As Meat Loves Salt. Maria McCann
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Once that happens…’ Hugh waved his hands expressively. ‘We got the garrison supplies, but he saved his men and the citizens.’
‘Were the citizens all Royalists, then?’
‘Not when Rupert left, they weren’t! His men flay the people, see, and he turns a blind eye. When he came out the townspeople were shouting, “Give him no quarter!” They’d have torn him to pieces if it hadn’t been for Black Tom.’
I returned to the question I had asked before. ‘What happens to the women on the losing side?’
‘That depends,’ said Philip. ‘On your commander, on the luck of the day, the class of person you’re dealing with…I’ve seen everything. Seen them run through. There were Irish whores drowned back to back at Nantwich – that was Fairfax.’
‘Not so,’ Bart said. ‘A false report. He let them go.’
‘No?’ Philip jeered. ‘Naseby, then.’ He turned to me. ‘You’ve heard of Naseby?’
I nodded. I knew what was coming, the slit faces, but was curious to hear his story.
‘Well, you know God gave us victory outright?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Cromwell said it was cutting down stubble! And after, we found their women fleeing the field, some of them English gentry and some of them Irish. Not a word of English could they speak, what did they want over here, filthy Papist whores? We ran them through.’
‘What, all of them?’ I could not hide my shock.
‘Only the sluts and the Irish. About a hundred. They kept jabbering, calling on Satan to save them.’
I could think of nothing to say.
‘They were Welsh, not Irish,’ put in Hugh. ‘They were speaking Welsh.’
‘Irish or Welsh, they were walking bow-legged.’ Philip winked at me.
I asked, ‘And the English ones?’
‘I told you, the sluts we paid off. For the rest, some paid us off, and some – well, we carved their faces for them.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘They were seemingly gentlewomen, but no decent woman would have followed that army. So we ploughed up their cheeks – put an end to their trade.’
‘Basely done,’ said Hugh, shaking his head.
‘Suppose those bitches had found us wounded on the battlefield? You know what they’d have done to us?’
Roundhead. The wildest, the crop-headed prentices out for a savage holiday. They had told me that calling another man Roundhead in the presence of an officer meant a fine, it was such an insult. I remembered that Zeb could scarcely ride or walk and that Caro was tricked out in My Lady’s blue gown. The jewels. Heavenly Father, let them not be overtaken by such men as this. For their sakes and mine, let me not be guilty of their deaths.
‘Are you well, man?’ They were staring at me. ‘You were chewing your lips.’
I nodded, thinking, This is curiosity not pity. Izzy, how he did pity everybody. The men in front began singing psalms:
‘O sing unto the LORD a new song; For He hath done marvellous things; His right hand, and His holy arm, Hath gotten Him the victory…’
As long as I could fix my mind on the psalms all was well, but I could not long forbear thinking of Philip’s words. I had heard before that there were plunderers and would-be ravishers in the Parliamentary ranks as well as among the King’s men, but kept under a much stricter discipline. That restraint had seemed well enough, and as Ferris had said, soldiers are but men; yet I had not thought how it would be to live side by side with such. God’s army! I could not go on walking next to Philip. I moved away from him and quickened my pace; it was not until I saw Ferris, walking alongside one of the great guns, that I realised I had been looking for him. He smiled at me but said nothing as we fell into step together.
‘Were you at Naseby-Fight?’ I asked him.
Ferris looked surprised.
I went on, ‘What happened to the Royalist women who were left on the field?’
He frowned. ‘They were barbarously treated,’ and raised his face sharply to mine. ‘Do you want to know how?’
I felt my cheeks flush.
‘You already know,’ he said, turning his profile to me.
‘I hoped you could tell me it was not true,’ I said.
‘It is true. You get no more from me.’
I thought him unjust. ‘Was it my sin? I was not there.’
He again lifted his face to mine. ‘There are men who warm themselves at others’ sins. Someone has infected you, heated you with his boastings, so you come to me for more.’
‘No, indeed!’
‘I can smell it on you. But you will be disappointed in me. My way has always been to show mercy where I could, to man, woman or child.’
We walked on. From time to time I glanced at my companion, but he kept staring ahead.
‘Forgive me, Ferris,’ I pleaded. It was the way I would sue for pardon to Izzy when I was too rough with him during our childhood games. This man had something of Izzy’s way, and I should keep by him and away from the prentices – though Hugh was perhaps not a bad young fellow.
‘You’ll get your chance to hurt people,’ he said, looking full at me.
This was mighty strange talk, coming from a soldier. I wondered if, like me, he was fallen away from some better life.
‘Ferris, how did you come into the army?’
He was silent.
I tried, ‘So what trade were you put to before the war?’
‘A draper in Cheapside.’
‘Are you married?’
His face twisted.
It seemed I could say nothing right. I battled on, ‘What will you do when the peace comes?’
‘I should like to leave trade and farm for myself,’ came the surprising answer.
‘What, like a peasant!’
‘No, like a freeborn man with no master over me. London is one great Babylon, a very Sodom of cheating – O yes, the citizens’ houses too! You’d be surprised what goes on there. Between prayers they find out new ways to water the servants’ milk.’
‘You’re bitter, Ferris.’
‘And you’re not?’
A second time he had laid his finger on something I thought hidden. Was I then so easily sounded? No one at home had thought so, but London folk were different. We walked on a few steps, fear coiling my belly into loops.
‘This bitterness of mine, can you tell—’
‘I am not a soothsayer!’
‘No, no. A jest,’ I said. Not a good man to lie to; last year his friendship would have been a delight to me. Now, how could I tell him about the boy, or about my doings in the wood?
But even as I argued with myself, my spirit was opening to him. Again I felt how much I missed Isaiah, how I ached for a good and trustworthy friend. In the company of such a one I might mend, and live better.
‘You wish to stay with me,’ he said.
‘Ferris! How do you know?’
‘How can I not know! You are saying it to me, in your walk.’
‘Is that a thing a man may interpret? To what end?’
‘Well, it’s of great help in training dogs.’