Salvation (10 page)

8

West of Salisbury

July, 1586

‘Wait for me, madam,’ wailed Bess.

Meg tried to hide her irritation. It was unkind to snap. The journey had been her idea, and even she was beginning to think it had been a great mistake. They were both exhausted and in truth, she was not sure if they were going in the right direction, let alone with any chance of finding Tom at the end.

‘Try to remember to call me Matthew, Bess,’ she restrained herself to saying.

‘Yes, mad— Matthew,’ Bess replied in a dubious tone.

Meg managed a smile. ‘It can’t be much further to Plymouth. Soon all this will be over.’

‘Yes, M-Matthew.’

As they trudged on, Meg looked up at the louring sky. She hoped the rain would hold off until they found shelter. They would need food soon as well and she had no idea where they would find it. She squared her shoulders; she must not let Bess see her doubts. The thought of finding Tom kept her own flagging spirits up but it was more difficult for Bess.

The second day was harder, and the one after that worse still. Both she and Bess were hungry and thirsty. In the villages and hamlets they passed through, people greeted them with suspicion and sometimes even downright hostility, overcharging for what little food and drink they were prepared to sell. The small store of money they had managed to bring with them diminished at an alarming rate.

Men’s clothes might be easier to walk in but the leather of the old shoes Bess had found for Meg to wear was hard and cracked. Her feet blistered until every step was a penance. Bess drooped and it was a struggle to make her keep on walking.

That evening, as they breasted a hill, a cottage surrounded by tumbledown outbuildings came into view. A plume of smoke rose from the chimney.
When they came close, Meg saw two scraggy brown cows in a pen and a grey cob tethered to a pump by a water trough. She wondered if they should walk on past. These people might be as unfriendly as most of the others they had encountered and it was a lonely spot, but Bess pulled at her arm.

‘Those cows look like milkers, madam. Perhaps the farmer will let us have a drink.’

‘I don’t think we should, Bess. It will be safer to go on.’

Bess’s lower lip jutted and she started to cry. Meg felt a stab of guilt. Poor Bess! She had pushed her very hard today. The long-threatened rain had finally fallen, leaving their clothes damp. She had to admit, the prospect of cool, fresh milk to drink and somewhere to dry off was irresistible.

‘All right, but you must promise to be careful. No calling me madam, understand?’

‘I promise,’ Bess said meekly.

A surly man answered Meg’s knock.

‘What d’you think you’re about, disturbing honest folk at this hour?’

‘We only want to buy some milk, and any other food you can spare,’ Meg answered, trying to put on a gruff voice. ‘My sister and I have travelled all day and we’re hungry and thirsty.’

The man looked them up and down for a moment. ‘You’d best come in then,’ he said grudgingly.

What must have been years of smoke had blackened the low ceiling of the windowless room into which they stepped. The only light came from the small fire burning in the hearth. In its glow, patches of damp glistened on the wattle and daub walls. Two three-legged stools, a table made from rough planks of wood and two wooden buckets comprised the furniture. The rushes strewn on the floor looked as if they had not been changed for months. Next to the grimy hearth were a poker, a few chipped earthenware bowls and two battered iron pans.

A lanky, tow-haired youth Meg had not at first noticed shambled out from the alcove by the fireplace, rubbing his eyes. Behind him was a stained mattress with wisps of straw poking through the holes in its ticking. He goggled at the sight of Meg and Bess.

‘My son,’ the man grunted.

‘Pretty,’ the youth sidled up to Bess and stroked her fair hair. Her blue eyes widened and she flushed.

‘Fetch some milk, you halfwit,’ the man snapped. The youth hung his head. He slouched to the hearth, picked up an earthenware bowl and dunked it in one of the buckets. As he lifted it out and carried it to Bess, milk dripped from his calloused hand.

His father scowled. ‘You’re wasting it, you idiot. D’you think I’m made of money?’
He snatched the cup and handed it to Bess. ‘Here, share that with your brother.’

Eagerly, Bess gulped half the milk. Creamy froth smeared her lips as she gave the rest of it to Meg to finish.

‘Thank you, that was good,’ Meg sighed when she had drunk the last drop. Her eyes alighted on a hock of ham hanging from a beam. The man followed her glance. ‘Where’s your manners, Jeb?’ he barked at the youth. ‘Get some bread from the crock and cut the lady and gentleman a good slice of ham.’ He grinned at Bess. ‘Can’t have you and your brother going hungry, can we?’

Blushing once more, Bess lowered her eyes. He laughed. ‘Your sister’s a shy little thing, ain’t she?’ Meg didn’t answer.

‘Where’re you travelling to?’

‘
Plymouth. We have an uncle and aunt there who will take us in. Our parents are dead.’

‘Land stops at
Plymouth, I heard.’

She nodded. ‘Yes. Our uncle works in the shipyard there.’

The talk carried on in a desultory fashion. Relieved, Meg congratulated herself. They had passed their first real test. Neither the man nor his son seemed to think there was anything out of the ordinary about her and Bess, and although he had seemed so unwelcoming when they arrived, he was now quite friendly. She felt sorry for his son. It was not his fault he was simple but clearly his father had very little patience with him.

As soon as they finished their meal, she stood up. ‘We haven’t much money but we’d like to pay you for your kindness. Will tuppence be enough?’

‘Nay, lad, I won’t take your money and it’s almost nightfall. The roads won’t be safe. You can stay here and go on tomorrow. Gentlefolk like you shall have the bed. Jeb and me’ll sleep in the barn.’

Meg hesitated.

‘I’m so tired, Matthew,’ Bess pleaded. ‘It would be wonderful to sleep in a warm bed.’

‘But we can’t take their bed.’

‘We doan’ mind, do we, Jeb?’

Jeb sniggered and his father shot him an angry look.

‘Please,’ Bess whispered.

‘All right,’ Meg said. ‘And we’re very grateful,’ she added quickly.

The man yawned. ‘There’s cows to milk in the morning and candles cost money. It’s time we were turning in. Jeb’ll fetch you some more wood to keep the fire in until you go to sleep, won’t you, lad?’

Muttering, Jeb went outside and came back with an armful of brushwood which he stacked by the hearth. He straightened up and stared at Bess again until his father’s boot landed on his backside, making him yelp.

‘Get to the barn with you,’ he growled then turned to Meg and Bess and nodded. ‘We’ll be off then, goodnight.’

T
he door closed behind them and Meg let out a long breath.

Bess sank onto one of the stools. ‘Oh madam, they’ve gone, thank goodness.’

‘Sssh,’ Meg whispered with a frown, ‘they might be listening outside the door. I’m sure I can hear something.’

There was a grating sound, then footsteps and after that silence. Motionless, Meg waited a few minutes then went to the door and pressed her ear to the wood. ‘I think they’ve really gone now,’ she whispered at last. Cautiously, she lifted the latch on the door and tried to open it a fraction. It didn
’t move. She tried again but it was stuck fast.

Bess’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘They’ve locked it, we can’t get out.’

Meg felt her heart thud against her ribs but for Bess’s sake she tried to stay calm. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. I expect they usually lock their door at night. This cottage is in such a lonely place they might be afraid of being robbed. I expect they did it out of habit.’

Bess’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh madam, I’m frightened.’

Something in Meg snapped. ‘Stop it, Bess. You were the one who wanted to sleep in a warm bed.’

Tears streaked Bess’s pink cheeks and contrition replaced Meg’s anger. She went to her and squeezed her arm.

‘I’m sorry I shouted at you. Look, if we pull the table across to the door, no one can come in.’

Bess took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Together, they dragged the table over the layer of mouldering rushes and wedged it against the door.

‘Now for pity’s sake, let’s get some sleep,’ Meg muttered. ‘We may not have another chance like this for days.’ She pulled off her painful shoes and groaned. ‘At last, that’s better.’

She climbed onto the mattress and
pulled the sheepskin up to her chin. It was none too clean and smelt of animal grease but at least it was warm.

Doubtfully, Bess examined the skirt of her dress and the petticoats underneath. ‘They’re dry now but they’re still all caked with mud. I shouldn’t lie in the bed in them.’

‘I hardly think it’ll make much difference to it,’ Meg grimaced. ‘Anyway, you’ll have to unless you want to sleep naked.’

Bess shook her head.

They lay side by side in the dark listening to the small sounds of the night.

‘What do you think that scuffling is?’ Bess asked in a frightened whisper.

‘Mice probably, I expect this cottage is full of them.’

‘Or rats,’ Bess said, a tremor in her voice. ‘I hate rats. Suppose they come on the bed and bite us?’

‘I’ll hit them with these horrible shoes you found me,’ Meg reached out and fumbled for them. ‘Now stop fretting and go to sleep.’

‘There’s someone outside, I know there is,’ Bess said after a few more minutes. Meg felt a stab of alarm; she heard something too. If it was an animal, it was a large one. With a shiver, she wondered if there were still bears in these parts. Suddenly, a man’s voice cursed and the door shook.

Bess screamed as it scraped open a few inches then a few more until the table crashed onto its side. In the firelight, Meg saw Jeb and his father clambering over it. Reaching Meg first, the older man seized her by the throat and hauled her up from the mattress.

He licked his lips. ‘Take this one, Jeb. When you’ve tied him up, you can watch while you wait your turn with the sister. It’s time you learnt what a woman’s for.’

Bess’s screams jangled in Meg’s ears as Jeb grabbed her under the arms and dragged her across the floor. One of the outstretched table legs smashed into her shoulder and she cried out. Through the pain, she heard a slap and Bess’s screams turned to a whimper.

Suddenly, rage rushed through her. Jeb had dragged her as far as the hearth now and, pinning her down with his heavy boot, was reaching for a rope hanging from a large hook on the wall.
She fastened on his leg and pulled with all her might, throwing him off balance. As he tottered, she scrambled to her feet, grabbed the poker from the hearth and swung it at him. The blow caught him on the face. He yelled and clasped his bleeding nose. Without stopping to think, Meg raised the poker again and landed another blow on the top of his head. Terrified, she jumped out of his way as he staggered and fell. The poker flew from her hand and clattered across the floor.

On the mattress, her skirts bunched around her waist, Bess struggled under the weight of Jeb’s father. Before Meg could retrieve the poker, he saw she was free. With an oath, he rolled off Bess, leapt up and lunged. Wildly, Meg scrabbled for the poker but it was too far away. Afterwards, she could not remember the sequence of events clearly but suddenly, she had a branch of smouldering brushwood in her hand. The heat seared her skin but she clung on and brandished it at him, fanning the flames.

‘Let us alone or I’ll set fire to you,’ she shouted.

With a roar
, he came at her and tried to snatch the branch but recoiled howling as the flames scorched him. The pain in Meg’s hand was unbearable. She flung the branch back into the hearth. Panic almost blinding her she dodged around the small room. Jeb’s father was much stronger than she was. It would not take him long to catch her. She couldn’t save Bess or herself.

Suddenly, a crash made her heart miss a beat. In the dim, orange light cast by the remains of the fire, Jeb’s father lay sprawled and winded beside his son. A surge of hope renewed Meg’s energy.
She dashed to the bed and seized Bess by the hand. ‘Hurry,’ she urged. Bess only stared at her with the eyes of a frightened rabbit and wouldn’t move.

With
a strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Meg yanked her off the bed and hauled her to the door. Pushing her through, she slammed it behind them. Dizzy with relief, she saw the big iron key sticking out of the lock. It turned with a clunk that sounded like music. Meg felt the reassuring hardness of the wood at her back then she slumped to the ground and retched. Huddled on the muddy ground, Bess rocked to and fro, weeping noisily. After a few moments, Meg crawled over and tried to comfort her. In the moonlight, her face was wraithlike.

They clung together for what seemed like an eternity then there was a thud and Meg looked up in horror. The door bowed and a chunk of rotten wood broke off its bottom. Meg glimpsed the toe of a heavy boot. Another blow, this time near the lock, almost wrenched the door from the jamb.