moment. One that would mark me for life. I walked out of the house on feet of wood, and like one pixie-struck, stumbled towards the horses. Samuel stood with his arms over the saddle of his mount, a piece of straw dangling from his mouth.
“Are you an officer yet?”
I would rather have faced the guns of General Tilly than have told Samuel of my predicament more than once. And, the Devil take him, when I told him the truth, his mirth was ill-concealed.
IV
First Blood
September 1625
Barnet
Third of July 1645
My Dear Wife,
Tomorrow will see me enter London and the Tower, for I have not been offered parole by the forces of Parliament. Some mean and evil few have seen fit to arraign me on a charge of High Treason for reasons and motives known only to them. Of this heinous charge I am innocent and this upon my Faith I swear to you.
I am in sore need of help, and my future condition depends most wholly upon your
actions in the following days.
I beseech you to send from Exeter a trusted retainer and as much coin as can be spared. So too must you find a lawyer to offer me goodly counsel. Without food brought in to me or money to procure sustenance, my conditions of captivity will be most terrible to contemplate.
Do not fail me Dear Heart. Your correspondence must now, I fear, be brought to me by messenger to that awful place.
I think of you and the Dear Ones in all my waking hours. Adieu.
Your loving Husband,
Richard
I BEGAN MY life as a soldier in the ranks. My days were spent on drill and parade, and though many troopers were green to the game, even veterans must be reminded of the standard exercise and for a few hours near on each day we were ordered through the paces in the Dutch style. As a harquebusier, I had not much armour to bear, only a helm, breastplate and back. Our chief purpose was to bolster the heavy cuirassiers, those black lobsters encased in steel head to toe and who with pistol or lance would crash into the enemy full tilt. For us, it was a carbine, a fast horse, and a sharp piece of steel if the business grew hot.
My new comrades with whom I shared a billet were curious of me as I was the only foreigner among them (though our company did have a few Hollanders and a Frenchman). That first evening in camp, four had gathered round me, asking of my previous employ and why I had come so far to seek battle.
“We three have served in the Low Countries,” said one, a fellow named Balthazar, as he pointed his finger at his companions. He was, it was said, of late a farrier from Bremen. Indeed, he was big enough to lift a horse, up-end it, and shoe it upon his knee. I thought he looked more like a bear than a man: his full black beard, great ringlets of hair, and his large round nose all made his head appear larger than it was.
“All of us know old Tilly and his tricks and, sure as a goose turd is green, one of us here has even served in his ranks.”
And then all eyes turned to Andreas sitting on the far side of the room. Andreas smiled but said nothing.
“You’ll enjoy service with the Danes,” continued Balthazar, placing a huge arm round my shoulders and shaking me like a dice cup. “His Majesty is a rich old fart and they pay wages with good speed – unlike the Spanish, eh Andreas?”
Andreas, dark-skinned as a Moor and always soft spoken, nodded in reply.
“He’s still waiting for his back pay,” said Balthazar with mock solemnity. “Andreas, I urge you to take up the matter with General Tilly himself when next you meet. He is bound to open his purse at the sight of an old friend.”
And Balthazar roared, as did the others, except of course, Andreas.
Of the others in my little circle of comrades, there was Jacob, fair-haired and clever. I never saw him lost in his cups, nor choose a seat that was not against a wall, nor say a word without thinking well upon it. Indeed, his eyes seemed not to work all that well in harmony, the left one wandering off in search of trouble. Balthazar
“Are you an officer yet?”
I would rather have faced the guns of General Tilly than have told Samuel of my predicament more than once. And, the Devil take him, when I told him the truth, his mirth was ill-concealed.
IV
First Blood
September 1625
Barnet
Third of July 1645
My Dear Wife,
Tomorrow will see me enter London and the Tower, for I have not been offered parole by the forces of Parliament. Some mean and evil few have seen fit to arraign me on a charge of High Treason for reasons and motives known only to them. Of this heinous charge I am innocent and this upon my Faith I swear to you.
I am in sore need of help, and my future condition depends most wholly upon your
actions in the following days.
I beseech you to send from Exeter a trusted retainer and as much coin as can be spared. So too must you find a lawyer to offer me goodly counsel. Without food brought in to me or money to procure sustenance, my conditions of captivity will be most terrible to contemplate.
Do not fail me Dear Heart. Your correspondence must now, I fear, be brought to me by messenger to that awful place.
I think of you and the Dear Ones in all my waking hours. Adieu.
Your loving Husband,
Richard
I BEGAN MY life as a soldier in the ranks. My days were spent on drill and parade, and though many troopers were green to the game, even veterans must be reminded of the standard exercise and for a few hours near on each day we were ordered through the paces in the Dutch style. As a harquebusier, I had not much armour to bear, only a helm, breastplate and back. Our chief purpose was to bolster the heavy cuirassiers, those black lobsters encased in steel head to toe and who with pistol or lance would crash into the enemy full tilt. For us, it was a carbine, a fast horse, and a sharp piece of steel if the business grew hot.
My new comrades with whom I shared a billet were curious of me as I was the only foreigner among them (though our company did have a few Hollanders and a Frenchman). That first evening in camp, four had gathered round me, asking of my previous employ and why I had come so far to seek battle.
“We three have served in the Low Countries,” said one, a fellow named Balthazar, as he pointed his finger at his companions. He was, it was said, of late a farrier from Bremen. Indeed, he was big enough to lift a horse, up-end it, and shoe it upon his knee. I thought he looked more like a bear than a man: his full black beard, great ringlets of hair, and his large round nose all made his head appear larger than it was.
“All of us know old Tilly and his tricks and, sure as a goose turd is green, one of us here has even served in his ranks.”
And then all eyes turned to Andreas sitting on the far side of the room. Andreas smiled but said nothing.
“You’ll enjoy service with the Danes,” continued Balthazar, placing a huge arm round my shoulders and shaking me like a dice cup. “His Majesty is a rich old fart and they pay wages with good speed – unlike the Spanish, eh Andreas?”
Andreas, dark-skinned as a Moor and always soft spoken, nodded in reply.
“He’s still waiting for his back pay,” said Balthazar with mock solemnity. “Andreas, I urge you to take up the matter with General Tilly himself when next you meet. He is bound to open his purse at the sight of an old friend.”
And Balthazar roared, as did the others, except of course, Andreas.
Of the others in my little circle of comrades, there was Jacob, fair-haired and clever. I never saw him lost in his cups, nor choose a seat that was not against a wall, nor say a word without thinking well upon it. Indeed, his eyes seemed not to work all that well in harmony, the left one wandering off in search of trouble. Balthazar
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