She walked on past. Then she realised, with annoyance, that while she tracked the young woman, a man was tailing her. As she turned to object and curse him, he accosted her: 'That gentlewoman saw you, and knew your intentions!'
She feigned innocence: 'She never did!'
'You know I am right.'
This man wore a brown suit several decades old, with stains down his jacket that were almost as old as the suit. She had seen him before in the area, though had no idea what trade he pursued or whether he lived locally. Not in these tall houses, unless he was some secretary or man of affairs. But he looked rougher, more like a press-gang leader, a pimp, or a justice's informer. He had the eyes of a loner, one who would not admit openly what filthy trade he followed. Perhaps he was just religious, some fanatical sectarian, she scoffed to herself.
She felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He was seeing a thin streak of tension and trouble, haggard-faced, hollow-eyed in the way only worn women on the London streets ever were. It was sometimes the result of drink. He could tell she was struggling. If this little thief had ever been prosperous, that was long past and she was heading for her destruction. She was ripe for him to take over. If he did not, she could be only a week away from being caught. Hanging then awaited. He would be doing her a service.
'I could turn you in — but I will not do it.'
'Oh I know what you want then!' she chided, rejecting his presumed advances with a sneer. Still, she wondered if she should give him his pleasure, just to gain a few pence in the hand.
'You know nothing. I can help you.'
'To what? To the stocks now and a sickly bastard in ten months' time?' Could he tell that she knew all about that?
'To a new life.'
'Oh you are a preacher!' The scavenger burst out laughing. Forget nurturing her soul. All she wanted was a bite to eat — and now she thought about it, she wanted that badly. She was so thin that even at the height of summer, she felt chilled to her fragile bones. Her weakness nowadays was dangerous; if a hue and cry started, she had no energy to run.
'I will not press religion on you,' promised the man. 'Not unless you choose that course. But those who do have faith and who have gone away to a new life in a better country, good honest people all of them, need healthy wenches of good character and spirit to serve them in their homes. I recruit for them. Were you wanting to escape your misery for a respectable career, in a land of hope and prosperity, I could show you the way to it.'
'Nobody would want me.'
'No one need know what you have been or where you come from.' He played his best card: 'I am walking now to an ordinary for a meal. Come, if you want. Eat with me at my expense and simply listen. Where will be the harm? No obligation. None at all.'
Of course she went. He knew what he was doing. A free meal would buy anyone. He knew how to time it, when they were desperate. Just as the light was fading and the evening chill set in, when they were tired after a long and useless day… Picking them up off the streets was his job, and he was unfailingly expert. Once he had lured her to the depot, in nearby St Giles-in-the-Fields, he would take his commission and vanish. Others would keep her secure. Fed, given a warm bed and safety, provided with a clean gown and cap, promised freedom and light work as a treasured servant in a respectable home in the colonies, she would be ripe for the bearers of contracts. Like many before her, she would 'sign indentures', make her mark on them voluntarily, listen while their importance was 'explained', not know she was being bamboozled and sold into something close to slavery…
It was no different from luring virgins into brothels, though it sounded better. He had done both, so he knew that both played on loneliness and fear, hope and misplaced ambition. The victims were young, most of them willingly entering into apprenticeships. By the time they saw they had been betrayed and were to labour in the plantations until they dropped, there were a thousand miles of ocean between them and home, with no chance of appeal. This one, along with so many others, had nobody to miss her.
She was his now. Her name hardly mattered. She was about to disappear, from Covent Garden, from London, even from England. She had been 'spirited'.
Chapter Forty-Eight — Colchester: 1648
The groom who had escorted Juliana to London was still hanging about the town house. He had taken up with the live-out maid so refused to return to Sussex, claiming to be afraid of soldiers on the road. Juliana could not persuade him. This was the problem with patronage. When it worked, life was easy; when it stopped working, dependants were trapped. She had no authority to give the servants orders. She did not want to lose the time it would take to write to Pelham Hall about it — and nor was she keen to travel with a hangdog, reluctant guard. Undaunted and longing to regain her children, she found a carrier who would take her. Luckily it was summer and there were plenty still working.
She reached Pelham Hall at the end of June. A good woman in the village had been caring for Tom and Valentine, who fell upon her in floods of tears, though she soon ascertained they were simply making her feel guilty. Now they at least were back together. There was no sign of Lovell, of course. Her sons kept asking where he was, as though he was their favourite parent.
There was bad news. While Juliana was away, Sir Lysander Pelham had been found dead in his bed. He had had no illness to speak of, though his daughters would claim he was broken-hearted by failure in the second civil war. With Sir Lysander gone, it was made plain the Lovells were no longer wanted. Although no efforts would be made to evict Juliana and her children while she was helpless, just as soon as her husband returned to her, the family would be expected to move on. It would be useful to start packing now.
Juliana accepted this precarious position calmly. She had tolerated Sir Lysander Pelham but never liked his relatives. She managed to remain polite to them through the month of June and into July, hoping her husband would reappear to claim her. Then, that wish was superseded. Reading news-sheets brought Juliana a great shock. Earlier than any of them might have hoped, she was able to oblige the hostile Pelham women.
The Royalist revolt's promising start had been systematically foiled. Oliver Cromwell had battened down in Wales, besieging rebel-held castles; once Tenby and Pembroke fell, he was free to go north and deal with the invading Scots. Juliana paid most attention to what happened in Kent, where her husband was supposed to be. There the Royalists had a large, well-organised army, support from the navy, towns and castles in their control, and a hoped-for welcome from the City of London. They had expected that Fairfax, now a lord after his father's death, would march the Parliamentary forces north, to block the Scots' army; they pinned their hopes on that army defeating him. Instead Fairfax took a small but highly experienced body of men to quell the insurrection in the south-east.
As he rode into Kent, Fairfax meant business. His reputation went before him; Royalist desertions began immediately. Although the rebels had recruited superior numbers, these were misguidedly divided between Maidstone, Dover and Rochester. There was a bloody fight at Maidstone, which Fairfax captured, street by street over the course of five hours. Elsewhere, Rich relieved Dover Castle and Ireton took Canterbury. On the promise of good treatment, many Royalists dispersed. Within weeks, the last pockets of rebellion were being mopped up.
Now came a change which was to horrify Juliana. The main Royalist army in Kent was commanded by the Earl of Norwich, Sir George Goring's elderly father. Lord Norwich moved towards London; he reached Blackheath on the outskirts, still full of confidence. However, when a fight seemed imminent the City lost heart; Norwich found the gates closed against him. Skippon was protecting London itself, while Whalley had ridden over London Bridge with some of the New Model Army men to take up a position in Essex. These were both reliable commanders. Harried by Parliamentary cavalry, Norwich moved down into Greenwich where he crossed the Thames northwards, with just five hundred desperate men either ferried in small boats or swimming their horses over. More than two thousand other Royalis
ts had deserted and fled.
Away in eastern Kent, Fairfax deemed it safe to leave subordinates to finish restoring order. He crossed the estuary by boat from Gravesend to Tilbury. On the north side of the Thames in Essex, Royalist support at first snowballed, but just as quickly it spontaneously collapsed. Suddenly their situation looked desperate. Norwich sought refuge in Chelmsford from where, with Sir Charles Lucas and other leaders, he moved on to Colchester, which was Lucas's home town. Fairfax was dangerously close behind. Intending to stay only one night, the Royalists persuaded the Mayor of Colchester to admit them.
As soon as Fairfax arrived, he attempted to storm the town, but the defenders resisted. They could not escape because their men were mainly infantry and Parliamentary cavalry would cut them to pieces. Suffolk Trained Bands, supporting Fairfax, were blocking all the roads north. Royalist ships attempting to bring supplies up the River Colne were beaten back, then three Parliamentarian ships arrived from Harwich. Fairfax's troops seized the local harbour.
It began to rain. Fairfax sat down to starve out Colchester, in what would become a long, bitter and terrible siege. Juliana pored over the news as the town of her birth began to suffer. Fairfax had neither the men nor the equipment for a snap break-in. Grimly he encircled Colchester with ten forts, connected by rudimentary walls. The defenders fired the suburbs. Sallies out were made by the Royalists, which involved fierce fighting. The rain came down incessantly, until the countryside flooded. Conditions inside the town worsened.
Oliver Cromwell and John Lambert tailed the invading Scottish through the north of England. They defeated the Scots in a running rout near Preston over two days in August. When this was reported in Colchester, the Royalist leaders decided to break out and escape or perish; without horses the idea was hopeless and their soldiers mutinied. The town surrendered to Fairfax.
There were vivid news-sheets.
Juliana read them with mounting despair. Bread had run out. The imprisoned inhabitants had eaten horseflesh, then dogs and cats, and finally rats. Royalist leaders kept secret from the suffering townsfolk any favourable surrender terms Fairfax offered, until he had arrows shot over the walls, wrapped in papers that gave details. There was bad feeling as the people pleaded with Lord Norwich to surrender but he would not submit. Juliana thought of rats, envisaging all too clearly their size, their intelligent knowing eyes, and their frightful squeals if trapped… She had terrible dreams. She considered her options desperately, then made up her mind. The Pelham women were amazed when their unwelcome guest from Sir Lysander's farmhouse came in obvious agitation to tell them that she had to leave.
'I must urgently go to Colchester.'
"Why, madam, this cannot be sensible or safe — but do you think that your husband was there and has been captured?'
'I have to go. My family lived at Colchester. Someone of mine was in the town — someone who cannot have borne those conditions…'
For the first time, the Pelhams saw Juliana Lovell lose her serene control. Tears rushed into her eyes; her lip trembled. When Bessy felt moved to go to her, Juliana could not immediately speak but pressed one hand over her mouth and shook with distress. Years of absence and silence had finally become too much for her.
'Oh Mistress Lovell, whatever is it? Who do you know at Colchester?'
'Germain Carlill. A frail old man whose wits left him years ago, and the good woman who takes care of him.' Juliana took a breath and forced herself not to break down. 'He is my father,' she said.
Chapter Forty-Nine — Colchester: 1648
The New Model Army bitterly resented the second civil war. When the Leveller mutinies were overturned by Fairfax at Ware, the Jukes brothers, like most of their colleagues, grudgingly succumbed. They both admired the Lord General's personal courage and energy, and they wanted to trust his assurance that the army's grievances would be addressed. Whatever attractions new republican ideas held, they needed their back pay; mutiny was a sure way to lose it. The King's escape and the onset of the second civil war depressed them deeply. Both Jukes now burned with republican ideals, Gideon through Robert Allibone's influence and because of what he had heard at Putney, and Lambert because his wife Anne had become embroiled with the civilian Levellers. The new Royalist revolt put all their hopes on hold.
Levellers refrained from political activity during the uprising. If these revolts succeeded, five years of fighting and misery would have been in vain. There would be no chance of political reform. The King, who had learned nothing about compromise, would plunge them back into the same conditions that started the first civil war.
New Model soldiers were frustrated that they had to endure more fighting. For London soldiers, this was almost unbearable; their yearning for home had been exacerbated when Rainborough led their four regiments into the city. They had all worn laurel leaves in their hats that day as a sign of victory — yet it was no joyful homecoming. It was torture to be so near their houses and their loved ones, yet to be kept in arms in quarters. Even so, only a few men deserted. Most, like Gideon and Lambert, felt they had now risked too much to give up.
During that brief stay in London, friends and family made attempts to visit them. Seeing familiar faces was a joy, though deeply unsettling. The troops settled back into their military routine afterwards, wondering how much longer it would have to continue and feeling homesick with a new piquancy.
Robert Allibone had come looking for Gideon. He brought Anne to see Lambert. They all hoped that soon the brothers would be able to give up soldiering. They wanted a settlement, peace and the men's return. They managed several meetings, though Gideon felt that none went well. Rifts had opened. Lambert and he had always assumed that once they were discharged, they would quickly refamiliarise themselves with normality at home and work. Now doubts set in. Maybe civilian life held problems. People at home seemed to have changed. Of course they had changed themselves too, though they were mainly unaware of it.
Although Gideon and Robert had corresponded all along, Robert's behaviour seemed oddly remote when they met. Gideon suspected guilt. On one visit, the apprentice Amyas came. Amyas, whom Gideon remembered as a raw boy in his teens, was now a strapping young man and only a few months from finishing his apprenticeship. Nothing was said, but it was clear that if Gideon did not soon rejoin the business, Amyas would take his place as Robert's partner. Robert was embarrassed, but he was working hard for the Levellers and relied on Amyas's help. So long as nobody could guess when Gideon would leave the army, decisions might have to be taken without him.
Parthenope Jukes had died, without her sons even knowing. For Lambert, who had lived in their parents' house almost all his life, it was now his house, the shop and business his too — making his return so much more urgent. However, Lambert was in trouble with Anne. Gideon read the signs. They all managed to dine together one night, but he found it uncomfortable with Anne and Lambert quarrelsome. Afterwards, Lambert remained tetchy, as if he had had a shock. Anne had managed the grocery business for over three years without him. Like other women landed with businesses, she did it well. But when her husband asked for progress reports she seemed unwilling to discuss anything; it went down badly with the jealous Lambert. Gideon foresaw deep strife when his brother returned home and expected to take charge. He would be grateful for what Anne had done in his absence — but he would make no concessions. Anne probably realised already that her position would drastically alter. She could not relish being exiled back to the kitchen, not after her emergence as a woman with spending power, authority to enter into contracts and employer's rights over their servers in the shop.
It was no surprise to Gideon that his brother applied to transfer back to London. As Lieutenant of the Tower of London, Fairfax was forming his own Guard, a regiment of six companies, which would secure the Tower, its arsenal and its important political prisoners, using men Fairfax trusted. That was the original plan, although the Royalist uprising soon altered it.
Given his London associatio
ns and his service record, Lambert Jukes's request for a move was granted. He thought that he was going home. His hope was short-lived. The second civil war took the Tower Guard first on long marches into Kent, then to Colchester.
Gideon had remained behind in the New Model temporarily. Colonel Rainborough's regiment was, on Rainborough's appointment as vice-admiral, given to Richard Deane, a change Gideon did not welcome. All the regiment was hostile because Deane had been Oliver Cromwell's preferred candidate for vice-admiral; the men had heard that Cromwell actually made a surreptitious attempt to block Rainborough's appointment. Deane may have been innocent in this; he had served at sea under Rainborough's father and Thomas had been a witness at his wedding, so there was no bad feeling between them. Cromwell held political reservations about Rainborough. Rainborough was no man's protege and open stress appeared between them.
While the Admiralty Committee were discussing the appointment, a captain in Rainborough's regiment overheard a furious quarrel behind closed doors. He came back full of indignation and gossip, so the awkwardness became common knowledge. Gideon already associated Cromwell with the Grandees' opposition to the Levellers. When Deane was given the regiment, he too asked for a transfer. Fairfax was still building up troop numbers in London, so it was allowed. Deane and the regiment went with Cromwell into Wales. Gideon followed his brother to London.
Rebels and traitors Page 49