‘The shore? In this weather? Whatever for?’
‘To gather food, of course.’
‘Not more fish, please! I swear I’ll turn into one soon …’
Midori smiled. ‘No, we’re not going fishing. Come, I’ll show you.’
Well wrapped up in shawls and cloaks against the bitter wind coming in off the sea, they trudged down to the shore and made their way to the outskirts of the town. Midori kept her eyes open for any possible attacks, but these were unlikely as most of the skirmishing took place on the northern side of the defences.
‘What exactly are we looking for, then?’ Temperance’s cheeks were red, but Midori decided it suited her and made a welcome change from the winter pallor of most other days.
‘Seaweed.’
‘What? You’re not serious?’
‘Of course I am. Certain types are edible, you know, and quite tasty.’ Midori smiled at her cousin. ‘After all, you’ve made me eat all manner of strange things since I arrived here. Surely it must be your turn to try something different?’
‘I suppose so, but are you sure?’
Midori pulled off her shoes and stockings and waded into the freezing cold water, which fortunately was at low tide. She knew she was right and there should be edible sea plants here, but they would be different to the kinds she’d eaten in Japan, so she wasn’t sure she’d be able to find any. I’ve no idea which ones are safe to eat, but I’m not telling Temperance that. She spotted a large, coarse type of a brown hue, its huge fronds divided into flat fingers, which looked similar to one she’d had in Japan. ‘This one should be good.’ She cut some with a sharp knife and handed it to Temperance to put in their baskets.
‘Tangleweed? But it looks so … so … slimy.’ Temperance made a face.
‘Well, so does cabbage when it’s been cooked. Once you’re used to the texture, it’ll be all right. There’s not much taste to it other than salt. Oh, and this, this is wonderful.’ Midori cut a different type of seaweed, this one much longer and more pointy, which she definitely recognised.
‘Dabberlocks,’ Temperance muttered. ‘Really?’
‘Well, we’ll check with the local fishermen just to make sure I haven’t made a mistake, but these should be good.’
All in all, the expedition was successful and when later Midori served fish soup with seaweed, Temperance whispered that it was most definitely edible and an improvement on their previous meal.
Aunt Hesketh seemed less impressed. ‘Has Susan burned the cabbage again? You’re not much good at overseeing her work, are you, niece?’
Midori, to whom this remark was aimed, tried not to take offence as she didn’t want to tell the others what they were eating. ‘It tastes all right to me.’
‘Yes, well, perhaps to a heathen it does.’
The look of venom that accompanied this sally was sharp enough to sting, but once again Midori did her best not to react. Aunt Hesketh is just terrified out of her wits. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.
But there was no denying she still hated Midori. If only I knew why!
Daniel arrived home a few days later, out of breath and obviously full of news. ‘You’ll never guess what’s occurred,’ he panted. ‘Prince Maurice has offered us all a pardon if we surrender.’
‘Oh, well that’s good, isn’t it?’ Temperance breathed a sigh of relief, her expression hopeful, but her brother turned on her.
‘Are you mad? Why should we give in to those Papists?’
‘Because we would like to live, perhaps?’ Temperance had learned to stand up for herself a little, Midori noted, which was encouraging. ‘And they’re not really Papists; that’s just propaganda.’
Daniel ignored her sarcasm. ‘Much you know about it. We’d sooner burn the town to the ground ourselves than give way to their ridiculous demands, or so my commanding officer says,’ he announced, proudly. ‘We’re more stout-hearted than they think.’
Prince Maurice was not impressed with such bravery, however, and was seen to be preparing for a major attack. There was an air of anticipation hanging over both camps and Midori watched covertly whenever she was able to escape from the house. It wouldn’t be long now, she reckoned, and she wanted to be prepared. She took to hiding one of her swords under her skirts and made sure a sharp knife was strapped to her leg at all times. She also made Temperance carry a dagger, just in case.
‘I wouldn’t want you to be defenceless,’ she told her, and showed her cousin the best ways of using this tiny weapon, should the need arise. ‘You’ll have the element of surprise on your side, so you must be prepared to use it to best advantage.’
But would any of them stand a chance?
December 1643–January 1644
Several battles were fought, but Daniel had been right and the town was rewarded for not giving up. The year ended on an extremely positive note.
‘He’s gone. Prince Maurice is gone!’ Daniel reported joyfully. ‘Rode away today, on Christmas Day would you believe, even though he’d apparently promised his men they’d be in Plymouth by then. What a wonderful Yuletide gift for us!’
‘Let us give thanks to the good Lord,’ her uncle said. ‘Now perhaps we can get on with our lives.’
‘There’s still not enough to eat,’ Temperance muttered. ‘Will we be able to obtain more food soon, Daniel?’
Daniel’s joy faded a little. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure there’s any to be had. I’ll keep my eyes open, though.’
Dear Ichiro,
I apologise for the fact that I have not written to you for quite some time, but I did not think my letters would have any chance of reaching you in any case and I have not received any messages from you yet.
The situation here was becoming rather desperate, even for people like my relatives who still had coins to pay with. The war made food scarce and I could not help but wonder how the people of Plymouth would survive the winter. However, I am happy to report that the gods (or the one god, according to my uncle) came to our aid. The townspeople call it ‘the miracle of the fish’ as literally thousands of pilchards just swam into the harbour, as if directed by the spirits. All we had to do was to scoop them out of the sea. It was a strange sight as hundreds of men and women rushed down to the harbour, us included, and gathered as much of the unexpected catch as they possibly could.
My uncle claims it is a sign that his god is on our side in this war. I do not know, but I am very grateful we need not starve this winter at least.
I pray you are all well and not suffering any hardships at Castle Shiroi.
Your obedient sister, Midori
If only the spirits, or her uncle’s god, would bring Nico home as well, Midori thought, then she would be content. But there had been no word from him and no more sightings by anyone they knew.
Oh, Nico, where are you?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
September 1644
Another long march, another battle.
Where are we now? And does it even matter?
It seemed however much they fought, there was never an end in sight and nobody really knew what was going on. Or if they did, they weren’t telling the soldiers.
‘We won a resounding victory at Marston Moor back in July, all thanks to Lieutenant-General Oliver Cromwell, remember?’ Stephens, as always, tried to keep everyone’s spirits up. ‘It can only be a matter of time before we prevail altogether.’
But although he admired the youth’s positive attitude, Nico wasn’t so sure. He’d lost count of the number of minor and major skirmishes he’d taken part in since leaving Bristol. The days all merged into a blur and as he grew more and more tired and battle-weary, he stopped thinking about what he was doing and just existed.
As they marched through Devon and he heard someone mention Plymouth, he vaguely contemplated
going back, but his previous resolve to stick with his comrades held. He couldn’t leave Stephens, even though the boy appeared to live a charmed life. The youth hadn’t received so much as a scratch since Roundway Down; Nico himself was never badly hurt, but he didn’t escape scot-free.
‘Remind me please, where are we exactly?’ he murmured as he stood next to the youngster yet again, waiting for orders. ‘Not that it really matters,’ he added, but he had a bad feeling about this and for some reason he wanted to know the name of the place where he might die.
The Royalists had arrived, hot on their heels, in this godforsaken corner of England and the Parliamentarians now appeared to be hemmed in somewhere on the coast. If they didn’t stand and fight, their only way out would be to throw themselves into the sea.
‘Lostwithiel,’ Stephens said. ‘In Cornwall.’
‘Yes, thank you, I know where Lostwithiel is. Now stay behind me if we’re going to fight, you cheeky beggar, that’s an order.’
No full-scale battle took place, however, but at the end of August, Nico’s commander decided to follow Sir William Balfour’s cavalry regiment as they attempted to force their way through the enemy line. Once the skirmish was under way, it was the usual chaos and everywhere there were horses: neighing, rearing up, flailing their hooves and trampling anyone unlucky enough to fall. Nico made his way through the mêlée, dodging this equine onslaught with Stephens on his heels, but just as he thought he could see a gap in the fighting, a horse came at him from the right. A large, fuzzy hoof appeared in front of Nico and before he could duck, it connected with his forehead.
It was the last thing he saw before the world turned black and disappeared.
Outside Plymouth the Royalists hadn’t quite given up, but the full-scale siege was replaced by a blockade. This continued throughout the spring and summer of 1644 and wasn’t as restrictive, as it merely aimed to stop supplies from reaching the town.
‘I can’t believe how long this war is dragging on!’ Temperance complained. Although not as withdrawn and visibly frightened as before, it was clear to Midori that her cousin was always on edge, as they all were.
By September, even Daniel’s optimism was fading.
He came into the kitchen one morning, looking particularly solemn, and said, ‘Have you heard the news, Midori?’
Midori had been busy chopping some turnips, newly harvested from their own garden. She looked up from her task and put the knife down, just in case he had something bad to tell her. This seemed all too likely and she didn’t want to cut off a finger by mistake.
‘No, I haven’t been out today. What’s happened?’
‘They’re saying there’s been another disaster, somewhere in Cornwall. Lostwithiel, I think. You heard about the Earl of Essex marching Parliamentary troops down there to liberate the West Country, right?’
Midori nodded; she’d been listening to these rumours for months now. ‘I know. You wanted to go with him, but Uncle said he’d prefer you to stay here and defend us.’ This wasn’t quite how her uncle had put it, but there was no point going into that now.
Daniel nodded. ‘Well, seems the King followed him and trapped our forces somewhere and all was lost. It’s a tragedy.’
He looked so dejected Midori took one of his hands into hers and squeezed it in silent sympathy.
‘That’s not the worst of it, though,’ Daniel continued. ‘The Earl abandoned his troops, would you believe, leaving them to surrender alone while he and some of the other officers took a boat and sailed back here, to Plymouth.’ He clenched his fists. ‘What was he thinking? What kind of behaviour is that for a gentleman?’
‘That’s appalling!’ Midori had been taught to fight to the death for what she believed was right and never give in. She couldn’t understand the Earl’s actions at all, so she totally empathised with Daniel’s anger. ‘Any … any news of Nico?’ she ventured to ask, although by now she’d almost given up hope of ever seeing him again. Even if he was alive, he was obviously too stubborn to let them know.
Again Daniel shook his head. ‘Not yet. We must pray for his safe return.’
But Midori knew this had just become a habit and none of them believed he would come back. Sudden anger surged through her.
‘I wish we could do something! I’m so tired of staying in Plymouth, feeling helpless and tied down. I can’t stand this waiting any longer! He’s proved his point now, so why can’t he come home?’
Daniel shrugged. ‘Who knows?’
‘Couldn’t we at least write to the authorities and try to find out if he’s alive? There must be someone to ask. Don’t they keep records?’
‘I doubt it. This war is so chaotic.’
Midori sighed. ‘This is all my fault. He was right, he had no business fighting. I wish I could tell him so, before it’s too late.’ If it isn’t already.
Daniel patted her arm awkwardly. ‘Nicholas will come back when he’s ready to, if he can. Face it, there’s nothing we can do.’
She knew he was right, but it hurt to admit it, even to herself.
Late the following afternoon there was a thunderous knocking on the front door, and Midori, who happened to be closest, ran to open it. A gust of wind blew a shower of cold rain into her face and she shook herself and blinked away the icy droplets. There was a sodden man outside, leaning on the wall and staring at the ground, but she forgot all about the weather as she stared at the familiar figure.
‘Nico? At last!’ Her heart made several somersaults, but sank to her stomach as he pushed past her into the hall and collapsed on the wooden bench by the wall, clutching his head. Midori slammed the door shut and followed him quickly, hardly daring to believe her eyes, but terrified by his silence and obvious pain.
‘Midori,’ he whispered, his voice quiet and hoarse. He looked up briefly and, despite the grime that was plastered all over him, she could see his features were the same, if a bit gaunt. There were grooves of tiredness and pain etched deep around his eyes and mouth. And he was deathly pale, with a rough golden beard, as untamed as his long hair, lying slicked against his skin. The eyes, usually so piercingly blue, were unfocused and narrowed, as if the slightest light hurt.
Midori’s heart constricted in a spasm of combined fear and jubilation. He’s alive! Thank the gods! But in what condition? ‘What happened? Where are you hurt? Talk to me, please!’ The fear had the upper hand now and she anxiously scanned his body for signs of any serious wounds.
He was wrapped in a coarse blanket, presumably to shield him from the rain, but it was so wet it was dripping puddles on to the floor. It also smelled very strongly of horse. She helped him to remove it while he leaned back against the wall, trying to get his breath back.
‘Had a knock on the head … horse’s hoof … here.’ Nico took his hand away from his forehead and pointed to just above his right eyebrow where there was a huge lump with a nasty gash in the middle, bruised and caked with dried blood. There seemed to be something wet oozing out of the wound still, but Midori wasn’t sure if that was the case or if the rainwater mixed with dirt just made it look that way. ‘Was unconscious, left for dead by the enemies I suppose, but … hard head.’ He tried to smile, a lopsided effort that made Midori’s insides twist with love for him. She’d missed him so much and she realised now she didn’t care whether he was honourable or not. She loved him just the way he was.
‘Foolish man,’ she muttered.
He continued, as if he hadn’t heard, ‘Comrades came looking for me, found us horses who were only slightly wounded. Rode home … fast as we could. Managed to avoid capture, travelled at night mostly.’ He shook his head and passed a hand over his eyes. ‘Sorry, feel a bit faint. Haven’t eaten for … a while.’
Midori could see he was on the point of collapse from exhaustion, hunger and perhaps loss of blood, so she pushed him gently down to lie on
the bench. ‘Stay still while I organise a bed and some food for you. I won’t be long.’
As she turned to head off to the kitchen, Aunt Hesketh came down the stairs. ‘Did I hear knocking? Who … Nicholas!’ The older woman almost fell down the last steps in her haste to reach him and cried out, ‘What have they done to you? And why did you have to go and fight? Oh, dear Lord …’
‘For the love of God, Stepmama, stop your caterwauling. Please! My head.’
Midori decided Nico could handle Aunt Hesketh, even in his weakened state, and went off to see to everything else. Hot water, towels, clean sheets and warming pans, as well as hot bricks, to ward off any dampness. Susan helped her to bring everything upstairs to a small bedroom under the eaves and eventually Nico was washed as best they could manage, dried and put to bed. A relative calm descended on the household.
‘I’ll make him a sleeping draught of valerian,’ Aunt Hesketh said, and while she saw to that, Midori cleaned Nico’s wound and bandaged it. They gave him some broth and the infusion, then left him to sleep. There was nothing else they could do, except hope the damage was not internal and his brain wasn’t affected.
‘Let us go and pray for his recovery,’ her uncle said tersely, having by now been appraised of the situation, ‘and give thanks for his safe return. Perhaps now he’ll come to his senses and stay here.’
‘But we don’t know if he’ll be all right. How can we give thanks for something which isn’t certain? He’s hardly spoken a word, just lies there, as pale as death.’ Aunt Hesketh had tears flowing down her cheeks and for the first time ever Midori felt some sympathy for her. It was obvious she cared for her stepson after all, and the many months of staring into space must have been partly out of fear for his life.
‘He’s just exhausted,’ she soothed, but Aunt Hesketh only glared at her, as if she knew nothing. Since this showed a return to something like her old spirits, Midori didn’t mind too much and made no response.
‘It’s in the hands of God, as you well know, Sister,’ her uncle admonished. ‘We can only pray; you know He is testing our faith. We must examine ourselves to see what we have done to deserve these tribulations.’
The Gilded Fan (Choc Lit) Page 28