The Enterprise of England Page 13

  He looked up at us, sheltering his eyes with his hand from the blowing snow.

  ‘Follow me. It’s this way.’

  I slid down from the saddle. My feet were so numb I could not feel the ground and my knees gave way a little as I landed. Steadying myself against Hector’s side, I flipped the reins forward over his head and followed Berden and the trooper across a slippery cobbled yard towards a run of outbuildings. Stables, storage barns, a smithy whose fire gave a welcome glow, though we could not stop to warm ourselves. The trooper struggled to draw back the bolt across the stable door and another man came to help him.

  ‘Already icing up,’ he said, through gritted teeth. His hands were blue with the cold. ‘I’ve never known snow in November as bad as this b’yer lady storm. Not even with us stuck here on this rock with everything the sea can throw at us.’

  Between them the men managed to open the door and we led the horses inside. There was an enclosed candle lantern hanging just inside the door, and another at the far end of the stables. A narrow passageway led towards it, with stalls on either side. There would be no open candles or sconces in a stable, where the slightest spark could set all that straw and hay alight in a moment.

  ‘There’s two empty stalls along here,’ the trooper said. The second man had disappeared. He pulled open the half doors to two adjacent stalls. ‘There’s hay in the mangers. I’ll fetch you a couple of buckets of water.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Berden said.

  ‘Have you any bran mash?’ I asked. ‘We have ridden hard, all the way from Maidstone. Our horses need something more than hay.’

  ‘I’ll ask the head groom,’ he said, and went back the way we had come.

  I unbuckled my saddlebags and laid them in the passageway outside the stall, then lifted off Hector’s saddle and set it on a rack beside the door. When I removed his bridle he shook his head and blew out a gusty breath of relief. It had been a hard day for him. Some life was coming back into my frozen fingers as I rubbed him down with a fistful of straw, while he inspected the hay, which was fresh and plentiful, though I hoped the trooper would find him something more sustaining. By the time I had rubbed Hector’s coat dry of melting snow and checked his hooves for lumps of ice as best I could in the dim light, the trooper was back with the water. Hector had had long enough now since his wild run and had eaten something, so I let him drink, though I moved the bucket away before he had too much.

  ‘The groom is making up some bran mash,’ the trooper said. ‘He’ll bring it over. I need to get back to my duties.’

  ‘We’re grateful to you,’ I said.

  Berden looked over the partition between the stalls.

  ‘We need to report to your commander,’ he said, ‘once we’ve seen to the horses. And we’d be glad of a meal. It was a bitterly cold ride.’

  ‘Aye, come over to the keep when you’re done. Anyone can show you to the commander’s room. We eat in about an hour. You’ll hear the bell. Just follow everyone else.’

  With that he was gone, but I could see the groom approaching with two more buckets. He handed them to us, gave us a smile and a nod, but said nothing before he vanished into the shadows again. Hector plunged his muzzle gratefully into the bucket while I opened one of the saddlebags and pulled out the horse blanket folded on top of my knapsack. By the time I had it buckled in place, Hector had finished the mash and was nosing about hopefully in the empty bucket, until it fell over with a clatter. There was still some hay left in the manger and I put the water bucket where he could reach it. With the blanket on, he should be warm enough, for nearly every stall was occupied and the horses generated their own warmth.

  ‘Ready?’ said Berden, looking in the door of my stall.

  ‘Aye, I’m ready.’ I picked up the empty bucket that had contained the mash in one hand and closed and latched the door to the stall with the other. I gathered up the saddlebags by their central strap and followed Berden back to the door of the stables.

  ‘Might as well leave the empty buckets here,’ he said.

  ‘Aye.’ I put mine down and together we heaved the door open. It was a struggle to bolt it, but we succeeded at last. The wind had grown even fiercer, so we lowered our heads and staggered through it to the keep. Now that I was no longer occupied with Hector, I was conscious that my cloak was sodden and the wet had soaked through the shoulders of my doublet and shirt to my very skin. My feet, no longer numb, throbbed with pain. All I wanted was dry clothes and warmth, but first we must report to the commander of the garrison here at Dover Castle.

  We found the commander’s quarters without difficulty and a shouted ‘Enter’ summoned us to his presence. We went in, leaving our baggage just inside the door. The room was luxuriously furnished with thick rugs on the floor and what looked like expensive tapestries on the walls, more suited to a gentleman’s country house than a military barracks. A great fire of logs blazed in the fireplace and almost at once Berden and I began to steam like a pair of cookpots coming to the boil. I tried to edge sideways nearer to the fire, but a fierce look from the man behind the desk stopped me where I stood. We were not invited to sit.

  Sir Anthony Torrington was probably in his early sixties, a man sleek with good living, an assumption borne out by the choleric shade of his countenance. His beard and hair were quite white, so he might have been older. Their pure snowy colour contrasted strikingly with the red of his skin and the fine purple veins that were beginning to break through on his nose. With no other evidence to support the idea, I was convinced that this was not a man experienced in the rigours of the battlefield.

  ‘Well?’ he said, looking at us as if we were some disagreeable object he had neither time nor inclination to deal with.

  I left it to Berden to reply, glad to retire behind my position as the junior here.

  ‘Sir Anthony,’ said Berden, bowing politely and summoning, despite his evident exhaustion, a small smile. ‘My companion and I are travelling from Sir Francis Walsingham, carrying despatches to my lord Leicester in the Low Countries.’

  He leaned over the desk and laid our passes in front of the commander.

  ‘As you will see, we are granted quarter in all English military posts. We are also required to commandeer a ship to take us across the Channel at the earliest opportunity.’

  The captain cast a cursory glance at the papers and pushed them back towards Berden.

  ‘I daresay we can accommodate you for a brief period, but we are on high alert here and the garrison is at full strength. I will not have any of my men put to inconvenience.’

  ‘It is my hope,’ said Berden, ‘that we need trouble you for one night only. We would like to take ship tomorrow.’

  A grunt from the commander. ‘You will need to speak to the naval commander about that, though I doubt whether any of his ships’ captains will be willing to make the crossing in the present storm.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Let us hope it will have blown itself out by then.’

  ‘Very well.’ He waved his hand as though he were brushing away a troublesome fly, and we were dismissed, collecting our baggage and closing the door quietly behind us. I raised my eyebrows at Berden and he threw up his eyes expressively to the ceiling, but neither of us said anything.

  We walked back the way we had come, to the central hall, leaving a double trail of wet footprints and drips along the stone floor. There was a fireplace here and I made for it like a bee to nectar. Berden joined me. We were both hoping that the bell to summon us to eat would ring soon.

  As we stood toasting ourselves, two troopers crossed the hall and I recognised one of them.

  ‘Andrew!’ I called.

  He stopped in his tracks, spun on his heel and came over to us, his companion following.

  ‘Kit? What are you doing here? And looking like something fished out of the sea?’

  He took my outstretched hand and shook it warmly.

  ‘I wondered whether we might see you here,’ I said. ‘This is Nicholas Berden.�
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  The two men bowed and Andrew introduced the other trooper as Paul Standish.

  ‘We are on our way to the Low Countries,’ I explained, ‘carrying despatches.’

  He shook his head. ‘You turn up everywhere, Kit. I never know where I will meet you, like the sprite in the fairy story. But why are you so wet? Have you been out in this storm? Why have you not been found quarters?

  Berden shrugged. ‘We saw to our horses, then reported to your commander. We were just wondering where to go.’

  ‘Ah, the horses.’ Andrew grinned at me. ‘Hector, is it? I think you would care for that horse first if you were dying on your feet.’

  ‘We are not quite dying,’ I said. ‘But we are very wet. And Hector is warmly housed in your stables.’

  ‘Follow me,’ he said. ‘I will see you at dinner, Paul.’

  We followed him up stairs and along a passage, until he threw open the door to a small corner room.

  ‘There is just one man in here, and he’s on duty tonight. There are two more beds.’

  ‘How is your head, now, Andrew?’ I asked. ‘I see your hair has grown back.’

  He lifted the hair at the side of his head, revealing a small bare patch of skin. ‘Only a trace left,’ he said.

  ‘And the headaches?’

  ‘Almost gone.’

  Berden looked from one to the other of us in puzzlement.

  ‘I was at Sluys,’ Andrew explained. ‘Kit tended me for a bad head injury at St Bartholomew’s’

  ‘He was shot,’ I said. ‘The bullet carved a groove along the side of his head your could put your finger in.’

  ‘Bad luck,’ said Berden.

  ‘No, good luck,’ Andrew replied. ‘The bullet passed me by and killed the man behind me.’

  ‘You must have been a cat in another life,’ I said.

  He laughed. ‘Then I have another eight close escapes yet to go.’

  ‘Where is the jakes?’ Berden asked. ‘I’m bursting.’

  ‘Follow me. What about you, Kit?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, turning aside. Another problem.

  ‘When you are ready, come down to the main hall and I’ll show you where we eat.’

  The two of them went off and with frantic speed I changed into dry clothes, draping my wet ones over the single chair in the room. By the time Berden came back I was at the door.

  ‘The jakes is further along on the left, if you want it.’

  I nodded. ‘I’ll see you in the hall.’

  I found the jakes and to my relief it was deserted, so I seized the chance to relieve myself before hurrying back down the stairs. Although I would be glad of the protection of Berden’s company once we were abroad, travelling always in company with him would present constant difficulties.

  Andrew was waiting, with a group of other troopers, standing close to the fire. He introduced them, but fatigue was beginning to catch up with me and I forgot their names as soon as I heard them. Just as Berden joined us, also wearing dry clothes, a servant walked across the hall, clanging a large hand bell. He went to the door of the keep and pulled it open, to howls of protest from the troopers. He leaned out and rang the bell, whose sound must have been muffled by the wind for anyone more than a few feet away. One man came in, blown through the door on a blast of snow which whirled across the hall like a dancing ghost before sinking to the floor and slowly melting. The servant put his shoulder to the door, helped by the newcomer, then walked away down a corridor, still ringing his bell. The soldiers turned as one and followed him, Berden and I amongst them.

  The food was such as you would expect in a military garrison. Large earthenware bowls filled with a thick mutton stew. Not elegant, but filling, and welcome after our freezing journey. Plenty of coarse bread, as much as we could eat. Good beer. To finish, an apple pie nearly two feet across for every ten soldiers. The pastry was thick enough to break teeth unless it was allowed to soak a while in the juice of the apples, but once the pastry was softened it made a satisfying end to the meal. In fact I even loosened William’s leather belt a notch, to ease this unaccustomed quantity of food.

  By this time I could feel sleepiness weighing me down and knew I could not stay on my feet much longer. The soldiers were getting up games of dice and cards, but they had spent their day quietly on guard duty in the castle, or drilling in the yard. They had not ridden near forty miles, most of it through a blizzard. Not that it seemed to worry Berden, who went off to join a game of cards. I understood why. Berden was known to have some skill in that quarter. Before he retired he would almost certainly have increased the weight of his purse.

  I dragged myself up from the bench, where I had been sitting, almost comatose, and turned to Andrew.

  ‘It’s no good. If I do not go to my bed I will fall asleep on the table.’ I looked around as the soldiers made for the double doors at the end of the room. At the other end the officers had been eating at a table on a dais raised about a foot above the floor.

  ‘Is the officer in charge of the naval squadron up there?’ I inclined my head towards the officers, who were also preparing to leave.

  ‘Second from the right,’ Andrew said. ‘Sir Edward Walgrave. A different man altogether from our esteemed commander. Do you want me to introduce you?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not tonight. But tomorrow we will have to ask him for a ship.’

  ‘He’s a reasonable man and a fine commander, but if the storm continues, he may not want to let one of his ships set sail.’

  I shuddered. ‘I don’t want to go to sea in this, but we may have to.’

  ‘We will pray it has abated by tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you, Andrew,’ I said. ‘I really must go to bed.’

  ‘Good night, Kit.’

  I found my way back to the hall easily enough, for most of the soldiers were heading that way and gathering in groups, laughing and pulling out packs of cards and boxes of dice. A servant was walking about, filling tankards with ale. It looked as though Berden would be occupied for a long time yet.

  The stairs were not far way. I plodded up them as if I were asleep already and walking in a dream. As I passed a window, firmly closed with shutters, I could hear the howling of the wind, which sounded louder than ever. I put my eye to the crack between the shutters, where a little light shone through from the flaring torches down below in the open courtyard. I could see very little except a dense cloud of whirling snow that spun in the air as if reluctant to settle. Yet it certainly would settle and the lying snow would probably be knee deep by tomorrow. What would we do if a ship could not be found to take us to the Low Countries? We could not linger here. Once in our room I pulled off my spare boots, collapsed on to the cot in the furthest corner and rolled myself up in the blankets. Before I had even straightened the pillow under my head I feel into a sleep of pure exhaustion.

  Chapter Seven

  When I woke the following morning Berden had already been and gone, at least so it seemed from the knapsack ready packed and set on top of his bed with his cloak laid over it. The third bed was now occupied, the bedclothes merely an anonymous hummock, the other soldier returned from night duty. There was a small window in the room, but I did not open the shutters for fear of waking him.

  I pulled on my lightweight boots and laced them, then checked the clothes I had worn the previous day. They were mostly dry, except for the cloak, which I left spread out across the chair, so I folded them and packed them into my knapsack. Thanks to my having greased my heavy boots before setting out from London, they had let in only the cold and not the wet. My satchel had not been opened since our meal during the previous day’s ride. There was still a heel of a stale loaf, a piece of hard cheese and two apples, large new season’s ones. I left the food untouched, in case I should need it later. Before going down in search of something to break my fast, I risked a quick visit to the jakes. I met one soldier coming out and we nodded to each other, but there was no one else about.

  I found Berd
en in the room where we had eaten the night before, talking – or rather listening – to a group of men who had also come off night guard.

  ‘Nearly froze our balls off,’ one them was saying, and he spat on the floor before burying his nose in a tankard of beer.

  ‘Aye,’ another grumbled. ‘Don’t see much point in having us patrolling the ramparts during a blizzard. Nothing to be seen through the snow, and nobody – friend or enemy – fool enough to go out in it anyway.’

  ‘That’s Torrington for you,’ the first man said. ‘It isn’t him standing up there dead of the cold. Oh, no! Sir Anthony is tucked up in his warm bed, thank you very much.’

  I noticed that the servants had laid out food and drink on a table against the wall, so it seemed that as the men came off or went on duty they could help themselves. I filled a plate with cold meats and bread, and poured myself a modest beaker of small ale. I would have been glad of some of Joan’s lumpy porridge on this cold morning, but I carried my food over to the table and sat down next to Berden. He grinned at me but said nothing, jerking his head to indicate the soldiers, who were still complaining.

  On my way downstairs I had passed the window where I had tried to look out the previous evening. The shutters were still closed but they rattled in the wind.

  When I had taken the edge off my hunger, I said to Berden, ‘Have you looked outside this morning?’

  He nodded. ‘Still snowing, and still that foul wind, though perhaps not quite as bad as last night. When we’ve eaten, we’ll ask about a ship.’

  ‘I’ve seen the naval commander,’ I said. ‘Andrew pointed him out last night after you left. Did you do well at cards?’

  He smiled blandly. ‘Not bad. Came away the richer by five shillings.’

  I didn’t ask whether he cheated. Perhaps he was just skilful.

  ‘He is called Sir Edward Walgrave,’ I said. ‘The commander in charge of the Dover squadron. Andrew says he is a different type from Torrington.’

  ‘It is men like Torrington who will lose us the war against Spain,’ Berden said bitterly. ‘Gentlemen put in command of soldiers who have no army experience themselves.’