Oliver Cromwell frowned. "I understand from General
Marshall that you are considered a ward of Parliament, mistress. Is that a
position you are content with?
"
His
voice was sharp and unmelodious.
"I would prefer still to be my father
'
s daughter, si
r?
Ginny replied in a tone devoid of expression. She did not add, "or my
husband's wife," for that would be a lie, although it would add even
greater weight to her statement.
Cromwell glanced thoughtfully up at his newest general, who
was staring stonily into the middle distance. "It is not Parliament's
custom to cast the orphans of this war penniless upon the world," he said,
"even when those victims be our enemies, Mistress Courtney. General
Marshall acted correctly and compassionately."
"I am certain it must be as you say, sir," she
responded in a flat voice. "I am hardly in a position to argue."
"What d'ye intend doing with her, Alex?" Cromwell,
abandoning the attempt to persuade the prisoner of Parliament's point of view,
addressed her protector instead.
"Do you mean at this moment, sir? Or in the long
term?" Alex gritted, making no attempt to conceal his angry discomfiture
at Ginny's insolence.
A glint of humor softened the commander-in-chie
f’s
stern countenance. "I leave the details to you,
General. I am sure you are more than equal to the task. Now, what were you
saying, Mr. Maidstone?" He turned away, after according Ginny a brief nod,
and resumed his interrupted conversation with his steward and member of
Parliament, John Maidstone.
"I did warn you," Ginny declared in an impassioned
whisper to the frozen-faced Alex. "My father died fighting against that
man; you could not expect me to accord him — "
"I expected you to accord him ordinary civility,"
Alex interrupted.
"So I did," she maintained stoutly. "I spoke
only the truth. If Oliver Cromwell does not care to hear it, men more fool
him."
"
Well,
fortunately it did no harm," he said with a sigh. "I cannot really
blame you, but your sense of self-preservation is sadly unformed, my dear Virginia.
Had he so pleased, Cromwell could have ordered you lodged with some loyal
family in Spital Fields, or somewhere, and there would you remain."
"I do not think you believe that," Ginny said,
hiding her relief at the cessation of his annoyance. "I do not believe I
would remain there at all."
Alex chuckled involuntarily. "No, I do not believe you
would either, my resourceful rebel. Let us follow the company into
dinner." Guests were already seating themselves at long tables in the
banqueting house, and servants were bearing in dishes as Alex and Ginny entered
the noisy room where the air was heavy with the rich scents of perfume and
spicy food.
"I am not going to the high table," Ginny said,
hanging back, when she saw where he was leading her.
"
That is too much, Alex, to be stared
at and prodded like the fat lady at the fair."
"
Well,
I am damned if I'll dine anywhere else," declared General Marshall, the
youngest son of the earl of Grantham.
"You
may sit below the salt
if you please.
"
Ginny did not please, so was obliged to grit her teeth and
endure as he seated her at the table on the dais where dined Cromwell's
intimates and the most powerful members of his retinue, feasting well above the
common herd. She drew a fair degree of attention, but Alex, to her relief, made
no attempt to draw her into any of the conversations he was having, introducing
her only when it was unavoidable. Thus neglected, and content to be so, she was
able to observe the company with as much dispassionate disdain as she pleased. Her
platter was piled high with roast boar, her goblet constantly refilled with
rich burgundy, and having little else to do, Ginny consumed the food absently.
When Alex assisted her to her feet at the end of the meal, her legs seemed to
have taken on the consistency of jelly.
"Take me back to the inn
,
" she whispered with some urgency.
"What is it?" Alex looked at her in concern.
"Roast boar
,
"
she gasped. "It does not agree with me."
"It is not so much the boar as the burgundy
?
he chid
e
d.
"
I had thought you more inclined to
circumspection.''
"Oh, do not gloat
,
"
Ginny begged, hanging onto his arm. "I was so bored, I did not
notice."
Alex clicked his tongue against his teeth reprovingly but,
when he saw that she was in genuine distress, stopped teasing her and bore her
out of the palace into the fresh air.
"
That
is better." Ginny breathed deeply.
"
But
my head is spinning so."
"You must learn to hold your wine, child. It is
fortunate Diccon is not here to take his revenge for the way you scolded him
this morning. I seem destined to spend my evenings putting to bed intoxicated
innocents." Alex was laughing, even as his arm supported her with strong
comfort, half carrying her down the street.
"It is only because such rich living has not come my way
for the last four years." Ginny attempted to recover her lost dignity.
"It is Parliament who lives high on the hog, these days, not Royalists;
and my head and my belly are no longer accustomed.
"That would indeed explain it," he agreed gravely,
and Ginny giggled, a delightfully girlish sound that he had not heard before.
It would be a great pity if it were only to be heard under the influence of
burgundy, Alex thought, but then she had had
little
reason for indulging in girlish giggles since her girlhood
had come to such an abrupt close.
The wine, however, did nothing to inhibit her when they
attained the seclusion of their chamber. With mischief in her eyes, she proved
how very much more adept she was than harlots in Southwark at the art of
stripping, teasing, and tantalizing him, dancing just out of his reach until,
driven beyond bearing, he seized her and threw her on the bed where she
writhed, wonderfully soft and sinuous, until he drew her legs onto his
shoulders, and plunged into the very center of her, and her body stilled in
wonder, her eyes locked with his through the engulfing tidal wave of eternal
pleasure.
Ginny fell asleep almost instantly as the wine finally took
its toll, and Alex lay in the darkness wondering when next they would have such
an interlude, when again they would be able to carve out a secluded oasis from
the overpopulated military desert that he inhabited. He would not be able to
act the civilian again in the foreseeable future; from tomorrow, he would have
an entire division under his command, men who had probably been used to a lax
order and would need much work to prepare them for the task they faced, if they
were to become efficient and, therefore, as safe as impending battle could make
them. There would be little enough time for lovers' play in the days ahead, but
they would take what they could, when they could.
Chapter 15
The transitory nature of their interlude in the Blue Boar was
brought home to Ginny forcefully over the next week. She hardly saw Alex,
although she seemed to hear his voice constantly, crisp, impatient, and once or
twice with that flaying edge that sent everyone in the vicinity scuttling. He
had explained to her on the ride back to Southwark how it would be until they
began the march to Scotland, and she had shrugged acceptingly. Now, she settled
into a pattern similar to that adopted by the other women in the camp, busying
herself with domestic matters about the headquarters building, and foraging in
the surrounding fields for herbs and simples, replenishing her supplies and
preparing medicines in the inn kitchen, filling the air with the distillation
of spearmint and tilla, hawthorn berries and blackberry leaves.
If Alex was aware of these activities, he gave no sign,
merely acknowledging her absently when they happened to meet around the inn or
in the village. At the dinner table, the conversation was always of military
matters, a simple continuation of the day's business with his officers, and the
talk continued long after she had retired. Ginny lay on her narrow bed in her
little cupboard, listening to the rumble of voices below —
t
here were no more riotous evenings of debauchery with
the camp whores
— trying to stay awake until she
heard Alex's step on the stairs, but somehow she never could, and he never came
to wake her. The lover had given way to the soldier more thoroughly than ever
before, and Ginny wondered a little desolately if, perhaps, the novelty had
worn off, and she could no longer distract the man of war with the softer
excitements of love and lust.
Unfortunately, when she did inadvertently intrude on his
concentration, it was in a somewhat explosive manner that d
i
d not lend itself to softnesses of any kind.
Ginny had become rather careless in her physicking visits
among the men. She now felt perfectly safe with them, was received warmly and
gratefully, knew that what she was doing was important and necessary, knew also
that she was more skilled and more knowledgeable than the army sur
g
eons who amputated without consideration, took little
care for basic cleanliness, and had little time for ailments that did not
require the knife. She visited the camp morning and evening and was soon
offering her help to men in other brigades. Since they were all now under the
command of General Marshall, that seemed to Ginny perfectly right and proper.
Alex had originally intended to begin the march to
Scotland within three days of his visit to Whitehall but soon realized that, in
such a short time, he could not possibly lick the division into anything
approximating the shape he c
o
nsidered necessary
to accomplish the journey in good order. The delay made him irritable, his
insistence on
pe
rfection made everyone else on edge,
and temper
s
rose
lik
e the thunderclouds that suddenly appeared, promising a
te
mpestuous end to the long, dry spell.
Ah, mistress, you be needed in the camp
."
Jed appeared i
n
the kitchen, looking for once slightly breathless.
"Is it urgent?" Ginny took a flat iron off the
range and spat on the bottom to ascertain its temperature. There was a s
ati
sfying sizzle. "It has taken me half an hour to
heat the
iro
ns
,
Jed; if I leave them now, they will go cold again
.
"
She shook out the folds of one of
Alex's tunics and spread the garment on the table. "Not that the general
would notice these days if his garments were wrinkled," she added.
"Only it seems silly, if I am ironing my own clothes, not to iron
his."
"Looked pretty urgent to me," Jed remarked,
disregarding the matter of irons. "Man's bleedin' badly. It could be a
matter for the surgeons, but
—
" He
shrugged. "It come of a fight, and the general's become uncommon difficult
about such things. If the surgeons get to hear of it, sure as life
he
will,
and they'd as soon bleed to death."
Ginny pulled a face, well aware of the truth of this.
"I’
l
l fetch my basket." Abandoning
the irons and the pile of clothes, she went upstairs, returning within minutes
to where Jed was still waiting.
"
Where
is the general, this morning, Jed? Do you know?"
"Conductin' a drill on the far parade ground," the
batman informed her. "He'll not be back for an hour or so."
Her patient was bleeding profusely from a deep knife wound in
the shoulder, but he and his companions seemed mostly concerned
th
at the injury and its cause be kept secret from their
superiors. Ginny cleansed and bandaged the gash, heedless of the blood dripping
onto her apron. "You'll not be able to use that arm for some days,
soldier, not even to carry your pike," she said. "How're you going to
explain it?"
"
'Is mates'll cover for him," Jed said calmly. "You'd best be gettin'
back, mistress; 'tis almost noon."
Ginny left the camp but found herself reluctant to return to
the hot kitchen and the pile of ironing. The day was heavy, and thick clouds of
gnats hung in the air as if waiting for the storm that would dispel the muggy
tension. She made her way down to the river, hoping for a little breeze coming
off the broad green and brown expanse of water that flowed between high banks.
It was a peaceful spot, shielded from the camp and the village of Southwark by
a screen of trees and shrubs. On the far bank, cows grazed serenely. Ginny
glanced up at the salmon sky, remembering the old wives' tale that said cows
grazing before thunder would produce curdled milk. Kicking off her sandals, she
lay back on the grassy bank, curli
n
g
her bare
toes
jn
the coo
l
green
grass
that seemed to retain a little river moisture.