Puritan

by David Hingley

  Mercia nodded. ‘They believed the country needed reform,’ she explained, ‘and that this would herald the Second Coming of Christ. But when the King regained his throne, some of them thought that a threat. They assembled in a tavern in London, hoping to unite the people against him.’

  ‘’Tis always in London you get the buffle-heads.’ Nicholas smirked. ‘But I know what happened next. They took to the streets, nobody joined them, and they were executed.’

  ‘Kit’s brother among them,’ said Percy. ‘His family locked Kit in his room to prevent him from joining the revolt. A providential act, for it saved his life.’

  ‘And yet he came here,’ she mused.

  ‘He never forgave them. On the ship across the ocean, he had ample time to reflect. His faith grew strong, and now it upholds him.’

  ‘It assuredly did today. And what of Thorpe? Why does he remain here when everyone mistrusts him?’

  ‘To keep watch on us.’ Percy shrugged. ‘And because he loved his wife, who rests now in our cemetery, God protect her. But mostly to keep watch, and not just since he returned with that pompous commission. There is a network of the King’s supporters throughout New England. In each town, at least one man or woman passes information back. We tolerate them, because we can pass false news that way. But it will be difficult to do so this time, when Whalley has been seen by so many. And speaking of that, I must … see to business when I can.’ Giving her a smile, he put his thumbs in the top of his breeches and sauntered away.

  She turned back to Nicholas, but he was looking at her, his head cocked.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘I know that walk. That look.’

  ‘What look?’

  ‘Percy’s, just now. That … smile.’

  She flushed. ‘Do not be absurd. I think he has just … softened since first we met.’ She changed the subject. ‘Nicholas, that was brave, what you did today, fighting with the townsmen. But poor Seaborn Adams dead.’ She clasped his arm. ‘Where is Nathan? I was told he is safe, but I have yet to find him.’

  ‘I was wondering when you would ask.’ He grinned. ‘He is part of the guard Whalley left to watch the forest. He volunteered, in truth. During the attack, he fought as though he was one of the local men.’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked towards the palisade, the same strange sadness returning that she had felt before. ‘He is becoming more as one of them every day.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Thorpe had done something, she was sure of it. After his altercation with the town, he had become too withdrawn, and not merely because he was worried for himself: no, he was too proud for that, she thought. Was it connected with the regicides? With the murders, even? She was unsure if that were so, but she was watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake, if such a man ever could.

  Nathan came into the kitchen area where she was half-heartedly perusing her old volume of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, distracted by her thoughts as she stirred a pot over the fire. He smiled, but there was little warmth in the gesture, more a saddened resignation.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, setting down the well-thumbed book, a family keepsake she had brought with her from England. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Oh, just out.’

  ‘You are going to the Davisons’ farm again, I suppose?’

  He sighed. ‘Mercia, I have told you. I am helping while we wait to leave. It gives me something to do.’ He looked at her. ‘You remember our conversation?’

  ‘That depends which one.’

  ‘About Sir William returning to the area. About that being the point when we decide to return home.’

  She looked down at the pot; it was beginning to bubble. ‘Yes, I recall it.’

  ‘Well, it cannot be long now.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘It means we are out of time. Sometimes, Mercia, there are matters we cannot resolve. Even Whalley knows that.’

  She watched the bubbles multiply, boiling faster and faster. ‘What of your anger about Silence?’

  ‘It is still there, Mercia, still deep. But I will bear it, if it means I can keep you safe, get you home.’

  Wisps of steam began to rise. ‘I have told you before, I do not need keeping safe.’

  ‘No.’ He snatched his jacket from a wall hook. ‘It seems you need me for little these days. But I will not give up on you so easily. On us.’ He paused in the doorway. ‘Percy Lavington is back, if you are interested.’

  She raised her head. ‘Has he—are they safe?’

  ‘I have not had chance to ask. But I thought you might want to.’ He opened the door to the street. ‘I will see you later, then.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ she murmured, as he eased shut the door.

  The mood in the cottage had been oppressive; now the mood was brighter. After finishing her scant meal she was back outside, on horseback with Percy in the rapidly baring forest. Being outdoors always seemed to lighten her humours, even when, as now, she could feel the light haze of dampness on her cheeks as a light drizzle twirled in the air.

  ‘I think we’re on our own now,’ said Percy.

  She turned to look behind them. ‘Yes, there is no one around.’

  ‘Out here there usually isn’t.’ He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he inhaled, held his breath, and released again. ‘In spite of everything that is happening, I love it here.’ He laughed. ‘It is absurd. Here we are, surrounded by Indians and death and men who would have me arrested, and yet I would not change being here, being born here for anything.’

  ‘I think I understand. There is something about this place that is above all that. But would you not have stayed in England, had Cromwell lived, or his son held onto power?’

  Percy scratched at his ear. ‘I always intended to come back one day. But yes, right then, I wanted to be in London, at the heart of it all. My father encouraged me. I wanted to learn from it and bring the lessons back to America, to help my people make their own way.’ His face glowed as he looked across from his saddle. ‘It still could be like that, you know.’

  She smiled at his enthusiasm. ‘Like what?’

  ‘A land free of kings, free of arbitrary rule. A land of opportunity, of wealth.’ He reined in his horse and gestured around him. ‘Look at how much space there is here, how much land, and the best thing is we have no idea, none at all, how far west these lands stretch. It could be hundreds of miles. With such wonders at our disposal, what need we of kings then – of England, even?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘’Tis well we are alone, speaking such words.’

  ‘So what do you think, daughter of Rowland Goodridge? Do you agree with me?’

  ‘It matters little what I think. And you have forgotten the Duke of York now owns a huge swathe of land directly to that westward direction of yours.’

  ‘Oh, I could never forget that.’ He scoffed. ‘If the mighty Duke knew what I was doing with Whalley and the others … Thorpe is right. I would most likely be taken as a traitor.’

  ‘But the people here would protect you, would they not?’ She thought of Godsgift. ‘They support what you do?’

  ‘Those who know. They do not care for kings and dukes, that is certain.’

  ‘And our three friends – you were away four days. Are they safe?’

  ‘Secret and safe. To the north, in the attic of a man of complete trustworthiness. But I pity them.’ His knuckles whitened on his reins. ‘They should be leading us, as Whalley did here, but they are forced to hide in cramped conditions, hoping that one day they may be forgiven. In the meantime they are denied the chance to see their wives and their children.’ He shook his head. ‘Whalley and Goffe, at least. Dixwell is not known around here: it was a surprise when he arrived. I am not sure the King’s men know he is in America at all.’

  She hesitated. ‘One of them does. He is coming here soon.’

  He stared at her, aghast. ‘What have you—to Meltwater?’

  ‘To Hartford. But do not worry. He will say no
thing. At least that is what he promised Dixwell in New York.’

  ‘Mercia, I do not trust these men at all. Who is he?’

  ‘His name is Sir William Calde.’

  ‘Ah.’ His hands loosened their tight grip on the reins. ‘I know him. His position under Cromwell was somewhat ambiguous. But even so.’

  ‘He was of help in New York. In any case, it matters not. Dixwell and the others are safe. But Percy, Nathan wants to leave when Sir William comes through. I am running out of time.’

  His lips seemed to quiver. ‘But I … you are leaving already?’

  ‘Did you think we would stay for ever?’ She smiled. ‘I have told you before, England is home, as much as this is home to you.’

  ‘I just … did not think it would be so soon.’

  ‘We have been here a while, in truth.’ She looked at him. ‘Percy?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He turned his head. ‘I was thinking. ’Tis only that … I have been enjoying spending time with you.’

  There was something in his tone, something warm. She felt her cheeks reddening, but in the drizzle she hoped he would not notice. ‘And I with you. I just wish it could have been at a less harrowing time.’

  ‘You are right about that.’ He tugged down the brim of his hat. ‘Perhaps, then, if I cannot convince you to stay, you will agree to spend some more time with me tomorrow?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ She sighed. ‘The strangest thing is, although Nathan says he wants to leave, I see him looking at the town, talking with its people, and I can tell he feels almost as you do about the work there, the life you lead. But I know he wants to protect me.’

  Percy looked at her askance. ‘You and he have not been getting along.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Well then … I will have to see if I cannot find some way to keep you by me.’ He laughed. ‘It might not be proper to invite you to my house to enjoy a good dinner, but you can help me clear the cave if you like, remove all the belongings they have not had chance to take.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Such an attractive offer.’

  He grew serious, looking at her with a deep intensity. ‘Mercia, since you came here I …’ He trailed off. ‘No, never mind.’

  ‘Never mind what?’

  He shook his head. ‘It does not matter. Come. Why not try to beat me back to the town?’

  They raced across the damp fields, startling Nathan as they hurtled past the Davisons’ farm, hoe in hand as he looked up from his work. Nearing the palisade, Mercia spurred on her horse and flew past Percy’s slowing mount, but when he reined in at the gate beside her she gave him a wry glance.

  ‘You slowed down on purpose.’

  He grinned. ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘To let me win. Next time, no favours.’

  ‘So there will be a next time?’

  She jiggled her head. ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Welcome back,’ called a voice from the gate. ‘I have been waiting for you for an hour.’

  ‘Amery.’ Percy danced his horse around the speaker. ‘Waiting why?’

  ‘On your father’s orders, that’s why. He has had me waiting since not long after you rode out.’

  ‘Again, why?’

  ‘How should I know?’ His face darkened. ‘I am merely the schoolmaster.’

  ‘You know how he is. Spoilt one of his experiments, did you?’

  Amery scowled. ‘You as well, Mrs Blakewood.’

  ‘Me?’ She frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘Always “why”! Go and find out. I have matters to attend to.’

  Percy watched him stride arms folded through the gate. ‘Poor fellow. I cannot blame him for being terse.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Best see what my father wants.’

  Tying up their horses, they walked to the magistrate’s house, a lightness in Mercia’s gait she had not experienced for some time. Lavington’s servant Stephen opened the door of the grand house to let them in. He led them directly to the parlour, but his master was not alone.

  ‘Forgive me, Father.’ His back to Mercia in the doorway, Percy’s tone was terse. ‘I did not realise you would have company.’

  ‘Stay, Percy,’ said Lavington. ‘Richard’s presence is why I have asked you here.’

  Mercia followed him into the green-walled room; seated beside Lavington, Richard Thorpe barely acknowledged her presence.

  ‘And me?’ she enquired.

  ‘That would be my fault.’ A commanding voice boomed from the corner, where a finely dressed man was rising from Lavington’s satin armchair. ‘But it seems I have come at an interesting time, nonetheless.’

  Startled, Mercia dipped her head. ‘Sir William? I did not expect to see you so soon, and not in Meltwater.’

  ‘Oh?’ Sir William Calde, Mercia’s noble admirer, sniffed. ‘But your … friend. Keyte. He wrote a letter by way of Winthrop advising me you wished an escort to New York. I spoke to him just this morning about it, at the southern gate.’

  She stared at him. ‘Nathan has—what?’

  ‘I would have come for you as soon as I arrived, but I had tedious matters to address with the magistrate.’ He smiled. ‘I must say, I am delighted to be asked.’

  Percy swallowed as he looked at her. ‘But you just said … I thought …’

  ‘A slight misunderstanding.’ She spoke through gritted teeth. ‘One which I shall clear up forthwith.’

  ‘So, Mrs Blakewood,’ said Lavington. ‘It seems you will be leaving us, after all.’

  She glanced at him. ‘Not quite yet.’

  ‘No, we have a few days.’ Sir William was fair beaming. ‘Governor Nicolls is not expecting my report in New York until next week, although I have sent my retinue on ahead. Lavington has been good enough to offer me the use of his guest room.’ His cheerful eyes grew mired with concern. ‘But from what I hear of events, ’tis nigh time you were leaving. As for now, you will doubtless want to listen to what Thorpe here has to say.’

  Lavington frowned. ‘I do not think Mrs Blakewood would—’

  Sir William turned his head, the smallest amount. ‘I, on the other hand, do think she would like to hear.’

  Her interest sparked despite her annoyance. ‘Hear what?’

  Thorpe was gazing at Sir William with the look of a fawning courtier in the presence of the King himself. He cleared his throat. ‘With your permission, Sir William.’

  The great man swept his hand across the room as though he owned it. ‘By all means.’

  ‘Well, then.’ Thorpe’s sash strained as he took a long breath. ‘’Tis this. I know who is responsible for the murders.’

  ‘What?’ Percy spoke over Mercia as she uttered the same exclamation. He looked at his father, but Lavington’s face was impassive.

  ‘’Tis obvious, when you consider it.’ Thorpe was shaking, whether because of Sir William’s presence or for another reason Mercia could not say. ‘Although with your interest, Percy, it seems likely you could never see the truth.’

  Percy folded his arms. ‘Do not speak in riddles, Richard. If you have an accusation to make, make it.’

  ‘Then I shall.’ He glanced at Sir William, who nodded for him to continue. ‘What I mean, Percy, is that the killers …’ His face flashed with sudden zeal. ‘Is that the killers are your own friends. The killers are the regicides, Whalley and Goffe.’

  Percy began to laugh. ‘Oh yes. No matter that they have not been seen in many a year.’

  ‘We all know you have been hiding them. The whole town does.’ Thorpe looked up. ‘Even your father.’

  Percy’s expression did not change. ‘You should be careful what you insinuate, Richard.’

  ‘Come now.’ Thorpe’s shaking had gone, colour bursting across his cheeks. ‘Your father is no fool, and neither am I. He may dispute it, but I can see where there is no conviction.’ He scoffed. ‘How was it Whalley appeared the other day? A miracle? You see, Sir William, the regicides are nearby, and this is the man who has been protecting them.’
r />   ‘As you said before he arrived.’ Sir William toyed with the ostrich feathers that adorned his substantial hat. ‘Whalley, Goffe, even John Dixwell somehow, too.’ He shot Mercia a barely perceptible glance over Thorpe’s head: a warning? A sign of complicity? ‘But his father denies it.’

  ‘As he tried to before, when we talked alone.’ His head was lightly bowed as he looked on the great man. ‘But I have considered it well since. The magistrate is in a difficult position. After all, Percy is his son, and he would not want the presence of the regicides so near his town to be widely known.’ He cleared his throat. ‘But it is beholden on us all, is it not, that we take every measure we can to apprehend those men, regardless of personal feeling?’

  Percy narrowed his eyes. ‘If you are so sure that was Whalley, why did you not arrest him at the time?’

  ‘The whole town was against me, if you had not noticed.’

  ‘Mr Thorpe,’ interjected Mercia, striving to hold her voice neutral. ‘Why do you claim those men are the killers we seek?’

  ‘He has said so to the whole town, from what I hear,’ said Sir William. ‘Is that not right, Lavington?’

  Lavington had been staring forward, but now he stirred himself to speech. ‘He has been somewhat free with his tongue.’

  ‘You have made this preposterous accusation in front of others?’ Percy took a step forward. ‘I cannot believe this, even from you.’

  ‘It is the truth,’ pursued Thorpe. ‘And you will hide it no longer. As for you, Mrs Blakewood, I saw you ride out of town just before Whalley appeared. What say you to that?’

  She held his keen gaze. ‘I say you are searching for explanations that do not hold true. I was advised to leave before the Indians attacked, but I did not get far before I realised I could not abandon my friends.’

  ‘A merry explanation. I shall find you out, Mrs Blakewood. We all know how your father served Cromwell.’

  ‘Enough, Thorpe,’ growled Sir William. ‘You will speak civilly to women who are in America on the King’s own business.’