Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. (10 page)

The mutineers now being ringed in by troops and batteries, Ormonde sent them his decision. They had won. They could rejoin their regiments without punishment, but first he must confer with their leaders to work out details.

From the camp came wild cheers and a few exuberant shots, A barricade was thrown down and ten men came out, Jotham among them. Confidently they marched to where the duke stood and saluted.

"Shoot them!" he shrilled. "Execute them this instant!"

At once the luckless ten were seized and dragged toward the nearest wall. A howl of dismay arose from the spectators—troops, townsmen and the ex-mutineers atop their barricades.

Dick, stunned, growled deep in his throat. " 'Slife, but they came out under safe conduct!"

Someone clutched his arm. It was Ram, breathless from having struggled through the crowd. "Father, what'll they do to Jotham?"

"Return to quarters instantly!" Dick blazed. Damme, it wasn't good for the lad to see this. Yon lean rogue had been kind to him, had taught him his letters. "Begone!"

Trembling, Ram wriggled back through the crowd, to hold Carla's hand beside sobbing, hysterical Meg.

In those last moments while the firing parties were making ready, Dick's gaze met Jotham's across the space and it was the doomed man who called out hoarsely yet with his old defiance: "You're a good soldier. Major, but the lad will be a better. Rear him well or—" He broke off to spurn a trembling chaplain's ministrations and to refuse a bandage for his eyes.

"You yellow-gutted minions, think I'm afraid to die? Shoot, and to hell with you!"

"Jotham! Oh, Jotham!" The thin, boyish wail was lost in the crashing volleys.

CHAPTER 4 DALESVIEW,

1714-16

Ram dozed, snatches of talk coming to him as if from afar. " 'Tis hard, ma'am," Father was saying, "to be dropped to half pay after twenty-five years. The army's ruined entire."

"Fi, Major, to talk so!" the Widow protested. "Indeed, the terrible cost of the war wasn't to be borne longer. All those men eating their heads off in idleness."

"Idleness!" Father gasped. When he spoke again his voice sounded strained. "I've been abroad these five years and—"

The coach's left wheels slipped into a deep rut, throwing the passengers sideways. Ram, shaken wide awake, sat up.

"Pah, the roads grow worse each year," the Fat Green Man rumbled. "With an ailing queen, what else can we expect? We must have a young able king to set things aright."

"James Stuart, and no Hanoverian!" This from my Lady.

"True, your Ladyship," the Lawyer agreed. "Still, lest we fall into the error of—"

"A fig for legal cant!" Fat Green cut in. "We Gentlemen of England have already made choice. When we put the Tories back in power and pulled down that avaricious coward, Marlborough, we—"

"Damn your soul!" Dick exploded. "Corporal John a coward? Keep such filth for them who've filled the country with starving old soldiers and turned off their officers on a few shillings a day! No more, sir, or I'll perforate that great gut of yours."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" the Lawyer pleaded, glancing out into the darkness. "There's danger enough on the highway without passengers falling out. We're still an hour from York."

Ram leaned back, grinning. Fat Green got more than he'd bargained for that time! Good thing the journey was almost over. Father had intended buying horses for the ride north, but he'd given so much money toward the plot to restore Duke John, he'd barely enough left for seats in the public coach.

That same coach now stopped so suddenly that Ram was hurled across onto Fat Green's stomach. There were shouts outside and a pistol's muzzle showed at the open window. "Make no move, sirs," a cold voice warned. "Ladies, there's no danger, if all obey."

"Roadpads, ecod!" Dick gaped and cursed because his sword and pistol case were under the seat. The Widow screamed. Fat Green belched and the Lawyer's teeth sounded like castanets.

"La, how exciting!" my Lady trilled. But, by the dim light of the coach's lanterns, Ram saw her fingers moving swiftly.

"Madam, 'tis useless to hide those rings," the cold voice warned. "I cry them forfeit. Now, all please step out."

That voice! Ram knew he had heard it before. Where?

The passengers got out. Ram saw that a second highwayman, mounted and holding the first's horse, was covering the driver and the guard. Both robbers' faces were covered by long masks.

"Your purses and jewelry," the first invited. He moved toward Dick. "You, sir, will—God's teeth! .. . Uh, drop your purse there."

"Were I armed, I'd drop youl" Dick snarled, but complied.

Fat Green threw down a heavy purse and, after prodding, a gold watch. The Lawyer yielded little save silver. Then my Lady's rings and purse—and some amazing profanity. The Widow's contribution was a mite indeed, and Ram had only a few shillings. As the tobyman swept up the loot, the lower part of his mask swung free and Ram coupled face with voice.

"Captain!" he shrilled.

Cursing, the man tossed something that chinked at Ram's feet— Dick's purse—then ran for his mount while his mate lashed the coach horses with his crop, making them rear and plunge. By the time Dick had leaped back inside and clawed out his pistols, both robbers had vanished into the night.

"Father, did you—" Ram began, but Dick was shouting to the driver. "Control those nags and leather hell out of them to York! We've got to raise hue and cry."

They reached York before the Widow had stopped wailing or my Lady had ceased using the most unladylike language. Fat Green was near collapse and the Lawyer's teeth still chattered,

"Black Swan, ladees an' sirs!" the guard announced as the coach turned under an archway. "We'm 'ere, we are."

Once in the inn the Lawyer, suddenly brave, snarled at Dick: "Strange, sir, that cutthroat returned your purse. It smacks of collusion!" Then he stumbled back as Dick's sword flashed out.

"Accuse me of collusion with thieves? Ecod, I'll have your pettifogging heart out for this!"

"But your son called him 'Captain'!"

"Every tobyman calls himself captain—of other folks' purses. But mine's so light, he doubtless thought it not worth keeping. 'Twill remain so till I replenish it at Dalesview."

"Dalesview?" Mine Host pushed forward. "Sir, are ye by chance acquainted with Dame Anstruther?"

"I own Dalesview." Dick turned haughty. "The dame's my mother."

Boniface turned on the Lawyer. "We'll have no more insulting honored guests here! ... Sir officer and young maister, servant!"

Only when he and Ram were supping in a private room did Dick ask, "Well, lad, who was he?"

"Captain Edwardes! I thought I knew his voice, Father, and when his mask fell away I saw his face."

"Good God—Frank? But he sold out for a good price last year and came home to wed an heiress and look down on us poor devils going on half pay. Damme, here's a pretty pickle!" For long he sat scowling. Abroad, there'd been small risk of Frank's knowledge of Ram's true background, but here, not fifty miles from Dalesview! Edwardes, wealthy, would never bother about those letters they'd concocted. But now he'd taken to the road . . . ?

"Let's look at thee again, lamb." Hannah held Ram at arms' length, happy tears streaming. "Eigh, but thou art champion!" She turned to Dick. "Didn't I tell thee he'd grow into his coat?"

"He outgrew that one long since. Mother," Dick chuckled. "We both had new ones made in London, two weeks since."

At once she unsheathed her old asperity. "T'war's over, yet ye buy new red. It's good Yorkshire brown ye'll wear now."

"Hey?" 'Sdeath, he'd no mind to look farmer like Will—He, who'd commanded Hertford's Foot!

Ram, too, was wondering how it would feel not to be in red. He was also trying to untangle the Gammer he saw from the one he remembered. He'd pictured her, somehow, as quite tall, yet she was barely his own height and was so old! Uncle Will and Aunt Joan seemer smaller too—only Sue and the boys were the same. Then he giggled. It wasn't they who'd shrunk, but he who'd grown.

"Where's the fatted calf?" Dick demanded. "Let's to table." Soon he was gorging, happily aware that Dalesview could now truly be called a manor. The avenue of chestnuts had five years' new growth, more acreage had come into Hannah's grasp, and there were new

outbuildings. A monstrous fine estate, worth a cool thousand a year. He must demand an accounting from the old lady.

But she had a complaint. "Why did Marlborough let them rogues drive him exile abroad? He'd ha' gone on till Louis was trounced for good, and I wouldn't have fifty fine chargers nobody wants to buy." She admitted that, expecting the war to go on, she'd overextended and now, instead of taking mortgages, she might have to give them. And when Dick protested that he needed cash aplenty, she retorted tartly that he'd better then turn horse coper and try to sell the herd.

Meanwhile, the warriors' return must bring honor to Dalesview. Again bigwigs arrived: Sir Roger and Lady Ellthorpe, the Robinsons, even doddering Lord Blythwaite. That these and others came proved that the Anstruthers were a growing power in the North Riding.

This time Dick sang no bawdy songs nor slashed chairs. Instead, he was frigidly polite to these elderly bumpkins who called themselves the Gentlemen of England, supported Duke John's enemies and wanted James Stuart for their next monarch.

Ram was again fussed over bv the ladies. Badly embarrassed, he sent a look of desperation at John, who merely grinned back unfeelingly; so he turned toward Sue. When their eyes met, hers filled with tears. She was a cr}'babv still. Suddenly lonely, he thought of Carla, and Battle whom he'd given her as a parting gift.

For Hannah, the party was a triumph. "They don't look down their snouts at us now," she exulted. "Come a new war and we sell t'horses, we'll be reet big folk, mark me."

"I need money now, for a matter of vast importance," Dick growled, but he refused to say what the "matter" was.

"Theer's one road," she pointed out. "Tak' another bride. Owd Lord Blythwaite's gran'daughter's free, and it's said she'll have a six-thousand-pound portion when he dies."

"Ye mean that vinegar-faced virgin who was here with him?" Dick's eyes bulged. "Damme, she's fifty if she's a day. Am I so ancient I need take a mummified virago for a bedfellow?"

"Ye're forty-four, and six thousand would make Dalesview t'finest estate in the Riding," she retorted. "She's beyond the age of breeding, so our Ram won't have no half kin."

But, badly as he needed cash, marriage with the Lady Agnes was too great a sacrifice. To divert himself, he trained his new stal-

lion, Alan's Pride—having sold Son in Flanders. He also read the London news sheets for reports on the Queen's health.

One day a visitor arrived—Gaston Villebonne. Peace had dealt hard with the old Huguenot. Driven from France when young because of his religion, he had now, after thirty years, been dropped from Britain's army on a captain's half pay. His present mission was to visit old comrades all over England, seeking funds for the plot to restore Marlborough and rebuild the army.

Often he was turned away with scant civility, but at Dalesview it was: "Gaston, you old devil!" from Dick, and from Ram: "Servant, sir!" The ice of his frustration melted. Here were friends!

Dick went to Hannah and soon their angry voices filled the house, but he returned with thirty guineas. And as he handed Gaston the donation, he proposed: "You've a home here when the work's done. I need you to crack a bottle with, and the boy needs you to perfect him in swordplay and your cursed French gibberish."

"My dear friend!" There were tears in the old exile's eyes as he spurred away.

" 'Twould be like old days if he was around," Dick grinned at Ram. "Mum's the word about what the money's for, mind. Gammer mustn't know what's up. She thinks it was a gaming debt."

Ram, having mastered his first own blood horse, named Moor of Alan or, since he was a black, just Moor, decided to continue his study of warfare by raising a troop of boy dragoons. Helped by John and Rob, he 'listed several grammar school lads, all proud to serve under one who'd seen real battles and used so many mouth-filling foreign oaths. Besides, he wore a sword, which none of them was permitted to do while still in school.

Soon his troop was fifteen strong, with John as sergeant and Tom Robinson as corporal. Their firelocks were broomsticks and their bayonets willow wands, but he drilled them rigidly. Often he'd lead them up into the fells to assault a crag that resembled the famous hill fort Alexander the Great had taken in Hindustan, according to the old book Jotham had given him.

In addition to being a modern Alexander, he had to ride each day into Bowes to pick up the Daily Courant, which came from London by express to York and thence by pack horse.

Early in August he came racing up the driveway waving a copy. Pulling Moor back on its haunches, he slid to ground.

"The Queen—dead, sir, last Sundayl"

"Ha! Who's king?"

"George, sir, proclaimed in London without question."

Dick's hat whipped off. "God save the King!" He peered shortsightedly at the sheet. "What news of a rising? Is aught said?"

"None, sir." Ram was disappointed.

"Hm." So was Dick, but he brightened. "News takes time to spread. The Jacobites will move. Then we'll crush 'em."

"Sir, look—here, down in the corner. It says Duke John's awaiting a favorable wind at Ostend to come back."

"Cheer, boy, cheer!" Dick's hat went sailing. "Old times are back. Old John will command again and I'll raise my regiment. Half the lads hereabouts vdll flock into Anstruther's. In a year I'll be general and you a captain." Then sanity returned. "Ha. Let's inside to tell Gammer and toast George in our best wines."

No Jacobites stirred, however, and the country settled down under George, who spoke no English and brought over a host of minions, including his more than homely mistresses. But Marlborough's party was returned to power and his enemies turned out.

With no rising in prospect Dick, restless and sullen, faced a bleak rural future. He considered seducing Joan, but she was far too wary ever to be alone with him. Thwarted, he ranged the country alehouses. Here and there a serving wench complied, but he took little joy from their yielding. He bickered morosely with Hannah who, hoarding every guinea, kept him short of cash.