The King's Exile (Thomas Hill Trilogy 2)

by Andrew Swanston

  ‘He is going to marry her, isn’t he?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘I do hope so,’ replied Patrick. ‘Mr Carrington worships her and she’d be wasted on Master Perkins.’

  ‘Then we must hope that her brother sees sense.’

  After a while, Patrick asked, ‘Have you ever thought of marrying, Thomas?’

  ‘Only once. I met a lady in Oxford. Tobias Rush had her raped and murdered.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She betrayed him to save me.’

  ‘She must have loved you.’

  ‘I think she did. And you, Patrick? Would you be permitted to marry?’

  ‘The law does not recognize marriage between slaves.’

  ‘But you could have children?’

  ‘Yes, with the Lytes’ consent, I could. Perhaps I will.’

  When dinner was over, they talked of England, of Barbados, of sugar and of the tricks fate plays. ‘In one matter, at least, Patrick, you are fortunate,’ said Thomas, lighting a new candle. ‘You know what your place is. It is here with Adam and Mary. I am no longer sure where I belong. Royal cryptographer, uncle, prisoner, indentured servant, runaway, guest. I wonder which of them I am.’

  ‘Can you not be all of them and more besides? What about scholar, bookseller, mathematician, brother, friend? We all show different faces to different people, even I. The field slaves do not see me as you do or as Miss Lyte does.’

  ‘I suppose so. It would be tedious otherwise, although Monsieur de Montaigne, as usual, had something apposite to say on the matter.’

  ‘And what was that?’ asked Patrick with a smile. By now he had heard a good deal about Thomas’s favourite philosopher.

  ‘He said, “I do not care so much what I am to others as I care what I am to myself.”’

  ‘He wasn’t an indentured man, then?’

  ‘He was not, although he was something of a recluse.’

  It was approaching midnight when the carriage carrying his lordship’s guests returned. Judging by their mood and the colour of Charles’s face, they had enjoyed themselves. Despite the hour Mary insisted on telling them about the food.

  His lordship had admitted that, by the standards of London or Paris, dinner was a modest affair but as few of the guests had dined in either city they had all thought it sumptuous. Crêpes and pastries basted in honey had been followed by mullet in a sweet and sour onion sauce, chicken pies, stewed lamb and pork in a wine sauce with fried beans and carrot fritters. Sweet lemon cream with coconut biscuits had been served as dessert.

  ‘It is several courses fewer than one might serve at Parham,’ Willoughby had confided, ‘but I trust no one will be disappointed.’ He told them that he had taken the precaution of bringing his chef with him. ‘I employed him when we were in Holland with the king and have never regretted it.’

  ‘It was excellent,’ Mary said, adding hastily, ‘although of course no better than Patrick serves.’

  ‘Quite right, my dear,’ agreed Adam. ‘And his lordship’s news was even more excellent. A Dutch ship has arrived. It reports that our new king, having sailed from France to Scotland, marched south and won an overwhelming victory over Cromwell and Fairfax near Worcester and by now will be in London. Cromwell is dead and the people have risen for the king. Is that not splendid news?’

  ‘Splendid indeed,’ agreed Charles, ‘and there is more. The Parliamentary fleet is no more than a rabble of refugees. The risk of invasion has gone.’

  ‘His lordship has ordered celebrations,’ said Mary, ‘so celebrations it will be.’

  The news was not only splendid but astonishing. How the king could have led an army of Scots to a victory over Cromwell’s well-equipped, highly trained New Model Army, Thomas could not imagine. At Naseby the Model Army had crushed the Royalists, including Prince Rupert’s celebrated cavalry, so how had they now come to be defeated? ‘Is Lord Willoughby sure of this information?’ he asked.

  Adam was a little put out. ‘His lordship would not have ordered celebrations if he were not sure, Thomas.’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘And,’ added Mary, ‘you will be going home to a country at peace and with a king back on the throne. If that is not a cause for celebrations, Thomas, what is? We must pray for the safe arrival of your ship. Now, gentlemen, it has been a long evening and with your permission I shall retire. Perhaps you would come and assist me, Patrick.’

  ‘Certainly, Miss Lyte. Good night, sirs.’

  ‘Mary’s relationship with Patrick is unusual, is it not?’ asked Thomas when they had left.

  ‘It is certainly unusual,’ replied Adam, ‘but my sister and I trust Patrick completely. He himself is unusual and not merely in his intelligence and sensitivity. He is extraordinarily loyal.’

  On the last day of October Thomas’s ship had not arrived and his spirits were low. He wandered around the estate, watching cane being harvested and taken to the mill, listening to slaves singing while they worked and sniffing the sweetness in the air, but thinking all the while of home. The first frosts would have come, the trees – all but the ancient oaks of the New Forest whose leaves clung to their branches until December – would be bare and the countryside would be closing down for the winter. On this island he missed the seasons of England. No spring flowers, no long summer evenings, no autumn mists, no winter snow. Just a drier season and a wetter season. A man could easily tire of that.

  As he walked slowly back to the house, Thomas saw Adam waving from the parlour. He quickened his pace.

  ‘It’s here, Thomas,’ called Adam. ‘The ship arrived this morning. It will take a week to unload its cargo, revictual and load the sugar, and then you’ll be off.’

  Thomas could hardly believe it. Only seven more days. The Atlantic crossing, England and home. He would find Margaret and the girls and he would do whatever it took to ensure that Rush faced the justice he had avoided for so long. ‘Thank the Lord. I was losing hope.’

  Adam clapped Thomas on the back. ‘Patrick will produce one of his feasts for us tonight. I am delighted for you, Thomas.’

  CHAPTER 24

  IT WAS A long week. Much as he would have liked to find something to occupy his mind and tire his body, Thomas dared not leave the estate for fear of meeting the brutes. With only hours before he boarded ship for England that would have been unbearable. So he passed the days walking and reading, helping Patrick in the kitchen and in the evenings enjoying the company of the Lytes and twice of Charles Carrington.

  They plied him with questions about his shop and his nieces, offered generous advice on how to find Tobias Rush and what to do with him when he did and assured him repeatedly that his family would be well and overjoyed to see him home safely. Thomas tried his best to believe them. Charles, ever the man of action, recommended swift retribution for Rush and suggested a number of unpleasant ways of exacting it.

  ‘Whatever you do, do not trust the courts,’ he advised. ‘The man will bribe them as he bribed his gaoler in Oxford. You must deal with him yourself, Thomas. If I could come with you, I would. Would you care for instruction in the matter of swordplay?’ Thomas declined politely. Charles was insistent. ‘Then have you worked out a plan?’

  Thomas had not worked out a plan and did not see how he could until he had some idea of where Rush was and how Margaret and the girls were. He would get home and proceed from there. A disappointed Charles wished him good fortune.

  On the morning of Thomas’s departure, a cheerful party boarded the carriage arranged by Adam to take them to Oistins, from where the ship would set sail at noon. The carriage rattled down the hill and turned along the coast road. They passed through Holetown, crossed several narrow bridges built over the streams that ran down the gullies from the hills, and were soon nearing Bridgetown. There the road twisted and turned through outlying settlements, before dividing into two branches. They took the left branch which ran in a wide circle around the town and carried on to Oistins. The sky was cloudless and the sea glimmered in the
sun. I shall remember my last day in prison as a beautiful one, thought Thomas. It was the first time he had been in Oistins since the announcement of the king’s death and it would be the last. He was going home.

  They finally came to a halt beside the Oistins harbour master’s house on the quayside. There Charles jumped out, followed by Adam and Thomas, and Patrick handed Mary down. A large crowd had gathered around the harbour, most of them gazing towards the horizon. With hands protecting their eyes from the morning sun, they too looked past the few ships anchored in the harbour and out to sea.

  ‘The devil and all his whores,’ growled Charles, ‘are those warships I see?’

  The others followed his gaze. Three ships were anchored outside the harbour. Each one carried cannon and they could just make out the movement of men on their decks. There were hundreds of them. They were certainly warships and they carried marines. A fleet had arrived overnight and the harbour was blocked. If it was a Royalist fleet it would have entered the harbour and anchored there. They must be Cromwell’s ships. So much for the Parliamentary fleet being a rabble.

  Thomas turned away, unable to look. A day earlier and he would have got away. Now his ship could not sail. He shut his eyes and tried not to weep. He felt an arm around his shoulders.

  ‘Mr Carrington has gone to make enquiries, Thomas. There are only three ships. It may not be what it seems.’ There was a catch in Patrick’s voice. But Thomas knew that it was what it seemed. He knew it. And when Charles returned, there was no room for doubt.

  ‘They arrived last night,’ said Charles grimly. ‘Three here and four at Bridgetown. The harbour master has gone out to enquire as to their purpose. He’ll be back soon. I fear it’s certain, though. Willoughby recognizes one of the ships. It’s a Parliamentary fleet.’

  ‘It certainly does not look like a fleet of refugees,’ said Mary. ‘So Lord Willoughby’s information was wrong.’

  ‘I fear so. Either the Dutch were misinformed or Cromwell sent false information to deceive us.’

  ‘Perhaps he will permit Thomas’s ship to sail,’ suggested Mary. ‘It wouldn’t do him any harm.’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ replied Adam. ‘Ayscue will carry out his orders to the letter and if Cromwell has ordered him to blockade the island, that is what he will do. He’s only got two harbours to block.’

  ‘There’s a rowing boat coming in,’ said Patrick, pointing out to sea. ‘It must be the harbour master.’

  When the rowing boat tied up at the quay, however, it carried not the harbour master but a young man in the red jacket and leather breeches of an infantry officer. He stepped ashore and spoke loudly enough for everyone at the harbour to hear.

  ‘General Sir George Ayscue begs to inform the people of Barbados that he carries the commission of Parliament to assume the governorship of the island and that he intends to do so immediately. The harbour master will be detained on the Rainbow until a satisfactory response is received from Lord Willoughby.’ Before anyone thought to stop him, the young officer had jumped into the rowing boat and was on his way back to his ship.

  While the watching crowd were milling about wondering what to do, Adam asked Charles to take the others home. ‘There’s nothing to be done here, Charles. I’ll stay and wait for news. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ He was right. There was no point in their all waiting at the quay. Thomas’s ship would not be sailing that day and they might just as well go home. They climbed into the carriage and left Adam to it.

  The journey home was made in silence. Not a word was spoken until they were back at the Lytes’ house. ‘Patrick,’ said Mary brightly, as they stepped out of the carriage, ‘please bring out two bottles of our best hock.’

  The hock cheered Mary and Charles up enough for Mary to accept his offer of dinner and to accompany him back to his estate, but they weren’t the ones whose hopes had been dashed. No amount of wine, however good, could cheer Thomas up. He sat in silence, eyes closed, quite unable to speak. Patrick, knowing that words were the last thing Thomas needed, disappeared into the kitchen and left him to his thoughts. A plate of chicken legs went untouched, as did the coconut biscuits. Eventually, Thomas stirred himself and went to his room. He had not spoken since they left Oistins.

  Adam did not return until the next morning. He had spent the night at the governor’s house. There had been some communication between Ayscue and Willoughby and he brought news. Patrick woke Thomas gently and helped him dress. Adam and Mary were waiting for them in the parlour.

  ‘Charles Stuart did raise an army in Scotland,’ he told them, ‘but it was destroyed by Cromwell at Worcester in September. He escaped and is now back in France. The information the Dutch brought us was entirely wrong. When the Assembly met yesterday afternoon and Lord Willoughby called for a vote on how we should respond to Ayscue’s demand, we voted unanimously in favour of a declaration of support for Lord Willoughby and agreed to resist any attempt by Ayscue to take the island by force. The waverers were won over by Willoughby’s eloquence. He told us that Cromwell had sent his admiral to take control of our island and thereby deprive our king of his rightful dominion but that he had gravely underestimated our loyalty and determination by sending a pitiful armada of only seven ships, carrying barely a thousand men. He reminded us that our strength is much the greater and that we have improved our defences to the extent that any invader would find it impossible to land his troops in any numbers. The members cheered and we voted to authorize the governor to send an appropriate message to Ayscue.’

  ‘And what will happen now?’ asked Mary.

  ‘Ayscue will no doubt set up a blockade. Our trade may be disrupted but the mood of the Assembly is that we will not be dictated to or cowed by the threat of attack.’ He turned to Thomas. ‘Your ship cannot sail while Ayscue’s fleet is anchored outside the harbours. It would be too dangerous. It will have to wait until they leave or an agreement is reached. I’m sorry, Thomas, it’s dreadful news. Let us hope that the delay will be short.’ Thomas did not reply. He no longer dared hope for anything. ‘The estate will carry on as usual. We will store the sugar for as long as we have to. I will be travelling to and from Bridgetown and will bring whatever news there is.’

  Mary placed her hand on Thomas’s. ‘You will go home, Thomas, I promise you.’

  Over the next week Adam brought more reports. Messages had been travelling to and fro between Ayscue’s ship, the Rainbow, and the governor’s house. Ayscue had written a long letter to Willoughby, expressing his dismay that the Assembly had refused his demands and claiming that he did not relish the thought of fighting a man who had once been his ally. Nor did he want to bring destruction to the island; control of its government and its trade were his aims, not its ruin. But if Willoughby and his Assembly stubbornly held out against him, he would have no choice but to land his troops and take over by force.

  In reply, Lord Willoughby had pointed out that the island’s defences were strong, Ayscue’s force was easily outnumbered and Barbados could not be starved into submission. What he did not mention was that he had received a demand from a committee claiming to represent the island’s leading landowners that he should meet them to discuss the situation. The committee could not claim to represent all leading landowners because neither Charles nor Adam was included. Despite this, Willoughby agreed to the meeting, which was hurriedly arranged for two days hence and would take place in the governor’s residence.

  What the planters feared most was a long blockade. Sugar sitting in barrels and going nowhere would do no one any good. If they could not ship it, it would deteriorate and lose its value. And there was a problem with storage. Since the fire, they were having to store more of their cured sugar on their estates where rats and cockroaches got at it. The planters wanted action of one sort or another.

  When Adam returned from the meeting he told them that the Walronds were demanding that Willoughby attack Ayscue’s fleet. With what exactly was not clear. The others would accept a truce provided the
y could ship their sugar without hindrance.

  ‘Is a truce possible?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘Not while the Assembly supports the governor. With Drax and Alleyne and Middleton gone, there are few voices prepared to speak against him and those that do lack authority. By the way, it seems that both Drax and Alleyne are with Ayscue’s fleet, which makes a truce even less likely. They want their estates back and I for one don’t blame them.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Apart from the fact that Ayscue is an old colleague, Willoughby wants at all costs to avoid bloodshed. Nor do we have the means of destroying his fleet. All Ayscue has to do is anchor out of range of our cannon and we can’t hurt him. On the other hand, as things stand he can’t hurt us. An impasse. Is that the right word, Thomas?’

  ‘I fear that it is,’ replied Thomas, ‘and with no immediate solution in sight. Either Ayscue will be forced to land his troops and there will be bloodshed or he will maintain the blockade until the landowners force Lord Willoughby to seek terms.’

  ‘That is true, but Willoughby believes that although Ayscue would prefer not to fight, he will be under pressure from Drax and Alleyne to do something and will try to invade. Then we shall have to defend ourselves but we will not have fired the first shots and we are confident of repelling any attack.’

  ‘So it’s “wait and see”.’

  ‘For the present, it is. I wish I had better news.’

  The first shells landed in Oistins and Bridgetown four days later. Other than sinking a fishing boat in Oistins harbour and killing a pony tethered outside the Neptune, they did little damage. At the same time parties of skirmishers in longboats landed near Holetown and Speightstown. They too did little damage, concentrating on distributing leaflets to the local people.

  Adam showed Thomas and Mary one of the leaflets. It urged the people of Barbados to accept the rule of Parliament and Sir George Ayscue as governor, and warned them of dire consequences if Parliament’s demands were not met. Until Lord Willoughby and the Assembly agreed to stand down the Parliamentary fleet would blockade the ports to prevent any vessels getting in or out.