The King's Exile (Thomas Hill Trilogy 2)

by Andrew Swanston

  ‘So this is where you spend your days, Charles,’ Mary said brightly, when food and drink had been brought. ‘I wonder that you can haul yourself away to visit us from time to time.’

  ‘Not at all. I come here infrequently and then only in pursuit of information. Some of the merchants are to be found here and they are always the first to hear news from England and Europe. If their ships could sell the information they carry, they would be even wealthier than they are.’

  ‘Will Cromwell send a fleet to the Caribbean?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘Willoughby’s view is that if Drax and the others hadn’t been sent back to England, we might have been left in peace. Cromwell has enough on his hands in Ireland and Scotland. But Drax and Alleyne will demand the restoration of their estates and they are not without influence.’

  ‘If he does send a fleet we shall have to decide how to meet it. Would Willoughby fight, do you think?’ Mary sounded worried. War on the island would be disastrous.

  ‘I’m sure he would prefer almost anything else but there may be no choice. A landing by hostile troops would have to be met with force. Willoughby would not surrender the king’s commission without a fight.’

  ‘Then let’s hope that Cromwell decides we’re not worth the trouble and leaves us be.’

  ‘Indeed, let’s hope so. Or at least that Thomas is safely on his way home before he acts.’

  The door of the inn was thrown open and a rough voice demanded rum. ‘Rum, man, and look sharp. My throat’s as dry as a nun’s cunny.’

  Charles looked up sharply. ‘God’s wounds. It’s the Gibbes.’ The others followed his eyes. The Gibbes brothers, dishevelled, truculent and obscene, had planted themselves at a table at the front. Samuel threw a pile of papers on to the table, ignoring the few that fell on the floor.

  ‘Under the table, Thomas, quickly,’ whispered Adam.

  Thomas slid off his chair and beneath the table. The others shuffled their chairs together to hide him. The Gibbes drained two glasses of dark rum and shouted for more.

  ‘So those are the Gibbes brothers,’ said Mary, leaning across Charles to see them. ‘I do believe the red-haired one is the most revolting man I have ever laid eyes upon. You did not exaggerate in your description, Adam.’

  Thomas peeked through Adam’s legs. The Gibbes sat facing each other and were too intent upon slaking their thirst to have noticed the group at the back of the room. As both were illiterate, he wondered what the papers could be. New material for the privy, perhaps.

  With each glass of rum, they became louder. ‘If you hadn’t let the little worm run off, we wouldn’t be in this mess,’ growled Samuel, thumping his fist on the table.

  ‘If he hadn’t tricked me and hit me from behind with a stone, I wouldn’t have.’ John was angry. Thomas smiled. He did not remember a stone.

  ‘We’d better find him. Tobias’ll throw us to the dogs if we don’t.’

  ‘Perhaps Tobias won’t come back.’

  ‘He’ll come for his money.’

  Thomas was wondering how long he would have to stay under the table when the door opened and in walked Robert Sprot. Battered satchel over his shoulder and straw hat in his hand, he called for a mug of ale, saw the Gibbes and sat down at the table next to them.

  He greeted them affably. ‘Good morning, gentlemen. What do you make of these developments?’

  The Gibbes stared at him. ‘What developments, Sprot?’ asked John.

  ‘I refer to the arrival of Lord Willoughby.’

  Samuel grunted. ‘Lord Willoughby can go and fuck himself and so can all his friends. It makes no difference to us who’s governor and who’s not. A pox on the lot of them.’

  ‘It seems to me that it will make a difference to Cromwell. I daresay we’ll see his fleet in the harbour before long.’ Sprot sounded delighted at the prospect. Fighting meant casualties and casualties meant business.

  Samuel ignored him. He took a paper from the pile and handed it to Sprot. ‘We’re looking for this man,’ he said, ‘Thomas Hill. He’s run off.’

  Sprot studied the paper. ‘Hill. Your indentured man, was he?’

  ‘Still is, Sprot,’ spat John, ‘and when we find him, we’ll cut off his balls and feed them to the dogs.’

  Sprot looked again at the paper. ‘A hundred guineas’ reward, eh? A considerable amount for one man. Five and a half feet tall and skinny, you say. Where do you think he might be?’

  ‘If we knew that we wouldn’t be sitting here, Sprot,’ spluttered John.

  ‘No, no, indeed not. I merely wondered if I might be able to assist in your search. I could ask around while I’m about my work. I meet many people in the course of business.’

  Samuel leaned over and thrust his face into Sprot’s. ‘Do that, Sprot, but don’t expect a hundred guineas unless you bring the fairy to us. And we want him alive.’

  ‘Oh quite, quite. A smaller amount will suffice for information regarding his whereabouts.’ He paused. ‘Shall we say twenty guineas?’

  ‘Ten. And only if we catch him.’

  ‘Ten it is. You may rely upon me, gentlemen.’

  Thomas felt a nudge on his backside. ‘Stay there,’ whispered Charles, who pushed back his chair and strolled over to the Gibbes. Thomas took another peek.

  ‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ said Charles, ignoring Sprot. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing your discussion and I think I might be able to help.’

  The Gibbes eyed him suspiciously. ‘And you’ll want our money too, Carrington, won’t you?’

  ‘Indeed not. We may have had our differences but I abhor runaways and my reward will be in seeing one brought to justice. As you may know, Adam Lyte’s estate was recently attacked by runaways. I happened to be there and recognized Hill among them.’

  ‘Did you kill him?’

  ‘I tried but the coward ran off. He’ll be hiding in the forest.’

  ‘If you’re lying, Carrington, you’ll be sorry.’ Samuel spat out the words.

  ‘Why would I lie? My advice is to gather a group of landowners to search the woods in St Lucy. That’s where the runaways are hiding.’ He paused. ‘In fact, why not start immediately? The square is full of men who would be willing to help. You could recruit a regiment if you look sharp.’

  The Gibbes exchanged a glance. Samuel grabbed the papers and stood up. ‘Come on, brother. It’ll be better than sitting on our arses and we’ll work up a good thirst.’

  ‘Allow me to accompany you,’ said Charles. ‘Three heads are better than two.’

  When they had gone, Adam and Mary left Thomas under the table and went over to Sprot. Thomas risked another peek. Sprot stood up when he saw them. ‘Mr Lyte, Miss Lyte, I did not see you there.’ He scratched his head thoughtfully, as if trying to remember something. Whatever it was, it did not come to mind. ‘And how is your leg, Miss Lyte? Would you care for me to examine it?’

  ‘What a good idea, Mr Sprot,’ she replied, ‘and how fortunate to have met you here. Let us find a suitable place outside where the light is better.’

  ‘A pleasure, madam.’

  Adam took Mary’s arm and opened the inn door. Sprot followed them. Thomas waited two minutes, then rolled out from under the table. Ignoring the looks of the other drinkers, he walked quickly to the door and looked outside. Mary had found a wooden crate on which to sit and had positioned herself so that Sprot’s back was to the door. There was no sign of the Gibbes.

  Thomas slipped out and made his way to Adam’s carriage, where he found Charles with a smug grin on his face.

  ‘What did you think of that, Thomas? Rather skilful, although I say it myself. I should have been an actor.’

  ‘I suppose I owe you my thanks, Charles, although was it necessary to call me a coward?’

  ‘All part of the deception, my friend. Worked well, I fancy.’ He looked about. ‘Where are Adam and Mary?’

  ‘Sprot is examining Mary’s leg.’

  ‘Good God. He hasn’t got his saw with him, has h
e?’

  ‘I doubt it will come to that. It was just a way of getting him out of the inn so that I could escape. What have you done with the Gibbes?’

  Charles laughed. ‘The square was quiet so I sent them to find men in Oistins. They really do want to find you, Thomas.’

  ‘I know. They’re terrified of Tobias Rush, and with good reason. He’ll skin them alive if he finds out that I have escaped. Ah, here are the Lytes.’

  Mary was hanging on to her brother’s arm and giggling. ‘The man’s absurd,’ she said when they had settled into the carriage. ‘He told me that although my leg is quite healed and as strong as it ever was, there may still be poison inside it.’

  ‘Did he want to remove it?’ asked Charles.

  ‘He thinks the poison will appear and that when it does, the leg should come off. I could hardly stop myself from laughing out loud.’

  ‘Well, Thomas,’ said Adam, ‘I shall redouble my efforts. We must find you a safe ship without delay. I for one have had enough of the brothers Gibbes.’

  CHAPTER 22

  TOBIAS RUSH HAD chosen his house for its discreet location and modest size. It stood at the western end of Cheapside, not far from St Paul’s, and had no distinctive features. Like its neighbours, it was narrow-fronted, half-timbered and shuttered. A man might walk past it every day for ten years and not give it a second glance. That was just as Rush liked it. He maintained a small staff and seldom entertained visitors. Visitors had a habit of asking questions and he did not like questions. He preferred his own company.

  But for the two gentlemen he had invited to dine he had made an exception. James Drax and Reynold Alleyne, both recently expelled from Barbados for refusing to swear an oath of loyalty to the king, were two of the island’s largest landowners. Drax was almost certainly the largest of all. For them he would not only make an exception, he would offer them the very finest food and wine to be found in London.

  They arrived punctually at six o’clock and were shown into the living room by Rush’s steward. Rush greeted them warmly. ‘Gentlemen, it is an honour to welcome you here. I thank you for coming.’ He had met neither of them before. His letters of invitation had been delivered by messenger and had hinted at a matter of mutual benefit. He knew how to interest men of business.

  ‘Good evening, Master Rush,’ replied Drax. ‘We were intrigued by your invitation.’

  ‘Indeed we were,’ agreed Alleyne. Unlike the tall, elegant Drax, Alleyne was a small, plump man, with shrewd eyes and a small mouth.

  Rush led them to the dining room where they sat around his modest oval dining table. When his steward filled their glasses Rush proposed a toast. ‘To our prosperity,’ he said, raising his glass, ‘and to your swift return to your estates.’ It was well calculated. James Drax and Reynold Alleyne had suffered the outrage of being deprived of their estates and their livelihoods and they wanted them back.

  While they were served seven courses, starting with an onion soup and ending with dishes of dried fruit marinated in Barbados rum, the three men talked of Cromwell’s victories at Drogheda and Wexford in Ireland, and his likely assault on the Royalists in Scotland. They spoke also of Barbados and the damage done to the island by the Walrond brothers. Drax described them as ‘a thieving pair of cutpurses’ whose aim had always been to appropriate for themselves the estates of the landowners exiled. Alleyne ridiculed the notion of an oath of loyalty, pointing out that the island had been deprived of some of its most honourable and successful landowners and been left with the most unscrupulous. Naturally, their host agreed.

  When the meal was over, Rush ordered his steward to leave them. ‘Now, gentlemen,’ he began, ‘to business. I have a proposition for you. I too have interests in Barbados and am aware of the need for efficient labour.’

  ‘Efficient and cheap,’ interrupted Alleyne.

  Rush bit his tongue. He did not care to be interrupted. ‘Quite so, sir. And that is exactly why I have invited you here. I have established a source of good, young labour, which I will transport to Barbados and will sell you at a price I am sure you will find agreeable.’

  ‘African slaves we can buy,’ said Drax testily. ‘What are you offering?’

  ‘Healthy boys of eight years or more.’

  ‘Where will you find them?’

  ‘The streets of London are awash with them. It is the same in Norwich and Bristol. War orphans, most of them.’

  His guests had no reservations about the proposal. It was too good a solution to a problem for them to allow scruples to get in the way. It did not take long for them to reach agreement. The only question was when they would be back at their estates and ready to do business. ‘As to that,’ said Drax, ‘Reynold and I have been busy petitioning Cromwell and his council to send a fleet to take the island. Naturally, he can see the sense of it. Willoughby trades freely with the Dutch. Cromwell wants our sugar to be shipped to London, not Amsterdam.’

  ‘And when do you suppose such a fleet might sail?’ asked Rush.

  ‘We are pressing for it to sail this year. Once Sir George Ayscue has taken the Scilly Islands, we believe he will be sent to Barbados with his fleet.’

  ‘As long as Charles Stuart does not cause trouble,’ added Alleyne. ‘There is always the chance of the young fool trying to invade from France. Cromwell would want all his ships at his disposal if that happened.’

  Before they left, Rush had a request. ‘The widowed sister of an old friend has asked me to escort her and her two daughters to Barbados to join her brother there. I would not wish to put them at risk without the protection of a fleet and hoped we might travel with you.’

  Drax and Alleyne exchanged a glance. ‘That should present no problem.’

  CHAPTER 23

  CHARLES CARRINGTON WAS right about Lord Willoughby. Within six weeks he had so impressed Assembly members with his intellect and charm that they had voted to appoint him governor without further ado.

  Walrond had no alternative but to accept their wishes. There had been no serious threat of trouble from anti-Royalists and since Willoughby had issued a cogent rebuttal of a law recently passed by the English Parliament prohibiting trade between Barbados and the Dutch, the island had been peaceful and industrious.

  Much had been done to strengthen its defences – heavy cannon had been acquired and set to face the approaches to the two principal harbours at Bridgetown and Oistins, new fortifications had been constructed around both harbours and the governor’s militia had been reinforced by the recruitment and training of five hundred regulars. Many of these had faced Parliamentarian forces before at Marston Moor or Naseby, where they had been captured and despatched to the Caribbean. Willoughby had brought some of them over from Antigua and Montserrat. Garrisons had been posted at Holetown and Speightstown as well as at Bridgetown and Oistins. If a Parliamentary fleet did come it would find the island well prepared to defend itself.

  Meanwhile, prices for Barbados sugar continued to rise, more and more land had been put to growing cane and improved techniques for planting, harvesting, milling, boiling and curing were being developed. The attacks by runaways had all but stopped and the Lytes’ estate had returned to normal. Adam had brought regular reports of Willoughby’s skill in handling the Assembly members, even Walrond’s supporters, and had developed a respect for the man almost as great as Charles’s.

  Better still, Adam had at last found a ship whose captain he trusted to take Thomas home. It would arrive in Barbados at the end of October and depart for the return journey two weeks later. As he had warned, finding a safe passage had not been easy. Most of the trading ships were Dutch, heading for Amsterdam, and the English captains were villains who would think nothing of selling an unaccompanied passenger to an agent on another island or feeding him to the sharks. Adam had been reassured that an old friend would also be a passenger on the ship.

  Now, at last, the waiting was almost over and Thomas would be going home.

  The invitation to Lord Willoughby�
��s banquet arrived by special messenger at the Lytes’ house. His lordship requested the pleasure of the company of Adam and Mary Lyte to celebrate his first year as governor.

  ‘Who else will be there?’ asked Mary, studying the invitation.

  ‘Most of the leading landowners, I expect. Probably not the Gibbes.’

  Mary feigned disappointment. ‘Such a pity. I was so looking forward to making their acquaintance. And it would be interesting to see how Lord Willoughby handles them.’

  ‘With a twenty-foot pike, I should imagine. And even that would be too close for comfort.’ Thomas tried never to think about the brutes.

  Charles had also been invited to the party and at four in the afternoon on the appointed day he arrived to collect Adam and Mary in a handsome black and gold carriage borrowed for the occasion. Charles himself was resplendent in a sparkling white shirt, a silk coat and silk breeches. Adam suffered nothing in comparison but Mary outshone them both. Her hair fashionably pinned up, her mother’s pearls around her throat and her pale blue gown decorated with pink ribbons sewn on to the shoulders and sleeves, she was ravishing.

  ‘You look splendid, my dear,’ said Charles in his bluff way. ‘I doubt there’ll be a pair of eyes not green with envy or wide in admiration.’

  ‘Thank you, Charles, you are most gallant. And what do you think, Thomas? Will I do for the governor’s dinner party?’

  Thomas, a little flustered at being asked his opinion on such a matter, managed to assure Mary that she would put the other ladies to shame. Looking at her, he thought that it might be just the occasion for Charles to ask Adam for her hand. Insist on it, in fact. He and Patrick waved them off and settled down to their own dinner. While they ate, they talked.