Infernal Revolutions (58 page)

A lusty, dirty cheer went up.

‘He has also brought us much valuable information on our foes. Listen to what he has to say, and try not to laugh as he says it.'

With the aid of an interpreter, the indoor question and answer session was repeated, only this time each answer I gave was rewarded with a sobbing cheer.

‘So you see, Schweine,' Rall went on, ‘there is absolutely no danger from the Rebels. There is no need to break our backs building earthworks or any fortifications whatsoever. We are safe enough as we are.'

Another great cheer went up.

‘So, Sergeant Klotz, bring the drilling to an end for the day, and let the men have the liquor. They deserve it as reward for their victorious campaign.' Then he turned to the troops, who seemed hardly able to believe their ears. ‘Happy Christmas, Schweine. And here – play with this Booby as you wish!'

To my surprise and horror, I was picked up and thrown to the howling soldiers like a hedgehog to a pack of hounds. Curling myself up into a protective ball, I was kicked, punched and pricked with bayonets, all to great Teutonic joy. Once this initial mauling was over, most of the men ran to the barrels, but several of the more soberminded stayed behind to question me in their broken English. Checking that their officers were out of earshot, they grabbed me by my lapels and began the interrogation.

‘Vass ist the price of a farm in Pennsylvania, Fool?'

‘Have you of Hans Berger and Pieter Riedle heard, who from this regiment five weeks ago deserted?'

‘What of Germantown, in der Nähe von Philadelphia, do you know?'

‘Scriveners in Philadelphia, do they have need of?'

As all these questions were accompanied by encouraging slaps to my face, I was not much inclined to respond even had I known the answers. But I managed instinctively to mumble and stammer out a few reassuring lies until the hardened cases returned, refreshed from their draughts of metheglin.

‘Stand aside and give the fool a drink!' cried out one hearty. ‘It might bring him to his senses.' Without further ado my jaw was grabbed and angled to receive a draught of the vile liquor. Knowing the dangers of swallowing, I did everything I could to prevent it from going down. I gargled, dribbled, coughed and spluttered, all to great Hessian amusement. Then the real questions poured in:

‘You have a vife, ja? Vare iss she?'

‘Go und bring her to us.'

‘Bring too your daughters and your sisters.'

‘And your nieces and cousins.'

‘And your mothers, aunts and grandmothers.'

‘Ach, Siegfried,' laughed a comrade, ‘you are zick!'

‘Don't vnock it till you've tvied it, Hans! I had zat gvandmutter in Bvunsvick vemember. Must have been zixty at least. Scvaggy arms und neck, aber zoft und plump und weiss as a chicken everyvare else.'

‘Ach – you cannot beat young girls. Ze younger ze better. At ten, zey are already too old.'

They laughed with the wild joy of the barbarian, and tried again to pour metheglin down my throat, this time successfully. Then one of them, perhaps the sick Siegfried, got another idea into his head, and lit up with creative joy.

‘Komm, Ich know vat ve can vith him do! Hans, fetch some nails und ein hammer. Everyvon else follow me und bving ze fool vith you.'

I did not like the sound of this, but not wanting to scream for help unless ‘twas absolutely necessary, I allowed myself to be dragged a hundred yards to a spot where a green-coated jäger was battering the ground with the butt of his rifle. I wondered what he was up to, until I heard the sound of ice cracking and water splashing. Then I knew very well.

‘Komm, thvow him in ze pond,' said the ringleader, after enough ice had been cleared.

Now I did deem it necessary to scream, but ‘twas futile. I was flung through the air like a rag doll, and landed plumb in the middle of the space created, where I flailed, gasped in the icy water, and duly sank. Above the roaring in my ears I could hear the sound of Hessians howling with delight.

‘Gut,' said the unknown but surely damned Hessian, as I was hauled out dripping and shivering fit to burst, ‘Now bving him to ze church.'

‘F-F-fuck off!' I mumbled in vain as the soldiers grabbed me, hoisted me up on their shoulders, and then carried me down King Street. The band started up again, as if to add a carnival atmosphere to the proceedings, and I got an upside-down view of them as I passed on my way to the church. I also passed what must have been Rall's quarters, for I saw him appear at a window with a glass of wine in one hand and a fan of cards in the other. As he raised his glass in approval, I saw another officer behind him peaking at his cards, in the manner of a painting by Mr Hogarth. Then my direction changed, and I was carried up to the church door, where Hans was waiting with hammer and nails.

‘Now, lift him upvight…gut..gut…now stretch his arms out…gut…gut…..'

Held tightly in place by strong hands, I screamed as the hammer hit the nails, thinking I was being genuinely crucified. But as it turned out I was only being tacked up against the door by my sleeves, collar and breeches. Once I was securely in place, they all stepped back to admire their handiwork, while I hung there dolefully – dripping, freezing, and no doubt dying.

‘Chin up, Jesus!' called one of the men. ‘You vill be back in zvee days!'

‘Take avay all our sins, Fool, so zat ve can start pillaging vith a clean conscience again!'

‘Tell St Peter ve are coming for him venn ve die! Ve will chain zat smug bastard to his gates, and his guts vith our ghostly bayonets ve vill outrippen!'

Then, curiously, and without any sense of irony, several of the men began singing carols and sobbing, while others, less curiously, hurled snowballs at me, many of which thumped into my plums, causing me exquisite agony; this provided entertainment for the remainder, who just watched and laughed and hooted with joy. Eventually, when all had had their fun, they started to make their way back to their warm quarters, there no doubt to finish the metheglin and brag about their future exploits.

Meanwhile I froze most uncomfortably. Across the way faces would occasionally appear at the windows, and laugh heartily in dumbshow. Robins hopped about on my head and shoulders, and shat on me. Squalls of sleet would come and go, plastering me with snow and slicing through my vitals in the process. I was, in truth, sick to death of the world, but though part of me wanted to go to sleep and be done with it, another part had an urge to see how much abuse a single body could take before giving up the ghost. So I held on, trying to keep conscious by imagining the hottest things I could. The trouble was, the hottest thing I could imagine was being burned alive, and this bothered me, because incineration might well be my fate yet if I was not cut down and released by the time the metheglin started to work its magic on the troops.

I was still alternately dousing and inflaming my imagination when I became aware of men's voices below me.

‘Come on, down with you, Cousin.'

‘Careful how you do it – I do not want any more damage to my church door.'

‘Tush – where is your Christian charity, man?'

‘I have no sympathy for fools, Chesney, especially ones from outside my parish.'

‘Here, hold him up, William, while I remove the nails.'

A few moments later, and I was lowered gently to the ground. But as my clothes were now frozen solid in the crucifix position, I could do no more than take a few desperate fairy footsteps, then crash forward wide-eyed and helpless into the snow, like an inebriated scarecrow.

‘I said hold him up, William!'

I was picked up by several pairs of hands and carried horizontally to a wagon, where excess snow was scraped away and blankets were thrown over me.

‘Don't forget to take his name and address,' persisted William, as the cart lurched forward and away. ‘I will send him the bill for repairs to the door.'

‘Don't worry, parson. King George will pay for that.'

‘Will he, though? We've seen precious little of his money so far. Take the fool's address, I say, just in case.'

The driver seemed to curse under his breath, and then the world became a cacophony of thuds, rattles and squeaks for the next hour while I was removed to a place of safety, which turned out to be one of the wooden houses I had passed on the way in, near the hamlet of Birmingham.

‘Hannah!' called the driver as he got down from his seat, ‘Come and help me carry in this poor boy.'

‘Oh my Lord!' exclaimed a redfaced old woman, running out, ‘What on earth has happened?'

‘Hessians got him; crucified him in ice on the door of the English Church.'

‘Monsters!' said the woman, putting her hands under my frozen armpits and dragging me off the wagon. ‘What on earth is happening to this country?'

‘It is not the same one Daniel died for, that is for sure, wife. Now, let us get him in front of the fire, quick.'

I did not like the sound of that
quick
, but I did like the feel of the wonderful fire. I was laid on an old blanket in front of it, and left to thaw out like a frozen crumpet. Unable to speak even if I wanted to – and I was not sure that I did – I listened to the old couple's conversation as they fussed around.

‘Came over from across the river to sell his wares; entered the square when the rogues were drilling apparently. They probably thought he was a spy. Lucky for him that I was going into town to stock up on candles today, because that rascally parson of ours would not have helped him.'

‘I tell you, husband, I am losing sympathy with the King's cause. I do not like the use of these Hessians, and by all accounts the British troops themselves have not been behaving well in New Jersey. We deserve better, but I suppose we are too old to change things now.'

At first I thought it was just age that accounted for the elegiac note in their conversation, but as they talked on I realized that it was due as much to the loss of their son at Ticonderoga in 1758, in the famous British disaster there against the French. I had read about the hopeless frontal assault ordered by the inept James Abercromby on that occasion, and it seemed strange to think that the repercussions were still being felt almost twenty years later. The fact that they were – and that the British were alienating even now such stout Tories as this pair – made me suddenly think that the war in America was as good as lost already.

Their sadness aside, however, the old folks' presence was most reassuring. Talking little after the initial excitement had died down, they sat in chairs on either side of me and watched over me, the old man smoking a fragrant pipe, the old woman knitting a scarf. At intervals they bestirred themselves to tip a little hot rum down my gullet, a feat I did not struggle against. Eventually, my clothes unfroze sufficiently for me to be able to move my limbs, which I did with great exaggerated sweeps that had them cooing with pleasure. This was the sign they had obviously been waiting for; I was led to a bedroom, stripped, and togged out in a set of Fifties clothes. Then, Daniel reincarnated, I was returned in front of the fire.

‘Can't speak, can you, lovey?' said the old woman, admiring me most disturbingly. ‘Shock of it has done for your voice, hasn't it?'

It hadn't, but I thought it best to keep quiet. One, I did not want to ruin the fantasies they were projecting onto me; and two, I did not want talk about such an overpowering grief as theirs. I gurgled and gurned instead.

‘Well, this is lovely, is it not, Chesney?' she cooed. ‘Just like the old days.'

The old man grunted, as though it was not bad, but not as good as the real thing.

‘Boy,' he said eventually, perhaps after prodding from his wife, ‘my name is Chesney Lovett, and this is my wife, Hannah Lovett. I do not think I am talking out of turn when I say that you are welcome to stay with us for as long as you wish.'

I wondered how many boys they had said that to before, but I was nevertheless most touched, and gave them a happy gurgle that quite delighted them. The next gurgle I gave them, however, was not so well received, coming as it did from the deepest pits of my guts. This was followed seconds later, as sure as thunder follows lightning, by the loudest, dirtiest fart I had ever emitted in my life. The resultant stench was foul, but there was no time to feel shame before five more volleys shot out of me like firecrackers.

‘Oh dear!' exclaimed Mrs Lovett, staggering out of the room, hand to her mouth, ‘oh dear, dear, dear!'

Shocked myself, I tried to laugh it off, but the metheglin was now raging around my lower regions like a Hessian in a Bath tea shop. My guts suddenly began to ache prodigiously, and my bowels seemed to lose all cohesion. Laughing no more, I crawled towards the door so that could I pull down my breeches and decompose more freely outside, but I did not make it: a deceptively achievable fart brought with it a fat squirt of ordure which totally desecrated Daniel's memory. Deeply ashamed, I was about to break cover and call for a chamber pot when I was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged outside.

‘Dirty dog!' admonished Chesney severely. ‘Get out and stay out!'

Willing enough to do as told, I rolled and groaned in the snow until the evacution had finished with me; then I cleaned myself up as best I could and staggered to my feet. Drawing a deep breath I knocked on the door, confident that after an apology I would be let in again. However, though I knocked my knuckles raw, there was no sign of any life indoors at all; no, I could not even hear them crying at the memory of their son. Satisfied at last that the Lovetts wanted no more to do with me, and duly disgusted by their inhumanity, I had no alternative but to make my weary way back towards the river. Bemerded and perhaps fatally weakened in the gut area, able to hear nothing above the rattle of my teeth, I was at least happy in the knowledge that the Hessians were suffering a hundred times worse than I. Picturing them in their barracks, which must by now have turned into a Teutonic version of the Augean stables, I first smirked, then smiled, then laughed out loud. It could not have happened to a more deserving people.