The Prophet, page 23
‘Perhaps,’ Nat ventured, ‘the ancients had their great mysteries; think of their giants’ stones, too vast to be moved by men alone.’
‘Aye,’ Joshua said. ‘When I was a foolish boy we village lads went on an adventure to Briggestone Barrow. There was talk of hidden gold, the usual dream of lost treasure. It is a maze of a place; we were lucky to get home in one piece. I’ve long thought it the likely stronghold of those murderers who killed the folk drowned in the bogs. Gunn no doubt hopes we fear it too much to make a proper search.’
It was then Nat noticed their way ahead was barred. Beaufort Langley and a stranger were staring up at them in astonishment, standing in a clearing beside a portable inkstand bearing scrolls of paper.
FIFTY
‘Nat De Vallory. Of all the rogues to come trespassing. What the devil are you doing here?’ Beaufort Langley blustered.
‘We are here on the sheriff’s business. That is all you need to know,’ Joshua said curtly.
‘Wait,’ young Langley cried. ‘You owe me ten guineas don’t you know, for that mangy wolfhound you stole from our kennels.’
Nat guffawed at the accusation. ‘What? You mean my father’s own dog that you stole?’ Pox the man, he had a deal of audacity.
‘Ha, sir,’ Langley said, turning to his companion, who appeared to be a surveyor or mapmaker. ‘This upstart fellow betrays his low birth. All over ten paltry guineas. He is as tight with his wallet as a gnat’s arse.’
Nat stared down from the saddle with chilling sangfroid. ‘How crude you are. And certainly no gentleman. I do not steal dogs – or land.’
A self-satisfied grin broke out across Beaufort Langley’s asinine face. ‘Since I last saw you I remembered your visage. I saw you at the Kaleyards tavern, did I not?’
‘You may have. I questioned Nancy Blair. I was seeking the whereabouts of Maria St John and the name of any who consorted with her.’
Beaufort looked less comfortable. ‘What did that loose-tongued hussy tell you?’
‘More to the point, what were you doing there the night before she was murdered?’
‘Me?’ Langley brayed. ‘I do like a little low pleasure. I have no wife to hide my appetites from. Whereas I’ll wager that damned lively wife of yours would like to know of your visit.’
Nat laughed coldly. ‘You shall not rattle me, sir. My wife is an open-minded lady.’
Beaufort leered up at Nat. ‘That’s not all she keeps open, according to my knowledge.’
Luckily for Langley, at that moment a distant sound reached Nat from behind his back. Faint but raucous, it was the pack in full cry. He glanced at Joshua who silently acknowledged he had heard it too. ‘Well, sirs, the constable and I have business to attend to,’ he said coolly.
Disgruntled, Langley continued to stand foursquare before them, blocking their way. ‘Wait. Where is my ten guineas?’
‘Go hang for it, Langley. You know as well as I do that your keeper stole my father’s wolfhound.’
Joshua motioned his horse to take a step forward. ‘In the name of the sheriff of Chester, I demand you let us pass.’
Young Langley’s temper was rising. ‘How dare you come here,’ he taunted Nat. ‘You are a by-blow, a nothing. Sir John must be crack-headed to let such a viper into his home. All the gentlemen hereabouts are against you.’
Langley’s companion spoke for the first time. ‘Is your father hunting today, sir?’
‘No, no.’ Then, hearkening, Langley asked, ‘What is that racket?’
While the two men turned to scan the countryside for the source of the approaching hullabaloo, Nat saw his chance. A document box stood open on the ground. In the guise of turning Jupiter around, he dropped his battered string of red herrings inside it.
‘What the devil!’ cried young Langley as he spotted the pursuing dogs pelting towards them up the track.
The surveyor was backing away. ‘Mister Langley. The brutes are heading straight for us. Let’s run!’
Uncertainly, Langley staggered backwards. Nat signalled to Joshua and as one the pair dug their heels into their horses’ flanks and set off at a gallop, soon outstripping the pack. Hearing cries of bewilderment and then fear from Langley, Nat grinned like a Cheshire cat. Only when the clamour of dogs reached a wild crescendo did Nat swing Jupiter around to observe the mayhem.
Looking back, young Langley lay prostrate on the ground, cursing and yelling at the dogs to back away. The surveyor was pushed up against a tree, ineptly batting at the dogs with the aromatic box. The hounds were happily ignoring all commands in the sheer joy of playing with their amusing prey.
‘The surprise on their faces,’ yelped Nat, his face pained from a volley of laughter. Even Joshua broke his grave expression to chuckle. ‘Covered in slobber, they are.’
Finally, Nat called the dogs with a long low whistle. The leading dog, Nipper, lifted her snout at the sound and fixed her eyes on the pair of them. She gave a summoning bark and at once the pack joined her in full cry and trotted gleefully towards Nat and Joshua. Then they were off again, Nat and Joshua and their horses galloping to keep ahead of the feverish hounds, winding along paths and jumping fallen branches, the two men looking keenly ahead for their rendezvous at Whetstone Well.
At the well they waited for the rest of their companions until all were reunited in a whirlwind of fur and hooves and flicking tails. The spring produced a famous cure-all that had once enticed invalids from miles around. Now the dogs sank dripping jowls in the stone troughs set beside the famous pools. Nat, too, drank long and heartily, for the water was sweet with an aftertaste of liquorice. As he wiped his mouth, Jacob Hollingsworth slunk over and drew him to one side.
‘Sir, beyond that stand of trees is Briggestone Barrow. The best way would be to ambush them by stealth. No more than half a dozen silent men to scout ahead. And the best scent hound – Nipper – can search for Miss Saxton without raising the alarm.’
Nat did not disagree. What little he knew of leadership certainly allowed for giving your best men full rein. Jacob was a soldier, Cam was a poacher and Joshua had long experience of catching villains. When they were ready Nat addressed all the men. ‘Four of us shall go forward. Cam, Jacob Hollingsworth, Constable Saxton and myself. The rest of you wait here. If you hear a musket shot, advance at once with your weapons at the ready. If you hear no signal, stay alert. And keep mum.’
The mood at once became grave. The chosen men assembled, with Nipper on a tight leash. Through the trees Nat could see the flat-topped mass of the ancient barrow. His spyglass showed no figures upon it and not a blade of grass appeared to stir, nor a bird to circle above it.
FIFTY-ONE
Dirty, sore, and hungry, Jennet had never felt so miserable. For what felt like forever she had been kept here, imprisoned in the dark. All her desire to fight back had vanished long ago. Now, her sole aim was to draw no attention to herself. If Repentance noticed her, she was made to work, and she hated groping her way down the slippery tunnel to fetch water from the horrid black hole of the well. One time, when she had been made to tend the fire and stir a thin broth, she had been overcome with hunger and spooned a few scalding lumps out of the cauldron into her mouth. That had earned her a wallop from one of those she privately called the True Believers. Her head had been slammed against the solid wall of rock and she had felt blood, for goodness’ sake. To her astonishment, the others hadn’t cared a pin about her injury. To think, they carried on about all this caring and loving and yet she could have bled to death. Since then, she had hunched in a shadowy recess, where she cried and slept and silently called Tom Seagoes every wicked name under the sun.
Opening her eyes, she found she had been dreaming again. Rubbing swollen eyelids, she tried to cling to those visions of home that had seemed so real a few moments earlier. She recalled her sunny garden and her happy concerns over the hatching of chicks in the henhouse. Why had she run away from such comforts? Reluctantly, she looked around the chamber and found that it was filling with more people than usual. Someone trod on her toes. Lord, it was Grisell, with her hair a wild grey nest and her Sunday gown ruined. Jennet pressed herself deeper against the wet wall so her former companion would not see her. Grisell was one of the True Believers and one of the last people here she wanted to speak to.
Baptist Gunn came in and a little flurry of anticipation passed around his followers. Even he looked exhausted; shadows hollowed his eye sockets and his hair hung greasy and flat. He began to talk of America, of the promised land. Though some of the bedraggled band still mumbled, ‘Praise be,’ and Grisell cried, ‘We are saved,’ it seemed to Jennet that as many stayed silent and watchful. She hopelessly wondered if she would get another chance to jump off the cart when they set off again, or if she might hide before they boarded the ship. That was the sort of thing her father, or Tabitha, would do. They would not have been sitting here half-dead with terror like she was.
A few words distracted her from her private thoughts. ‘Together we will launch a ship of history,’ Baptist was saying. She watched him and found there was still some flame-like quality that drew her to him. He raised a tankard. ‘Like all the poor of the earth we have no food. Yet we have water. Today, I ask that you drink with me. For this is my blood. Let us share a last cup together.’
He took a swallow himself and then the cup was passed amongst them. ‘I am ready to face death,’ he announced in a stronger voice. ‘As I am ready each time I return. As I am ready each time I am betrayed.’
Jennet felt the longing rise again in her soul to believe in Baptist. He stood before them like a persecuted saint, his eyes shining. She knew her scripture. Could Gunn be more than a mortal man? She studied him with fresh, scrutinizing eyes. No, she had been tricked into following him to this slimy pit. He was a fraud, a charlatan, just as Tabitha had always maintained.
There was a scuffle in the tunnel that she guessed led to the outside, for Gunn’s trusted men, armed with knives and muskets, kept a close guard upon it – not only on those coming in but stopping anyone leaving as well. A familiar female voice rang out, echoing against the hollow stone. To Jennet’s fuddled surprise, Sukey Adams strode in and barged her way through to stand at Baptist’s side. A victorious grin shone on her face. ‘No need to lament, Baptist. I have him. He is here on earth. Here is our saviour.’ She raised a white bundle towards Gunn. Jennet strained to see. In the dim tallow light, she noticed the cloth was moving. It was a baby. Judging from her diminished belly, Sukey had given birth to her child. So, had Sukey been pregnant with the saviour all this time? Jennet’s mouth fell open in surprise. It had to be the unlikeliest event she had ever witnessed. Surely Baptist was supposed to be the saviour’s father? The Bold Hall nursemaid who disapproved of any misdeed, from a clumsy embroidery stitch to a saucy jest – how could she have lain with Baptist Gunn and begot the saviour? Jennet watched, spellbound, as Baptist stepped away from her and studied Sukey, his eyes narrowed and his brows low. He did not appear to share her triumph. The nursemaid moved amongst the group, leaning down to reveal what lay inside her arms. All the time she was repeating phrases: ‘Your saviour’ and ‘He is the chosen one’ and ‘It is a miracle.’
Sukey Adams came nearer, so close that Jennet could glimpse the child’s linen that she herself had helped to create. There was the gown with an oak tree pricked out in holy point lace. A pointed stump of coral set in silver dangled from a ribbon. It was the coral rattle that bore the De Vallory family crest. These were Tabitha’s baby’s clothes. Sukey Adams had stolen these vastly expensive goods from her mistress. Jennet felt a jolt of outrage.
She turned back to watch Baptist. He was staring into open space as if trying to conjure some better future from the darkness. It was a rare thing for him not to take command as their leader. She caught the puzzlement of the congregation as they waited for him to take charge.
Sukey reached the place where Jennet sat. The beatific expression faltered as she recognized her former companion and a scowl darkened her face. ‘Jennet Saxton,’ she muttered. ‘You are witness to a miracle.’ Swiftly she moved on.
Jennet wished she was not so weak from hunger and confusion. She wordlessly prayed that Sukey Adams would not accompany them to America. Hostile murmuring broke into her thoughts. Repentance’s voice rose in an ill-tempered complaint. ‘Baptist! This cannot be right.’ The shrewish woman had marched to the front and whipped around to face them all. ‘We cannot let this sinner back into our fold. Salvation was expelled by Baptist himself.’
Sukey Adams froze and turned to face Repentance with a hard expression. ‘Look at her,’ Repentance yelled. ‘She is addled in the head. If we harbour such an abomination as her, God will never forgive us.’
‘You are the abomination,’ hissed back Sukey Adams. ‘Behold! He is my child. A miracle from God. Tell her, Baptist. Tell her how God has been good to me. How I worked ceaselessly to fetch you all the money for the voyage and have now fulfilled the prophecy as only I can. You need me!’
Gunn stared from one woman to the other. Jennet had a ridiculous urge to laugh. This was the best entertainment she had seen since joining the camp. And as if it truly were a penny sideshow, the sound of a musket firing suddenly cracked the air making more than a few cry out. Next, a noise like the hounds of hell erupted, echoing down the long tunnel, so that all turned fearfully towards the racket.
One of the guards ran in and grasped Gunn’s arm, crying, ‘They be waiting outside with dogs.’
The gathering wailed and whimpered. Then at last Gunn sprang up, filled with resolution.
He moved fast, darting over to Sukey Adams and wrenching the sleeping infant from her arms. Then to Jennet’s horror, he pushed and leapt over the crowd towards her, yanking her arm and dragging her roughly up on to her feet. Not caring how he hurt her, he pulled her roughly after him towards the tunnel and the raucous noise.
‘Baptist. Wait for me.’ Sukey Adams was trying to catch at his coat. ‘I’ll tell them it was me! It was me all along.’
With a jerk, he swivelled backwards to shout at her. ‘Forget your crack-brained scheming. It’s not your damned saviour. It’s De Vallory’s child. With luck it can get us out of here.’
‘You promised me,’ Sukey wailed. ‘When I unlocked the strongroom—’
‘Hold your tongue, woman!’
He barked at the guards. ‘Keep them all here until I return. I am going to parlay with our enemies. We are fallen in the hands of sinners. But I will secure safe passage for you all to our New Jerusalem.’
FIFTY-TWO
Jennet stumbled along, trying not to trip on the rocky tunnel floor. Gunn was almost pulling her arm out from her shoulder. Behind them they could hear Sukey wailing, ‘He’s mine. You cannot have him!’
Gunn was holding the baby all wrong; it was tucked like a sack of flour in the crook of his other elbow. They stumbled along till they came to a dead-end where a great pile of boulders stood heaped up to the roof. The sound of howling dogs had grown frighteningly close; she could hear them scrabbling at the rocks, unseen but barely a few feet away.
‘I still have goods to trade,’ Baptist was mumbling to himself. His fingers dug like metal hooks into Jennet’s arm but she didn’t cry out. ‘The constable’s daughter. And De Vallory’s child.’
Jennet’s head jerked up. So that’s why she was of value to him. The constable’s daughter. And there it was again: was the baby truly Nat’s child? Her thoughts were muddled but she had to try to make sense of what was happening around her. Could Nat have fathered a child upon Sukey Adams? The idea almost made Jennet giggle, so that she feared she might never stop laughing in all her days. Why would Nat take Sukey as a bedfellow? Set beside Tabitha, Sukey Adams was dull and ordinary. On the other hand, Tabitha was forever complaining that the doctor had banished Nat from her bed. Heavens, if Tabitha discovered Nat and Sukey Adams had lain together, she would explode like a keg of gunpowder.
Baptist pushed the baby towards her. ‘Hold it,’ he barked and she did so. ‘Stand back.’ She edged away as he began to heave rocks from the top of the heap. They rolled down to the tunnel floor and in time a thin natural light shone into the place bringing sweet scented air. Jennet felt her wits reawaken. Gently, she cradled the warm bundle in her arms and retreated further back down the tunnel. Peering into the folds of cloth, she found the infant’s tiny face, its eyes shut and fringed with long dark lashes, its miniature nose and pretty lips lying set and closed. She lowered her own face towards his and felt the child’s skin brush her own cheek like warm fruit. He was breathing steadily. She marvelled that through all this hurly-burly he slept on. He looked a little like Nat, she mused, guessing that his hair must be dark beneath the richly laced cap. Or he could be Gunn’s child, she supposed, though if so she pitied him for having such a father. As for the notion that the baby was some sort of saviour, that had to be nonsense. With sudden clarity, she grasped that whoever the baby belonged to, Jennet had been placed here by Providence to protect him. She nuzzled his warm brow and inhaled the yeastiness of his skin. Some primitive instinct blossomed inside her and, in that moment, she became less of a child herself and more the mother she hoped one day to become.
‘Call the dogs off!’ Baptist yelled through the gap in the stones. ‘I have Jennet Saxton here. And the baby.’
Jennet strained to hear the reply but could not make out individual words, only that the dogs were called back. Then Nat’s smooth, well-educated voice asked, ‘Is Jennet unharmed?’
‘She’s here. Better cared for than at home.’ In the shadows, Jennet shook her head in disbelief.
‘I’ll deliver her safe to her father. In return I want free passage to Liverpool. There is a wagon in a cave a hundred paces down to the left. Get that hitched up and fetch it here. Then I want two days’ start to get on my way.’
‘Then we get Jennet?’ Nat insisted.
