Traitor's Field (51 page)

[SS C/T/50/8]

Thurloe found that he was being passed any documents relating to religious or political radicalism – though none of them to do with the Levellers themselves. He strongly suspected that Scot was trying to distract him.

A Declaration of the Grounds and Reasons why we the Poor Inhabitants of the Town of Wellingborrow, in the County of Northampton, have begun and give consent to dig up, manure and sow Corn upon the Common. . .

A collection of malcontents and enthusiasts and indigent peasants had occupied common land in Surrey, and started to plant it for their own subsistence. There had been scenes in the church. After initial amusement, the local landowners had grown unhappy. They didn’t like the idea that people could start growing things on unused ground, and they didn’t like their servants wandering into the camp of an evening: politics and the pox. There had been unexplained fires at the camp; anonymous beatings at night. The radicals had moved on. 

Is this the freedom that was fought for, or must this be fought to preserve that freedom? 

Another encampment nearby, through the winter months –
and how miserable was that?
– and enduring into spring; but now reportedly driven out.

In the beginning of Time, the great Creator Reason, made the Earth to be a Common Treasury, to preserve Beasts, Birds, Fishes, and Man, the lord that was to govern this Creation; for Man had Domination given to him, over the Beasts, Birds, and Fishes; but not one word was spoken in the beginning, That one branch of mankind should rule over another.

This was more than mere beggary and immorality. 

O thou Powers of England, though thou hast promised to make this People a Free People, yet thou hast so handled the matter, through thy self-seeking humour, That thou hast wrapped us up more in bondage, and oppression lies heavier upon us; not only bringing thy fellow Creatures, the Commoners, to a morsel of Bread, but by confounding all sorts of people by thy Government, of doing and undoing.

More reports on his desk, covering the latest letter from J. H.; more pamphlets. There was a camp in Northamptonshire now. The local Justice had been ordered to prosecute the inhabitants. And Hertfordshire; and Gloucestershire. Enthusiasm and desperation, breaking out like sores across the land.

For truly the Kinglie power reigns strongly in the Lords of Mannors over the Poor; for my own particular, I have in other Writings as well as in this, Declared my Reasons, That the common Land is the poor Peoples Proprietie; and I have Digged upon the Commons, and I hope in time to obtain the Freedom, to get Food and Raiment therefrom by righteous labour, which is all I desire.

To most men it was madness, of course, and chaos. This upheaving of society was not what the war had been fought for.

But it was what the war had brought. Make it legitimate to challenge one form of authority; make it possible for all to speak their own truth; and it became harder to claim any one truth unimpeachably right. Thomas Scot and his ideals; Tarrant and his vengeance;
I with my ambition
. And Cromwell trying to hold the world together.
Is a society of vegetable-tillers theoretically any less legitimate than a society of clever clerks like me?

John Thurloe frowned at the mess of papers, queasy at the implications of his logic.

That every one that is born in the Land, may be fed by the Earth his Mother that brought him forth, according to the Reason that rules in the Creation.

And where, in any of this, were his Royalist ghosts?

A town house on the outskirts of Edinburgh, discreet grey stone blending into the sky; the servants away, the door locked, and Sir Mortimer Shay settled in a large chair in the study.

‘I had not looked to see you, sir. You favour Scotland with much attention.’ The voice was low: measured and almost monotonous; but there was enough in the vowels and the eyes above them to show concern.

Shay smiled. ‘In this decade, most that has been truly troublesome for these kingdoms has come out of Scotland; I have the hope we may tempt something good out of it, for once at least.’

The eyes were down. ‘Montrose?’ The eyes flicked up.

Shay said nothing.

‘He is landed; that much is known among the men of influence here – and no doubt by you also, sir.’

‘And?’

The other man looked away as if considering, then back at Shay; and he shook his head slowly. ‘He’s jumped too soon.’ The side of Shay’s mouth twisted as he listened. ‘The Church party are not ready to treat with the King, and they’ll never trust Montrose.’

‘He may attract a following regardless. Then they shall be forced to come to terms.’

Again the slow, regretful shake of the head. ‘They have the clans well satisfied for now. And they’re ready for Montrose.’

Shay watched him bleakly, and took in and released a slow disgruntled breath.

During supper there was a knock at the door, and then a servant whispering in his master’s ear, and a note passed to him. He glanced at it and, having checked that the servant had left, looked at Shay. ‘If I may suggest, we might finish in haste.’ He looked to the door again, wary. ‘You might wish to accompany me on a short errand.’

In a church on the other side of the city, their horses tethered outside and shifting discontented in a wind that came with a sting from the nearby sea, they found a young man at prayer.

They sat in the shadows at the back of the church, and waited.

After a few minutes the young man stood, turned, and walked up the aisle towards them. 

‘Have you come far, pilgrim?’

The young man stopped, checked that the church was empty, and they completed the little liturgy. Shadowed Shay, glanced at warily by the young man, was introduced as a trusted friend. 

The young man sat, sleek but obviously tired, and pulled a substantial Bible from a cloth pouch that hung round his neck. Having looked again around the church, he opened the Bible by the back cover and began to pull at the endpaper; it came away from the leather with difficulty but without tearing. From behind it, the young man extracted four or five sheets of unusually thin paper, which he passed to the Edinburgh man.

‘Letters to you from the Court, and via you to certain of our friends.’ The Edinburgh man nodded, and as a courtesy passed them immediately to Shay. The young man’s eyes followed the movement. ‘I landed less than an hour ago,’ he said quickly; then, uncertain: ‘I stopped only to give tha—’

‘You were right to do so, boy.’ Shay’s voice was the shadows, the old stones. ‘Surviving any day is miracle enough.’

 The young man hesitated, glanced down at the Bible, and started to close it.

‘What else?’ Shay said, strong.

Another hesitation, then he reopened the Bible. ‘I have two letters. . . addressed to the Parliament here in Scotland.’ He leaned closer. ‘From His Majesty.’

‘Two?’

‘But one only to be delivered.’ Shay let out a growled sigh in understanding. ‘Contingent. On. . . on—’

Shay finished it for him: ‘On whether Montrose wins his battle. Should he win, one letter decrying the faction who’ve led the Church party against him. One letter disowning him should he fail.’

The young man nodded, at first unhappy but then trying to recover some poise.

When he was gone towards the centre of the city with his Bible, Shay slumped back in the pew. After a few moments he said, ‘Montrose may fail. Indeed, I fear the Crown uses him only as a threat. But we must give him every chance. And we must ensure the cause does not fail with him. I may have to send a report to London.’

‘To London?’

‘Mm.’ He grunted rough amusement. ‘Lots of reports going to London. Very hard to know where they all come from, I imagine.’

T
O THE
L
ORD
P
RESIDENT OF THE
C
OUNCIL OF
S
TATE
,

‘Signs of too much latitude of thinking among our Scottish friends, I fear.’

Cromwell – another hasty visit – took the paper without speaking, scanned it, and shook his head like an uncomfortable sheepdog. ‘Lord, I am right weary of these Scots and their squabbles. They would burn this whole island for a flea.’

‘Our other reports from Scotland show them more phlegmatic about

Montrose. They have their consciences and their tribes under control.’

‘There is too much of a risk. I am not ready for another war on Scotland.’

‘I doubt it necessary.’

Cromwell’s eyes were lost in the distance a moment, and then clear on St John. ‘A message to Scotland, if you agree. From me, to the leaders in Edinburgh. Tell them this: that I believe that God has made these islands large enough for a diversity of true consciences; that I offer them all humility and respect and love as men of Godly belief and sincerity; that I wish them and their Church and their land no harm; that I will not suffer a Scottish apostate and outlaw to kindle malice against England and threaten our north; that I will root out such malice with fire and sword if I must go to the farthest end of these islands to find it.’ A single heavy nod of self-approval. ‘And Thomas Scot may have one of his tame preachers write a sermon to the same end.’