The Reckoning (92 page)

‘Good God, yes! Were they armed?’

No, not with so much as a stick. But still worrying, all the
same. I pulled up just above them, and was wondering what
was best to be done, when I realised that I knew the old fellow
who was acting as drill-sergeant. He was one of our veterans
in the Peninsula, and as stout and honest a fellow as you
could wish to find. I'd been spotted by this time, so I rode
across, hopped off my horse and gave it to a boy to hold, and
went straight up to Old Drills and said, "Well now, Collins,
what's going on here? Planning a revolution?" ‘

Did he remember you?'

‘
Lord, yes. It was obvious there was nothing havey-cavey going on, for his face lit up at the sight of me. He halted his
troops and came to attention and called me
Captain Farra
line, sir
just as if we were back at Torres Verdras! Very flat
tered, he was, too, that I remembered him.'

‘
Of course he was,' Rosamund said, amused. ‘So, what was
he doing?'

‘
He said to me, "I'm licking 'em into shape, sir, just like we
did them Portuguese dagoes, with a bit of the old close-order marching".' Farraline was a talented mimic. ‘So naturally I
asked him why-the-deuce, and he said, "Mr Hunt's instruc
tions, sir. He wants everything to go like clockwork on Friday.
He wants us to shew the authorities that labouring men know
how to conduct themselves with order and propriety, sir." '

‘Insolent man!'

‘Who?' Farraline frowned, distracted.

‘Hunt, of course. Go on – what did you say to that?'

‘
I asked him in a casual, roundabout sort of way if they
were going to be armed for the meeting. Old Collins looks
shocked at the notion. "Lord bless you, sir, no," says he. "We
ain't an army, sir – just meaning to display cleanliness,
sobriety and decorum, sir, like what Mr Hunt says. To come
in our Sunday best, Mr Hunt says, and armed with nothing
but clear consciences – ain't that so, lads?" And the lads all
give a cheer, crowding up to me, you know, like dogs wanting
to be petted.’

Rosamund nodded, enjoying it all.

"And the lads asked me to help 'em out, sir," Collins goes
on, "seeing as I know how it's done, on account of being with
Old Hookey right through to Salamanca when I took my
wound, sir." So then I asked him what the meeting was all
about, and what it was they were hoping to gain. He opens his eyes very wide, as if I ought to know such a simple thing, and
he says, "Why, sir, we want annual parliaments and universal
suffrage, sir." Just like that. And the lads all give another
great cheer.'

‘
What stuff,' Rosamund said. 'What on earth can people
like that understand about universal suffrage?’

Farraline grinned. 'As little as ever, I imagine. But the
impressive fact was that they all knew what it was they
wanted, and wanted it badly enough to give up their free time
to drilling, so as to impress the world with the seriousness of
their purpose.'

‘
It's more likely to impress the world with the idea that
they should be locked up and transported! Look what
happened to the Pentrich rebels. The sight of a group of
orderly, marching men would be enough to send any
magistrate into strong hysterics.’

No, no, you're too harsh! They won't be armed, you know
– that isn't their intention at all. As you say, I doubt whether
one in a hundred of them knows what they want the vote
for,
but the fact of the matter is that Hunt and Cartwright and
the rest have managed to convince them that they ought to
have it. So, shall you come with me tomorrow and see the
fun? The meeting starts at eleven o'clock. I could come for
you in my tilbury.'

‘
Not I, thank you. I think Agnes Droylsden probably has
the truth about orator Hunt – that he simply likes the sound
of his own voice! Besides, my time will be taken up by Sophie
tomorrow morning. She always feels guilty about leaving me
on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, and tries to make it up
to me the next day.'

‘
Oh well, if you're sure. I shall go along, anyway. It might
be amusing.'

‘
Go with my blessing – and come and tell us about it after
wards.'

‘Shall I?'

‘
Yes, do. You don't need my invitation – you know
Sophie's always glad to see you.'

‘
And you?' Farraline said, rolling over to look down at her.
‘Are you always glad to see me?’

She ran a long finger down the line of his jaw. 'Always, my
Jes, my dear. Even though you are a torment to me.’

‘
How am I a torment to you?'

‘
Come closer,' she murmured, slipping her hand behind his
neck and pulling, 'and I'll tell you.’

*

It was possible from the morning-room of Hobsbawn House,
with the window open, to hear the distant murmur of the
crowd in St Peter's Fields. Rosamund would have had no
need to tell Sophie about the men drilling, even if there had
been a way to do so without mentioning Jesmond, for
hundreds of them came marching down the street right past
the gate that very morning.

She and Sophie had been hanging out of the window
watching them go past. It was a most extraordinary sight, the
like of which had never been witnessed before anywhere in the country. Men, women and children, all dressed in their
best, talking cheerfully, some of them singing, went marching
past, armed with nothing but banners decorated with devices
such as
Liberty
or
Unity and Strength
or
Suffrage Universal.
Never had a mob displayed such discipline and orderliness.

Never had a mob been drawn together from so many different
interests. Coal-miners marched alongside farm-labourers,
weavers kept step with cutlers, chimney-sweeps with water-
carriers.

‘
They have nothing in common at all,' Sophie said wonder
ingly, 'except that they are all of the lower orders. How
strange!’

They had no idea of the size of the crowd that was gath
ering on St Peter's Fields, for of course they must be
converging from all directions, but judging by the number
that went past Hobsbawn House, Rosamund guessed it would
be several thousand. They also saw a troop of the 15th
Hussars clatter past, wearing their Waterloo medals, and
grinning broadly beneath their cavalry whiskers. Both young
women stared after them eagerly, falling silent for a moment,
wondering if they might recognise an old friend. Rosamund
was reminded painfully of that other time they had hung out
of a window watching the soldiers go past – a lifetime ago, it
seemed, in Brussels. Ah, but those soldiers had not come
marching back.

‘
Jasper says the magistrates have called on the Manchester
and Salford Yeomanry to keep order,' Sophie said, and the
tone of her voice revealed that she had been thinking of the
same thing. 'But I suppose they will like to have a trained
body on hand, in case of trouble. The Yeomanry are not very
well drilled.'

‘
That's not quite what he said, is it?' Rosamund said,
watching the last bobbing tails and swinging pelisses disap
pear. 'I happened to overhear him this morning – he said they
are a joke, and not a very good one.’

Sophie smiled faintly. ‘Do you think there will be trouble?'
she asked in a small voice.

‘
Of course not,' Rosamund said. 'Why should there be? If
they were worried about it, the magistrates could have
arrested Henry Hunt at any time. The fact that they're
allowing him to go ahead must mean they know it will be
peaceful.'

‘
Oh, yes,' Sophie said, and added, 'Jasper means to be
there, you see.'

‘Not amongst the crowd?'

‘Oh, no, at the tavern on the corner of Windmill Street.

He'll watch from a window. All the same –'

‘
Then there's nothing to worry about,' Rosamund said
firmly. She wondered if Jes would meet up with Jasper. It
would be a good way of ensuring he was invited back to Hobs
bawn House to tell them all. On the other hand, knowing Jes,
he was just as likely to want to mingle with the 'mobility' and
be in the heart of it. Still, he was tall and strong, unlike Jasper; he would not get jostled by a crowd of labouring
people, all of whom would be much shorter and more puny
than he.

They heard the roar go up from the invisible crowd, which
must signal the arrival of Orator Hunt on the field. Rosa
mund looked at Sophie and raised her brows. 'That,' she said,
‘is a very large crowd indeed. I shouldn't wonder if there
weren't ten thousand in it.’

The cheering went on for some time, and then faded away,
leaving behind it the sound of 'God Save the King' being
played slightly out of synchronisation by two bands. When that died away, there was silence as far as the women were concerned. Presumably Hunt had begun to speak: his voice alone would not carry to them here. They turned away, and
Sophie shut the window.

They settled themselves with their work and their conver
sation, to pass the time until Jasper – and Rosamund hoped
Jesmond – should come in to take a nuncheon with them. The
time passed pleasantly, for they were always good company
for each other, and they did not particularly notice any
further sounds from outside, until suddenly Sophie inter
rupted Rosamund in the middle of a sentence, sitting up
straight and saying, 'Listen!'

‘
What is it?'

‘I thought I heard someone scream.’

They both listened tensely for a moment. There did seem
to be some distant kind of clamour coming from outside, but
it was impossible to make out what it was.

‘
They're just cheering,' Rosamund said after a moment.

But Sophie was looking pale. 'I don't think so,' she said.
She put her work down and went quickly to the window, and
threw it up. At once the hot, August air pushed its way in,
carrying on it the sound of a large crowd in the distance, not
cheering, but shouting.