Alice in Love and War (6 page)

He took offence, strode after her, seized her arm. “Think you’re better than me, do you? You puffed-up whore!”

“Let me go!” Alice struggled to free herself. His companions laughed. Any moment now and they would join in. Her heart beat fast. She looked around for help – and saw two young women striding towards her.

“Leave her! She’s with us!” shouted the shorter one, and Alice recognized the girl whose pail she had given back at the well; and she saw that the girl remembered her. Her two rescuers took hold of her, one on either side, and the soldier walked off, muttering about “bitches” and “drabs”.

The woman had spoken in English, but now they both laughed and exchanged a joke in their own language. And then the shorter one squeezed Alice’s arm and said, “Walk with us – if you wish? You’ll be safer.”

“Oh, yes! Thank you,” said Alice.

The two of them – the little sturdy brown-haired girl and the taller one with red-gold curls – regarded her with undisguised curiosity. She, in turn, looked at them and saw two dirty, unkempt women, their gowns stained, their skins grimy and weathered from weeks or months on the road. Even as she noticed their appearance, she felt ashamed of herself for doing so. They were both smiling.

The brown-haired girl said, “I am Nia, and this is Rhian.”

Strange names. She replied, “I’m Alice.”

“Alice. You must have joined us at the camp? The village on the moor?”

Alice nodded. “I lived on a farm there. But I’ve left – for good.”

“You came with a soldier, didn’t you?” Nia persisted. “That dark, handsome man?”

“Yes.” She knew she would end by telling them everything, and she saw that they knew it too, and would wait.

“Come and meet Bronwen,” said Nia.

There was another girl looking back at them. They ran to catch her up, calling out in their own language.

“Are you Welsh?” Alice asked.

“Yes! Our husbands are soldiers. Come!”

Bronwen was older than the other two, quiet-spoken, more restrained in her manner than Nia. “So they have brought you with them,” she said. “That’s good. You should not walk alone.”

“You three are lucky to be together,” said Alice.

“We are all from one village, near Y Trallwng – Pool, the English call it. Rhian and I are sisters, and Nia is married to our brother Bryn.”

“Who I love and adore and would not be parted from!” said Nia. “Oh! How I cried when he said he’d joined up and was going to war. We’d not been married a month!”

“Then why…?” asked Alice.

“We are poor. Everyone in the village is poor. The men are farm labourers. We all work for Sir John Leal, on his land, and live in his cottages. Sir John’s men came recruiting. Free uniforms: good strong shoes, two shirts, a coat and breeches. And the pay is good too – when they get it.”

“But … why would he recruit his own workers and send them away?”

“To find favour with the king! These gentlemen, they promise the king men, foot soldiers, a regiment. Their honour requires that they keep their promises.”

“And they hope to be rewarded when the rebellion is over,” said Bronwen more cynically. “The young men all joined up together. Truth is, they had little choice, our landlord being loyal to the king, and it being his wish.”

“But – oh, we three did cry and complain!” exclaimed Nia.

“We did,” said Bronwen. “And then we agreed between us that we’d go too, and look after our men and each other.”

“Rhian and Gethin were not even married then,” Nia said, with a teasing glance at the golden-haired girl. “Gethin is always slow to make a move; needs a push, he does.” Rhian blushed. “Well, we pushed them into it, got them wed, and here we are.”

Alice felt her loneliness melt away as their chatter surrounded her. If I’d had such a group of friends, she thought, or a sister, I might have been happy, even at Tor Farm. But what would these girls think of her? Nobody had pushed
her
, got
her
wed, before she ran away with Robin. Would they call her a slut? Would they still want her to walk with them?

The miles seemed less tiring that day, and the time passed more quickly. A large part of the king’s army was Welsh, and there were many of their women on the march. Although they did not all know each other, or come from the same places, they formed a distinct community. It was strange to be in a crowd of people all talking in a foreign language, but Nia made sure to translate if anything interesting was said.

“You speak English well,” Alice said in some surprise, for surely these girls had had no schooling?

“Oh, that’s because we are from near the border,” said Nia. “Y Trallwng is just inside Wales, and the traders come and go from Shrewsbury. But some of the Welshwomen here speak no English at all.”

Alice had never heard of Y Trallwng or Shrewsbury. I would like to see this kingdom, she thought, all laid out on a map. I would like to know where I am, and where Wales is, and Ireland. And Oxford. Yes, especially Oxford, because Robin’s home is near there.

In mid-afternoon they paused near Crediton, and the camp followers took advantage of the brief stop to sit down and eat. Alice had water – she and Robin had refilled their leather bottles from a spring that morning – but she had only a bit of hard cheese and stale bread to eat; and nothing for the next day. Many of the others, she saw, fared little better. She looked out for Robin, but he did not appear, and neither did any of the Welsh girls’ husbands. They were probably far away. The army, like a great untidy snake, straggled for miles along the country roads. Word came back to them that the king and his generals and Lifeguards were riding into Crediton and would dine there, and then the king would travel in state to Exeter that night.

“We are to move on, to the far side of Exeter.” It was a soldier – one of their guards – who passed on the news. “So it’s wine and soft beds for the officers and a cold field for the rest of us, I reckon.”

He was right. Their destination was a small village, unable to provide lodging for an army. By the time the women arrived they found the camp established over several fields, fires lit, huts being built.

It had been a mild day, but now, as the light started to fade, the September evening air struck cold. People went into the patches of woodland all around and began cutting branches. Some soldiers from the ammunition train appeared carrying a broken gate and several posts. Her friends got out knives and headed for the woods.

Alice stood still, uncertain what to do. Should she wait for Robin? She could see a lot of activity some way off, soldiers moving about, and hear orders being shouted.

Nia ran back to her. “Come with us, Alice. The men will be building huts and putting up the officers’ tents. We make our own shelters. Come and help. Do you have a knife?”

Alice did, though it was a meat knife, not as robust as the ones the women were using. She was surprised at the speed with which they built simple lean-to huts. When the frames were made they stretched pieces of hide over them, tied them in place and pegged them down.

“We’ve done this often before,” said Bronwen.

And, indeed, all the women were establishing their own shelters, whether huts, rough tents or covered carts. Some way off were a few carriages: officers’ whores, Nia said.

“We’ll help you make a hut, if you like?” offered Bronwen.

“I don’t know…” Would Robin expect it?

Some of the other women had got fires lit. There was a warm savoury smell on the air, and she became aware of how hungry she was. She realized that the women were cooking together for their men. Several large communal pots were in use. Her friends began talking in Welsh to the women around one of the fires.

Then Nia exclaimed, “Bryn!”

Three soldiers were walking towards them. Nia ran to a young man, dark like his sister Bronwen, and with an open, amiable face. He looks kind, Alice thought; a good man.

“This is Bryn,” Nia told Alice, smiling from one to the other, “and there is Bronwen’s husband, Edryd. And here’s Gethin.”

The men were dressed in worn, patched uniforms. All were dark, small but strong-looking; all – at first sight – rather alike. Alice felt shy as they acknowledged her with nods.

“Will you eat with us, Alice?” asked Bronwen.

But Alice had seen Robin. She shook her head, stammered thanks and apologies, and ran to Robin’s embrace.

“We’ve been hut-building,” he said. “Are you hungry? The cooking fires are lit now.”

He tried to lead her in that direction, but it seemed rude to walk off so abruptly, and Alice said, “I’ve made some friends! Come and meet them.”

The Welsh group were now clustered around their fire, talking together in their own language. Robin threw a glance in their direction and said, “Those Welsh? Don’t trouble with
them
, sweetheart. They’re clods, the Welsh. Can’t tell one end of a musket from the other.”

“But the women have been kind to me!” Alice insisted. “Come…”

She felt hurt on their behalf. But already he was leaving, drawing her towards his own group. She glanced back and waved an apology, but in the gathering dusk she could not see whether her new friends had noticed.

At Robin’s fire there was meat. Someone had shot a rabbit, and others had requisitioned bread and turnips from one of the nearby farms. She ate gratefully, sharing Robin’s bowl, since she did not have one of her own. I must get a bowl, she thought, and a spoon; and I must learn to forage and make myself useful. She kept quiet in the presence of Robin’s companions. Will and Jacob, they were called; she remembered them from Tor Farm. She was aware of their eyes on her, and suspected that they were thinking about her and Robin together; and it made her feel ashamed and uneasy. Across the field, in the darkness, she saw the lights of other fires and sparks flying up. From where her Welsh friends were sitting she heard snatches of song; and, despite being with Robin, she felt almost regretful that she had left them.

When they had eaten, Robin got up and drew her away from the fire, his arm round her waist. “We won’t sleep in the huts,” he said. “There’s a barn in the next field – I got a lad to hold us a place.” He gave her a squeeze. “We’ll be warm enough there.”

She looked up at his face. “My courses have come today.”

“Ah.” She heard the disappointment in his voice. Then he laughed, and hugged her again. “Well, that’s good news! You don’t want a child yet, do you?”

“I would like to be married first,” she said.

“Of course.” But he said no more on that. “The word is,” he told her, “that we’ll stay here a few days. So you can rest awhile.”

When they reached the barn, there were women loitering by the entrance, looking for business. They ignored Alice and Robin. The place Robin had found was set back, softened by hay. But there were other men all around, and more coming in all the time, some with the whores. Alice felt glad she had the excuse of her courses and could simply lie wrapped in Robin’s arms.

Perhaps we’ll go into Exeter tomorrow, she thought.

Six

“Exeter?”
said Nia. “You’d be lucky! The officers might go into the city, but not the men. We are always stuck in places like this: wet, muddy and surrounded by sheep.” She laughed. “I don’t know why I left Wales!”

“You
do
,” said Alice.

Nia had told her something of their life in Wales: a life of unrelenting labour on the land, morning till night; of damp cottages with only one room; of little pay, few rights, and no chance of improvement. Life in the camps did not seem hard or difficult by contrast; and they enjoyed the freedom of the open road and the companionship of a larger group of people. Alice could understand how they felt. For herself, it was not so easy to adapt. Her feet ached from walking and she missed the comforts of Tor Farm – the good food and clean beds. But I am free now, she told herself. Free, and with Robin, as I wanted.

In fact she saw far less of Robin than she had hoped; his time was taken up with drill and weapons training. Alice saw him only in the evenings – when they ate around a campfire with his companions – or at night, in the barn, where there was little privacy. She wanted to cook for him, to feel that they belonged together, but the army rations were mostly prepared by soldiers in a field kitchen. Some groups of English soldiers’ women cooked together, but she was too shy to approach them. Instead she stayed with the Welshwomen, those who had first been kind to her. She was glad of their friendship – especially Nia’s – in this rough, unfamiliar world. Nia became her constant companion, taking her around, introducing her to people and translating what they said.

The army had now been encamped near Exeter for three days and looked set to stay longer. Alice had been surprised that there was no fighting, no sign of the enemy, but Nia said, “Oh, it’s usually like this! We go weeks without so much as a skirmish. They spend all their time looking for each other, sending out scouts, waiting.”

This morning the sun was bright, and Alice and Nia had joined a large group of women washing clothes in the stream at the bottom of the field. They beat the linen on flat stones and rinsed it in the water that ran rippling over the pebbles. It felt good to see the sun for once and to enjoy its warmth. A woman along the line began to sing, and the song was taken up and set the rhythm for the pounding of the linen. Alice soon learned the tune and hummed along, but the Welsh words were impossible to catch.

“Did you sing at home, Lisi?” asked Nia.

She had taken to calling Alice “Lisi”, which she said was short for Alice in Wales. Alice liked the name; it made her feel as if she belonged.

“At home in Bideford we sang,” she said. “But at my uncle’s it was only when we went to church. I’ve missed it.”

The song changed, to something with a more romantic melody. Nia, Bronwen and Rhian all joined in, rinsing and wringing out the linen with strong turns of their wrists.

Later they strung lines between the shelters and hung the clothes to dry. Alice had washed Robin’s shirt along with her own shift. She was glad to do it; glad to hang the two garments side by side to dry. It made her feel as if Robin were already her husband.