The Vizard Mask (74 page)

As she watched him begin to dress, she was returned to the Rookery. 'Last time you apologized and never came back,' she said.

He was pulling on his boots. 'You remember.'

'Oh for God's sake. Of course I do.' Think what you like. Think anything. Only don't leave me again.

'It's only Monmouth this time, not Louis. I'll be back.' He arched over her, leaning on his hands so that he could look at her. 'I'll leave you Muskett. You can trust Muskett. But for Christ's sake be careful or you'll be hanging from your own gatehouse like that poor sod earlier.' He kissed her hard. 'And do something about this bloody bed. I'm covered in feathers.'

She snuggled into it as he went out, picking down off his shoulders. When she heard his step in the courtyard, she had to pull a sheet round her shoulders and rush to the window. He was still brushing feathers off his uniform. Churchill and some of the other officers were joshing him about her. He shrugged them off and waved his hat at her as he rode away with the others.

She stayed where she was, trying to glimpse him coming out of the gatehouse before he disappeared down the drive. The doxy bidding the night's soldier goodbye from her window. Nearly the oldest scene in the world. She didn't care.

A hoof stamped below her and she looked down. There was one horse left in the courtyard. Its rider came out from the doorway immediately below her window. Nevis. He swung into the saddle looking round at the house, an owner checking that everywhere was secure, as his horse clattered towards the tunnel gatehouse. She saw that the Paschal Lamb colours had been taken down.

Just before he entered the tunnel, he reined in and turned his horse round. Instantly she drew back. no.

Nevis smiled, took off his hat and waved it - exactly as the Viscount had done. Then he went.

Chapter 4

The decisive factor of Monmouth's rising was that the gentry did not join him. Tories were satisfied with James II, and few Whig landowners at this stage were prepared to go against the legitimate successor to the throne, even if he was a Catholic, in the cause of a bastard, however Protestant.

The thousands of artisans and poorer men who flocked to Monmouth's banner had done well in the battle of Sedgemoor, executing a difficult night advance and fighting bravely when the action began, but without modern weapons and training they could not hope to stand up for long against disciplined troops, especially those under that rising commander of men, John Churchill.

Once their lines broke, panic took over and they ran. The death toll was large. The churchwardens at Weston Zoyland in charge of clearing the battlefield alone listed 1,384 corpses which were buried in mass pits in the marshes. Many bodies lay unrecovered.

Monmouth was discovered three days after the battle, hiding in a ditch where he'd been gnawing on a handful of peas. He was taken to the Tower of London and executed.

A lucky few of his officers managed to escape to the Netherlands, some 1,300 men were taken prisoner, the rest — about a third — were hunted across the moors and hills of Somerset like deer. Militia officers who had not distinguished themselves when Monmouth was a force to be reckoned with became enthusiastic hounds of human quarry, offering their troopers five shillings per rebel taken - or their victim's goods if he were propertied.

But as in war so in rounding up fugitives the militia proved amateur in comparison with Kirk's Lambs. Corpses hanging from shop-signs became synonymous with the Tangier regimental colours and spread such terror that people who gave shelter to fugitives were frequently betrayed by their neighbours to avoid reprisals.

The gaols of Hampshire, Dorset, Somerset and Devon became overcrowded as they waited for the Lord Chief Justice, Sir George Jeffreys, and four other judges to deliver them of their rebels in what was to go down in history as the Bloody Assize.

At the end of every market day those merchants and squires who owned land in and around the Levels gathered at the White Hart in Taunton to drink cider together before they went home. It was an unofficial gathering but time-honoured; womenfolk were rarely present. It had surprised Penitence, while in Taunton on her own business, to receive an invitation. And also, on attending, to receive news of the latest arrest. 'Lady Alice?'

' 'Tis so, I tell ee.' Sir Ostyn was irritated.

'But... Lady Alice. How could you do it?'

He stamped so that the floor of the inn's upstairs room shook. 'Dang it, tid'n nothing to do with me. Tis martial law. The preacher were up her chimbley and into prison she do go, magistrate or no magistrate, neighbour or no neighbour.' He poured Penitence and the others a beaker of cider. 'Yere, sup that.'

"Tis a cruel shock, I know, Peg. But she shouldn't a-been a- hiding of rebels,' Sir Roger Pascoe pointed out reasonably. There was a general nod of agreement.

'She's old. She gets confused. Who found this preacher up her chimney? Nevis, I suppose?'

There was silence. The major's sixth sense had made him the Black Shuck of the Levels and the islands round about. Villagers evoked his name to frighten their children and told stories of how he had turned his horse aside from the causeway and directed his men to where a rebel hid in Middlezoy Ditch a mile away. 'Could'n've known, he could'n. Must have sniffed un, like a dog.' Infected with fear of him as she was, Penitence tried to be rational and had pooh-poohed Prue's hysterical accounts of seeing the man watching the house at nights - until she herself saw a horseman wearing a hat with a high feather standing on the moat bridge in the July moonlight making no attempt to hide.

'I don't like un, I admit,' said an innkeeper from Middlezoy. 'Nearly a month now and he won't have they corpses taken down from my sign, making it unsalubrious for trade. But he's keen for the King and I admire that in a man.'

'God bless the King, God love un,' said Sir Ostyn. There was a general: 'God bless King James.' Penitence blew out her cheeks but added a slavish 'Amen'. Royal devotion was the order of the day

'Let's get on with ut,' said Mayor Cranbourn. 'Oh, the burden the Assize do lay on us loyal burgesses you would'n believe.' He handed her a well-thumbed letter. 'You know Sir George's mind, Peg. See here. Would you say he means a gallows to be erected in every market square? Or only the greater markets? Or cattle markets? Or poultry markets? Or which markets?'

'I've no idea. Ask him.' Unhelpfully, Penitence handed the letter back. Since it had become known through the Clerk of the Assizes, who had come ahead of his master, that Sir George Jeffreys wished his favourite actress, Mistress Peg Hughes, to be included in the arrangements for his welcome, she had been consulted on every aspect of the Lord Chief Justice's likes and dislikes. It was why she'd been invited today.

'Suffering something wicked from the stone, he is, Peg, and very hasty with ut they do say,' explained the Mayor.

"Tis all very well but do judge and King know the expense we're put to?' Sir Roger took over the reading of the letter.

'"Halters to provide for the rebels, faggots for the burning of their bowels, a furnace and cauldron for the boiling of heads and quarters, salt for the preservation of the pieces - half a bushel each man." Do he know the price of salt? "Tar, oxen, drays and wains.'"

'They haven't even been tried yet.' She looked wonderingly about her. These weren't cruel men; good husbands, fathers and neighbours. Like her, they knew some of the rebels personally, their shoes had been mended by them, wool from their sheep had been woven on the now-deserted looms. Yet they could consider the provision of instruments for such people's destruction in the same manner with which they discussed a coming storm.

Sharply, she turned to the reason she'd accepted the invitation. 'Can I rely on your tenants in my fields next month, Sir Ostyn? Sir Roger?' With so many casual labourers in prison, field workers were at a premium and Penitence was worrying for her teasel harvest.

Sir Roger looked at her craftily. He was a Somerset man. 'How about this yere acting, then?'

She had a deep reluctance to meet Sir George Jeffreys ever again, let alone put on a performance for him, but it would undoubtedly be politic to do so; nobody would suspect a woman in favour with the greatest judge in the land of harbouring a rebel. And she needed her teasels harvested. But damn. 'A short performance, then,' she agreed.

They shook hands. 'And yere,' Sir Roger was back to his letter, '"sufficient number of spears and poles to fix the heads and quarters." How many do ee think's "sufficient"? I wonder, would His Lordship mind if we stuck un on palings?'

'For God's sake.' She turned away and took Sir Ostyn to one side. 'Any sign of her, Ostyn?'

He shook his head. 'I've searched every list from every gaol this side of the Poldens and I've not found un.'

'What about MacGregor? Perhaps she gave her name as Dorinda MacGregor. Ostyn, there can't be that many women in gaol in Somerset.'

'You'd be surprised, maid. They be rife, rife. Silly girt besoms like the schoolmistress—'

That reminds me.' Penitence turned on her neighbours. 'Who's going to speak to Sir George about the Maids?'

They might be prepared for the execution of troublesome rebels, they might not stand up for poor Lady Alice Lisle but, surely, there wasn't a man in the room who wouldn't protest against the imprisonment of the twenty-seven little girls whose only crime had been to present a flag to Monmouth. Poor Hurry Yeo of Athelzoy's Hoy Arms, whose daughter was among those in the gaol at Taunton Castle, had solicited her support, and she'd been sure that she'd find a sympathetic hearing from even the strongest Tory.

Until now. 'Who's going to speak?' she asked again. After a long silence she said: '1 see.'

'He do know thee, see, Peg,' said Sir Roger.

Angrily, Penitence turned back to Sir Ostyn. 'And Mudge Ridge? He's not on a prison list either?'

'I'm sorry, Peg.'

What am I going to say to Prue? What am I going to say to Tongs? It was as if Dorinda, MacGregor and Mudge had disappeared off the face of the earth. She had tried to pretend to herself that the silence with regard to Dorinda and MacGregor had been because they'd got away, had managed to avoid the aftermath of the battle and find a boat to Holland. But Mudge's absence since he'd gone off to bring them to the house made this explanation unlikely. Every day that passed reinforced the obvious: the three were dead or captured.

The trouble was that the captured had been dispersed among prisons all over the county and beyond, with little record of who had been sent where. Henry had made enquiries for her at Weston Zoyland where most of the rebels killed during the battle had been buried in huge pits, but nobody remembered the corpse of a woman. Oh, Dorinda.

'They'd've given false names I dare say. Protect their families, like,' said Sir Ostyn, kindly. 'Don't ee despair, my beauty. They'll be safe in gaol, depend on ut.'

No comfort there; reports from the prisons said conditions were so bad that if the Assize didn't start soon there'd be no rebels left to try.

Her voice quavered. They shouldn't be in gaol at all. They haven't done anything.' As far as Dorinda and Mudge went, this was true. She'd seen no reason to tell the magistrate that Dorinda's husband had been with Monmouth's army.

After the cool of the dark upstairs room of the White Hart, to step into Fore Street was like opening a kiln; heat rushed at her, ferocious for late afternoon. Further along the moony eyes of the Paschal Lamb stared at her from the standard hung on a bracket from the door of the inn where the officers of Kirk's regiment had made their headquarters. She couldn't bear to look at the thing. She noticed that pedestrians hurried their steps to pass it. Already the area of Taunton where the non-commissioned Lambs were billeted was known as 'Tangiers' and its formerly mild, provincial alleys had attained many of the less savoury aspects of that city.

It was not likely that James II's troops would be kind to the people of Taunton, which had been called by succeeding Stuarts 'the most factious town in England'. It had been steadfast for Parliament through the Civil War, withstanding two royalist sieges which had destroyed two-thirds of it. A breeding ground of Nonconformism, it had supplied a regiment of men for Monmouth and its prisons now held over five hundred awaiting trial by Judge Jeffreys.

She turned in the direction of the Castle where the parents of the Maids of Taunton kept a vigil outside the prison; she'd brought Mrs Yeo in the donkey cart and must now collect her to take her home. The woman's dreadful anxiety was infectious. Penitence knew that tonight she would again send Boiler over to the Cartwrights at Crewkerne to see that Ruperta and Tongs were safe, despite her assurance that they would be; the Cartwrights, nice people, had absorbed them as well as most of her staff and even her dogs into their own, huge family, thrilled to be able to tell their neighbours that they were fostering Prince Rupert's daughter for the duration.

Penitence missed the girls badly. The reason she had given for not allowing them to return yet was that, with the Priory so near Sedgemoor, there was still a likelihood of rebel activity in the area, to say nothing of unpleasantness from the proximity of Kirk's Lambs. Even in Crewkerne, they shuddered at the name of Kirk's Lambs.

What worried her more, what kept her awake at nights, was the consequences to them if it was discovered that the Priory was concealing one of Monmouth's commanders. At best Penitence's estate would be sequestered and Ruperta thereby deprived of her inheritance. Tongs would have lost not only her mother, but a home.

'Mistress Hughes?'

She spun round. The man following her down the short cut to the Castle was ordinarily dressed but she recognized a Dissenter; there was something Puritan in the rigidity of the neck and shoulders, the way the fingertips of each hand were prinked together, as if relaxation might lay him open to the accusation of being human. 'Yes?'

'A word, Mistress Hughes.' He was looking around to see if they were observed.