questions
about Lumm, when he caught her sideways glance and bent in a slow,
courteous half-bow, halted mid-way and winked.
Helena sighed, saved from a sharp rebuke
as the cart surged forward onto the road. Her last sight was of her
mother with both arms wrapped round Henry, who was leaning against
her as they watched from the front steps.
* * *
“ Don’t
look so terrified Mistress,” Bayle said good-naturedly as the cart
rumbled down the Honiton road. “At least the sun is out, which may
even dry out after the flash floods of these last
weeks.”
Helena smiled, her face lifted to the sun.
He was right. It felt good to be in the countryside after being
cooped up at Loxsbeare for so long, though she couldn’t help
looking toward the horizon in search of mounted
soldiers.
“ They
won’t have reached Devon this soon,” Bayle said as if reading her
thoughts. “They’ll be tied up in Somerset for a day or so
yet.”
“ I
suppose so.” She forced herself to relax, her gaze falling on the
loaded flatbed behind them. “Why so many sacks?” she
asked.
“ To
sleep on, Mistress.” Seeing her startled expression, he added,
“there are inns along the way, but we might have to keep off the
main roads.”
Her mouth formed a silent O , as
another thought occurred to her. “Do we have any coin for
innkeepers?”
He smiled, arching an eyebrow. “And for
horse feed, if we can find any.”
She fell silent, aware of Bayle’s
indulgent smile on her profile. How could she possibly even have
contemplated making this journey alone?
Above the steady clip-clop of the horse’s
hooves came a rustling from the hedgerows. A deer crossed in front
of the cart, its soft eyes regarding them steadily before
disappearing into the woods beyond the hedge. Helen followed the
flight of a bird over her shoulder, shielding her eyes with a hand
against the high noon sun.
Beyond shoulder-high dry-stone walls on
either side of the road, bent-backed workers sliced rhythmically
with scythes, heaped wheat stalks into piles and tied them together
heads uppermost to dry out.
“ It’s
early for the harvest,” Helena murmured.
“ Heavy
rain has flattened the corn.” Bayle nodded toward the fields off to
their left, where exhausted workmen paused to watch their progress.
“It’s back-breaking, dirty work. They are saving what they can.” He
sighed. “I anticipate a hard winter this year.”
Helena wondered if, beside reaping an
almost ruined harvest, the workers also scanned the horizon for
royal patrols.
“ Bayle?”
Helena asked when they had covered another mile. “Does the Green Ribbon
Club still
exist?”
He glanced briefly at her. “Not as it once
did, Mistress. Many of its most prominent members are dead, though
plenty in these parts uphold their beliefs. Why do you ask?” He
left her father’s name unspoken, but the inference was
clear.
“ Is John
Trenchard one of them?”
“ The
member of Parliament from Wolverton way?” he asked. “Aye, I believe
so. He ran a Rebel club out of the Red Lion Inn in Taunton.”
“ Ran?”
“ Aye. A
warrant went out for him when all this started. He was an
exclusionist. A thorn in the King’s side. I gather his Majesty
included him in the Whig Arrests.”
“ Exclusionist?”
“ Those
who tried to have King James excluded from the line of succession,
because he’s a Papist.”
“ Was my
father an Exclusionist?”
“ This
uprising wasn’t as much of a secret as some hoped,” Bayle said,
ignoring her question. “Trenchard was-is-a conspirator. He fled
abroad to avoid being arrested.”
“ He
helped purchase weapons, didn’t he?” Helena asked
slowly.
“ How did
you know that?” Bayle turned and stared at her.
“ Last
winter, Father took me to Taunton. When we reached The Red
Lion , Master
Trenchard was waiting for us. Father tried to tell me it was a
chance meeting, but I’m not as gullible as he supposed.” At Bayle’s
wry smile she continued.
about Lumm, when he caught her sideways glance and bent in a slow,
courteous half-bow, halted mid-way and winked.
Helena sighed, saved from a sharp rebuke
as the cart surged forward onto the road. Her last sight was of her
mother with both arms wrapped round Henry, who was leaning against
her as they watched from the front steps.
* * *
“ Don’t
look so terrified Mistress,” Bayle said good-naturedly as the cart
rumbled down the Honiton road. “At least the sun is out, which may
even dry out after the flash floods of these last
weeks.”
Helena smiled, her face lifted to the sun.
He was right. It felt good to be in the countryside after being
cooped up at Loxsbeare for so long, though she couldn’t help
looking toward the horizon in search of mounted
soldiers.
“ They
won’t have reached Devon this soon,” Bayle said as if reading her
thoughts. “They’ll be tied up in Somerset for a day or so
yet.”
“ I
suppose so.” She forced herself to relax, her gaze falling on the
loaded flatbed behind them. “Why so many sacks?” she
asked.
“ To
sleep on, Mistress.” Seeing her startled expression, he added,
“there are inns along the way, but we might have to keep off the
main roads.”
Her mouth formed a silent O , as
another thought occurred to her. “Do we have any coin for
innkeepers?”
He smiled, arching an eyebrow. “And for
horse feed, if we can find any.”
She fell silent, aware of Bayle’s
indulgent smile on her profile. How could she possibly even have
contemplated making this journey alone?
Above the steady clip-clop of the horse’s
hooves came a rustling from the hedgerows. A deer crossed in front
of the cart, its soft eyes regarding them steadily before
disappearing into the woods beyond the hedge. Helen followed the
flight of a bird over her shoulder, shielding her eyes with a hand
against the high noon sun.
Beyond shoulder-high dry-stone walls on
either side of the road, bent-backed workers sliced rhythmically
with scythes, heaped wheat stalks into piles and tied them together
heads uppermost to dry out.
“ It’s
early for the harvest,” Helena murmured.
“ Heavy
rain has flattened the corn.” Bayle nodded toward the fields off to
their left, where exhausted workmen paused to watch their progress.
“It’s back-breaking, dirty work. They are saving what they can.” He
sighed. “I anticipate a hard winter this year.”
Helena wondered if, beside reaping an
almost ruined harvest, the workers also scanned the horizon for
royal patrols.
“ Bayle?”
Helena asked when they had covered another mile. “Does the Green Ribbon
Club still
exist?”
He glanced briefly at her. “Not as it once
did, Mistress. Many of its most prominent members are dead, though
plenty in these parts uphold their beliefs. Why do you ask?” He
left her father’s name unspoken, but the inference was
clear.
“ Is John
Trenchard one of them?”
“ The
member of Parliament from Wolverton way?” he asked. “Aye, I believe
so. He ran a Rebel club out of the Red Lion Inn in Taunton.”
“ Ran?”
“ Aye. A
warrant went out for him when all this started. He was an
exclusionist. A thorn in the King’s side. I gather his Majesty
included him in the Whig Arrests.”
“ Exclusionist?”
“ Those
who tried to have King James excluded from the line of succession,
because he’s a Papist.”
“ Was my
father an Exclusionist?”
“ This
uprising wasn’t as much of a secret as some hoped,” Bayle said,
ignoring her question. “Trenchard was-is-a conspirator. He fled
abroad to avoid being arrested.”
“ He
helped purchase weapons, didn’t he?” Helena asked
slowly.
“ How did
you know that?” Bayle turned and stared at her.
“ Last
winter, Father took me to Taunton. When we reached The Red
Lion , Master
Trenchard was waiting for us. Father tried to tell me it was a
chance meeting, but I’m not as gullible as he supposed.” At Bayle’s
wry smile she continued.
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