Catching the Eagle, page 18
‘Mick? Joe?’ he shouted across to Aynsley’s sons. His eyes shone with alcohol and mischief. ‘Will you not join us in celebrating our Jamie’s release from gaol?’
The public house fell silent. Everyone in the inn now turned towards the two groups of men and waited for the Aynsleys’ reaction.
Mick Aynsley snorted into his ale. ‘I’d rather have a toast with the devil himself!’ he declared hotly.
‘Well, unfortunately, I don’t see your father here tonight.’ William said grinning ‘How is the old devil, by the way?’
Laughter rippled around the tavern and both the Aynsley brothers stiffened with anger.
‘Very droll – just watch yourself, Charlton,’ growled Mick Aynsley.
‘Why? Why should I?’ asked William defiantly. ‘What can you – or your damned father – ever do, or say, that’ll ever bother me again?’
‘’Tis very likely that our da with take you to court for that slanderous allegation you made about him.’
‘What are you talking about?’ William goaded innocently. ‘Do you mean the statement I made about his fancy woman? Or is it my claim that your da is the real thief of Kirkley Hall which bothers you? That’s not slander, Mick – it’s the truth!’
The inn reacted with a mixture of cheers and shouts.
The eldest Aynsley brother stood up and yelled over the noise: ‘Aye! You dared to say that – when we all knows the real thief is your Jamie!’
‘Well, I’ve got some news for you and your da,’ William informed them loudly. The noise abated in the tap room as everyone strained to hear. ‘If your da knew anything about the law – which from his pathetic performance in that Newcastle courtroom I can see he does not – he would know that accusations made by a witness under oath, cannot be charged as slander.’
‘Oh, sod off, Charlton,’ snapped Mick Aynsley. He finished off his drink and threw the tankard down into the grate of the fireplace. Its clanging reverberated around the tavern.
‘Come on Joe,’ he said to his sibling. ‘Let’s gan and get ourselves some better company in the Blackbird, this place has become the haunt of nowt but stinking gaolbirds and felons.’
Henry Charlton moved to block the Aynsleys as they made to leave, but Jamie pulled his angry younger brother back down to his seat and stood up himself. ‘While we’re talking about slander,’ he suddenly announced. ‘You might as well all know that I will be taking both Joseph and Michael Aynsley Senior to court at the next assizes for slandering my good name with that ridiculous charge. And in view of what you’ve just said, Mick Aynsley – in this crowded public house full of witnesses – you can also expect a summons to appear in the dock alongside your da and brother!’
The pub erupted into laughter at the thought that Mick Aynsley had just landed himself in court. Mick Aynsley mouthed some obscenity before he stormed angrily out of the tavern. If the hour had been any later or the men any younger, the argument may have erupted into a fight but it had not. The drama was over. The drinkers settled back down to relight their pipes and resume their ceaseless clattering games of dice and cards.
His anger spent, William was silent. Mick Aynsley’s words had struck home.
He could pretend he did not care – but he did. He and his brother had been in gaol. No matter how innocent Jamie was, their reputations were now both soiled, and suspicion would always hover over them. In addition to this, they had dragged their whole family down with them; the Charlton name would never be as respected as it once was.
Desperate to shake off this black mood, William picked up his glass and toasted his brother’s acquittal. Young Henry and his pals were only too pleased to join him in the toast.
‘So that’s the vengeance Taylerson told me you were threatening in your last hour in gaol, is it?’ William asked Jamie. ‘To take the Aynsleys to court for slander?’
‘Aye,’ Jamie replied, ‘revenge is a dish best served cold. So how is that miserable old horse-stealer Taylerson, anyway?’
‘He’s a worried man,’ William informed him. ‘He was found guilty at trial and sentenced to hang. As it’s his third offence, the judge was not inclined to clemency and will not be recommending that his sentence be commuted to transportation. Taylerson will hang in the new year.’
‘Then good riddance to bad rubbish,’ Jamie declared coldly.
The Charltons worked from dawn till dusk to gather in the harvest, and sometimes they worked at night, by the silver light of the moon and their swaying lanterns. Other members of the family, Henry and their sisters, all came and helped out whenever they could find time away from their own work and responsibilities. Each one of them was drawn back to the land where they had been raised by the strong family bond and some ancient deep-rooted fealty to the rich and steaming earth. Terrified that the good weather would break at any moment, John Charlton drove them all on towards exhaustion, as field after field of swaying golden corn was slain beneath the rippling blades of their scythes and then pitch-forked into the stacks. It was back-breaking work. At lunchtime, Ann Charlton and the youngest children would appear in the fields with armfuls of bread, pickles, cheese and jugs of water. The harvesters would throw themselves onto the piles of fresh straw and devour the food quickly. They only had a few brief minutes to rest their aching limbs before John chided them to their feet again.
Buoyed by Jamie’s successful acquittal, the mood of the family remained high. No one laughed and joked as much as Jamie and Cilla. While he did not to begrudge them their happiness, William could not help being swamped by jealousy whenever Cilla touched her husband or stared lovingly into his eyes. Part of him began to doubt that those intimate moments he had shared with Cilla had ever existed, but his common sense breathed a sigh of relief that they had never acted on their lust.
One evening she appeared by the river bank again while he was washing away the dirt and sweat. This time Jamie was stood beside him, chattering away in his usual manner. William was aware that Cilla’s beautiful eyes were flitting backwards and forwards, comparing the physique of the two brothers. He knew what she was thinking; Jamie cut a poor figure beside him.
The weather held and the harvest neared its end. Now, the family started to relax and to look forward to the harvest festival. This year it was to coincide with the long-awaited marriage of Henry to Sara Kyle. The banns had already been called.
The children busied themselves collecting luscious wild berries for fruit pies and the last of the summer’s flowers for decorating the house and tables. They wove corn dollies in the time-honoured tradition and tied them on long poles to hang from the rafters of the barns. Kern babies were fashioned from the last sheaves of wheat to be cut. They were bundled, dressed in white and trimmed with coloured ribbons to represent the spring. The children saved them to decorate the bride’s table; the bride who carried a spring baby in her womb.
The first of their wheat was sent to the miller. When it returned they baked into soft, moist lammas loaves. Vegetables were ripped up from the ground and they stripped the fruit from the trees. Everything was piled high next to the pot sink in the farm kitchen, ready for peeling and stewing. Two fat geese were slaughtered and stuffed with apples for the feast. Mutton was roasted in herbs.
Two evenings before the wedding, Jamie, William and young Jack began to behave furtively and then disappeared out into the dark, moonless night.
When she entered her kitchen at dawn, Ann Charlton was stunned to find three large, fresh salmon glistening on the wooden table. She frowned. ‘I’m not even going to ask whose estate you have poached them from!’ she said to her bleary eyed sons and grandson. They grinned at her across the room.
‘I thought you two had seen enough of the inside of gaol?’ John Charlton chided his brothers, humourlessly. ‘What a poor example to set the young lad.’
But not even John’s ill humour could dampen the excitement about this year’s harvest celebrations. The day of Henry’s wedding was a true family celebration. Every one of Ann Charlton’s seven surviving children – all accompanied by their spouses and children – arrived for the ceremony at the squat stone church next to the river in Ponteland. Even young Lizzie had managed to get the day off from her duties as housemaid at Kirkley Hall. She arrived resplendent in a brand new dress and bonnet. This irritated her jealous sisters who pulled at their faded hand-me-downs and it worried her religious father, for whom pride was a deadly sin.
‘She always was my prettiest grand-daughter,’ Ann Charlton whispered conspiratorially to William.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ William replied. ‘I think Cilla’s flame-haired twin daughters will cause mayhem amongst the young lads in this parish in a few years’ time.’
Ann just smiled.
The Kyle family was far smaller than the Charlton tribe but the little shopkeeper, Sarah Kyle, had been determined to contribute to the wedding feast of her niece; a young woman whom she had raised from an infant. A wagon had been packed with hampers of cold ham, pickles, pastries and homemade seed cake. Decorated with garlands of wild flowers and colourful ribbons, it trundled behind the wedding party as they returned to North Carter Moor. The two families walked back together, chatting amiably in the gentle sunlight as they weaved their way along the poppy-lined lanes. Alongside them the hedgerows were weighed down with the weight of fruit and berries. It wasn’t long before most of the children had stained and smeared their faces, fingers and clothes with blackberry juice.
At the head of the parade walked the delighted bride and groom. Henry was resplendent in a new coat; Sara, the bride, was bedecked with a beautiful wreath of laurel and vivid rowan berries. As she walked, she stroked the gentle swelling of her stomach beneath her muslin dress. They might have had to wait until the expense of the trial was over before they could afford their wedding, but Henry and Sara Charlton had not waited for anything else.
William fell into step with his mother as they walked. He marked quietly and with satisfaction that she looked contented. ‘Are you happy, Ma?’ he asked.
‘Never more so,’ Ann replied. ‘It has been a difficult year – what with Jamie and Cilla’s troubles – but it has ended well. We have been blessed – Praise the Lord. Our Henry is now wed to a good lass – and we have more of this to look forward to next year.’
‘How so?’ he asked.
‘The miller’s son, Alan Reed, has approached our John,’ his mother informed him. ‘He has asked if he can walk out with our Minnie – John’s eldest. Of course, we’ve all known that he has been sweet on her for a while now but this will be a good match for her.’
‘What? Little Minnie?’ William was genuinely surprised about this news of his eldest niece. ‘It hardly seems two minutes since I was dangling her in my lap!’
‘Well, she’s grown to a woman now, Will,’ Ann reminded him. ‘ʼTwill be a good match for her.’
‘Aye,’ he agreed. ‘A miller’s wife will never starve.’
‘Well, she most likely will be wed before you are.’ Ann cast a sly glance in his direction.
‘Most likely,’ he grinned. He knew only too well what was coming next.
But before his mother could launch into yet another lecture about how it was about time he stopped gallivanting about with the local wenches and found himself a decent wife, they were distracted by the delighted shouts from the crowd behind.
The Kyles’ horse-drawn wagon pushed itself forwards through the crowd. Jamie was stood on the back of the cart, shouting and waving theatrically at the wedding party. He too was decorated with gaily-coloured ribbons and bits of rag; a sheaf of corn hung round his neck on string and on his greying head balanced an old straw hat that sprouted corn and wilting flowers. Behind the wagon marched a group of the children with painted cardboard sickles slung over their shoulders. Cilla followed them, smiling proudly.
‘Hookey! Hookey!’ Jamie shouted.
‘Hookey! Hookey!’ the children echoed.
The laughing crowd gathered around.
‘Trust our, Jamie!’ Ann said and smiled fondly. ‘He never passes over a chance to play the clown!’
‘Friends, neighbours and family,’ Jamie said confidently. ‘As we all are aware, our John is the real master of the harvest….’
‘Get yourself on the cart, John!’ William shouted.
‘Aye, you’d look good with a few flowers and ribbons,’ Henry suggested.
The revellers shouted out encouragement but John Charlton smiled and shook his head.
‘…but being the shy type that he is…’ Jamie continued, ‘we cannot persuade him to take part.’ There were mock groans of disappointment from the crowd.
‘Shame!’
‘So you’ll have to make do with me as lord of the harvest – and the bairns as the little reapers.’
‘Sing us the song!’ Henry yelled.
‘Aye! Get the bairns to sing us the song!’ chorused the crowd.
An expectant hush fell amongst all those gathered. The children cleared their throats and with tremulous little voices began to sing the song which Cilla had rehearsed with them.
‘Hookey, hookey, we have shorn,
And we have bound,
And we have brought harvest
Home to town…’
A great cheer rose amongst the crowd and there was much clapping. Jamie had to wave his arms for silence. ‘Give the bairns a chance,’ he chided humorously. ‘They haven’t finished yet!’
Once more quiet descended, and the young Charltons warbled out another verse:
‘Merry, merry, merry, cheery, cheery, cheery,
Trowle the black bowl to me;
Hey derry, derry, with a poupe and a lerry,
I’ll trowle it again to thee…’
Applause again broke out amongst the adults and Jamie handed down a large, black bowl to the children. They ran laughing and squealing through the crowd, begging for groats, ha’pennies, sweetmeats and boiled spice.
‘He home returns, with hookey cry, with sheaves full lade abundantly.’ Ann Charlton smiled. ‘That’s our Jamie.’
‘It certainly is,’ William agreed.
‘Now good friends,’ Jamie shouted. ‘When the bairns have returned the bowl to me…’
‘Watch it, bairns!’ someone interrupted. ‘He’ll steal your sweetmeats and hide them with the rest of the Kirkley Hall rent money!’
William nearly choked with laughing. The rest of the crowd was bent double and whooping with merriment at the joke. Only the children were confused.
Jamie pretended to look hurt. ‘I’ll pretend you never said that, Abel Wilson,’ he said. ‘Right, there still be plenty of room on my cart for any lasses who want to ride with the master of the harvest. Who wants to ride with the master of the harvest?’ He made several rude sexual gestures and gyrated his hips crudely to accompany his words. The crowd loved it. When none of the women moved to join him on the cart his face fell in mock sadness.
‘What? Are there no takers? Well, in that case, I’d better just offer a lift to those lasses who are already with child.’
The bride was lifted, giggling, onto the back of the wagon by the men.
‘There’s still plenty of room for any lasses who want to be with child!’ the irrepressible Jamie continued.
‘Oh sod it,’ said William. He moved forward, scooped up Cilla in his arms and swept her into the back of the wagon with Jamie. ‘Get a move on brother,’ he said. ‘Or else we’ll all starve to death in this lane.’
‘Hookey, hookey, hookey!’ Jamie slurred lasciviously, as he gyrated hips again. Another great roar of laughter went up from the crowd. Cilla blushed prettily and even their John smiled.
Suddenly, everyone’s attention was ripped away from the theatricals on the back of the wagon. They glanced upwards and gasped. Delighted hands were raised – all pointed skywards.
Above their heads the eagle wheeled and soared in a fantastic aerobatic display – a freshly caught salmon dangled from its fearsome talons. It circled above them and then, gathering up its tremendous wings, it dived down like a golden arrow. The crowd watched in awe as it soared back up into the sky again.
Young Jack screamed and whooped for joy. ‘He’s here! He’s here! Our lucky bird is here!’
‘They say it’s a good luck bird,’ someone said in the crowd.
‘It’s brought you a salmon for your wedding feast, Henry!’
‘Aye, ’tis good luck for the bride and groom!’
‘I can’t believe that bird is still at large,’ William said to his mother. ‘I thought every man in the parish had tried to trap it to claim the reward.’
‘’Tis too wily to be trapped,’ Ann Charlton said.
‘A bit like our Jamie,’ William observed thoughtfully.
‘We’ll not dwell on that today,’ his mother informed him. ‘That is all behind us now.’
Eventually, the eagle glided back towards the Milburn woods. With an increased feeling of well-being and contentment, the two families continued to wend their way back to North Carter Moor for the wedding feast and more Harvest Festival games.
William noticed that young Jack, who had shouted himself hoarse, was the last to leave. When the raptor finally disappeared from sight, the boy wiped tears of happiness from his eyes with the back of his sleeve before following his family to the farm.
As the light faded and the luminous harvest moon crept upwards into the cold night sky, a coatless and hungry William Taylerson shivered in his cell. He brooded about the bitterly cold winter months ahead that he would suffer in that miserable gaol, and the long drop on the gallows which would end it all. To take his mind off his grim future, he started to tell his latest cell mate the story of James Charlton and the Kirkley Hall robbery. It was obvious to the other prisoners that Taylerson had become obsessed with Charlton; he talked constantly about the time he had shared a cell with him. Those who would listen to his strange, repetitive and rambling monotone were becoming fewer and fewer – newly imprisoned young Wilf Oliver was the exception to the rule.
‘…he were discharged when no bills were found against him,’ the horse thief finally explained. ‘That means that there weren’t enough evidence to send him to trial.’
