part0018

Lizbet had her back to the door, sleeves rolled up, pounding linen shirts in the communal wash tub and singing in time to the rhythmic noise of the wooden clothes paddle. For white linen the best thing to use was black soap, but Lizbet was having to make do with a lye she had made from wood ash and urine.

Richard stood outside, and his nose wrinkled as it caught the scent coming from the tub. “I hope my shirts aren’t going to smell of that when you’ve finished?”

Lizbet, her arms still in the soggy mix of shirts, lye and urine, laughed. “They didn’t smell that good when I started. I can’t see that anything I could do would make them any worse.”

“I have something for you.” Richard sounded curiously excited.

Lizbet dropped the paddle in the tub, rinsed her hands in a bucket of water and turned, smiling. The smile fell from her face. Lizbet shrieked. The dog that Richard was holding on a lead barked, and Lizbet retreated. “God’s bones, get that beast from me.”

Richard laughed and loosed the lead a little. The dog strained forward towards Lizbet, who grabbed the clothes paddle and waved it at the dog. “Don’t let it go. Stop it! ”

Richard let the lead slip a bit more and Lizbet backed into the corner. “It’s not funny. Stop it.”

“Put the paddle down.” Richard’s voice was serious. “You can’t let him know you are scared of him.”

“But I am!” Lizbet exclaimed but lowered the paddle anyway. “Why did you bring him in here to scare me anyway?”

For a moment, though she could not be sure, she thought she read disappointment on his face, but if it had been there it was quickly replaced by a hard look.

“I bought him for you. He’s an Alaunt hound, loyal and fierce. He’s called Kells and he’ll not let anyone near his Mistress.” Richard unwound the lead from his hand and held it out.

Lizbet swallowed hard. “Why?”

“Just take him, woman. I might not be there next time, he will.” Richard was sounding impatient now.

Lizbet reached out nervously and took the lead. Turning on his heel, Richard left.

Lizbet eyed the dog nervously.

Froggy Tate appeared not a moment too soon. Smiling, he took the lead from her and dropped to his haunches next to the dog. “Master said you might be needing some help.” Froggy let the dog lick him, and, clamping one of his big hands on the dog’s head, he scratched him behind the ears. The dog was almost completely black, apart from a white blaze on his chest. His short fur shone over the muscled body .

“He is a fine dog. Bred for hunting boar, they are. They’ve the speed of a greyhound and the heart of a lion. He’s quite a prize, lass. You just need to make him yours.”

“How do I do that?” Lizbet sounded relieved that Froggy had hold of the dog.

“Finish what you were doing and I’ll help you,” Froggy replied and took Kells.

The Alaunt was indeed friendly, and it seemed well trained. Froggy had some meat scraps and let Lizbet feed it, and she was surprised at how gently the big dog took the small morsels from her hand. On the lead, it didn’t pull but remained obediently at her side.

Froggy ruffled the dog’s ears. “We’ll take him with us when we go to the wood this morning, and I’ll show you what good company a dog can be.”

“Good company?” Lizbet did not sound convinced. “Any dog I ever came across was nothing more than a scavenging mongrel good for the pot.”

Froggy laughed and leant close to Lizbet. “Kells is too good for the pot. I’d reckon it cost the Master quite a bit to buy him.”

“I’m sure he did. He’s an Alaunt,” Froggy explained, then seeing the baffled expression on her face continued. “He’s a hunting dog, lass.”

Lizbet’s eyes were open wide. “Really? And I thought he’d saddled me with some cur he’d found in the street to teach me a lesson. ”

Froggy wound his hand around the dog’s lead. “No, he’s a fine dog, one to be proud of. I’ll take him down to the camp with me while you finish here, show him to the lads.”

Lizbet, pushing her sleeves back up, prepared to return to her laundry. “I won’t be long.”

She had just about finished pegging out the linen shirts, her hands and forearms reddened from the lye, when she became acutely aware of a pair of eyes upon her.

Turning, she found Jack regarding her with one of his most winning smiles. Lizbet scowled at him.

“Fix that, will you?” He was wearing only a linen shirt, holding out his doublet to her.

Lizbet raised her eyebrows, hands on hips, and stared at him. “I’ve a long list of repairs already before I can get to yours. You might as well keep it for the moment. I’ll not get it done for a few days.”

“Why not? It only needs a button and this tear sewing.” Jack turned the garment over to show her the offending rent in the material properly.

Lizbet snatched the doublet from him and held it up to observe the tear. “I’ve got hose to re-stitch and clean for Froggy, and Marc has given me a pile of linen to wash that’ll have me scrubbing for hours if he ever wants to see it white again.”

“Since when did you start doing Marc and Froggy’s washing?” Jack exclaimed.

“Since they started paying me.” Lizbet’s eyes narrowed in a challenge .

“I’ll pay you. Just fix this.” Jack gestured to the doublet she was still holding, his eyes bright and the smile now gone from his face.

Lizbet, still bent on punishing him for what had happened the previous night and for also exploring the charms of one of the inns more alluring serving girls, told him with finality. “There’s a queue, and you’ll be at the back of it. There’s a laundress in the village. Get her to take it in for you.”

Jack’s blue eyes blazed. “Oh, come on, Lizbet. You are only doing this because you are angry with me!”

“Angry with you?” Lizbet pressed the doublet back into his hands. “Why would I be angry with you?”

“Because you don’t like the new company I’ve been keeping,” Jack pointed out accurately, although that was only half of the reason for her anger. It suddenly occurred to Lizbet that Jack probably had no idea what had happened to her the night before, and her mouth set in an even harder line.

“Come on, Lizbet.” The smile returned to Jack’s face.

If Lizbet had been angry before, now she was fuming. “See this…” She pulled her linen shift away from her shoulder to show him the purple bruises and scrapes from the mercenary’s nails where he had held her down as he tried to rape her. “That’s your fault.” Lizbet’s anger was fully ignited now.

“How? I’ve not touched you.” Jack sounded genuinely confused .

“No, but while you were away last night, those bloody drunk soldiers took to throwing me across your room.”

“So why is that my fault?”

“If you had not been out thinking of your stomach as usual, it wouldn’t have happened, and the Master would not have had to get up to go and retrieve you in the middle of the night either,” Lizbet blazed.

“The fault of that is yours, woman, not mine. If you’d found me some decent food, I’d not have had to go and find my own, would I?” Jack had already had the errors of his ways outlined in painful detail by his brother the night before, but he’d not been told by Lizbet that the fault of it was his own.

Without saying a word, she angrily pulled the doublet back from him and carefully examined the tear along the seam that he wanted her to sew.

Jack’s manner eased, thinking he had won her over, and he forced a smile back to his face. “I’ll pay you as well. Just see if you can do it tonight.”

In a quick movement, she balled the doublet up and threw it in his face. “Like I said, I’m busy. Get your whore to stitch it for you!”

While Jack was fighting to free himself from the jacket that had landed over his head, Lizbet had turned on her heel and left him determined to have the last word.

The routine at the camp continued for the next few weeks. Froggy’s training sessions and those devised by Andrew filled the days, which were long and hard. Jack, falling into bed at the end of each of them, had little time to think, and the incident with the pheasant was now well sunk to the back of his mind.

His brother was providing lessons on tactics and strategy. He had groaned inwardly before the first one, but had found himself genuinely engaged in the discussion. Richard knew more than he had given him credit for. Andrew had a provided a detailed training programme and Jack had to admit that under the man’s tutelage he was attaining a skill level he had never known before.

They were now painfully short of powder despite Froggy’s frugal measures. Richard, with Scranton in tow, had been away for two days to source more and negotiate a price, their destination the town of Haltenberg. When they returned, he was in less than good humour, but informed them that he had sourced what Froggy needed. Scranton had vouched, eventually, for the quality, and it just required that they take the cart and pick it up.

Richard had been prepared to pay for it and carry it back in hessian sacks but Scranton had caused such an incredible fuss and insisted that the only safe way to transport it was in kegs, properly secured and fastened to a wagon.

Andrew was on his knees next to the wagon when Marc arrived, a half-eaten chicken leg in one hand .

“What’s the matter,” Marc said through a mouthful of food.

“It’s just the brake. The pin keeps coming loose. I’ve told the Master,” Andrew grunted as the palm of his hand pushed home the securing peg. “There! It’s back in!” Standing, he dusted the earth from his knees. “Well, I think I’ve fixed that so at least it’ll not be rolling away down the hill.”

Marc finished tearing the meat from the bone with his teeth and threw the remains on the grass, rubbing his greasy fingers down the front of his hose. Then he took hold of the wagon and pulled himself up. “Froggy’s refused to drive it, says he has spent more than his fair share of time up here having his bones shaken apart.”

“I’d rather a ride a horse any day than be up there,” Andrew agreed, and then added, “It’s not a long journey. Couple of hours either way should see you there and back. Who is going with you?”

“Jack’s coming and Scranton. I just hope he’s not riding next to me!” Marc raised his eyes to the heavens.

Andrew smiled. “I am sure Master Scranton’s tales will pass the journey away.”

“I don’t know about the journey, but it will be making me want to pass away if I have to listen to him all the way there and all the way back,” Marc shot back, laughing.

“Well, just don’t you forget to check that brake when you get there and make sure it’s not come loose again, and I’ll go and mention it to the Master as well.”

“Because I’ve just had two days of his company and if I have to suffer one more then it will be his last,” Richard said through gritted teeth.

“Patience, you told me. Remember?” Jack replied. “So you trust me not to have the weasel by the throat by the time the day is out?”

“Right now, I care not if you decide to beat him within an inch of his life,” Richard snapped. “Just as long as I don’t have to spend another minute with him.”

“Humour him, you said. He’s an expert, you told me. We need his experience… Do you recall any of those conversations?” Jack’s voice was incredulous.

“That was before I had to listen to two days of his prattle on how to store and transport powder. It can’t be too hot, it can’t be too cold, it can only be packed by Master Scranton, it can only be inspected by Master Scranton, only Master bloody Scranton has sufficient experience to handle it in these quantities.”

“I did warn you.” Jack sounded amused.

“You can return with him and collect it. Think of it as a penance,” Richard replied acidly.

“Penance for what?” Jack accused.

“Oh, there will be something. Don’t make me have to turn over the past to find a reason,” Richard replied bitingly.

An image of a bag with four dead pheasants in it sailed into Jack’s mind and he decided not to press his complaint any further, conceding defeat. “ Alright, I shall take him with me.” Then he asked, “Do we really still need him?”

“I’m afraid so. He has the knowledge to be able to refine the powder to make culverins fire at an additional third of their normal distance, and that’s the piece of the puzzle I need to find out. Then, as you rightly point out, Master Scranton will cease to be useful,” Richard replied.

“Bit hard to find out really. Last time I checked, heavy ordnance was not amongst our assets.”

Richard smiled and then added, “Don’t drop it off the back of the cart, please.”

“Good God. Really? Well, if there is a chance that Scranton might blow himself into the hereafter, I will be willing to put up with him for the day.” Jack’s eyes were bright. “So, what exactly have you bought?”

“You’ll find out when you collect the powder,” was the unsatisfactory reply.

“Now I am going to have to be passingly pleasant to him as well.” Jack sounded morose, realising the trap he had fallen into.

“Exactly. As I said, see it as a penance.” Richard had an evil smile on his face.

A half hour later, Jack led his horse towards the cart where Marc and Scranton were waiting for him. He met Andrew on his way to one of Froggy’s training sessions.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to come with me, would you?” Jack asked hopefully .

Andrew, grinning, read Jack’s mind. “Scranton is not that bad. It is often the case with men of learning, that they sometimes do not know…”

“…when to shut up,” Jack interrupted.

“I wasn’t going to put it quite that bluntly, but yes. You’ll have an easy day, Jack. I for one would rather spend the day on an easy ride than have to spend an afternoon in the tilt yard in this weather,” Andrew explained.

Jack acknowledged his point. Apart from the prospect of having to share his day with Master Scranton, it was going to be a fairly easy one, and it would probably be punctuated by a pause at an ale house on the return journey from Haltenberg. His grounds for complaint were not particularly valid. “You have a point,” he said. “So beware, after I’ve had a day’s rest, I’ll be paying you back for that beating I got yesterday.”

“You think so, do you?” Andrew’s voice was full of mirth, then he added before Jack could speak. “Just watch out for the brake on the cart, lad. It keeps coming loose. I fixed it this morning and I’ve told Marc to keep an eye on it as well. Master knows, and we should take it to the wheelwright when you get back and have it repaired.”

“I will, and you make sure you give Mat what he has coming to him today as well,” Jack replied, putting a foot into one of the stirrups and rising into the mare’s saddle.

Andrew waved a hand in the air in a gesture of farewell and Jack turned his horse towards Marc and Scranton.