Chapter Six

 

 

SHE NODDED SLOWLY, complicit in our little deceit. “It is as I have long feared, then,” she said, never taking her eyes from me.

I swallowed hard. “I bring money with me... for you.” And I dug out one of my purses, gently placing it on the table between us. “It should see you through for more than a few months.”

Still she stared at me. It was a look of sadness but tinged with blame just the same. “I thank you, sir. Would that he had never left this place. We might not have come to where we are now.”

“I am sure he would not have if he had known what would befall his family. And should more money of his come to light I will ensure that it too finds its way to you, madame.”

Arabella was silent.

“Ma’am, should I take the child outside for a spell?” said the maidservant.

Arabella nodded her agreement, grasped Ann’s hand and gave it a little rub. “Off you go child, with Lizzie.”

We were then alone, facing each other across the table. And I truly felt that Richard Treadwell was dead and gone and that I was but the messenger of his passing. “I was told you have a son. Where is he this day?”

“He has gone to live with his uncle. A man who can better provide for his education.”

I nodded.

“He’s strong and already much in resemblance of his father,” said Arabella, softening a bit. “He goes to the grammar school in Plympton. His uncle dotes on him and he is happy there.”

“I am glad to hear of it, madame.” And I truly was. “But did not this uncle seek to help you keep your home?”

She answered me straight away. “It was beyond even his means to stop the order of confiscation and sale. My good brother did what he could and looks after us still. I was the one who did not want to leave this land. I haven’t much but I still hold this house. This he shall not have.”

“Arabella...”

She reached across the table to me and I clasped her hand. “Arabella, who did this to you?”

She answered in little more than a whisper. “You mean, sir, my belly? Or the committee that said my husband’s treason was beyond redemption and that his estate was forfeit to the republic?”

I held her hand between both of my own. “Who has violated you? Tell me.”

“It was he who bought your house for a song from Parliament. The same who lives there now.” And I felt her hand slip out of my grasp, her arm pulling back to her lap. “Captain Israel Fludd.”

I could say nothing, but she could see the rage stoking within me.

“Do not seek to cause more trouble for us, I beg of you. Leave well enough alone and all will be well. We shall not want. But you must go. You must go before you’re recognised.” She pushed herself up from the chair and stood facing me. “You must go... Richard.”

I got up.

“You did not ask me, husband, whether it was by my will or against my will?”

“I don’t have to ask such a thing. And don’t tell Ann the truth of me. You’re better off a widow.”

“I know this, husband. And if you still bear us love then you must leave again.”

I left the cottage, my stomach in a rolling sick, and stood next to her. Her arm and shoulder brushed against mine; the closest we were destined to embrace. I looked back up the hill to the house. “I will see justice done, fear not.”

She looked up at me, her mouth falling open in horror. “Justice? For the love of God, do not even think of it! You must not!”

“Very well,” I told her, “you’re right. I’ll make sure you remain safe. Fare thee well.” There seemed but little else to say. “I will send you more coin soon.” And I took off my hat to her with a bow, cast one brief look to my daughter and walked to where my horse stood grazing. I looked back again.

Arabella had crossed her arms, still watching me as I picked my way down the rutted gulley of a path. “Good bye!” she mouthed.

It was time to visit my brother William. Perhaps from him I could find answers for the hurt done here, if not solace. I rode back to Plympton and stopped at the first tavern I spied in St. Maurice. From there, I sent by the taverner’s son a brief scribbled message to Sir William Treadwell, who I hoped was at home at the old house a mile north of town. I asked him to meet me with all haste on important business concerning an old shared acquaintance. I signed it “Andreas Falkenhayn, recently arrived of France”. And then I waited. I waited in the tap room watching the pale sun sink lower as the afternoon wore on.

At last, I saw the taverner’s son return and close behind, there was William. He pulled off his hat and swept back his long grey hair, his eyes searching about the room. I saw the lad point me out, sitting where I was, back to the wall. Still, William had not recognised me. He walked across the room, winding his way around the benches and stools until he stood before me.

“You have business with me, sir?” I looked up and watched as it dawned on him who I was. His mouth fell open and for an instant he was frozen in his place. “Sweet Jesus! My sweet Jesus!”

I pulled him down next to me on the bench. “Hush, brother!” I hissed. “Do not give the game away.”

He exhaled loudly and tossed his hat upon the table. “Have you gone quite mad? Why have you come? No, please... my heart sings to see you alive. I’m sorry.”

“I will tell all, William, but not here.”

We left and crossed the road, cutting through the churchyard and walking past the old barbican to the ruins of the ancient castle of Plympton Erle, following the foot path up the old motte. William had aged since we had last met, years ago. I knew that he had lost his seat in Parliament shortly after I had been exiled. I thought of all the fights we had had over the years, he for the Parliament while I stayed with the king. Now, he too was out of favour in this new world.

“I cannot believe it still,” he huffed as we walked uphill, his stick stabbing into the soft pungent earth. “Why have you risked your life to come back here? Have you forgotten your sentence?”

I had not forgotten. Nor had I forgotten how William had loyally given me counsel during my trial. I would have been executed—suffering a traitor’s death—had he abandoned me to the wolves. Yet I could not reveal all to him, not yet. “I had to see Arabella and the children again. That’s the truth of it. And to see England again.”

He stopped and looked at me. “Do I look like some calf-headed sot? You’ve shown precious little concern until this moment. You can’t cozen me. You’re rampant in some intrigue; I would stake a wager on it... You pitiful goddamn fool.”

“Very well, then. I’ve been here but two days and seen more than enough. The country is gone to ruin. No work, no money, and men not free to speak their minds without fear of having their tongues bored through. And I’ve seen my home—and Arabella.”

My brother shook his head in disbelief. “You’re indeed a fool. That was a selfish prank, Richard. How could you have acted so rashly? If you’ve been seen, it is she who will bear the consequences.”

“She has already borne the consequences! I have seen she is with child! Tell me you did not know she had been violated, brother.”

He looked at his shoes, wordless.

“Tell me why you couldn’t stop that? Or stop the house from being sold. Tell me!”

William started walking forward again, his head down. “She concealed the pregnancy from me until but a fortnight ago. I swear to you I’ve watched out for her. But she refused to leave the property she yet held. Your house and land was sequestered and sold before I could raise a hand. It was arranged quickly. You do not know how sorry I am for all that has happened.”

“What’s done is done. But you can tell me about Israel Fludd, then. I do not remember the name in these parts.”

“He followed his brother here, a Norfolk man, Major Gideon Fludd, of Okey’s dragoons. They both have fought for Parliament these last few years and Israel holds a captain’s commission in the Plymouth militia.”

I nodded, my mind already moving to dark places. “And this Gideon. I have seen him in Plymouth. What is his part in this villainy?”

“He holds much power here. I don’t know how he rose so fast but he’s the whip for all our backs. The mayor’s in thrall to him and he does what he likes with his dragoons. The army is the power now. I’ve heard that Colonel Okey has sung his praises to Cromwell and the Council and given him free rein in Devon to establish order and stamp out any Royalist plans. Which brings us back to your intentions here, my brother.”

I grunted in reply.

“It’s better I don’t know,” he said as we reached the fallen stones of the bailey.

“This Gideon Fludd,” I said, “he has the look of the overly righteous about him. And there’s something in his face that unsettles me. I don’t know what it is...”

I could still not forget how my talisman had tugged at my chest when I set eyes upon Fludd. As if it was trying to pull me away.

William gave a hoarse laugh. “You’ve marked him well. He and his brother are Fifth Monarchy men.”

“And what are they? Another group of radicals bent on tearing down what’s left of this place?”

“Aye, that is closer to the truth than not. They and those of their creed hold no church but they’re convinced that we live in the end of days as was foretold in the Book. They believe that King Jesus will come and establish the new Kingdom of God here and now.” He rubbed at his chin. “No, I misspeak—it’s thirteen years hence—in 1666. That is when the Lord is to come again. But they have to get the house ready, you see, for the Second Coming. Gideon is convinced he is a saint doing the Lord’s work.”

“The world is gone mad.” I looked out over the spire of St. Maurice, over all the houses that lay below and rested my back against the cold moss-covered wall of the long-perished stone keep. “I must see my boy. May I come up to the house?”

William mumbled some incoherent protest and then said, “Richard, that is not wise and you know it.”

“Not this night. Tomorrow. I’ll come around the back. To the window in father’s old chamber.”

“And what shall you do in the meantime?”

“Keep out of sight,” I lied.

My brother pursed his lips in frustration. “Very well, then. I shall be waiting for you tomorrow eve. Richard, I pray your boldness doesn’t bring the army down on us. I beg you not to stir the hornet’s nest, for all our sakes.”

“Brother,” I said, “fear not. It is I that possesses the sting.”

 

 

I CROUCHED IN a copse, enveloped in my cloak, and watched my house. The moon was still high and bright and I had waited until the last of the lights had been snuffed out. My horse I had tied up some distance away on the edge of the wood and I had walked onto my land, skirting the barns and cottage and flanking my way so that from where I hid, I could see the rear courtyard and pump. And there I had waited as the night grew old.

Israel Fludd had raped my wife and stolen my home. Yet I swear I had come to accomplish something other than revenge. I had come to regain something that was mine, something that could be regained. For underneath the tiles in the buttery, I had secreted a leather wallet before my last campaign. Inside it were letters of exchange, drawn from the Amsterdam goldsmiths and worth some five thousand gold ducats—a few thousand pounds at least. The fruits of my years in the German wars. Once redeemed, I could at long last do some good for Arabella and the children. But I needed no one to tell me what rashness my plan was.

The kitchen casement window lock was still broken after all these years, and I felt the frame swing inside as I pushed. With little elegance, I pulled myself up over the sill into the pitch black room and brought my knees up before slowly dangling my legs inside. I listened, my arse still balanced on the window frame. And then I was down, on my feet, and in my home once again. I waited as the pitch gave way to shadows, and then objects, as my eyes grew accustomed. I could just make out the little iron-strapped door that led to the buttery and I quickly crept across the kitchen.

The smell of musty wine and ale and old crockery filled my nose as I entered the buttery, moonlight spilling a shaft across the floor. I remembered which tile hid my prize and counted in from the outside wall. Dirk in hand, I stooped and worked out the tile from the floor. After what seemed an age, I felt a jiggle of movement and levered the blade underneath. The clay stone came up into my hand and I then reached down a foot or so into the damp earth below. It was still there. My fingers wrapped around the crusty leather and I drew it out of its tomb.

Thrusting the wallet into the little satchel about my shoulder, I replaced the tile as it had been. I brushed dust and dirt over the floor to conceal what had happened. A light startled me as soon as I re-entered the kitchen. Before I could make the window, a man filled the doorway. He held a horn lantern with one hand and a long cavalry pistol in the other.

“You’ve picked the wrong house to rob, thief,” he said, almost amused, as if he had caught a child stealing pies. He took a pace forward and I stood fixed, my mind calculating whether I could make the leap before he got his shot off. “You were as quiet as a rat but not every man sleeps even at this hour. And I have very, very good ears.”

He did not know me. How could he? But I had seen him before. It was the man I had seen in the square. It was the face of Gideon Fludd. But this man had long blond hair and it now struck me that though William had told me that Israel and Gideon were brothers, he had neglected to tell me they were twins.

“Do you know whose house you’ve broken into, little man?” Israel Fludd raised the pistol a bit higher. He was fully dressed, shod in his riding boots, and it was clear he had not been napping when I arrived. As I stood there, the anger grew. Anger because I had failed and because he had caught me.

“I do know. I am in my house, sir, and I have come for what is mine.”

Even in the dim glow of the lantern, I could see a look of confusion cross his face. This quickly gave way to a smile and an intake of breath as the realisation broke upon him.

“Of course! The great Malignant has returned! Now the mystery of yesterday’s visitor becomes clear. The foolish woman said you were some foreign fellow. You’re a bold one, I give you that.”

He stepped fully into the kitchen and I backed up a step. “I shall enjoy handing you over, sirrah, and this time you won’t escape the Lord’s justice. Get on your knees and be quick about it!”

I made up my mind there and then not to be taken alive. And if I was to suffer my end this night I would take him with me. I still gripped my dirk but there was little chance of getting to him without getting a hot pistol ball in my chest. He started babbling that a great burning brand was coming soon to scorch and cleanse this land of my kind. My left foot bumped against a milking stool and I knew I had but one opportunity to save myself. I started to bend my knees to obey his order, but as I went down, I snatched the stool and in one motion flung it high at his head.

Even as it left my hand, I was head and shoulders down and moving forward to take him. The pistol fired as soon as I leapt, but the sound and flash was not followed by pain. He had missed. And then I was upon him, throwing both of us down to the floor. He was half my age and even as I pinioned his right arm, he gripped my knife hand with his left. Straight away I could feel his strength beginning to overcome mine.

I sought to break his grip and plunge my blade into him. But the dirk was slowly turning in towards my own chest. I released his arm and seized his long golden locks at the top of his head. And I lifted and struck his skull upon the stone tiles. Again and again. His grip on my wrist faltered, and I dropped the dirk and tore another fistful of his hair, both of my arms yanking and then bashing his head upon the floor as I straddled him. The lantern, sent spinning, but still alight, shone against the far wall, and so I could not see his face. But I remember crying out, “This... is for... Arabella!” as I pounded and I heard the bones break in his head. My hands were wet and warm with his blood. Fludd had now let go of me, but still I beat his skull like some washerwoman on her rock. At last, I let his head drop with a sickening sound and feel, like a sack of pottery shards being set on the floor. It was only then that I heard his serving woman calling out from somewhere in the house.

The Lord Himself knows, I would have killed Israel Fludd sooner or later, but this was a matter altogether different. This woman had seen me yesterday. I retrieved my knife in my shaking hand and stood, leaning against the doorframe. The glow of candlelight spread into the hall and I crouched back into the kitchen, kicking the lantern across the room. I pushed myself back into the wall, not breathing. I heard her cry out as she saw Fludd lying there and then I glimpsed the woman, in her white linen shift, as she leaned over the body. I was on her in an instant, my right hand clamped around her mouth, and pulling her in backwards, against my chest. The candelabra crashed to the floor and I felt her harsh gasp against my hand as she screamed. And then I raised the blade towards her throat.

My head was shouting that I had to protect Arabella and the children, I had to. This thing had to be done. I hesitated, the tip already touching her skin. But I dropped the dagger, balled my fist, and struck her as hard as I could. And then a second blow that sent her sprawling. She didn’t move. Now I had truly thrown the dice. So long as she had not seen me, I might yet make an escape. But I had to make this all look the work of some housebreaker, some masterless apprentice turned thief in the night—and murderer. I approached Fludd’s corpse. Thinking to search his pockets for valuables, I found nothing. But his hand bore a signet ring which I tore off and pocketed.

I made my way into the hall, feeling through the darkness. I knew my house though, and reached the closet chamber at the front. The three windows afforded sufficient moonlight for me to rifle about the table and cupboards, and I seized two purses of coin, tearing up the room as I did so, pulling the rug off the table top and throwing drawers upon the floor. I shoved some silver into my satchel, and so too a good silver salter and tankard. In one of the cupboards, my hand fell upon a metal disc, too large to be a coin, and I picked it up. It was the size of my palm and rather thin, but heavy. I thrust it, sticky with blood, into the satchel and dashed out of the room back to the hall.

Out the back door, I was soon flying for the little wood a hundred yards away. My head reeling, I stumbled through the trees and down to where I prayed my horse still waited. It was still there, shivering in the night chill. I waded out into a little brook that ran through the copse, stooped down and splashed the freezing water upon my hands and then my face and head. I rummaged through the satchel, tossing away the pewter and silver but keeping the little purses of coin and the strange metal disc. Suddenly, I stopped and swore aloud. I had forgotten to retrieve my dirk from the kitchen floor. It lay there still, waiting to be found, its wooden grip stained in blood. But the blade bore no inscription, and not a soul knew that it was my weapon. I would have to leave it be.

Standing there, knee deep, I thought of Arabella. There was no doubt she would know in her heart the dreadful moment she was told, that it was I and no one else who had done this sorry deed. I prayed she would keep her wits if questioned by the militia. She would have to. And I would have to leave Plympton far behind, maybe forever. But not without seeing my son.

 

 

WILLIAM MUMBLED SOMETHING about skulduggery as he grunted and heaved me up through the casement into father’s old chamber. “By God, you look fearsome,” he said, finally getting a glimpse of my face. “Before you say a word, Richard, I need you to tell me you had nothing to do with Israel Fludd.”

I did not answer my brother but instead walked to the table and sat myself in father’s high-back chair, and removed the satchel from my shoulder.

“I feared as much,” he said quietly as he joined me. “The militia was here this afternoon spreading the news. Asking questions.”

My head snapped upwards at his words.

“They suspect Fludd had surprised some robber—or band of brigands. Had his brains beat out, they said. Tell me it was not murder, brother, I beg you.”

As I told him all that had happened, I watched his face grow darker by the minute. After I had described the flight back to Plympton, I paused a moment, and then I asked the fate of the servant woman.

“She lives. But more important, she did not see her attacker.” Then came that look I knew of old, the blank stare of condescension and judgement: “That should please you some.”

His barb should not have stung me so, but it did. “I could not have wilfully killed her, you must know that. He, on the other hand, took little of my conscience. But I tell you, William, I had no choice. I swear it.”

“No choice? You told me you would not go back there. And Arabella will not be deceived by this,” he said. I pulled out the mildewed leather wallet, opened it, and removed the parchment letters, each folded and still sealed with wax and ribbon.

“Take these,” I said. “Get one of your associates to redeem them when you can, though you may have to wait until this damned war with the Dutch has run its course.” My brother picked up the letters of exchange and tapped them in his hands.

“Dearly bought, these notes. Pray that the price increases no further.”

I reached back into the satchel, and pulled out the metal disc I had found on Israel Fludd’s table. I had wiped it clean of blood to find it covered with strange symbols, its purpose a mystery. I handed it to my brother. “Fludd was in possession of this medallion. Have you seen its like before?”

 

 

William examined it, his finger tracing over the etching. “Is it pewter?... no silver, I think. These writings here... this is... in Hebrew.” His brow creased a little. “Some phrase about God, I think. As for these symbols,” he said, tilting the disc so I could see, “unintelligible to my learning.”

“But what is its purpose? Do you see the little hole at the top? Is it a pendant?”

William shook his head. “Perhaps some Fifth Monarchy device.”

I pulled forth the ring, which had proved to be silver and equally strange in appearance.

 

 

William studied this too, but could only shake his head. “Similar strange devices, but different ones from the disc. But see here... it scribes a five-pointed star. And this phrase that winds between the points—TETRAGRAMMATON—it is Greek. It means... four letters.” He shook his head and handed the disc and ring back. “I’ll tell you true, it smells un-Christian whatever it is. My God, Richard, what have you dragged back here with you?”

“A conjuring device of sorts?”

“I have not the science to tell you. But I know these Fifth Monarchy men are a queer lot. Throw it away. It will only serve to incriminate you anyway.”

Brother Anselm’s warning sprang into my mind and I leaned forward with a start. It could be that there are those close to them that are invoking the Dark One... a powerful man is trying to change his fortune by other means. Maybe it wasn’t the exiles after all. I slumped back into the chair with fatigue and ran my hand through my hair. William arose and fetched a jug of wine from the sideboard to revive me.

“I had a dream the other night,” I told him. “My first night back in England. Father was there and spoke to me about many things. He told me that Roger had left for the plantations in Massachusetts.”

William suddenly looked up at me as he pushed a goblet over. “He has, Richard. Not even one month ago.”

I lifted the wine and took a long swig. It had been many a year since I had experienced dreams of foretelling. Now it was happening again.

“A compass,” I muttered aloud.

“What are you saying?”

I shook my head. “I have felt more than passing strange since I set foot here again,” I muttered. “Everything I once knew is gone. The country is dying, I can see it. You can see that, can’t you? Your precious Parliament seems to have lost control of the hounds.”

William grunted, took a sip of wine, and set his cup down again. “When the army threw us dissenting members out of Westminster four years ago, I thought we would be returned in a fortnight. I was wrong. The ones that remained in the Parliament were all lapdogs of the Army Council. Nothing good has come of them.” And then he smiled weakly at me. “But we must forbear it until better days are delivered to us. There is now a rumour that Cromwell will dissolve the Parliament completely and rule by the Great Council alone.”

I sat up in the chair. “He’ll take the crown for himself next.”

William leaned in towards me. “That is why you must return to France. The next ship, if you can. Get out of here before you are caught.”

“Not every man is content to wait like you, William. There are those of us who will carry on fighting.”

“Don’t be a fool. The army holds the entire country in its grip. Its spies are everywhere and I can tell you that the new secretary to the Council, this Mister Thurloe, is a most efficient intelligencer and schemer. They will play you until you have revealed all of your co-conspirators and then they will close the net. Mark me!”

“Then I need to strike at the heart of the matter—Oliver Cromwell himself. I won’t see my family suffer any further degradation in this land. If I cleave the head from the serpent than the rest shall die too.”

William sank in his chair, instantly older. “You’ve been in exile for six years. You haven’t any understanding of what’s going on here. Oh, aye, you see the effects of the medicine well enough, and dire they are, but what you don’t see is that it’s Mister Cromwell and God’s good Grace alone that are holding back the radicals from taking power. From what I’ve seen of some of those in the army, they make Oliver look like a Papist.”

My laugh was sour. “That’s rich indeed. No, the whole house of cards will fall tumbling down when Old Noll loses his head like the king lost his.”

My brother again fixed me with the look of a circuit judge and for a fleeting moment I saw my father again in front of me. “You don’t comprehend the truth of things here. Do you actually think it was my intervention alone that allowed your trial for treason to take such an unprecedented course? The Council was happy to condemn you outright and hang you straight away. But they gave in to your banishment instead. Did you think that was a democratic decision of Lord Fairfax and the others?”

I bristled under his harangue. “It was a trial by combat. I won it, by God!”

“Yes, you did, Richard. You did. And the Council was a hairbreadth from hanging you just the same.” He paused a moment. “I will tell you now, that which I concealed from you these last eight years. It was Oliver who gave you your life. Oliver Cromwell himself who stood for your honour when the others bayed for your death. And Oliver got his way.”

I felt myself falling back into the chair, leaden. The world had indeed gone mad.

“And with your hands still bloody,” said William, “you would seek to murder the very man who spared your life?”

I couldn’t give him an answer. Finally, I whispered in a hoarse croak. “Let me see my boy.”

 

 

“THOMAS, MY VISIT must remain a secret, a very deep secret amongst the three of us here. You must not tell a soul, not even your mother or your sister, that you have seen me. One day I will be able to stay for good, but not now. Do you understand?”

My fourteen-year-old son nodded at me. “Yes, sir, I understand.” He then glanced over to William. “Uncle has told me you were banished because of the wars with the king. Because you are a king’s man. The boys at school say you are a traitor to the country—and to God.”

I walked him over to the armchair and sat him down. “All of us who fought did what we thought best for the kingdom. But many of us could not turn against our king, who is ruler by God’s will.”

“But uncle turned against the king.”

I looked up at William, who had a look that said ‘you’ve dug the hole, brother, now climb out’ and then faced my son again. “Aye, well... he did. He stayed true to his beliefs and I stayed true to mine. But see, we are reconciled again, are we not? One day all of England will be reconciled again.”

He stayed with me not above an hour, and told me of his mother, his school and his friends, and a little of life without a father but with an uncle and cousins who treated him well. And I was glad of it. And when William ushered him out of the chamber, my heart was heavy but full. I could now give a face to my son again.

“You must know, Richard, that after this night, I can offer you no further help. If you stay—if you agitate—they will capture and kill you, be assured. And they are ruthless. For the sake of your children, go back to France. I will see that they do not want. You have my oath upon it.”

“And Arabella... and the babe. They need your protection too.”

“And they shall have it. Fear not.”

I managed a smile. “I will not tell you my plans, brother. It would be unfair to hazard you so. You are free to believe what you wish as to my destination. And, one last request... I have need of a blade, a dagger.”

He swore under his breath, looked to give an objection, but then turned and walked to his cupboard. He came back holding a weapon more suited to a surgeon—or an assassin.

“Here. A Venetian whore’s toothpick. I would tell you to not to be rash with it but that would be a waste of breath.”

I took the stiletto from him and placed it in my girdle where my lost Scots dirk had been secreted.

“Richard, I beg you to think again,” he said. “Stirring it all up will only serve to push us over the abyss. Go back while you can.”

I pulled out a leather purse with the coin I had stolen the previous night. “Take this,” I told him, throwing it on the table. “Consider it blood money... Give it to the grammar school. For Thomas.”

“If this is Israel Fludd’s money, Richard, I cannot take it.”

“Sir Richard, brother.” I watched his eyebrows lift and I nodded. “Aye, I am still a king’s man. God protect you and the family.”

And I was gone.