The King's General

by Daphne Du Maurier

  He could not continue. He lay his head upon me, and I held his hands that clutched so fiercely at the patchwork quilt upon the bed.

  "Tomorrow," I said, "it might have been the same. A bullet through the head. A thrust from a pike. An unlucky stumble from his horse. This happens every day. An act of war. Look upon it in that way. Jo died in your service, as he would wish to do."

  "No," he said, his voice muffled. "It was my fault. On me the blame, now, tonight, for all eternity. An error in judgment. The wrong decision."

  "Jo would forgive you. Jo would understand."

  "I can't forgive myself. That's where the torture lies."

  I thought then of all the things that I would want to bring before him. How he was not infallible, and never had been, and that this stroke of Fate was but a grim reminder of the fact. His own harsh measures to the enemy had been repaid, measure for measure. Cruelty begat cruelty, betrayal gave birth to treachery, the qualities that he had fostered in himself these past years were now recoiled upon him.

  The men of Parliament had not forgotten his act of perfidy in the spring, when, feigning to be their friend, he had deserted to the King, bearing their secrets. They had not forgotten the executions without trial, the prisoners condemned to death in Lydford Castle, nor the long line of troopers hanging from the gibbets in the market square of Saltash. And Lord Robartes, with his home Lanhydrock ravaged and laid waste, his goods seized, had seen rough justice and revenge in taking the life of the messenger who bore an offer of bribery and corruption in his pocket.

  It was the irony of the devil, or Almighty God, that the messenger should have been no distant kinsman, but Richard Grenvile's son. All this came before me in that moment when I held Richard in my arms. And now, I thought, we have come to a crisis in his life. The dividing of the ways. Either to learn from this single tragedy of a boy's death that cruelty was not the answer, that dishonesty dealt a returning blow, that accepting no other judgment but his own would in a space of time make every friend an enemy; or to learn nothing, to continue through the months and years deaf to all counsel, unscrupulous, embittered, the Skellum Grenvile with a price upon his head, the Red Fox who would be pointed to for evermore as lacking chivalry, a hated contrast to his well-beloved brother.

  "Richard...," I whispered. "Richard, my dear and only love..." But he rose to his feet, he went slowly to the window, and, pulling aside the curtains, stood there with the moonlight on his hands that held the sword, but his face in shadow.

  "I shall avenge him," he said, "with every life I take. No quarter any more. No pardons. Not one of them shall be spared. From this moment I shall have one aim only in my life, to kill rebels. And to do it as I wish I must have command of the army; otherwise I fail. I will brook no dispute with my equals, I will tolerate no orders from those senior to me. His Majesty made me General in the West, and by God, I swear that the whole world shall know it."

  I knew then that his worse self possessed him, soul and body, and that nothing that I could say or do could help him in the future. Had we been man and wife, or truly lovers, I might, through the close day-by-day intimacy, have learned to soften him; but Fate and circumstance had made me no more than a shadow in his life, a phantom of what might have been. He had come to me tonight because he needed me, but neither tears nor protestations nor assurances of my love and tenderness to all eternity would stay him now from the pursuit of the dim and evil star that beckoned to him.

  22

  Richard was constantly at Radford during the six months that followed. Although his main headquarters were at Buckland, and he rode frequently through both Devon and Cornwall raising new recruits to his command, a company of his men was kept at my brother's house throughout, and his rooms always in preparation.

  The reason given, that watch must be kept upon the fortresses of Mount Batten and Mount Stamford, was true enough, but I could tell from my brother's tightened lips, and Percy and Phillipa's determined discussion upon other matters when the General's name was mentioned, that my presence in the house was considered to be the reason for the somewhat singular choice of residence. And when Richard with his staff arrived to spend a night or two, and I was bidden to a dinner tete-a-tete immediately upon his coming into the house, havoc at once was played with what shred of reputation might be left to me. The friendship was considered odd, unfortunate; I think, had I thrown my cap over the mills and gone to live with him at Buckland, it might have been better for the lot of us. But this I steadfastly refused to do, and even now, in retrospect, I cannot give the reason, for it will not formulate itself in words. Always, at the back of my mind, was the fear that by sharing his life with too great intimacy, I would become a burden to him, and the love we bore for one another slip to disenchantment. Here at Radford he could seek me out upon his visits, and being with me would bring him peace and relaxation, tonic and stimulation; whatever mood he would be in, weary or high spirited, I could attune myself accordingly. But had I made myself persistently available, in some corner of his house, little by little he would have felt the tug of an invisible chain, the claim that a wife brings to bear upon a husband, and the lovely freedom that there was between us would exist no more. The knowledge of my crippled state, so happily glossed over and indeed forgotten when he came to me at Radford, would have nagged me, a perpetual reproach, had I lived beneath his roof at Buckland. The sense of helplessness, of ugly inferiority, would have worked like a maggot in my mind, and even when he was most gentle and most tender I should have thought, with some devil flash of intuition: "This is not what he is wanting."

  That was my greatest fault; I lacked humility. Though sixteen years of discipline had taught me to accept crippledom and become resigned to it, I was too proud to share the stigma of it with my lover. Oh, God, what I would have given to have walked with him and ridden, to move and turn before him, to have liveliness and grace.

  Even a gipsy in the hedges, a beggar woman in the gutters, had more dignity than I. He would say to me, smiling over his wine, "Next week you shall come to me at Buckland. There is a chamber, high up in the tower, looking out across the valley to the hills. This was once my grandfather's, who fought in the Revenge, and when Drake purchased Buckland he used the chamber as his own, and hung maps upon the wall. You could lie there, Honor, dreaming of the past, and the Armada. And in the evening I would come to you, and kneel beside your bed, and we would make believe that the apple tree at Lanrest was still in bloom, and you eighteen."

  I could see the room as he described it. And the window looking to the hills. And the tents of the soldiers below. And the pennant flying from the tower, scarlet and gold. I could see too the other Honor, walking by his side upon the terrace, who might have been his lady.

  And I smiled at him, and shook my head. "No, Richard," I said, "I will not come to Buckland."

  And so the autumn passed, and a new year came upon us once again. The whole of the West Country was held firmly for the King, save Plymouth, Lyme, and Taunton, which stubbornly defied all attempts at subjugation, and the two seaports, relieved constantly by the Parliament shipping, were still in no great danger of starvation. So long as these garrisons were unsubdued the West could not be counted truly safe for His Majesty, and although the Royalist leaders were of good heart, and expressed great confidence, the people throughout the whole country were already sick and tired of war, which had brought them nothing but loss and high taxation. I believe it was the same for Parliament, and that troops deserted from the army every day. Men wanted to be home again, upon their rightful business. The quarrel was not theirs. They had no wish to fight for King or Parliament. "A plague on both your houses" was the common cry. In January Richard became Sheriff for Devon, and with this additional authority he could raise fresh troops and levies, but the way he set about it was never pleasing to the Commissioners of the county. He rode roughshod over their feelings, demanding men and money as a right, and for the smallest pretext he would have a gentleman arrested and clapped into
jail, until such time as a ransom would be paid.

  This would not be hearsay from my brother, but frank admissions on the part of Richard himself. Always unscrupulous where money was concerned, now that he had an army to pay, any sense of caution flew to the winds. Again and again I would hear his justification: "The country is at war. I am a professional soldier, and I will not command men who are not paid. While I hold this appointment from His Majesty, I will undertake to feed, clothe, and arm the forces at my disposal, so that they hold themselves like men and warriors and do not roam the countryside, raping and looting and in rags, like the disorderly rabble under the so-called command of Berkeley, Goring, and the rest. To do this I must have money. And to get money I must demand it from the pockets of the merchants and the gentry of Cornwall and Devon." I think he became more hated by them every day, but by the common people more respected. His troops won such credit for high discipline that their fame spread far abroad to the eastern counties, and it was, I believe, because of this that the first seeds of jealousy began to sow themselves in the hearts and minds of his brother commanders. None of them were professionals like himself, but men of estate and fortune, who by their rank had immediately, upon the outbreak of the war, been given high commands, and expected to lead newly raised armies into battle. They were gentlemen of leisure, of no experience, and, though many of them were gallant and courageous, warfare to them consisted of a furious charge upon blood horses, dangerous and exciting, with more speed to it than a day's hawking, and, when the fray was over, a return to their quarters to eat, and drink, and play cards, while the men they had led could fend for themselves. Let them loot the villages, and strip the poor inhabitants--it saved the leaders a vast amount of unpleasantness, and the trouble that must come from organization. But it was irritating, I imagine, to hear how Grenvile's men were praised, and how Grenvile's men were paid and fed and clothed, and Sir John Berkeley, who commanded the troops at Exeter, and was forever hearing complaints from the common people about Lord Goring's cavalry, and Lord Wentworth's foot, was glad enough, I imagine, to report to his supreme commander, Prince Maurice, that even if Grenvile's men were disciplined, the Commissioners of Devon and Cornwall had no good word to say of Grenvile himself, and that, in spite of all the fire-eating and hanging of rebel prisoners, Plymouth was still not taken.

  In the dispatches that passed between John Berkeley and Richard, which from time to time he quoted to me with a laugh, I could read the veiled hint that Berkeley at Exeter, with nothing much to do, would think it far preferable for himself and for the royal cause if he should change commands with Richard.

  "They expect me," Richard would say, "to hurl my fellows at the defenses without any regard for their lives, and, having lost three-quarters of them in one assault, recruit another five hundred the following week. Had I command of unlimited forces, and of God's quantity of ammunition, a bombardment of three days would reduce Plymouth to ashes. But with the little I have at my disposal I cannot hope to reduce the garrison before the spring. In the meanwhile, I can keep the swine harassed night and day, which is more than Digby ever did."

  His blockade of Plymouth was complete by land, but, the rebels having command of the Sound, provisions and relief could be brought to them by sea, and this was the real secret of their success. All that Richard as Commander of the Siege could do was to wear out the defenders by constant surprise attack upon the outward positions, in the hope that in time they would, from very weariness, surrender.

  It was a hopeless, grueling task, and the only people to win glory and praise for their stout hearts were the men who were besieged within the city.

  It was shortly after Christmas that Richard decided to send Dick to Normandy, with his tutor, Herbert Ashley.

  "It's no life for him at Buckland," he said. "Ever since Jo went I've had a guard to watch him, day and night, and the thought of him, so close to the enemy should they try a sally, becomes a constant anxiety. He can go to Caen, or Rouen; and when the business is well over I shall send for him again."

  "Would you never," I said with diffidence, "consider returning him to London, to his mother?"

  He stared at me as though I had lost my senses.

  "Let him go back to that bitch-faced hag," he said, astounded, "and become more of a little reptile than he is already? I would sooner send him this moment to Robartes, and let him hang."

  "He loves her," I said. "She is his mother."

  "So does a pup snuggle to the cur that suckled him," he answered, "but soon forgets her smell, once he is weaned. I have but one son, Honor, and if he can't be a credit to me and become the man I want, I have no use for him."

  He changed the subject abruptly, and I was reminded once again how I had chosen to be friend, not wife, companion and not mistress, and to meddle with his child was not my business. So Dick rode to Radford to bid me good-bye, and put his arms about me, and said he loved me well. "If only," he said, "you could have come with me to Normandy."

  "Perhaps," I said, "you will not remain there long. And, anyway, it will be fresh and new to you, and you will make friends there, and be happy."

  "My father does not wish me to make friends," he said. "I heard him say as much to Mr. Ashley. He said that in Caen there were few English, and therefore it would be better to go there than to Rouen, and that I was to speak to no one, and go nowhere, without Mr. Ashley's knowledge or permission. I know what it is. He is afraid that I might fall in with some person who should be friendly to my mother."

  I had no answer to this argument, for I felt it to be true. "I shall not know you," I said, summoning a smile, "the next time that I lay eyes upon you. I know how boys grow, once they are turned fifteen. I saw it with my brother Percy. You will be a young man, with lovelocks on your shoulders, and a turn for poetry, in six months' time."

  "Fine poetry I shall write," he sulked, "conversing in French day by day with Mr. Ashley."

  If I were in truth his stepmother, I thought, I could prevent this; and if I were in truth his stepmother, he would have hated me. So whichever way I looked upon the matter, there was no solution to Dick's problem. He had to face the future, like his father. And so Dick and the timid, unconvincing Herbert Ashley set sail for Normandy, the last day of December, taking with them a bill in exchange for twenty pounds, which was all that the General in the West could spare them, Dick taking besides my love and blessing, which would not help at all. And while they rocked upon the Channel between Falmouth and St. Malo, Richard launched an attack upon Plymouth which this time, so he promised, would not fail. I can see him now, in his room in that north block at Radford, poring over his map of the Plymouth defenses. When I asked to look at it he tossed it to me with a laugh, saying no woman could make head or tail of his marks and crosses.

  And he was right, for never had I seen a chart more scribbled upon with dots and scratches. But even my unpracticed eye could note that the network of defenses was formidable indeed, for before the town and the garrison could be attacked a chain of outer forts, or "works" as he termed them, had first to be breached. He came and stood beside me, and with his pen pointed to the scarlet crosses on the map.

  "There are four works here to the north, in line abreast," he said, "the Pennycomequick, the Maudlyn, the Holiwell, and the Lipson forts. I propose to seize them all. Once established there, we shall turn the guns against the garrison itself. My main strength will fall upon the Maudlyn works, the others being more in the nature of a feint to draw their fire." He was in high spirits, as always before a big engagement, and, suddenly, folding his map, he said to me: "You have never seen my fellows, have you, in their full war paint, prior to a battle? Would you like to do so?"

  I smiled. "Do you propose to make me your aide-de-camp?"

  "No, I am going to take you round the posts."

  It was three o'clock, a cold fine afternoon in January. One of the wagons was fitted as a litter for my person, and, with Richard riding at my side, we set forth to view his army.

>   It was a sight that even now, when all is over and done with and the siege of Plymouth a forgotten thing except for the official records in the archives of the town, I can call before me with wonder and with pride. The main body of his army was drawn up in the fields behind the little parish of Egg Buckland (not to be confused with the Buckland Monachorum, where Richard had his headquarters) and since there had been no warning of our coming, the men were not summoned to parade, but were going about their business in preparation for the attack ahead.

  The first signal that the General had come in person was a springing to attention of the guards before the camp, and straightway there came a roll upon the drums from within, followed by a second more distant, and then a third, and then a fourth, so that in the space of a few moments, so it seemed to me, the air around me rang with a tattoo, as the drums of every company sounded the alert. And swiftly, unfolding in the crisp cold air, the scarlet pennant broke from the pole head, with the golden rests staring from the center.

  Two officers approached and, saluting with their swords, stood before us. This Richard acknowledged with a half gesture of his hand, and then my chair was lifted from the wagon, and, with a stalwart young corporal to propel me, we proceeded round the camp.

  I can smell now the wood smoke from the fires as the blue rings rose into the air, and I can see the men, bending over their washtubs, or kneeling before the cooking pots, straightening themselves with a jerk as we approached, and standing to attention like steel rods. The foot were quartered separately from the horse, and these we inspected first, great brawny fellows of five foot ten or more, for Richard had disdain for little men and would not recruit them. They had a bronzed, clean look about them, the result, so Richard said, of living in the open. "No billeting in cottages among the village folk for Grenvile troops," he said. "The result is always the same--slackness and loss of discipline."