I nodded. “That may be. And I could be wrong. But I tell you I’ve seen things with my own eyes in many dark places. Things that would turn your bowels to water in an instant and set your bones to ice. Whether it’s Satan or not that I’m facing, I am being chased by the army and I mean to fight them. The question for you is will you be my bondsman and stand with me? Will you take back your liberty as a freeborn Englishman or stay under the heel of the Tyrant?”
“It’s been a few years since I fought for any cause.” Billy’s voice dropped. “And the last one did me no benefit.” He stopped as if he was still deciding what to do next. “I’ll watch your back for you. I’ll keep my eyes open for the redcoats. I reckon I owe you at least that much for not killing me on the road back there at Brent. Or taking me to the law. But I ain’t fighting no black dogs and I’m not ready to die for fucking Charles Stuart.”
I smiled at him. “You weren’t a very good highwayman anyway, Billy.”
He chuckled and burped. “Well, I guess that’s true enough. At least now I’m in paid employment, eh?”
“That you are. And don’t even think about betraying me for the sake of a few more coins, you hear? I assure you that you won’t get the chance to spend it.”
Billy looked all offended and crossed his heart. “Heavens no, Fellow Creature. There may be no such thing as sin in the world but betraying another is about as close a thing as there is to it. I give you my word, sir.”
“Good! I’ll take your word.” And I reached over and gave him my hand, for which I received a firm grip in return. “Come, drink up and I will show you where we stay tonight. I need you to remain there and keep watch while I come back here and meet my man.”
Billy pointed his chin at the weapons on the table. “You want one of these pig-stickers now, Mister Eff?”
“No, take them back to the room for now. But I tell you, I’ll feel a damn sight safer tonight lying abed with a sharp blade next to me.”
MR. BLACK WAS anything but. His skin was paler than pale, blue veins showing through his forehead, and he was as bald as an egg. The only hair that remained upon his noggin were two tufts above his ears. As a Royalist conspirator, he was well disguised indeed. He had about as much presence as a coat on a hook, a plain townsman of middling years and middling birth. As it turned out, he actually was a wool trader.
“We apparently have a common acquaintance in France,” he said as we shook hands in the tap room. “How fares Mister Carson these days?”
“He is well and still in the employ of Mister Underhill,” I said.
“I am glad of it,” said Mr. Black. “Let us take a turn near the cathedral.”
And so we strolled across the green, the great grey cathedral looking beaten and sombre in the fading sunlight. He told me in truth his name was Hugh Dyer, and that he had served as a captain in Hopton’s regiment in the war. But I still kept to my ruse, and could only hope that Sir Edward had not revealed my identity. For no doubt, every government spy would now know I had returned.
“Exeter is pulling itself apart at the seams, sir,” said Dyer as we walked. “Factions are now hard set and harsh words heard at every town meeting.” He gestured over to the cathedral. “You know what they’ve done now inside there? They put up great wooden walls down the length of the nave. Why? So that the Presbyterians take the west side and the Independent preachers and their lot take the east. Christ, its sounds like bedlam in there with each side trying to drown out the other.”
I was little surprised to hear his tale.
“And we Anglicans are now in the same boat as the Papists—proscribed under pain of imprisonment. It’s bad, Falkenhayn, very bad indeed.”
“How goes the planning?” I asked, eager to find out just how things lay.
“Oh, well enough. We have near upon thirty gentlemen from the county and they can promise between twenty and five and a hundred men for each of them. Aye, there are eleven of us leaders here in the city alone. We meet every week at the Mitre to discuss stores, weapons and the like. Just waiting on the word really. And your arrival.” He looked at me and grinned.
“But don’t you vary your meeting places,” I said, “for safety? You’re making it simple for the army to discover the undertaking, are you not?”
“I don’t believe those up at the castle yonder have a clue as to what we’re up to. If we went anywhere other than the Mitre then we’d have confusion each week. Besides, the Mitre has the best beer in town. It’s a very good house, you know. And the landlord is a sympathiser too.”
I’m sure I must have blinked hard in amazement at what he said. It took me a few moments before I could even speak. “When is the next meeting?”
“Why tomorrow night. Same as always. We take a back room at the Mitre and take our dinner together too.”
“How amiable,” I said, my stomach slowly sinking as the realisation of his words fully sank in. This western conspiracy had all the secrecy of a race meeting at Newmarket. It would be pure blind luck if the group had not already been infiltrated by Cromwell’s spies. But if it had been compromised, why had they not swooped down upon these fools weeks ago?
Dyer and I soon parted company. I had little desire to confide anything to him after hearing of his attitude to clandestine endeavours. We agreed to meet with the rest of his companions the next day at eight of the clock in the evening, shook hands again, gave each other a little bow of courtesy, and Dyer turned back towards the Mitre. The whole enterprise seemed even more of a foolhardy lark than before. But here I was, walking into it with both eyes open wide.
I was sickened and sad, and instead of heading back to the little inn (where hopefully Billy was already ensconced), I wandered back south through the town, down the High Street. It was hardly a busy late afternoon; shopkeepers were already putting up their shutters for the night and a gentle quiet had descended upon the street. Yet I became aware after some minutes that a figure was shadowing me, although a long distance behind. I turned down a side street to make a few more turns before coming out again on to the thoroughfare. Sure enough, as I glanced back, the person was also coming around the corner. But it was no common footpad. It was clearly a woman. She wore a long grey cloak and wide hood, pulled down to cover her forehead and eyes. I kept walking, turned another corner into a street so narrow I could practically span it with my arms, and then ducked into a recess.
She passed by me, a whisker away, and I quickly leapt out behind her. Alarmed, she wheeled around, stepping sideways and almost tripping in her heels over the cobbles. And I froze as she looked up, eyes huge. There stood Marguerite St. John. Neither of us could stutter a word, and I fell backwards into the wall behind.
“Sweet Mother of God, Maggie—how?” I moved forward to grasp her arm.
She was nervous, hesitant, and gave a small laugh and smile. “Richard, I know it is foolish and bad. But I did tell you I wouldn’t stay back there.”
The initial shock and joy of seeing her face now dissipated as the reality sank in. “But how did you find me, woman? And how did you arrive here a day after me?” I seized her by both arms and shook her. “Who else knows and who is with you?”
She offered no resistance or her usual fiery tongue but just shook her head at me, quietly gushing out that she was alone and that no one knew where she was. She knew that I had gone to Devon, for I had told her as much. It had not been difficult to find my brother William in Plympton, she said, although he told her he did not know where I was headed. She had surmised it was north, to London town.
I gave her another shake as my anger boiled up. “What has gotten into your empty little head? Travelling alone on the road, in England? What are you trying to do?”
“I needed to be with you. It was only blind chance I saw you on the green earlier. I had no idea you were in Exeter. And I have found you again, my love.”
I relaxed my grip on her arms and I shook my head, at a loss for what I should now do and rueing the day my vanity drove me on this hop
eless adventure. “We’ve got to get inside. And you must tell me everything—I mean everything. Both our lives may depend on it.”
Her hands reached up and pressed over my heart. “Richard, do not be angry. I will explain all. And your brother has given me a letter for you.” And she pulled away, attempting to console me in her role as courier as she began to dig into the purse at her waist.
I stayed her hand. “No, not here. We’re going back to my inn, and staying out of sight until I can think of a way out of all this.”
Chapter Nine
AS MAGGIE AND I entered the room, Billy’s slack-jawed expression quickly gave way to a wide leer. He stood up from the bed with a jump and made a little bow of his head. “Ma’am!”
“Marguerite,” I said, “This is Billy Chard—a friend.” Maggie gave me a confused look, undoubtedly curious about the nature of my comrade. “Billy, why don’t you go downstairs for a spell. Marguerite and I have... things to discuss.” Billy said nothing but grabbed his hat and, giving me a wink, laid his forefinger aside his nose as he went out the door.
“Friend?” said Maggie. “He looks like a footpad.”
“He is a footpad. Dangerous people for life in dangerous times. He’s also my army, for the moment.”
“Don’t you wish to embrace me?” She looked hurt at my coldness.
I tried to soften what must have been now a longstanding mask of grimness. “Forgive me, Maggie, forgive me. I look at you and still cannot believe my eyes that you’re here. But, sweet Jesus, it’s great folly for you to have followed me. You don’t understand the situation I find myself in, and now I must look after you as well.” I did want to embrace her, to gather her up and melt into her bosom. But already, a hundred questions were running around my head and every one needed answer. “Maggie, sit down on the bed.”
I dragged a stool over and sat in front of her, grasping her hands. “Now you must tell me how this all came about. Who has told you how to find me?”
Her face was already beginning to flush scarlet. “You believe I needed help to find you? It was not difficult to pick up your trail. I merely described you to the coachmen, said you were ‘Monsieur Falkenhayn’, and made it to Rouen a day after you left that place. Not very many ships going to Plymouth and it was a simple matter to find out which one you had embarked on. As luck would have it, another was leaving in two days. And I was on it.”
I shook my head in exasperation. “But why, for the love of God? I’m on the run, pursued by the army, and I’ve only been back one week. What did you hope to accomplish, woman?”
She pulled back. “I hoped to accomplish nothing. I wanted only to find you and to be with you. I told you that myself before you left. I said don’t leave me in Paris. Did you doubt my resolve?”
“I did, Maggie, I did. And I wish to God you had thought better of it.”
She fixed me suddenly with a cold eye. “I’ve come all this way to help you... to be with you. Don’t you dare try to send me away.”
“You have a stout spirit to have gotten this far. But I can’t lie about how dangerous it is even now. And I can’t tell any more about the business without putting you in harm’s way.”
She leaned forward again and seized my wrists in both hands. “I’m already in it. It’s my fight too, and I possess the stomach for it. I was not about to sit in Paris while you lead the rebellion. Sit and wait for God knows how long.”
I pulled back at her words. A good guess on her part? Or had my enterprise already been discussed far and wide? “What do you know of a rebellion here, Maggie?”
Her face flushed again, her brown eyes shining as she answered. “It’s the talk of all the court. That our agents have been sent here to light the fire, to bring down the Tyrant. That is when I understood why you had left me.”
I stood up and walked to the window. “Does no one know the meaning of secrecy anymore? For the love of Christ!”
“It is knowledge shared only in small circles there in the Louvre, not general news, my love.”
I turned back to her. “And do you not think that Cromwell has eyes and ears in the court? By God, he does. And now they know all.”
She threw her hands up and brought them down on her lap. “It wasn’t I who spread the word! How dare you cast blame on me when all I wanted was to be with you.” She ripped at the purse that hung from her waist, snapping the leather strap. “Here is the letter from your brother. Or do you want me to send that back too? He didn’t even know if I would find you, but wanted to take a chance nonetheless.”
I had forgotten the letter. I reached out and took the little square packet from her shaking hand and broke the wax seal. It was indeed my brother’s hand, and I began to read. He addressed me merely as ‘Sir’ and proceeded to relay news of various business transactions and a goodly dose of how the weather was and if it would be an early springtime. It was signed ‘William’. I held it out towards Maggie.
“Did he say anything more? Just this?”
“No.”
It was only then that the scent of apples wafted up to me from the paper.
I grabbed the tinderbox off the little table on the other side of the chamber. Sparking it up, I lit the lamp that stood nearby. Maggie rose from the bed and followed me, despite her rage, curious about my frantic reaction. I gently held the opened letter just above the flame of the lamp, slowly moving it to and fro, the page rapidly heating. And sure enough, like the biblical handwriting upon the wall, words in pale sepia magically blossomed on the page, written in my brother’s hand and between the lines of his black-inked nonsense about the weather. I heard Maggie’s subdued rush of breath as she stood at my side. And I read the real message that now stood out boldly.
Brother:
The woman who bears this letter claims to know you. From our short conversation I do not doubt this. As you did not tell me where you were bound, I could not share this intelligence with her and if she has found you it is only by the grace of God. As we two may not see each other for some time yet to come, I seized upon the opportunity to pen these words. And they are heavy ones, I must tell you. I have learned that the estate of Israel Fludd has already been settled and that his will was most specific in the disposition of his land and chattels. He has left all to your Arabella. There, that is it then. She has regained the Treadwell home for her and the children, and the babe to come. This is a blow you must bear up under, my brother. Seek solace from the gentle lady who bears this note, one who claims great love for you, sir. And, if it is not too late, and God’s hand still rests upon you, I beg you to return to France with all speed. That is where your life must take you. Farewell.
I placed the letter on the table and sat upon the stool. I felt very empty and very foolish for my pride. Arabella knew how to look after herself in time of war. How else had she managed without me for all those years? I was a cuckold who had assumed his wife had been taken against her will. I recalled her words to me not one week ago: Leave well enough alone and all will be well.
Why had I not listened with both my ears that day?
You do not ask me, husband, whether it was by my will or against my will?
I felt Maggie’s hand upon my shoulder. “What’s wrong? Tell me what he says.”
“Wrong? Nay, it’s good news about my wife. She has come into some money, it seems.”
“I do not understand.”
I rubbed my forehead and stood. “It’s not important. We have more pressing troubles here and now. Such as what we’re to do with you. You can’t wander around the town, alone and unescorted.”
She grabbed my arm and turned me towards her. “Then you will need to escort me, damn you.”
I grasped her gently by the shoulders. “Look at me! I’m being pursued by someone. Someone in the army. He knows I’m in Exeter and... I have slain his brother.”
She didn’t bat an eye. She reached up and stroked my shaggy beard. “We’re here to fight, you old fool. Not run. Tell me what I have to do but don�
�t tell me to leave you again.”
I was tired. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and I pulled her into my chest as if to squeeze the life out of her. “I’m running out of schemes, Maggie. And time as well.”
I felt her squeeze me back. “You are Richard Treadwell, not Andreas Falkenhayn. And you have work to do here. Let me be your helpmate.”
I was silent as she embraced me, until finally I heard myself say aloud, “Very well. Tell me where you’re lodged.”
“I am at the coaching house, near the bridge at the south gate.”
“Then I shall take you back there now. You must stay inside until I have a better idea of what is happening in the town. I have a meeting with the others tomorrow night. But you must stay out of sight, for now at least. Understood?”
“Tell me what I must do and I will do it.”
HOW COULD I not have spent the night in her arms once I had brought her back to her chambers? I had precious little else to hold up my spirits while my enterprise crumbled around me with each passing day. Billy had shrugged when I told him she was my mistress who had followed me from Paris. “Better than a black dog,” he said. I suppose little about me could surprise him at this point. I told him to stay around the inn and watch for the militia. “Aye, and then do what, Mister Eff?” he had said cheekily. I told him just to keep out of trouble and that we would meet up in the morning. “At least one of us will have a good night!” he called back to me as he walked down the stairs to the tap room.
All my fears and worries emptied into her as we tussled that evening, devouring each other as we had not for many weeks. But the whole of the time I held her, there was still the faint waft of distrust between us about what we each had revealed and what we had concealed. I finally drifted off, her head upon my chest, her long chestnut hair covering my mouth and chin. A deep sleep, undisturbed by my Beast, or nightmares, or any cares of the waking world. And come cock crow, we both awoke in the orange glow of sunrise, and she was upon me again. We lay there, afterwards, and slowly my reverie blew away and the stony truth of my situation invaded once again.
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