by Amy Wolof
I was quick to follow.
Had I erred last night? I thought, turning to stare at the fire. Had I, entranced by Aventis, driven away a man who could at least act on his feelings?
“Pass the oyster sauce,” said Carnatus, wielding his knife with gusto. I complied, taking a bite of cheese. As its sharpness sat on my tongue, I snuck a glance at Aventis. God’s legs, it was no use: I still loved him as much as ever!
As I returned his smile, who should burst through the door but his declared rival? And Ned was not alone, for in his wake trailed ten others!
“I humbly request that you go—” I began, reaching for my sword. Damn! Of course, it was on the Heath, buried along with my pistol!
“I have raised the hue-and-cry,” said Ned, looking about as smug as one of his munching cows. “We, the people of Middlesex, will not suffer in our midst the presence of three high tobymen!”
“Has someone made you mayor?” I asked. “My friends are merely at dinner. Are they to be apprehended for the crime of eating a hare?”
“They will soon have no need of food,” he said, “for only their bones will remain.”
“How dare you?!” I cried in a strange echo of Monmouth. “The Whale belongs to me; its patrons are of my choosing. Take your ridiculous men and leave!”
“The law rules us all,” said Ned, as if presiding at the Old Bailey.
I stared in wonderment: Who was he to lecture me?
Even Carnatus put down his knife. He rose, jolting each plate. I saw that under the table, both Aventis and Jeffries had a hand on their swords.
“Arrest them!” Ned shouted as he shakily pointed a pistol. The simple men behind him raised their pitchforks and pikes.
“What?!” Carnatus roared. “To be set upon by farmers?” He used the flat of his sword to thoroughly flatten two of them. Then, as if swatting a bird, he deflected a pike that was aimed straight for his head. “Do not touch my plumes,” he cried, “for each feather cost more three shillings!”
“Mind the pewter!” I yelled, snatching a pitcher and cradling it like a babe. I watched in horror as my tables and chairs flew—some even into the fire! “Have a care!” I cried. “Or you shall pay with your lives!”
I whirled to see John pick up a corkscrew and wield it like a dagger. As a farmer aimed his pike at a precious barrel of wine, I took off in a flurry of skirts and delivered a blow which pitched him over the bar. Aventis, engaged with a pitchfork, glanced over at me and winked.
I watched him slice it in two as if he were carving butter. At his side was Jeffries, who pummeled two foes. When another leapt on his back, Carnatus relieved his burden with no more than a swipe with his pistol. As the farmer half-rose, Aventis seized his shoulders and re-acquainted him with the floor.
“This is absurd,” I said, watching a shelf piled with plate come crashing onto the bar. I strode over to Jeffries and relieved him of one of his guns. Cocking the hammer, I aimed for the roof and shot, causing all to freeze in mid-fight. Everyone stared as a sign with “Three Kindes of Ale Brewed Here” swung from its hinge upside down, a victim of my lead ball.
“No one here moves!” I cried. “Or I swear on God’s blood that my next shot strikes flesh.”
“She is one of them,” Ned whispered, but still, he dropped his gun.
“Now—” I turned to face him, my pistol aimed at his head. “Leave while you still can.”
He and I faced off, but I was the one with the gun. Behind me, my three friends stood shoulder-to-shoulder, each of their swords upraised.
“Very well,” Ned spat, wiping blood from his cheek. “But know that the Watch will arrive before you can get away.”
“Not bloody likely,” said Jeffries. “I believe that in Middlesex, it consists of three old men.”
I started to laugh as he shooed out Ned and his men like a flock of frightened sheep.
Aventis resheathed his blade and put a hand on my shoulder.
“I warrant that is the last of him.”
“And of me,” I said softly. He gave me a quizzical look as I drew him aside. “I too must go,” I said. “Surely you can see that.”
“I am sorry,” he said. “I know how you valued this place.”
I nodded as Jeffries made for the door.
“We’re off, lads,” he called. “Best that we be gone.”
He gave us a wink as we retrieved our horses, while I gave a last look at what had been my home.
“Come, Margaret,” said Aventis. “If Ned raised the hue-and-cry, think of the fun we will have!”
I snorted.
“It is more likely,” I said, “that he told one of his cows.”
The Captain’s Subterfuge
As we rode back over the Heath, I found myself cheering slightly, for I could now cast off—forever—the onus of being respectable. I suppose I could still be Margaret if the fancy took me, but at present, I chose to be Megs, and thus paid my beech a visit. After digging up my raiment, I happily put it on. Clad now in breeches and boots, a man’s two coats and hat, I could do whatever I pleased—have what friends I liked. This thought was nearly as freeing as being able to straddle my horse!
“Where to, Jeffries?” asked Carnatus, but his tone was flat. I conjectured his unfinished meal was the cause of his distress.
“A new hideout,” said the captain. “If there really is a pursuit, let it be one that is fruitless.”
“Good,” said Aventis, and I convinced myself to nod.
As we loped down the Great Western, surrounded by scrabbly heath, I knew that once again, I would have to call the Heath home. Well, there are worse things, I thought. Like enduring Sally’s prudery and Ned’s thundering judgments . . .
After a time, we came upon two travelers who stood forlorn and alone. Jeffries broke into a smile, then bid us halt before them.
“Some trouble here, friends?” he asked.
“Oh, sir!” said one of the travelers. To me, he seemed close to tears. “We have been set upon by bandits who stole from us forty pounds. Do not proceed, sir, or they shall rob you as well!”
“Your troubles are over,” said Jeffries, leaning down from his horse. “I shall retrieve your gold. Only tell me: which way did the robbers go?”
As the two men pointed north, Jeffries nodded with sympathy.
“For your safety,” he said, “I bid you stay here with my friends.”
“Yes, sir,” they agreed.
“Mister Megs! You will accompany me.”
I was shocked to be the one chosen but secretly glad. Perhaps a rousing adventure would serve to quiet my mind.
“What’s this?” I asked Jeffries, trotting my horse beside his.
“Watch and learn,” he said, pulling up his mask.
I took the hint and followed suit.
We had not gone more than a half-league when we spied a man on horseback.
“Hullo!” called Jeffries. “I believe you have something which does not belong to you.”
“I do not know what you mean,” said the man, the mask hanging from his neck a clear sign of his trade.
“I think you do,” said Jeffries. “You relieved my friends of forty pounds. I must ask for it back.”
Before the outlaw could answer, he found himself facing two pistols—both held by Jeffries.
“Hold, I beg you!” cried the man. “My life is in your hands.”
“I’ve no use for that,” said Jeffries. “What I want is forty pounds.”
“Here you are, sir,” said the outlaw, throwing a leather purse.
Jeffries, always cautious, counted the coins within.
“This is but twenty,” he said.
“Knave!” I cried. “You’ll hand over the rest. Do you know who you are cheating?”
With one move, I took out my gun.
“Please, sirs!” the man wailed, “you must see my friends for the rest.”
I narrowed my eyes. Was this fellow trying to trick us?
“Very well,” said J
effries, “but first, we exchange mounts.”
Though the robber looked puzzled, he did as he was told. Then, to my puzzlement, Jeffries led him back to the travelers.
“What’s this?” asked Carnatus. “Did you fancy changing horses? Frankly, yours is better.”
“I know,” said Jeffries. “Now, while I go off, you must look after this fellow.” He threw his own horse’s reins to Aventis, then gestured for me to follow. “We shall return presently.”
Though my head fogged with confusion, I gamely set after the captain.
“Well, Megs,” he said, “watch closely, for the play is about to end.”
Urging our horses forward, we loped for less than a league before we spotted two bandits.
“It is William!” they cried, seeing their comrade’s horse. “William, whatever made you tarry with that other gent?”
“You are mistaken,” said Jeffries, sweeping upon them with pistols drawn. “William is my captive and I have come to obtain his ransom. That sum is exactly one-hundred-and-fifty guineas.”
“Blackguard! It will cost you more!” said one of the men.
To my utter shock, I watched as Jeffries wheeled and shot the brigand through the shoulder!
“Desist!” cried his friend, throwing both hands in the air. “You shall have what you want.”
He fumbled with his purse and seized that of his fallen companion. “Here and go to the devil! Now release our William to us.”
“Gladly,” said Jeffries, counting his dual bounty. As I followed him back down the road, I could not help but wonder: What had happened to his old rule, “Do not shoot unless you are shot at”? After so many years in the trade, was Jeffries growing careless?
“Relieve my horse of that scoundrel!” Jeffries yelled to Aventis, who tugged at William’s stirrup, tumbling him to the ground.
“And, here is yours back,” he told William, dismounting. “Please give your friends our regards. They seem to value you highly.”
William did not hesitate as he made for the north, leaving a trail of dust . . .
“Well now,” Jeffries told the two travelers, “here is your forty pounds. But I caution you to be wary and on the lookout for thieves.”
With a chorus of thanks, the two of them set off happily. I started to laugh Jeffries’s audacity.
“This enterprise yielded nothing,” Aventis remarked. “Since you have returned their guineas, what profit is there for us?”
“Only a hundred-ten more!” roared Jeffries, withdrawing the purses and shaking them.
“What?” Carnatus asked. “Have you become an alchemist, to turn gold into four times as much?”
“He is more than that,” I said. Despite my qualms about the shooting, I could only admire Jeffries. “It seems our captain is the true heir to Claude du Vall.”
“I’ll eat to that!” cried Carnatus.
“Listen,” said Aventis, leaping down and putting his ear to the road. “There are footsteps approaching. Sounds like a whole infantry.”
He vaulted back on his horse, his sword and gun at the ready.
“King’s Guards?” I asked, trying to steady my voice.
“Let us hope not,” said Jeffries, “for we will be slaughtered like ducks in a pen.”
I tensed.
From round the bend, we could hear the sound of singing:
Oh it's of a wealthy tailor, in London town did dwell,
And he had a handsome wife, and her name was Mary Bell.
She's gone to the butcher's, a joint of meat to buy,
“What is your will, dear woman?” the butcher did reply.
Well, the joint of meat it was cut down, refuse it she did not,
And straightway she goes and she puts it in the pot.
“Oh Husband, dearest husband, I'll tell you what must be
Tomorrow night the butcher, he has to lie with me.
You take a broadsword in your hand, and under the bed go
And the first man that enters, then, be sure to run him through.”
“Oh I never handled sword or gun, my dear and loving wife,
And butchers, they are bloody dogs, I think he'll have my life.”
And the butcher's thinking it was time to see the tailor's wife,
And thinking they might form a plot or trick or take his life,
He takes a brace of pistols with powder and with ball,
“And the first man that molests me now, by Jove I'll make him fall!”
And when the butcher he come in, she takes him by the hand,
She led him to her bedchamber, says, “I'm at your command.”
He takes a brace of pistols and lays them on the bed,
And the poor tailor's struck with fear: he lay as if quite dead.
And the butcher's taken off his clothes a-going into bed,
How he was struck when he did spy one of the tailor's legs!
“Is this your husband's dog?” he says, “I'll shoot him for the fright.”
“Oh spare my life!” the tailor cries, “and you can have my wife!”
Carnatus lowered his pistol as he roared with laughter.
“‘The Butcher and the Tailor’s Wife,’” he said. “How I love it when the tailor is bested!”
“As do we all,” called a man, followed by the sight of fifteen butchers driving their wares on wood carts. “For who besides a madman would dare challenge a butcher?”
“You are right,” said Aventis. “We would be fools to do so.”
He looked at Jeffries to determine the captain’s will.
“I could not agree more,” said Jeffries; then addressed the tall, rugged men who faced us. “As it happens, we’ve just had a bit of luck. Are you all headed to market?”
“Indeed,” said one of their number. He looked like he could do damage with just a common cleaver.
“Then here is my plan,” said Jeffries. “Sell us all the meat that you have: pork, mutton, beef—”
“—and fowl!” cried Carnatus. “I shall personally require four.”
“Let us make a merry repast then,” said Jeffries, leaning over his horse’s neck and sprinkling a pile of guineas into the lead butcher’s hand. “Good luck should be shared, don’t you think?”
“Huzzah!” cried all the butchers, directing their carts off the road. Hiding behind a corpse of trees, they soon unveiled their wares. Carnatus and Jeffries lost no time in kindling a great fire over which they roasted the meat. It was thus in the morning hours that we breakfasted like kings!
“Sumptuous!” cried Carnatus, plowing through roast shoulder of mutton, all manner of sausage, even chickens and geese supplied by the jolly tradesmen. There was more than enough for all, until, after an hour, I could no longer lift my knife. With my stomach round as a rock, I collapsed upon the heath.
“I have never dined so well,” I groaned to Aventis.
“Nor I,” he said, looking as sleepy as I felt. “If only we had some wine.”
“Done!” cried Jeffries, reaching beneath his long coat. With a flourish, he removed a silver flask and passed it round our company.
“What a day!” I exclaimed. “First, the captain’s subterfuge— brilliantly done, I might add—then, this amazing feast. I could die a happy man.”
“Or woman,” said Aventis.
St. Valentine’s Day
The end of that year, 1670, found us in high spirits, for we paid a visit to London, where Jeffries’s wife, Moll, stuffed us with turkey and cheer. Then it was back to our new hideout in a small ravine on the Heath. Jeffries’s master robbery ensured that we lived in comfort, so we took to the road but little. When we did, our victims included a butcher (no amnesty for him!), a group of drovers with cattle, and a rich cleric or two. Had I not suffered at the mere sight of Aventis, my life would have been easy.
Now, it was February, and, being England, constantly cold and rainy. With foresight, Jeffries had moved our camp to Epping where we could stay dry in our cave. Since Aventis sat near
me by the fire, I took what comfort I could. But not being able to touch him sapped my strength by the day . . .
One morning, I woke to find Carnatus absent. If he had luck with his bow, we would all have meat for breakfast! I stumbled into the forest, its green floor still damp, to find a hidden copse for me to empty my bladder. Damn these breeches and boots! They made hard work for one such as I . . .
I heard two sharp thwacks, yet I was not alarmed, for I soon spied Carnatus with a deer hoisted over his shoulders.
“Thank you, King Charles!” I cried, for this forest—every tree and leaf—belonged to his royal self.
“And an especial thanks,” said Carnatus, “for never venturing here.”
I gave a bow worthy of a courtier.
“What have you brought us?” asked Jeffries as the two of us slogged back to camp. “No rabbit or quail, I see.”
“Thank God,” said Carnatus. “You cannot know what a lack of venison does for my indigestion.”
“Which,” said Aventis, “you have never suffered from in your life.”
“Why not bathe him in herbs for his malady?” I asked.
“Perhaps dousing him in garlic is best,” said Aventis.
“Ha!” roared Carnatus. “My sad condition will soon be remedied.”
He placed the deer on the ground and began to prepare it. Jeffries stifled a smile as he gathered some branches.
“Did y’know that today is special?” Carnatus asked as he wielded his knife. “For it is the fourteenth of February, when we honor St. Valentine.”
“Which one?” asked Aventis.
“Is it not thought,” I asked, “that since birds mate on this day, the afternoon favors love?”
“It is also thought,” said Jeffries, “that the King’s Touch cures scrofula.”
Once Jeffries ignited the fire, we placed the deer’s haunch on a spit and proceeded to roast away. It was heaven to breakfast on venison and some berries which Jeffries had gathered. My estimation of “sleeping rough” rose by several notches!
“I must visit Harlow,” said Jeffries when he had done. “Turning the cattle we stole into gold is my primary aim.”