The Impregnable Women, page 25
He threw himself down on his blankets, and stared resentfully at the spider’s deserted web.
He heard footsteps, then the lock turning in his door. But he did not look round. The door was closed with a bang, and someone began impudently to whistle a hornpipe. He sat up and saw a slender figure in sailor’s uniform. Arms stiffly crossed, and a blue-trousered leg held up like a prancing horse, and whistling still, she began to dance.
‘Rose!’ he exclaimed. And then coldly: ‘What do you want? And why are you dressed like that?’
She struck an attitude. ‘I look rather nice, don’t you think?’
‘No. Where did you get that uniform?’
‘It belongs to your friend Bulmer.’
‘Nonsense. He’s twice your size.’
‘You forget that this is a garrison of all the talents. We’ve got four first-rate dressmakers here, and I got one of them to alter it for me. Don’t they fit beautifully behind?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not a judge of dressmaking.’
‘Darling, you’re not still sulking, are you?’
‘I am not aware that I have ever sulked. But if you mean that I’m not disposed for friendly conversation with you, then you’re right.’
Rose sat down on the bench and looked unhappy. ‘When I came here yesterday,’ she said, ‘I asked you if you still loved me. And you said no.’
‘You can’t expect me to love a woman who’s a rebel and a traitor.’
‘Why not?’
‘The reason should be obvious, even to you.’
‘Well, it isn’t. I never thought that love had anything to do with politics.’
‘In a case of this kind. . . .’
‘O-o-oh, it’s tickling!’
Leaping to her feet, Rose thrust a hand down the front of her sailor’s blouse, and made some rapid adjustment. ‘It’s this sort of flannel bib they wear,’ she explained.
‘You haven’t told me yet why you are wearing those clothes.’
‘You wouldn’t answer any of my questions yesterday.’
‘Rose, my dear, how could I? I’m an officer in the Army ...’
‘And you’re perfectly sweet.’
‘Rose . . . Why did you join this wretched strike?’
‘Oh, darling, it’s too late to ask that now.’
‘But it’s so nonsensical, and so damnably unfair.’
‘Have you missed me terribly?’
‘Of course I have.’
‘Poor Julian . . . No, because you said you didn’t love me any more.’
‘I wish to God it was true.’
‘Is that the truth now?’
‘No.’
‘Sweet Julian. You are funny.’
‘Rose, my darling!’
‘Julian . . . No, you can’t. You mustn’t do that.’
‘We’re all alone.’
‘I know. But if anyone came. . . .’
‘If anyone came! And whose fault is it that we’re liable to interruption? If anyone came she might find a prisoner of war making love to one of his gaolers – and she would be so upset.’
‘And so would we, darling.’
‘My God, Rose, I don’t understand you! You’re making a joke of it. But I’m in earnest, I’m serious. You can’t say that I haven’t a sense of humour, but there are certain things that no one can be funny about. A man’s feelings, for instance. His real need and belief. Oh, I don’t know how to explain it. But listen. Rose, you must try to understand! Before the war I was a schoolmaster. Then I became a soldier, I met you, we fell in love, and I began to live a new life. It was the life I had always wanted – and now you’re destroying it. You, who are part of it, perhaps the greatest part, are pulling it to pieces! I can’t take that lightly. No man could. And then you say I’m sulking, when my whole heart is full of bitterness and loss.’
‘I’m sorry, Julian.’
‘You’re part of my life, a vital part, and I can’t do without you.’
‘And I love you too. Honestly and truly.’
‘And you see my point of view? I hate talking about it, but I had to make you understand . . . Rose, come here. Oh, don’t be silly.’
‘Well. ...’
‘We’re absolutely alone.’
‘Well, just for a minute.’
‘You’ve got the loveliest chin, like the bow of a little ship in clear water.’
‘That shows my strength of mind . . . No. Julian, you must be sensible. If we were anywhere else, it would be different.’
‘Then let’s go somewhere else – you’ve got the key – let’s get out of this damned place.’
‘Out of the Castle?’
‘Could we do it? You want to be with me, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do, but . . .’
‘Do you know the sentries at the Main Gate? Do you think you could get them out of the way while I slipped through, and then follow me?’
‘No, we couldn’t do it that way. The Gate’s very heavily guarded tonight, because there are soldiers on the Esplanade. There are soldiers all round the Castle now. We’re beleaguered, and you’re doubly surrounded.’
‘The troops wouldn’t stop me going through, if I could get out of here. They probably wouldn’t stop you either, in that rig-out . . . Rose! Is that why you put it on?’
‘What an idea, Julian!’
‘Well, it would give you a chance. I suppose you’ve never done any climbing? If I were by myself I could go down the Rock, but I don’t think you could manage it. Though it isn’t really difficult.’
‘Would a rope be any help?’
‘Of course it would. I could take you down perfectly well if you were tied. There aren’t more than two or three places that you would find difficult in any case. A rope would solve the whole problem.’
‘Well, as a matter of fact, I brought the one that Horrocks used to help you over the wall. It’s lying outside the door.’
‘Then you were meaning all the time . . .’
‘Well, you’re not the only one who likes a little affection now and then.’
‘Oh, Rose, what a grand girl you are!’
‘And you don’t wish to God that you weren’t in love with me?’
‘Where’s that rope? I’m not going to waste any more time talking.’
‘We’ll have to be careful. Wait here for a minute and I’ll go and see if there’s anyone about.’
The blackness of the sky was broken now by straits and winding gulfs in which a sprinkling of stars glittered brightly. The causeway and the nearer ramparts were seemingly deserted, but Julian, despite his impatience, was cautious now. It was Rose who wanted to hurry. He made her keep to the darkest places, and reconnoitred from every corner. They reached the lower ground behind the old Armoury without seeing anyone, and the wall there was apparently unguarded. Julian whispered that a garrison so careless deserved to be surprised, but Rose answered vaguely that she thought there were plenty of sentries in other places.
From his shoulders she reached the top of the wall, and he heaved her up. She pushed the rope into a crack on the coping, and letting herself down on the other side held it with all her strength while Julian pulled himself up. Sitting on the coping, he released the rope, tied a knot in one end, and jamming the knot into the crevice came down on the outer side. Reaching as high as he could he cut the rope, and they began the descent of the Rock.
Rose had a good head, and showed no sign of fear. She was agile and strong, and they could have gone down with greater speed than they did. But now Julian was very anxious about her safety, and would not let her move until he had explained exactly what she must do, and often put himself into very dangerous positions so that he could help her. He tied and untied her a dozen times, and Rose grew somewhat impatient, though she was touched by his solicitude. They reached the foot of the Rock and the Gardens without mishap or any greater hardship than Julian’s nervousness, and to Rose’s great relief threw the rope away.
‘Now when we come to the picket-line,’ he whispered, ‘you say nothing. I’ll look after that part of the business.’
They walked boldly now, without any attempt at concealment, and were presently challenged: ‘Halt! who goes there?’
‘Friend,’ said Julian sharply. ‘And look here, sentry, you’d better keep a brighter look-out than you’re doing. I could see you for at least ten seconds before you challenged.’
This little display of authority materially increased his happiness, and slightly exaggerated his military bearing. Rose found it rather difficult to keep up with his long resolute strides. They passed a company of soldiers, lying on the grass, but no one paid any attention to them. They turned west on the road that led through the Gardens. There was another sentry at the gate into Princes Street, but Julian with a soldier’s brusque affability wished him good night, and he made no attempt to stop them.
They approached the Albyn Hotel, where Rose had been living before the strike began. She still had her room there.
‘But I can’t go in dressed like this,’ she objected. ‘You go first, get the key of my room – it’s number 324 – and bring me a coat. There’s a big fawn-coloured one in the wardrobe. Hurry, and I’ll wait here.’
He hesitated for a moment, for he did not like to leave her alone, but could think of no better plan. ‘Then stay here where it’s darkest,’ he said, ‘and don’t move.’
Rose waited till Julian had disappeared into the hotel, and then swiftly crossed the road and ran down Queensferry Street. It was one o’clock in the morning, and the town was deserted. Poor Julian, she thought, and looked over her shoulder. There was no one in sight. She took the first turning to the left, and slowed her pace to a fast walk.
She felt very sorry for Julian, but his unhappiness was a small matter compared with the saving of the garrison and the love-strike from defeat. He would be wildly disappointed, but she could atone for that later on. He wasn’t difficult to handle, she thought. She was a little ashamed of having deceived him, but delighted with herself because she had done it so well.
For a moment she stood doubtfully at the next corner, but guessed her direction and hurried on. She had a mile or two to go. Her destination was a house in Murrayfield Drive, in the outlying western part of Edinburgh, where she was to ask for Mrs MacLeod of Rhidorroch. Mrs MacLeod would have the latest news of the Highland army. It had been at Stirling when her daughter left it, but that was thirty-six hours ago. And then, wherever the Highland women were, she must reach them without delay, and persuade them to march with all speed to the relief of the Castle.
She found Murrayfield Drive without much trouble, and rang the bell of a tall dark house with a high-pitched roof. Mrs MacLeod herself came to the door. Rose recognized her at once, from her likeness to her daughter, but Mrs MacLeod did not recognize a woman in Rose’s clothes, and slammed the door in her face. Frantically Rose beat upon it, and cried, ‘I’ve come from the Castle! The Castle, the Castle!’
Grudgingly the door re-opened, and Rose was dazzled by the beam of an electric torch. Then a rather gruff voice remarked, ‘I seem to have made an elementary mistake. Come in, whoever you are. I flattered you, taking you for a man.’
‘I don’t see there’s any flattery in that,’ retorted Rose.
‘Perhaps there isn’t. Still, I don’t think much of your women, in the Castle or anywhere else. They ought to have finished this business days ago.’
She led the way into a sitting-room, and said sharply, ‘Don’t look at the pictures like that. This isn’t my house, and I didn’t choose the furniture.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rose meekly.
‘Now what’s been happening at the Castle?’
Rose explained the situation, and Mrs MacLeod remarked, ‘So Kate arrived just in time, did she? She ought to have been there sooner. She came here in the early morning, and fainted as soon as she got inside the door. Well, you won’t have to go to Stirling tonight; that’s one thing you may be glad of.’
The Highland army, she said, had started to move almost as soon as Catriona left it. But it was not taking the direct road to Edinburgh. General Scrymgeour had sent two composite battalions to meet it, who had got as far as Linlithgow, and were halted there, apparently owing to disaffection. In order to avoid them the Highlanders were marching through Fife to North Queensferry, having sent forward a strong force to capture the ferry service. Their only danger by that route was the Navy men at Rosyth, but the Navy was in a state of barely repressed mutiny, so they had discounted the risk. When their main army was expected to cross the Forth, Mrs MacLeod did not know. Her latest news had come with a cyclist early in the afternoon. Since then she had sent as many women as she could mobilize, with food and other comforts, to meet the Highlanders, and in Queensferry, at the Hawes Inn, Rose would find a sensible person called Mrs Moncrieff, who would advise her what to do next.
‘And how am I to get there?’
‘I’ve a bicycle waiting for you. And now would you like a drink before you start? Then wait a minute, and I’ll get it for you. I’m alone in the house, because I sent every creature I could find to Queensferry.’
She returned with a decanter of sherry and a couple of glasses. ‘Had I been in Lady Lysistrata’s position,’ she said, ‘this love-strike would have lasted exactly three days. What’s the use of sitting in the Castle doing nothing? Why doesn’t she attack? That’s what I would have done. On the morning of the third day I would have attacked, and by night the strike would have been over, and the women victorious.’
‘But what would you have attacked?’ asked Rose.
‘Eary damned man in the country,’ said Mrs. MacLeod of Rhiddorch. ‘There isn’t a penn’orth of sense in the lot of them. War, my God! I wish they knew as much about it as I do. My husband and both my brothers were killed in the last one, and I took over two crippled estates, paid death duties on both, worked like a slave for twenty years, and now the same sort of nonsense starts all over again. – Have another glass of sherry. – I’ve got two boys at the front, one has been wounded twice already, and the other has been recommended for the V.C. Six months more, and both will be dead. And you sit in the Castle and do nothing! Even the Highlands would never have moved if I hadn’t told them to. It was I who told them to attack. That’s the only way to win a war; attack, and then before the other side knows what to think, attack again. Well, come along and I’ll give you your bicycle. Now remember: Queensferry, the Hawes Inn, and Mrs Moncrieff.’
In a humble but resolute frame of mind – for she had rarely encountered a person of more forceful temper than Mrs MacLeod of Rhidorroch – Rose wheeled her bicycle on the road, mounted, and set off through the darkness in the direction of Queensferry and the Hawes Inn.
Chapter Six
The Last Battle
I
Drawing curtains and canopies of mist from the cool earth, the day broke fair and windless. The morning light was opalescent, a whiteness with gleams of topaz in it, and the spires of churches, the roofs of tall buildings, rose like brown rock-islands out of milky vapour. But the upper sky was blue, and above the mounting sun it grew clear as sapphire, while the mist vanished or was gathered into a belt of low-lying cumulus to the east. By nine o’clock the whole sky was brilliant and the day already hot.
From early morning an army had been gathering for the assault on the Castle. Company after company of soldiers had come marching into the Gardens under the northern face of the Rock, and whenever a company or two came in, a company or two – lying peaceably on the grass beneath a tent of idle talk and cigarette smoke – were called to attention and marched out again. Some of them went up the Mound and on to Castle Hill, and some went round the other way into Johnstone Terrace, and up the long flight of steps to the Esplanade. For every military operation of any magnitude is always attended by some confusion, and the law of physics applies also to tactics; to every item of marching there is an equal and opposite item of counter-marching. But eventually, though some of them may still have been in the wrong place, the Castle was entirely surrounded by troops, and on the eastern side of the Esplanade a strong force lay ready to begin the attack.
The soldiers had been drafted from many different regiments. They had been carefully selected and they were all men of good character. But they had no enthusiasm for the task in front of them, though their officers had been at pains to impress them with the serious nature of it. It might, indeed, be one of the crucial battles of the world, but they found it difficult to believe in its importance because the circumstances were so very different from those of other battles. Their weapons, for instance, could hardly be described as soldierly.
General Scrymgeour had found it difficult to persuade the Cabinet to authorize weapons of any sort. The Ministers were still fearful of being arraigned, before the whole world or even their own constituencies, as barbarians and murderers of women. They had categorically forbidden Scrymgeour to employ lethal arms, and to meet their wishes he had devised a kind of club or truncheon made of heavy felt and loaded with sand. These clubs were obviously formidable, but probably not deadly, and the Cabinet, though with some misgiving, had finally approved of them. Every second man carried in addition a large sack. It had been suggested, by Julian Brown, that these would provide useful means of securing prisoners.
The soldiers were almost as uneasy as the Cabinet. They did not like the idea of an organized war against women, though the great majority of them were very angry with the rebels, and hated the love-strike because it had deprived them of so much pleasure. It had robbed them of the only pleasure that put them on the same level of enjoyment as princes and plutocrats. It was therefore an anti-democratic strike. But the purpose of the strike, said others, was to stop the war, and it was the opinion of many that the war itself was anti-democratic. Britain was in alliance with Germany, and Germany stood for tyranny. After twelve months of fighting the soldiers had started to wonder what they were fighting for; and no one could give any better reason than the need to punish France for the bombing of London. But the punishment, they thought, was hurting themselves as much as the French, and there was no comfort in thinking that it was probably of help to Germany. For Germany’s cause, whatever it might be, was certainly not the cause of peace and justice, of freedom and democracy.
