, I needed to check that Simon and Elizabeth were safe. Then, there was the issue of the two unsolved murders. In the excitement of the battle, I had almost forgotten that John Davenport was still locked up and that I was no closer to finding out who had been responsible for the two killings that had taken place on Welsh Row. Hugh Furnival had murdered Ralph Brett and James Nuttall, but the deaths of William Tench and Will Butters still remained a mystery. As if to mirror my thoughts, at that moment there was a knock at the door, which Mrs Padgett opened to reveal the figure of Thomas Maisterson. I bid her let him enter.

  “Good morning, Master Cheswis,” he said. “I have heard something of your escapades last night. It is good to see that you are still in the land of the living, although by the look of you, only just.”

  I ruffled my hair and realised how right he must have been. After one night sleeping rough soaked to the skin and another night with no sleep, I must have looked a rare sight.

  “It is true. I have endured some singular discomforts and I am indeed fortunate to be alive. I think I have the brave soldiers of this garrison to thank for that. They were instrumental in Parliament’s victory last night. I trust you, yourself, are well?” In truth, Maisterson also looked as though he had not slept for a while.

  “I survive,” he admitted. “I will not be seeing my Lord Byron in these parts for a while, I’ll wager, but at least our property remains safe, and the people of this town have not suffered as they might have done, had the town fallen. Indeed, I understand some of the property lost at Beeston has been recovered.”

  I nodded in agreement. “You have sought me out, Mr Maisterson,” I said, turning to the matter in hand. “With what can I be of assistance?”

  Maisterson looked at me seriously. “Randle Church and I have uncovered some information you may be interested in,” he said, mysteriously. “I would suggest you present yourself at Mr Church’s house at one o’clock, and you may learn something that will help you identify the person who killed William Tench and Will Butters.” And with that, he drew his cloak around him and swept out of the house.

  I must confess that Thomas Maisterson’s words intrigued me, and I was sorely tempted to follow him straight down the street. First, though, there was something that I had to do. Shoving the last piece of bread into my mouth, I thanked Mrs Padgett and strode out through the front door in the direction of St Mary’s.

  The church, as was to be expected, was in a considerable state of confusion. Groups of royalist soldiers sat under armed guard on the ground outside the entrance waiting to be admitted, whilst townsfolk milled around the outside of the square, jeering and taunting the prisoners. I weaved my way through the crowds to the main door and asked who was in charge. I was directed to a middle-aged captain wearing Fairfax’s colours, who was chatting and joking with a group of guards.

  “Yes? What is it, constable?” he asked, when I introduced myself.

  “I’m looking for a woman,” I announced, and was immediately greeted by a chorus of jeers from the officer’s companions.

  The Captain saw the joke and made the most of it. “Who isn’t looking for that?” he said, “but I wouldn’t waste your time here. I wouldn’t want to be seen swiving wi’ any o’ this lot. Not unless you want to catch the pox, that is.”

  “He looks proper desperate, sir,” said one of the guards. “Happen it makes no difference to ‘im.”

  “Aye,” added another. “Mebbe his yard’s already riddled wi’t pox.” This predictably produced a gale of lewd laughter, which I ignored.

  “Captain, I understand you took some women prisoners yesterday,” I persevered.

  “Aye, and a bigger bunch of harlots and slatterns I’ve not seen in many a year. What of it?”

  “There’s one woman I’m particularly looking for in connection with the murders that took place here recently,” I explained. “I have a suspicion she may be among them. May I take a look?”

  The Captain’s eyes widened and he whistled in surprise. Waving the guards away, he drew me to one side where no-one else could hear. “These women were part of a women’s regiment,” he said. “I’m under orders not to let anyone be moved until I’m told otherwise. It would be a grave risk to let you in there.”

  I understood immediately. Reaching into my pocket, I extracted a shilling and thrust it into the Captain’s fist. “And there’s another one for you, if I find who I’m looking for,” I added.

  The Captain accepted the coin and motioned for me to follow him. He brushed aside the guard on the door and led me into the interior of the church, which was already a sight to behold. The nave was heaving and beginning to smell like a cesspit. Injured soldiers lay strewn across the pews, whilst others sat morosely in the aisles. The Captain led me through the throng of prisoners until we reached the south transept, which had been separated off from the rest of the church. There, a group of sorry-looking women were sat, contemplating their fate.

  “They didn’t look quite so sorry for themselves before we brought them here,” said the Captain, drily. “Give a woman a knife and they can be as fearsome as any man, which one or two of our men found out to their cost.” I ignored the Captain and scoured the faces, which, not expecting visitors, looked up at me with curiosity. At first I didn’t see her, but then my eyes focused on a hunched figure looking down into her skirts and trying to shield her face.

  “I have her,” I announced, striding purposefully through the group of women and hauling Alice roughly to her feet. “Just do as I say,” I growled, looking straight into her eyes and hoping that Alice understood what I was trying to do. Grabbing her by the arm, I led her out of the transept, giving the Captain the other shilling as I did so. Alice started to struggle and aimed a swinging kick at my ankles, so I was forced to twist her arm behind her back and grab her roughly by the hair.

  “Alice – keep walking if you value your freedom,” I hissed, almost inaudibly. Alice stared at me momentarily, and this time she went limp, allowing me to propel her down the aisle and out into the open air. Once beyond the cordon of soldiers guarding the church, I relaxed a little but still kept hold of her arm, marching her across the square and into Pepper Street.

  “I think that makes us even,” I said, eventually.

  “I’m impressed,” said Alice, with a pout. “I wish you were as assertive as that ten years ago.”

  I looked at her askance but said nothing.

  “
Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To my house in the first instance,” I replied, marching her down Pepper Street and in through my front door. Mrs Padgett was tending the hearth when we entered. She turned round and gasped at the sudden intrusion.

  “What are you doing bringing that woman here?” she exclaimed, horrified.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs Padgett,” I said. “She won’t be here long. Ready Demeter, would you please, and pack a bag with whatever provisions we can spare.” Mrs Padgett looked at me as if I were mad, but she did my bidding and disappeared out towards the back door.

  “Sit down, Alice,” I said, motioning to the armchair by the fireplace.

  Alice obeyed and looked at me meekly. “I suppose I should thank you,” she said. “Why did you do that, after what I’ve done to you?”

  “I trust God will let me know in his own time,” I answered. “You knew everything your husband was up to, didn’t you?”

  “Most of it,” said Alice, “but it was never meant to be like this, I swear. The plan was simply to recover the letters from Ralph Brett. Then we found out your brother was involved.”

  “And why did you copy the murder of William Tench?”

  “That was my idea. I knew about Hugh’s plans for Brett, and, when I found out about Tench, I thought using the material from the curtains I bought would confuse the issue and hide our involvement. That was a mistake because it meant you became involved.” She sighed. “If I am punished for my involvement in this, I deserve everything that God has in store for me. I still cannot believe that you haven’t left me to my fate.”

  “Alice, I have loved you more than life itself. I have suffered for years thinking what could have been, had only I stayed in Barthomley. I cannot see you imprisoned, raped, killed or cast out into the winter with nothing but the clothes you are standing in, assuming they even allow you that. You have done me a great wrong this last month, but I cannot live with myself if I allow that.”