Women of Courage (152 page)

“Where’s that to, then?”

“Here, in Taunton. Roger sent his daughter there, he says. ‘Tis a school for girls of the gentry, and good Protestants, too - supporters of the cause. If she could stay there she’d be all right. Safe, out of harm’s way. And it may be they could find some way of getting her home later.”

For a moment Tom said nothing, but Adam, watching him carefully, saw the eyes look away from his own and the shoulders sag, and he knew he had won. However much Tom might like to keep Ann with him, following the army, he was ashamed to admit it. His only motives could be lust and vainglory, not the prudence and loving care a young man owed his betrothed wife. As the force of his arguments sank in, Adam saw Tom’s swagger fade, and a more familiar heavy, round-shouldered clumsiness return.

“Will you go there now, Mr Carter?”

“Yes. But I need you to come with me, to tell Ann. You know what the maid’s like - she has her own reasons for doing things sometimes, which is why I love her. But if you’re to be her husband, she’s got to learn to obey you sometime.”

“I suppose she has.” Tom sighed awkwardly, knowing himself outwitted. True, he was stronger than Ann, and would have the right - in fact the duty - to beat her when they were married, should she show signs of straying from the straight and narrow path; yet in truth he had known her too long not to be afraid of her quick mind and tongue, and was not sure he would win such an argument with her, if she opposed him. A terrible mute anger swelled in him as he strode into the town beside the slight, upright figure of his future father-in-law.

The town was as busy as it had been yesterday, but most of the people in the streets were from outside, like themselves, and it took them some time to find someone who could direct them to the Ladies’ Academy. When they reached it, they had to knock several times, before the door was timidly opened by a young girl of twelve or fourteen, wearing a bright yellow and red summery dress that looked as though it was only worn for special occasions.

“Good afternoon, miss. Could we see Miss Blake, please? I have a letter for her from Captain Satchell.” Adam smiled, the girl’s snub, freckled nose reminding him of his daughter Rachel.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Come in. Could you wait here? She’s rather busy at the moment. I’ll see if I can find her.”

She showed them into the courtyard, and hurried away. It was like stepping out of the street into a garden. The busy noise and clatter was gone, to be replaced by the birdlike laughter and voices of the little girls who fluttered everywhere like butterflies in their bright summer dresses. A group of younger girls stared at them and giggled, and Tom and Adam took off their hats awkwardly, Tom looking more than ever big and clumsy and out of place. But clearly something far more exciting than their arrival was going on, for after a moment the girls hurried away through another door.

“They look pretty rich maids, these,” muttered Tom nervously. “‘Twill be a bit awkward for Ann, won’t it?”

“Don’t worry. Roger Satchell sent his daughter here. And they’re only little; perhaps Ann can teach them something.” Adam, too, felt slightly abashed by the obvious gentility of the place. But it seemed wholesome enough; a haven of cleanliness and quiet, after the mud and sweat and noise of life outside.

“Now, sirs, what can I do for you? You bring a letter from Master Satchell, I hear?”

“Yes - Captain Satchell, ma’am.” Adam turned to face the woman who had suddenly appeared from behind them. She was a tall woman of about forty, with a plain, stark, slightly withered face. The nose was too big and the mouth too thin for beauty, and the eyes were too cold, as though they knew that love and admiration were not for them; yet it was a striking face, proud and commanding like a man’s, used to being obeyed. The woman wore a plain blue dress and starched white apron, and in her right hand she carried a sword.

“He ... he gave me this letter for you, ma’am. ‘Tis about my daughter.” Adam forgot what he had to say as he gaped stupidly at the sword. The blade was razor-sharp, oiled and gleaming, with an elaborate basket hilt. It was no plaything. Her hand held it firmly and easily, as though she knew its balance well.

“So. You wish your daughter to stay here, Master Carter.” The cold eyes examined Adam’s dusty, crumpled clothes and short greying hair with disapproval.

“If it be at all possible, ma’am. You see, she has served the Duke by bringing horses for the cavalry, and now there’s no way for her to get home. But the army’s no place for a girl.”

“I see.” The eyes examined the musket slung over his shoulder, calmly and carefully, so that Adam felt she saw how new it was, and also the scorchmarks where he had not yet cleaned the pan properly after this morning’s firing. Then she turned to Tom. “And who is this fine young fellow? Do you come to protect Master Carter against our fearful regiment of women?”

There was a sudden giggle amongst some of the younger watching girls, quickly smothered by a glance from the girl in the yellow dress. Adam saw that Tom was blushing, while a thin, quizzical smile played around the lips of the school mistress.

“No, ma’am. I’m ... I’m betrothed to marry Miss Carter, see, so I ... I’m to be her husband.”

“Indeed. That does normally follow, yes. Your name?”

“Thomas Goodchild, ma’am.”

“And so, Master Goodchild, you feel that your army is a danger to women, do you?”

“Why no, ma’am! Of course not!” Tom blushed deeper, acutely conscious of the interested gaze of the schoolmistress playing with her swordhilt. Why had Ann’s father got him into such an absurd situation? But he had to go through with it now. “‘Tis just that ... that she would be better off with you, like.”

There was another smothered giggle, this time from the older girls, and the thin smile spread to Miss Blake’s eyes in triumph.

“Indeed. That may well be true. So, Master Carter, where is your daughter, Master Goodchild’s wife to be?”

“She’s in town with surgeon Nicolas Thompson, ma’am. We came here first to see you.”

“I see. Well, if she is a true follower of the Lord as you say she is, she is most welcome. But now you must excuse me. We are to wait upon your leader, our new King.”

She turned away before Adam could show his surprise, and with another younger, rather mousy schoolmistress, began assembling the children. After a brief hesitation, Adam and Tom turned to go. But as they reached the door, Miss Blake’s ringing voice followed them.

“Leave the door open, Master Goodchild, if you will. We follow you directly.”

And so they came out into the hurly-burly of the street, followed by a truly extraordinary procession. First came Miss Blake, her sword still in her right hand, and a small, intricately bound Bible in the other; and after her, two by two, came about twenty girls, each in their best and richest summer dresses, followed anxiously by the second schoolmistress at the end of the line. The smallest girls - some only six or seven years old, came at the front, and the eldest - young women of fifteen or sixteen - at the rear. Each girl, large and small, carried a little silken banner above her head, embroidered with letters and slogans in support of the Protestant cause.

When they were all out in the street, Miss Blake formed them up carefully into two lines, a stern, anxious look on her proud face, and inspected her charges under the astonished eyes of the soldiers and others jostling past. Then she marched to the head of the line.

“Miss Musgrave, have you locked the door? Good. Right, girls, let us hear you sing as we march!” And they marched away towards the centre of the town, singing the 23rd psalm.

“The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want,

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures ...”

They threaded their way through files of marching soldiers, tethered horses, and slow-moving carts, out of the town towards the camp.

“The woman’s proper mazed!” said Tom, astonishment succeeding the smart of his embarrassment during the interview.

“She is too.” Adam shook his head in wonder as he watched the procession, trying to imagine his own wilful daughter as part of it. “But she may keep Ann on the path of righteousness, at least,” he added hopefully, half under his breath. “Come on, lad, let’s go and find her.”

They had hardly gone a few yards towards Ann’s lodgings before they met her and surgeon Thompson hurrying the other way. Ann’s apron was stained with old blood, as rusty brown as the hair that was straggling loose from her cap, but her eyes were alight with excitement.

“Father! Tom! Have you seen them?”

“Seen who?”

“The girls from the Academy. They’re going in a procession to the camp to see the Duke!”

“Yes, my dear, I know. They’re just down there.” Adam wondered if he should say more, but Ann’s enthusiasm left him no time.

“Oh good. Come on, Mr Thompson, quick! We must see them. They say they’re so pretty!”

She was ahead of them, hurrying up the street with the old scarecrow surgeon, with all the impetuosity of the child Adam remembered; there was nothing to do but shrug and follow after. At least she was going the right way, and he could introduce her to Miss Blake later.

At the gates of the city they caught up with the little procession from the school. The girls had met a troop of soldiers, and somehow Miss Blake seemed to have persuaded them to act as her escort, so that now the column following the tall schoolmistress was four abreast, each rank consisting of two girls in the centre with their silken banners, with a tall pikeman on either side. Then Miss Blake persuaded the pikemen to sing, too. They began a little sheepishly at first, and then with a growing sense of fun, so that the colourful procession pushed its way to the centre of the busy camp amid a religious choir of male and female voices, making heads turn all around.

Ann, struggling in the crush close behind, saw a group of men come out of one of the larger tents to see what was happening. There were a few in dull red coats, like Colonel Wade, whom she recognised; and several others, including Lord Grey, in fine coats and long wigs that reminded her briefly of Robert. Her father and Tom forced their way through the crowd to join her.

“Father, which is the Duke? Is he there?”

“Yes, my dear. The one in the purple coat - there!”

“Oh.” She craned on tiptoe to peer over someone’s shoulder, and then found a better place where she could see unobstructed. As she did so, the tall young man in the purple coat stepped forward, an amazed smile on his face, while Lord Grey and the others stood a little back from him.

Miss Blake held up her sword to halt her column, and dropped a deep curtsy before him. Then, solemnly, she held out the sword and the Bible, offering them. There was a hush of indrawn breath as the crowd waited to hear what she had to say. The old lady’s voice rang out harsh and proud over the field.

“My lord, on behalf of the daughters of the Protestant Somerset gentlefolk at present being educated at the Taunton Ladies’ Academy, I beg you to accept these twin gifts of a sword and a Bible, as a symbol of our hope that you will right soon become the true defender of the faith of our beleaguered nation.”

She curtsied again, and the awestruck, smiling Monmouth accepted the gifts gracefully amidst a roar of approval from the surrounding crowd. Then, holding the Bible aloft, he thanked her, in that clear, youthful voice that went straight to the heart of his hearers.

“Madam, your gifts express the true desire of my heart. I came into the field with a design to defend the truths contained in this book, and to seal it with my blood if necessary; though with such support as this, I doubt not that the Lord will give us the victory!”

Ann shivered as she heard the last words, and then cheered eagerly with the rest. He seemed so young, she thought, and innocent. She longed to protect him, as she had once longed to protect Robert. Robert, who had once fought for Monmouth too ...

There was continuous cheering now, and laughter, as each little girl in turn presented the Duke with her banner, and was thanked with a kiss from the Duke and Lord Grey. But then, amidst the laughter, came an awful, heart-stopping hush. Lord Grey was holding aloft a banner, presented by a little ten-year-old girl in a green frock, which bore a crown in the middle of it, and below the crown, the two letters JR - for Jacobus Rex, James the King, Monmouth’s uncle and enemy! No, Ann thought, surely it could not be happening - surely the little girl could not be so stupid as to present him with a banner like that! It was madness! Then someone laughed, and she realised, as the ripple spread through the crowd, that it was meant for James, Duke of Monmouth, as a hint that he too should become King! The relieved, tumultuous cheering broke out around her more wildly than ever.

But even as she cheered, she saw Tom’s face strangely quiet and frowning nearby; and here and there, in the crowd, one or two others, looking silently down at their boots in disapproval. She clutched his arm, laughing.

“Give thanks, Tom! ‘Tis a sign from the Lord! A Protestant King will lead us all to salvation!”

“No!” Tom snatched his arm free, and looked away. Hurt, she turned to her father, who was watching with a strange half-smile on his face. He tried to say something but his words were lost in the shouts of the crowd.

When the noise died down Monmouth thanked them again, the banners were distributed to the Colonels of the various regiments, and the ceremony was over. The girls from the Academy marched back through the crowd, passing within a few feet of Ann. Forgetting Tom’s snub, Ann turned again to them both, radiant with delight.

“Father! Tom! Wasn’t it magnificent! What a fine, proud lady!”

“Fine enough from a distance, anyway,” muttered Tom wryly, avoiding her eyes. But Adam smiled, and put his hand on Ann’s shoulder.

“A fine lady indeed, my dear. I’m glad you think so, for we’re to meet her presently.”

“Meet her, father? Why?”

The question could not be answered immediately, for the crowd, breaking up around them, jostled them apart. But in a few minutes everyone had gone, and Ann, Tom and her father were together again, walking quietly across the fields back towards the town.