An Honourable Estate (5 page)

“Bradshaw,” said the bailiff at last, his fat finger pausing
above the neatly written figures. “You owe us twenty shillings.” 

“Surely not?” burst out William, staring at the man as if he
was sure he had misread the amount.  “We paid less than half that last
time, and I have performed knight’s service for the Earl of Lancaster.”

The bailiff regarded him for a long moment with an enigmatic
expression.  “Times are hard,” he said at length.  “The price of
wheat has more than doubled since last year and so rents and taxes have had to
be increased.”

“But the king has ordered the price of basic foodstuffs to be
brought down!”  William’s fist met the table as his anger burst out,
though the man didn’t move or even flinch, merely held up a hand to silence
him.

“Sir William, the king deceives the common people.  The
fruitfulness of living things is in the power of God alone and it is His will,
not the will of man, that must determine the price.  If you are in
financial difficulty then I am sure that some arrangement can be agreed. 
For the payment of a small fee I may be able to negotiate a reduction...”

William stared at him in silence and Mabel watched as a slow
smile twitched at the man’s lips.  They all knew what he was
offering.  For a sweetener or a bribe he would take what was probably the
correct amount.  Mabel was about to tell the man exactly what she thought
of him, but a glance from William bade her hold her tongue.  And when she
saw him glance towards the door where two of the henchmen were standing guard
she understood why.  Any reluctance to pay would only result in more being
taken by force. 

The bailiff smiled and gestured to William to sit down. 
“I’m sure we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement,” he said.  “I
could cut the tax by as much as a quarter, if it were worth my while.”

“And how much would you charge to cut it by half?”

The bailiff laughed out loud.  “Come, Sir William,” he
replied.  “Do not take too much advantage of my good nature.  I am
trying to do you a favour.  Do not trouble me with your insults.” 
His face grew serious again as Mabel watched him lean closer to her husband and
whisper a figure in his ear.  “My last offer,” he said.

Mabel watched as William placed the bag of money that he had
counted out onto the bailiff’s open palm.

“There is ten shillings,” he said.  “I will fetch you
the rest.”  Reluctantly Mabel unhooked the key from her belt and gave it
to her husband, then listened as he counted out the extra coins − the
sound punctuated by the bailiff humming a tune and drumming his fingers on the
arm of the chair as he waited.

When William returned and handed over the extra coins the
odious man had the audacity to smile and thank him effusively as if it was a
gift freely given, although Mabel saw him weigh the bag expertly in his hand
and glance inside to assure himself that he had not been cheated.

“It has been a pleasure,” he said as he rose to leave,
pulling his cloak about him again.  “Though it was a pity your wife
offered me no refreshment.”  He stared at Mabel and she felt her heart
begin to pound in terror as he looked at her with his greedy eyes. 
“Perhaps next time,” he remarked with a slight lift of an eyebrow.  Then
he swept out of the hall door, signalling his men to follow him.  He
mounted his horse and, within moments, they were riding away into the all-enveloping
mist.

“Damn them!  Damn them to hell!” shouted William. 
Mabel saw him look down at the red line that crossed his palm.  “I will
not stand by and do nothing!” he warned her and Mabel trembled with fear ‒
fear for him, for herself and for their children.

Later
that morning William looked up in alarm as he heard hoofbeats
approaching.  Surely the man was not returning to demand more, he thought,
reaching to check his dagger was sheathed at his belt.  He would pay no
more, he thought, even it meant committing a crime.  But there was only
one rider this time and by the time the man had dismounted William was at the
door to greet his friend.

“Adam!” he cried.  “What brings you here on such a day
as this?  Come inside.  Come inside.”

“I have a letter!”  The excitement in his voice was
palpable.  “From the king.”  He drew out a parchment and smoothed it
flat on a corner of the trestle table that was set out for dinnertime. 
“He has granted us permission to act in his name against Thomas, Earl of
Lancaster!”

“Good God, Adam!  Is this genuine?” asked William as he
stared at the writing, at the signature and the seal.

“It is!” said Adam triumphantly.  “I paid a messenger
handsomely to ride with haste and pledge to the king our allegiance in his
troubles with his cousin Lancaster.  Whatever we do now, we do it in the
name of King Edward.”

William looked up at his friend’s excited face and saw that
he meant to pursue this uprising.  Still stinging from the money he had
been forced to part with to Holland’s bailiff, and anxious about the additional
hardships that the coming winter would bring, he found himself in agreement −
despite his qualms about how he would make his peace with Mab. 

“We must gather men and arms, and get what food and supplies
we can,” said William.

 Adam nodded.  “First we will assemble the men and
as many horses as we can find.  Then we will gather supplies.  Once
the men are armed and can be fed we will ride against Lancaster and we will see
him defeated!”

“Amen to that!” replied William as a watery sun shone a weak
shaft of light in through the unshuttered window onto the hard earthen floor of
the hall. 

“And I would ask a favour,” said Adam quietly, taking William
by the arm and drawing him away from the pantry door so that they wouldn’t be
overheard.  “My man, Will Tegg...”

“The one who ‒”

“Yes.”  Adam drew a finger to his lips in warning. 
“He has come to me for help, but the sheriff’s men still seek him and he will
not be safe on my land.  I wondered, will you...?  Could you conceal
him?”  William hesitated.  He did not want to bring danger to his
manor and his family, but he could not very well refuse.  He would not see
the man caught and hanged for a moment’s recklessness.

“Tell him to come after dark,” he said.  “Tell him to
wait behind the barn until I come for him and I will find him a safe place to
hide.”

“I’m grateful,” said Adam.  “We must look out for our
own now.”

“Yes,” said William as he thought once again of his wife and
daughters and prayed that he was doing the right thing.

Chapter Three

Rebellion

On Wednesday,
the twenty-second of October, William woke early having slept only fitfully
during the night.  He twitched back the bed curtains and saw the clean
undershirt and braies that Mabel had prepared for him.  His padded
gambeson and mail tunic and leggings lay across the coffer at the foot of the
bed, along with his surcoat with the Bradshaigh arms of the three black
martlets.  Before long he would have to get up, but until then he had a
few more minutes to lie beside his sleeping wife.  As he turned for one
last look at her in the privacy of their bed he saw that she too was lying
awake. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching to take a strand of her fair
hair between his fingers.  “Please let us part on good terms?”  He
searched her stark blue eyes for forgiveness, for understanding.  He loved
her so much and hated the way that he never seemed able to tell her how he
felt.  Whenever he tried he always ended by making some jest.

She sighed and reached to clasp her hand around his. 
She looked so small and frail and when he had loved her last night he had been
afraid that she might break she had become so thin with hunger and worry.

“Will you give me your blessing before I go?” he asked,
leaning to kiss her pale face in the early morning light.  “I... I love
you,” he mumbled.

“William,” she replied with the smile that always made him
feel so tender and protective of her.  “I know.  I love you too,” she
told him, touching her gentle hand to his cheek.  “Go, if you must – but
take care of yourself.”  He bent to kiss her soft lips, feeling her yield
to him as her fingers tangled themselves in his hair.  Then she pushed him
firmly away from her.  “No,” she said.  “You must get ready.  I
can hear the men bringing out the horses already and you must not keep them
waiting.  I will still be here when you return.”

He knew she was right.  The sun was up and it would soon
be time to march out to meet up with Adam and the other rebels at Charnock
Richard.

He put on his underclothes as Mabel quickly dressed herself and
went to ensure that a breakfast was set out for the men who were to ride with
him.  There was little to share, but he was determined that no one would
leave hungry and by the time he took his seat at the top table there was a
welcoming aroma of fresh bread and ale filling the great hall.  And even
though he had assured his tenants that they had a free choice, and that his
waiving of their Michaelmas dues was not dependant on their agreeing to
accompany him, William was relieved and pleased to see that everyone who was
able had turned out, having polished up the armour they had worn on the
Scottish campaign.  After prayers and a blessing from Father Gilbert,
William thanked the men for their loyalty and support then bade them eat.

His wife and daughters had broken their fast in the
bedchamber but came to say their farewells as the company rose to leave.

 “I will be home soon,” he promised Mab as he bent to
kiss her a chaste farewell.  He hoped that their love was strong enough to
withstand anything the future might hold, even though she had not given him the
blessing he craved.  “Take care of our daughters,” he said, as he kissed
each of the girls in turn.  Then he buckled his sword belt at his waist
and picked up his helm and gauntlets. 

Outside the door the young son of a villager was holding his
stallion, brushed and harnessed.   Beside him Harry Palmer held the
Bradshaigh banner, fluttering in the sharp wind.  He put his foot to his
stirrup and easily mounted the tall horse.  Then, after a last smile at
his wife, William led them out of the village and their womenfolk stood at the
doors of the houses to see them go. 

Adam was waiting for them.  As William led his men
towards the market cross he saw that his friend had amassed quite a following
too and was surprised at the number of horses he had brought, though many more
men were on foot and only poorly armed.  Harry Duxbury and Henry Lea had
also kept their word and at a quick count William thought that there must have
been going on for a hundred men and perhaps two dozen horses milling around the
square.

“It’s good to see you!” Adam greeted him, his face bright
with anticipation.

“Surely you didn’t doubt me?”

“Not for a moment,” he grinned.

“And your man Tegg rides with us – under my colours and
mounted on Henry Bury’s horse,” William told him.

“Good man!” laughed Adam.  “Let’s hope we will all
survive this fight.  Have you seen Sir Adam Walton?” he asked.

“No.  Why?”

“He is pledged to the cause but has not arrived.  I
think we should send a party to remind him of his allegiance,” remarked Adam as
he beckoned to one of his armed and mounted men.  “I do not trust those
who change their minds.”

“And if he will not come?”

“He will come,” Adam assured him as he gave orders to the man
to bring Walton willingly or under duress.  “Now we ride for Standish
church,” he told William.  “We have more supporters who await us there.”

William smiled as he watched his friend urge the men forward
and signalled to his own villagers to follow on.  The sound of the hooves,
the creak of the saddles, the determined marching footsteps of the booted army
sent a thrill through him and this time there was no overlord to please; this
time the fight and the victory would be all their own.

At Standish he recognised Sir Ralph de Bickerstaffe and John
Henry, and Gilbert de Bickerstaffe, who took oath to join them and after they
had sharpened their blades on the stone walls of the church they set off again,
this time following the Banastre banner towards Wigan.  The leaves on the
trees were turning to orange and yellow as they rode.  They would have
been a magnificent sight if the sun had been shining, mused William, but
instead the mist clung to them and made them hang limply as the light faded in
the early afternoon.

 As they approached the town    Adam fell
back to ride beside him.  “All these men will need to be fed,” he said
with a worried frown.  William glanced around them.  He had advised
his own men to bring with them as much food as they could, but what they’d had
was long since eaten and the men would expect their bellies to be filled before
nightfall.  “Where will we find food?” asked Adam.

“I think I know a place,” remarked William with a wry smile
as he recognised Holland’s manor house in the distance.  Although he was
confident that Holland himself was not in residence he could imagine his
bailiff lording it over the servants, pleased with his illicit haul of supposed
taxation.  “I’m sure Sir Robert can spare a little more than trencher
bread to feed our army,” he said referring to the lord’s habit of handing out
the leftovers from his table to beggars at his gate.