White Water Page 32

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  Lucas stood with his back to the horse, his head bent over its hoof, which was tucked firmly between his knees as he pared the edge in preparation for the shoe. The horse, a large bay cob with a white blaze on its face and mild eyes, stood patiently while Lucas worked. It was hot in the smithy and sweat beaded the man’s face. From time to time he wiped his forehead with the back of a hairy hand, and then wiped the sweat on to the split leather apron which covered him. Small trimmings of horn fell round his feet as he whistled tunelessly. When he had finished he nodded to the young lad, who watched him enviously, and the boy darted off to fetch the first hot shoe, which he carried carefully with a pair of tongs. It was handed over, tested for fit with a hiss of painless steam, and then Lucas plunged it into the water trough to cool it a little before reseating it and banging in the nails.

  ‘They don’t go straight in, see,’ he told the lad. ‘That’d hurt him. They go angled in — so — and the point comes out here.’ The boy nodded. ‘And in goes another and comes out here. See that? You bang it straight in and he’ll likely kick you into eternity! You don’t want that!’

  The boy shook his head. At eleven years he was a runt of a boy, undersized and lame, and would never make a blacksmith but he haunted the smithy and no one had the heart to discourage him from his ambition.

  ‘ … and in goes another and we’re nearly done. Chip off the end of the nail, so, and clench it over. That’s it. Then the next … Mind you, this old horse is soft as butter, but some’d lead you a merry dance. You have to know your horse. So — have you eaten today?’

  The boy shook his head and Lucas tutted. ‘Well, I’ll see what I can find for you when Felicity comes.’

  ‘Is she your woman?’

  ‘She is and she isn’t.’

  The boy nodded. ‘She’s right bonny,’ he said, ‘but she’s — big.’

  Lucas roared with laughter. ‘Aye, she’s that, right enough,’ he said. He straightened up and patted the horse’s rump and began to lead her out into the yard. ‘You like her?’

  ‘Aye, but — ’

  ‘But she’s big!’ Lucas laughed again. ‘You go up the lane and look for her, then. Find out what she’s brought us.’

  It had been Dorothy’s habit to send Felicity along to the smithy each day to take him a flagon of ale and a bundle of bread and cheese or a piece of salt pork. It was a walk of a little over a mile and Felicity, although she guessed the older woman’s motive, went willingly enough. She enjoyed the solitary walk, but for reasons which Dorothy would not have approved. The time spent going to and from the smithy was the time she allowed herself to dwell on Martin. Treasuring his memory, trying to imagine what he would be doing or thinking about his child — these thoughts were her luxuries. For the rest of the day she concentrated on the present and. her new family. At night she slept as soon as her head touched the straw bolster and, apart from her recurring dream, her nights were peaceful and she woke refreshed.

  She was big, as the boy had said. Dorothy hoped she would go into labour early, for she knew the birth of such a large baby could be difficult, even dangerous, but she kept these thoughts to herself. The child was not very active, giving Felicity none of the painful kicks and jabs which Dorothy had received from her own babies. A placid child, she told Felicity, and a girl most probably. But Felicity’s thoughts were not on the baby, but on its father, as she moved slowly and somewhat heavily along the highway and then turned off along the lane. She leaned backwards slightly, to help her balance, and occasionally put a hand to her back when the strain of the child’s weight developed from a discomfort to an ache. Her face lit up with a smile as she saw the puny figure approach with a step and a hop. The boy hated the sound of his left foot scraping the ground and gave a little hop on his good leg so that he could swing the other past it.

  ‘Hey up, Ned,’ she greeted him.

  ‘Hey up.’

  He kept his eyes above her waist in case his awe at her size was obvious.

  ‘Did Lucas send you to meet me?’

  ‘Aye. He wonders what you’ve brought.’

  ‘And so do you, eh?’

  He grinned.

  ‘Then I’ll put you out of your misery. ’Tis a cold bacon pasty and an onion.’

  ‘Mmm! Will I carry your basket?’

  ‘My thanks, Ned, I’d be glad of it.’ He took it from her. ‘And what’s going on today?’ she asked.

  ‘Lucas is shoeing the Ellerdale’s bay cob — and Jonas is fixing the wheel off Sutton’s wagon. The wood’s dried and shrunk and the rim came off.’

  ‘And old man Jowitt?’

  ‘Making horse shoe nails. I’ve been working the bellows and fetching and carrying — and I’m to take the Moore’s cart horse when the new shaft is fitted. I’m going to sit up in the seat and drive the horse. Lucas says he’ll likely give me a coin or two for myself!’

  ‘Will he now? You’ll be rich, then. And what will you do with them?’

  ‘Give them to my Ma.’

  ‘You’re a good lad, Ned.’

  Lucas came out to greet her and they stood talking for a few moments until Jonas shouted to him to take a bite while they weren’t too busy. Then Lucas, Felicity and Ned sat on the bench which ran along the outside wall of the smithy. Lucas opened the cloth and broke off a piece of pastry for Ned and cut him a slice of onion to go with it. Felicity would eat on her return to the cottage and was content to watch the other two.

  ‘Felicity made this pasty,’ Lucas told Ned. ‘What d’you think on it?’

  ‘’Tis good.’

  Felicity smiled, pleased, then put her hand to her back with a sudden indrawing of her breath. Lucas paused in mid-bite to raise his eyebrows in an unspoken question. She shook her head, but almost immediately gave another gasp and this time her face twisted with pain.

  ‘No, no,’ she said quickly seeing his concern. ‘’Tis too early by a week or two. ’Twas just a twinge and now — aah!’ She closed her eyes and the cry was jerked from her. Ned stared, wide-eyed, from her to Lucas. The next pain was not in her back and she bent forward, clasping her arms round her swollen body, her teeth clenched to silence any cry.

  ‘Felicity! Has it started?’ cried Lucas.

  She nodded, unable to speak, but then it passed and she smiled at him. ‘I’d best get home,’ she said.

  ‘Is my mother there?’

  ‘No, but she told me to send word if I was taken sudden.’

  ‘Then I’ll come with you,’ he said, ‘and Ned shall go to fetch her. What day is today? Where will she be found? I’m all of a heap and can’t rightly think!’

  But Felicity had doubled up once more in silent agony and Ned swallowed the last bite of his pasty without tasting it. When she could breathe again she said, ‘She’s at Lumley House, the other side of the village. But there’s no need to come with me.’

  She spoke bravely, but she hoped he would insist on accompanying her. The pain frightened her, it was so fierce.

  ‘I say I’ll come with you. I’ll tell Jonas what’s up and he can tell the old man.’

  He went inside and Felicity, to her surprise, did not have another pain.

  ‘’Tis over,’ she told Lucas when he reappeared.

  ‘And I say ’tis not,’ he said. ‘You’d best go home with me alongside and I’ll wait with you until my mother comes. If you was took sudden like — I’d not forgive myself.’

  He gave Ned a few directions as to the whereabouts of Lumley House then, leaving the basket and ale on the bench, took Felicity’s arm.

  ‘We could ride,’ he said, ‘but I think walking’s more natural. ’Tis only a mile and I’ll be — another one?’

  She nodded, biting her lip. Unwittingly, her hand tightened on his arm and the slim fingers biting into his flesh gave him some idea of what she was suffering. They began to walk back along the lane, with Lucas talking cheerfully and trying to hide his concern. He recalled his mother’s labour when the younger children were b
orn and knew that the first pains should be at longer intervals.

  These sudden fierce pains so near each other might mean something was wrong. Or it might not, he argued silently. Perhaps all women were different in such matters. He said nothing to alarm Felicity and hoped all would be well.

  There were no more contractions until they were a third of the way home and then it was less severe. Felicity screwed up her face but made no sound. She had wanted to keep the child and the choice had been hers. However bad the pain, she had promised herself she would make no sound. The first few contractions had surprised her out of her promise, but from now on she would not complain. In a few hours she would see the longed-for child of the man she loved. Each pain brought that moment nearer and she tried to visualize the child curled up within her starting on his journey out into the world. It would not be an easy place, but she would love and cherish him.

  There were a few more pains before they reached the cottage and the last two were severe. She wondered how much more severe they would be and prayed for strength to bear it. The cottage was empty and Felicity wondered how she would feel if she were on her own. Even Lucas’s male presence was comforting.

  ‘Shall you lie down?’ he asked.

  Felicity shook her head. The hours in the bed chamber would be long enough! She would stay in the homely untidy kitchen as long as possible.

  He poured her some dandelion wine ‘to calm her spirit’ and she sipped it dutifully. ‘You see what a comfort I am?’ he asked and she nodded. ‘I’ll wager I’d make a good father with practice. You recall what I asked you, Felicity. The offer stands and I’m in hopes you’ll have me.’ He put a large arm clumsily round her shoulders and she smiled. Another pain caught her unawares, but she bit back the cry that came to her lips and bent her head.

  ‘Should I rub your back?’ Lucas offered.

  ‘’Twill do no good. Just talk to me, Lucas.’

  ‘Ah, soon as you say that I’m tongue tied!’ They both laughed. ‘But I’ll tell you a riddle that will make you smile. Hmm. On second thoughts I’d best not. Tis not fit for a lady’s ears.’

  ‘Oh Lucas! I’m not a lady.’

  ‘You are to me, Felicity. Another pain so soon? I wish my mother would come. Let me rub that back of yours, turn round on your stool.’

  He began to move his large warm hand up and down and round over her back and, to Felicity’s surprise, the action was comforting. ‘It may not help you,’ he said, ‘but it makes me feel a sight more use. Now I’ll sing you a song that old Jonas is always singing. ’Tis about a miller and his wife and the old parson. Now, let me recall how it goes.’

  Felicity took another sip of wine and waited. She was trying to conjure up Martin’s face but the wine and the pain were making it difficult for her to concentrate.

  ‘Hmm. No, ’tis not a suitable song,’ Lucas concluded regretfully. ‘’Tis a lively tune but the words are hot. Does my hand soothe your back a little? This is what my grandmother did for my Ma. Poor old soul, she’s dead and buried now. She’d have soothed it for you. She was a rare old bird, my grandmother.’

  He paused as another pain seized Felicity and he wished he could bear it for her. He wished it was his child she was carrying. If wishes were horses beggars would ride, he thought. Maybe the next child …

  ‘My grandmother,’ he went on, as soon as he felt her body relax. ‘She was a fierce one. Even the men was scared of her, and her nearly seventy years old and so tiny. Like a feather she was, but she’d take up a broom and beat a man over the head if he said a wrong word. Broke up a fight, she did, one time — ’

  He waited but Felicity gasped, ‘Go on! Tell it, Lucas. I’m listening. Oh I do hope your mother is not too long. But go on!’

  ‘Er — aye, broke up a fight she did between two men. Giants they were too — ’

  ‘Like you!’ Felicity smiled weakly. There was a sheen of perspiration on her face and her eyes were larger than ever in her drawn face.

  ‘No, they were bigger than me and fighting over a wench. They’d come near to murdering each other — they was bleeding like a couple of stuck pigs and the wench ran to my grandmother, screaming and hollering that they was going to kill each other. None of the men would go near ’em. I was only nine or so, but I’d have been afeared even if I had been growed! She snatched up the old broom — I can see her to this day — and marched out into the square. She yelled and hollered but they took no notice and then she whacked ’em both. There was a great crowd by then and they roared to her to let ’em finish, but she wouldn’t. She laid about ’em with that old broom! ’Tis a wonder she didn’t break the handle. Well, they couldn’t get on with their fighting for this broom come at ’em from all sides, even round their legs and ankles, ’til they was nigh on tripping over it.’ His booming laugh rang out and then he hugged her as gently as he could. ‘Dear Felicity, wed me! Wed me!’ he whispered, but then Ned rushed in and gasped out, breathlessly, that Dorothy was following close behind on a borrowed mare. They heard the clatter of hoofbeats in the distance and then she, too, was rushing in, her face beaming with excitement. She stood and surveyed them with her arms folded.

  ‘What, no water on to heat?’ she demanded, ‘and precious little fire. Fetch some water from the well, Lucas and be quick about it — and you, Ned, fetch logs to make up the fire. Now, my chick, how are you? How many pains and how bad? Don’t look so fearful, I’m here now and ’tis all going to go a treat. You must have nothing to eat but sip that wine as often as you like. It dulls the pain a little. Come into the bed chamber and lie down. I want to feel that baby of yours and find out where he is. Then I’ll listen for a heartbeat. I can sometimes hear it. Oh aye, I’ve delivered that many babes you’ve no cause to fret. I’m a dab hand. I sometimes think I could have made a living as a midwife, but some folks will have their babes at awkward times and I do hate leaving my bed in the middle of the night to go traipsing off over the moor. No, I’ll stick to my washing and ironing. You can do that at a respectable hour. Don’t hurry, my chick. Breathe slow. Deep and slow. I’ll find you a leather to bite on. That’s the way. Come along. ’Twill all be over by the morning and you’ll have your son in your arms … ’

  It was over much sooner than anyone expected. Felicity’s labour was painful but mercifully brief and as the sun went down she gave birth to a boy, small but healthy. Almost immediately, a second, boy made his way into the world. Smaller still, but crying lustily as soon as he opened his eyes. It was all over. Felicity was filled with an exhilarating joy and Dorothy laughed aloud with relief. Lucas came in and saw Felicity, tired but radiant, with a child in each arm and his heart was so full he could only stare at her while tears streamed down his cheeks and into his beard. At last he brushed the tears away and crossed the room. He stood looking down at her and he was filled with such powerful emotions he could only shake his head in wonder at the double miracle. Blinking back the tears, he tried desperately to think of something to say to the woman he loved who hugged another man’s twin boys. He swallowed hard.

  ‘Oh aye,’ he said at last. ‘That grandmother was a fierce old body. I can see her now laying about them with that old broom.’

  Felicity, smiling, blinked back the tears in her own eyes because she understood.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Marshalsea was no worse than any other prison in London. It was primarily used for the incarceration of religious offenders but Allan had been arrested for brawling in Southwark High Street and the Marshalsea was the nearest. He was thrown in to the poorest quarter where even the sick lay on the ground on dirty lice-infested straw, but as soon as he sobered up he bought his way into a better grade cell where only eighteen other inhabitants shared the intolerable heat and stench. It was July and the flies buzzed over the floor among the inedible scraps which remained from the meals brought in by friends or relatives of various prisoners. For the first few days Allan paid the gaoler for food to be brought in and paid two pence a night to share a straw ma
ttress and filthy sheets. But his money was rapidly becoming exhausted so he was taken back to the meanest cell. There, compassionate passers-by dropped food to the prisoners through a rusty grating and the basket man called once a day with scraps collected from rich men’s houses.

  His cellmates were a fascinating collection — a rich man’s son caught cheating at dice and another in debt to his tailor; a woman cook accused of poisoning her mistress and a younger woman who picked pockets at the bear baiting. Jenny was a whore and Hugh the pimp who controlled her — both accused of stealing from their clients. A man and his wife arrested on a charge of witchcraft were fettered while they awaited transfer to another gaol on the north side of the river.

  Fortunately for Allan’s health and sanity, a dozen mariners were brought in at the end of October on a charge of conspiring to mutiny. There was no room for all of them so the gaoler released a few of his less profitable prisoners — men like Allan whose money had run out.

  Free once more, he had nothing to show for his stay in the Marshalsea except a few tricks with loaded dice which he had learned from an expert gambler. All kinds of false dice were made in the prison and a roaring trade conducted. Allan had purchased a ‘fullam’ — a dice weighted with quicksilver — in exchange for a silver ring. On his release he managed to earn enough with it to buy food and lodgings for one night and then make his slow way back to Devon, mostly walking but sometimes riding in the cart of a friendly farmer. From time to time he hitched a ride by clinging to the back of a wagon on which he had been refused a ride. He begged food, worked for it and occasionally stole it, he learned a lot about life during his stay in London and the long journey home. The Allan who finally came in sight of Heron was a very different man to the one who had left so many months before. He had longed for his first glimpse of home, but when at last he saw it, shame and remorse held him back. He had lost weight; his clothes were dirty and his hair unkempt. He had not shaved and a beard hid the lower part of his face. He was torn between his feelings of degradation and his longing to be accepted once more into the family.