by Deryn Lake
The Grenadier saluted. ‘Very good, Sir.’
‘Now into your positions — and quietly.’
As he headed up the free traders’ secret pathway, Jekyll found that his heart had begun to quicken with excitement. He was sure that tonight would see Challice finished, that evil would be stamped out. Much to his astonishment he found that he had started to pray that all would go well and that his fervent attention to duty would be rewarded. Still in this strangely elated mood, he crouched amongst the trees that lined the road.
There was a massive silence, not a breath of wind stirring the trees and the night creatures quiet in their lairs. It was almost frightening when Rogers gave a muffled cough and Jekyll furiously whispered, ‘Shush.’
Then they heard it. The pounding of hooves in the distance.
‘He’s coming!’ said Jekyll, cocking his pistol in readiness.
He saw Challice from a long way off, recognised his dark coat and feathered hat as the highwayman approached, lying low in the saddle to avoid the trees. From his position on the slope above him, Jekyll took aim and put his finger to the trigger. A million thoughts raced in his brain: that right would be done; that the sacrifice of a life in order to bring safety to others was more than justified; that he, Jekyll, was an instrument of the Lord.
He fired and Challice fell like a stone, his horse careering on in fright up the hill. With a wild shout, Jekyll and Rogers ran down the slope to where the body lay, face down.
‘Turn him over,’ said Rogers. ‘He may not be dead.’
Jekyll paused, a curious sensation coming over him, a feeling that something had gone terribly wrong. He moved the body over and looked down at the corpse which lay, dead as a dog, in a pool of blood. He saw Nicholas Grey’s mobile features look up at him, the pewter-coloured eyes still wide and staring, the mouth open to release a small trickle of blood. Then that face seemed to vanish and for a second Jekyll thought a little simpleton lay dead, a half-wit that once he had loved and cherished.
‘May God forgive me,’ he said. ‘I have killed my brother.’
Rogers looked at him astounded. ‘What?’
Jekyll shook his head, collecting himself. ‘I’m sorry. It was the shock. I lost my wits for a moment. We’ve killed Grey not Challice.’
‘No,’ said Rogers firmly. ‘We did not kill him, you did, Lieutenant Jekyll. And so I shall bear witness when it comes to the enquiry.’
With the corpse still gazing up at him, the lieutenant found that he could do nothing but make the sign of the cross.
Epilogue
They stood at the ship’s rail and watched the coast of England become a mere fine line in that leaping, rolling, luminous ocean that was all that lay between Henrietta and Jacob and the rest of their lives together.
They had sailed with the tide and seen the sweet, clean wind pick up the sails and billow them out to greet the white clouds that escorted the little ship from the harbour. They had laughed at that and then they had cried because Nicholas had not come running up the gangplank at the very last minute as they had thought he would.
‘He didn’t come,’ Henrietta had said. ‘Oh Jacob, he didn’t come.’
‘But he will, my darling. He gave us his promise. Do you remember?’
‘But suppose something has happened to him?’
‘He will still come to us,’ Jacob had answered firmly.
Now England was rapidly vanishing and there was nothing but the mighty ocean and the thought of the bustling American Colonies that lay on the other side to cheer the couple, who suddenly seemed small and vulnerable as they stood side by side, watching their homeland disappear for ever.
But then, without warning, Henrietta gave a cry and put her hand to her body. ‘It moved, Jacob. I felt my baby move. It is alive.’
He looked at her questioningly. ‘I wonder what makes it do that? What it is that suddenly breathes life, so that the child is nothing one minute and a person the next.’
‘Perhaps a soul has just entered in.’
‘Perhaps.’
They turned to go below, out of the wind that was now blowing fresh and cold about them.
Will we ever see Nicholas again?’ said Henrietta sadly. ‘He gave a promise and it is one that he will not break. We will see him.’
‘I hope so,’ answered Henrietta — and in her womb the baby danced for joy.
Historical Note
This book is a combination of fact and fiction but the principal events are mainly true. John de Stratford certainly spent time at Mayfield Palace and died there and his involvement in the abdication of Edward II and subsequent raising up of the boy king, Edward III, are matters of recorded fact. However, the existence of his half-wit younger brother is a matter of speculation.
Robert Morley’s affair with Debora Weston is imaginary but what is true is that Robert married late — in 1614 when he was thirty-seven. His bride was Susanna, daughter and heiress of Thomas Hodgson of Framfield. Robert became an MP, sitting in the Parliaments of 1620 and 1623-4 as member for Bramber and in 1627-8 as member for Shoreham. Before his death in 1632 he was appointed Sheriff for both Surrey and Sussex. He had six children by Susanna and his heir Harbert, aged sixteen at the time of his father’s death, became a royal ward but later joined the Parliamentarians during the Civil War.
Tom May also joined the Parliamentarians after his disappointment at not being named Poet Laureate on the death of Ben Johnson. Tom was strangled to death by the strings of his own nightcap after ‘going well to bed’. There is recorded evidence of his keeping ‘beastly company’ but none of his ever having married. His secret liaison with Agnes is, therefore, a matter of conjecture.
The two indictments against Alice Casselowe, Witch of Mayfield, read as follows: ‘Alice Casselowe of Mayfilde, spinster, on 6 June, 18 Elizabeth, at Mayfilde, bewitched to death 1 ox valued at £4 of the goods and chattels of Magin Fowle, gentleman. Endorsed. Billa vera.’ And ‘On 1 June, 18 Elizabeth, at Mayfilde, bewitched to death 2 pigs valued at 10s. of the goods and chattels of Richard Roose. Endorsed. Billa vera.’
That Alice Casselowe died in Horsham Gaol before her sentence was served is recorded as follows: ‘Memoranda. She died in prison as appears by Coroner’s inquisition taken in Easter term, 19 Elizabeth.’
That her great-niece followed Alice into the pursuit of the black arts is supposition only.
The career of Gabriel Tomkins, alias Kit Jarvis, is so extraordinary that he merits a book to himself. In comparison with Kit, Dick Turpin pales into insignificance. Though his arrest by Rogers and Jekyll in 1721 led to the end of the Mayfield gang, Kit himself was a long way from finished. He escaped from Horsham Gaol by bribing the gaoler but was recaptured and transferred to London to avoid both a rescue attempt and an acquittal by a Sussex jury. He stood trial in the Court of Kings Bench on 27th October 1721, and was sentenced to seven years transportation for assault on officers of the Customs. However, Kit bargained, and in return for information his sentence of transportation was postponed. Edward, too, was caught and sentenced but managed to get himself transferred back to gaol in Sussex from the Fleet Prison. By 1724 both brothers were free again.
By 1729 Kit was once more involved in smuggling in Sussex and continued to operate until the 1730s when he was captured. Those returning from transportation before serving their full sentence — though there is considerable doubt that Kit was ever transported at all! — risked hanging. The resourceful Jarvis therefore gave evidence to the Parliamentary Select Committee on smuggling and as a reward was appointed a Riding Officer! In 1736 he was promoted to the rank of Surveyor at Dartford and was also taken on as a bailiff by the Sheriff of Sussex.
However, Kit found it almost impossible to remain law-abiding and after innumerable adventures was dismissed from the Customs service in 1740. He went to live in St Giles in the Field, in London, stealing away from Dartford in the still of the night.
The next sighting of Kit was as a highwayman when he held up the Chest
er stage in 1746 but soon he was back at Rye working once more with the Hawkhurst gang. But it was as a highwayman that this extraordinary character finally met his end. Caught at last, he was sent to Bedford and was tried at the assizes for highway robbery. It was there that he kept his final appointment with the hangman.
The involvement of a member of the Baker family with the Mayfield gang is pure surmise based on one or two historical clues. Firstly, the odd positioning of the blocked-up tunnel entrances in the cellars of the Middle House and the Royal Oak, all seeming to lead to the palace; secondly, the fact that the Horsham magistrate was obviously bribed by someone of power; thirdly, that it would have been impossible for Mayfield’s leading family to, at the very least, have been unaware of all that went on during the dark hours in that amazing Sussex village.
The love affair of Lucy Baker and John Langham finally drew to a happy conclusion. In 1723 old Squire Baker finally died at the age of eighty, leaving the lovers free to marry at last. This they did in 1725 when Philadelphia was expecting her first child and Lucy could finally consider that her duty had been done. Philadelphia had six children in all and died comparatively young in 1741. George, older than she, outlived her by fifteen years.
Grace Henrietta, eldest of the nine Miss Trevors, is still something of a mystery, though her death is recorded in 1797, which means that she would have reached the amazing age of ninety-four. Whether she sailed for the American Colonies is a matter of surmise and even her descendants do not know the full truth.
Of all the people in this story there is one who is still to be seen in Mayfield. Jacob Challice — or is it Nicholas Grey? — haunts Pennybridge to this day and was sighted as recently as 1986. The ghost is known as the Highwayman of Pennybridge and has become part of Mayfield’s folklore.
Bibliography
Mayfield, the Story of an Old Wealden Village, E. M. Bell-Irving;
Edward II, Caroline Bingham;
Witch Hunting and Witch Trials, C. l’Estrange Ewen;
Medicine — An International History, Paul Hastings;
The Later Middle Ages, George Holmes;
Edward III, Paul Johnson;
English Landed Society in the 18th Century, G.E. Mingay;
Gabriel Tomkins, Paul Muskett;
Smuggling in Kent and Sussex 1700-1840, Mary Waugh.