The Beggar's Throne Page 7

  Since the nightmare at Wakefield bridge, Oliver had said almost nothing, responding only to direct questions. Samuel feared that Oliver had lost his will to live when he saw his master slain, and as Samuel had led him gently but urgently away from Wakefield on the road to Northwood, Oliver said only that he must go to his master’s brother, the Earl of March. It seemed to be all that gave him purpose. Samuel had to explain that he did not know where the earl was and that they needed a place to hide for a while, for surely Clifford would be seeking them soon. He also wondered to himself what kind of reception the Earl of March would give to a member of Northumberland’s personal guard.

  On the road to Northwood, Oliver had moved as in a trance, offering no conversation as they traveled by night. They had depended on the rations that Samuel carried in his small belt pouch that was part of his battle raiment, meager sustenance for three days of constant walking. They had slept wherever they found shelter along the road. Only his bow and half-full quiver of arrows gave him any comfort.

  Now, so close to his father’s house, it was maddening to be forced to wait out in this numbing cold. But this was Northumberland’s village, and it was crucial that they not be discovered, as word would surely get back to the earl.

  Finally, the three men walked noisily down the road, past the first turn and out of sight. Samuel helped Oliver up and they stepped out into the open. There were three homes on the east side, each with light spilling out from under the doorjamb, which they avoided by keeping low and staying to the opposite side. Around the first turn, the River Tyne came up to just below the lane. Samuel looked to see where the men had gone but saw no sign of them. They quickly crossed over and went down to the river bank where they could go the rest of the way to the mill house well secluded from view.

  As the mill wheel loomed before them in the dark, the two exhausted travelers cautiously made their way around the front of the house, looking carefully toward the street for any movement. Satisfied that there was none, they slipped up to the door and listened intently for voices that did not belong. Samuel was adamant that no one but his family should know of his presence in Northwood. Hearing only a quiet conversation between two people, he decided to risk knocking softly. After a moment’s silence, Samuel heard the door bar slide and the door opened a crack. It was his father.

  “Who’s there?” he asked holding a candle over his head.

  “Let me in, father.”

  “Samuel!” His father swung the door open at the sound of his son’s voice, and shouted excitedly to someone within, “It’s Samuel!”

  Samuel ushered Oliver in and closed the door behind. As he looked around, he was relieved to see only his family and no visitors.

  Emma and Sally jumped to hug Samuel, and even Christopher came over to give him a quick embrace.

  “I didn’t expect you so soon,” he said. “Can the battle be over already?” Seeing his brother’s uneasy looks, he became concerned. “The battle went poorly?”

  “Give him a moment,” interrupted Emma, leading Samuel to a chair. “Can’t you see he’s exhausted? You just relax for a bit, Samuel, and I’ll get you some ale.”

  “Who’s you friend, Samuel?” his father asked.

  “His name is Oliver. He was caught in the middle of the battle and

  hasn’t quite recovered his wits yet.” He put his hand on Oliver’s arm and continued. “I couldn’t just leave him there, alone and half out of his mind.”

  “Of course you couldn’t,” agreed Sally. “I’ll get you both something to eat.”

  Christopher had waited as long as he could for the news. He sat across from Samuel while Sally set out two tankards of ale.

  “Let’s have it. What happened out there?”

  Samuel could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You needn’t worry, brother. We destroyed the rebel duke and left no stone unturned in rooting out all who dared to wear his colors.”

  Oliver broke down and began to sob in his hands. Emma, seeing his torment, knew that he needed rest to salve some bitter memory. She and Sally took him gently around the shoulders and led him into the back room.

  “What happened to him?” Christopher asked.

  “He watched as his master was butchered in cold blood at Wakefield bridge,” Samuel said angrily.

  “War is an ugly thing. Who was his master?”

  “The Earl of Rutland.”

  Christopher’s jaw dropped. “The traitor duke’s son? Then we are well rid of him. I’m surprised that you’d care what became of any member of that family.”

  Samuel lost control of his temper. “You’re a fool, Christopher,” he said loudly, “and you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  Christopher was taken aback. “You’re as insane as he is.”

  John Miller stood between them.

  “Let’s not have any more of this.” He took his seat again and looked intently at Samuel. “Now then, I think you had better tell us what happened.”

  Samuel was still breathing hard. He took a long pull on his ale. Emma and Sally rejoined them.

  “The poor lad was asleep before I could get a blanket on him. Lord in Heaven, Samuel, what happened to you?” asked Emma.

  “Jeremy is dead,” his voice cracked and the tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “Angels of mercy,” whispered Emma, hands to her heart. John Miller placed his strong hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “Tell us what happened if you can,” he said gently.

  Samuel needed their understanding more than anything at that moment. Laboriously he recounted the progress of the battle at Wakefield, and finally the horrific murders at the bridge.

  “I’m so sorry, Samuel,” said Sally, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

  “I grieve for Jeremy, as well,” interjected Christopher. “But why in God’s name would you incur the wrath of a nobleman? It’s not our place to question such people.”

  Samuel spoke through clenched teeth. “I did what I had to do.”

  “We must make this right,” said John Miller. “Tomorrow at first light I’ll ride with you to York. If the earl is still there, we’ll beg for his mercy and for your reinstatement. We have been loyal subjects. He won’t refuse me.”

  “I will not!” Samuel pounded his fist on the table. “I want no part of the House of Lancaster, and I’ll not fight for them.”

  Christopher was incredulous. “You must make amends, for all our sakes. Where will you go otherwise?”

  “I don’t know.” He was feeling cornered. Getting home had been his only goal, as if he would be secure in the confines of his father’s house.

  “You’re a deserter! They’ll hunt you down and punish all of us.”

  “Christopher!” It was Emma, panicked by the deadly threat to the family.

  “Be quiet, woman.” Christopher strode to the door, overturning his chair as he stood. “Don’t be here when I get back, Samuel, or I’ll turn you in to the earl’s men myself.” Not even stopping to put on a cloak, he stormed from the house.

  They sat in stunned silence for a while until John Miller finally spoke.

  “We must tell Edith of Jeremy’s death.”

  “I’ll go tomorrow and tell her myself.”

  “I will go, and you will stay hidden here until we find a better place.”

  “But I…”

  “You cannot be seen here. I know this is hard, but I fear that the worst is yet to come. Let me tend to Edith. Go now and get some rest if you can.”

  Reluctantly, Samuel saw the wisdom in his father’s words and nodded his head.

  “And don’t worry about your brother,” John Miller added. “He will not betray you.”

  *

  Christopher’s threat notwithsta
nding, Samuel and Oliver would not be able to stay at the mill house. It would not be long before Clifford sent out men to find the deserter. John Miller let them sleep for a few hours while he went to Endstreet to seek out his friend Thomas, who had a storage shed behind his house. It seemed a good place for hiding, secluded in a woods and not visible from the road. Thomas was beholden to the miller for not charging him one year when the crops were poor. The miller’s generosity had allowed him to feed his family that year. But it was not a simple request the Miller made. Most townsmen were loyal to the earl. When he heard that Samuel had deserted, Thomas made it known that he considered his debt fully paid. He also made it clear that while Samuel and Oliver could use the shed, he would not help them in any other way, and would disavow any knowledge of them if they were found.

  The Miller knew that Thomas would not betray him, but he understood the conditions. He went back to the mill house and let Samuel and Oliver sleep another hour, then woke them before daybreak. They had to be in Thomas’ shed before first light, or there would be few who were not aware of their presence.

  They spent the next day in the shed, resting in solitude. Toward suppertime, Sally brought them some warm bean stew and ale, which she carefully hid in the basket she used to gather berries during the fall. She had insisted on bringing the food herself. She had to see her brother before these ill affairs took him away again. Approaching the shed, she looked quickly over her shoulder, knocked and entered. Samuel and Oliver were lying on the ground covered by a thin wool blanket.

  “You’ll catch your deaths on that cold ground!” They both jumped at the sound of her voice, Samuel reaching for his bow.

  “Sally, you gave us a scare,” he scolded.

  “Look at you,” she said, coming over to hug him. “How could this have happened?” Her eyes were sad above her smile. “Never mind,” she continued, digging the food out of her basket. “At least you’re still alive.”

  “Hullo.” Samuel was startled by the sound of his voice. “My name is Oliver.”

  “This is my sister, Sally,” said Samuel, happy to hear him speak.

  “Pleased,” said Sally shyly. “I know who you are. Samuel told us last night. I was sorry to hear of your misfortunes.”

  Oliver’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Thanks,” he said sadly.

  They hungrily ate the stew and bread while she sat on a stump of wood. “How long can you stay, Samuel?”

  “Maybe another day or two, until we can get our strength back again, but not any longer than that. The longer we stay the more likely the earl will catch up to us.”

  “The stew is excellent,” said Oliver. “Did you make it?”

  “Yes,” she said, “with some help from Emma,” she added begrudgingly. They ate in silence until Sally turned to Oliver and asked, “Do you have family?”

  “No, not really. My parents sold me off a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you miss them much?”

  “Yes,” he answered after a pause. “I suppose that I do. But I’ve learned to live without them. At least I have —” he stopped and put a hand over his eyes.

  “Tell me,” Sally urged.

  He cleared his throat. “At least I had someone who cared about me. But now—”

  “You mean the earl? He meant a great deal to you, didn’t he?”

  Oliver could only nod his head. Sally took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, and Oliver managed a tight smile as he looked at her.

  How she had grown, Samuel thought, as he watched Sally and Oliver talk. He regretted that he was missing these years of his sister’s life. He wondered that Christopher could not see how fortunate he was.

  “I’d better be getting back home,” said Sally, still holding Oliver’s hand, “before I’m missed.”

  “Will you be back?” Oliver asked hopefully.

  “Of course. I have to bring your breakfast, don’t I?” she responded with a smile. After gathering up her basket, she gave Samuel a kiss on the cheek and smiled at Oliver, leaving him dreamy-eyed as she walked from the shed. Samuel looked at him for a moment.

  “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

  *

  As promised, Sally did deliver breakfast the next morning, along with another blanket. This time, saying he had to relieve himself, Samuel left her alone with Oliver in the shed for a while. While outside in the woods, he walked some old, barely recognizable paths he’d walked as a child a hundred times, smelling familiar scents and wondering what had happened to those carefree days. He also noticed that for the first time in a month, there were breaks in the clouds, and the sun was streaking through the openings like gilded shafts. Where a beam lit the woods, the ground shimmered gold.

  When he reluctantly returned, Sally and Oliver were holding hands again and giggling over some private joke. It was as if a different person had secreted Oliver away and replaced him in the night. They looked up sheepishly when he entered and Sally withdrew her hand, a little red in the face. Samuel tried not to embarrass her any further.

  “How are Father and Emma?” he asked, sitting near her on the ground.

  “They’re worried about you, and about Christopher.”

  “Christopher is not in trouble with the earl. Why would they be concerned for him?”

  “Because he’s torn between two masters, and has lost his way. Can’t you see that?”

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Don’t be so hard, Sam. He’s too stubborn to tell you, but he was so proud of you when you left to fight. And you know that he thinks our security is tied to the earl’s fortunes. When you said you wouldn’t support the earl anymore, he was devastated. He didn’t know what he was saying.”

  “Oh, I think he knew exactly what he was saying.”

  Sally could only sigh. She had done what she could.

  “I’d better be going,” she said. “I have a lot of chores that have gone wanting since you got back.” This time she left them both with a kiss, and a lingering smile on Oliver’s face.

  As she walked away from the shed, she did not even notice Stephen, the Smith’s son, until she heard him speak from somewhere behind her.

  “A little late in the season to be gathering berries, isn’t it?”

  Sally jumped as she spun, so taken aback that she forgot all her rehearsed excuses for being near the woods at town’s end.

  “Stephen,” she was almost hoarse, “please do not sneak up on me like that again!”

  “I was just wondering what you were doing out here,” he said defensively. “I haven’t seen much of you recently.” He came up close to her, but she stepped away.

  “I do not have to account for my hours to you, Stephen. And now if you don’t mind, I have chores to do.” She left quickly, leaving him wondering angrily what he had done to deserve such treatment.

  *

  As Sally sped toward the mill house, the unmistakable sound of large horses galloping into town came from the east side. She watched in panic as six horsemen in mail and helmets passed her and rode toward the church. She ran into the house screaming for her father.

  John Miller told Sally to stay at home and then ran to the square, where the townspeople gathered near the church. When he arrived, the riders had dismounted, and he saw that three wore the Earl of Northumberland’s livery. Of those, he recognized the earl’s seneschal, Sir Toby Ridgeway, the overseer of all of the earl’s personal holdings. He did not recognize the badges of the other three riders.

  When Sir Toby was satisfied that he had made an auspicious enough entrance, he cleared his throat loudly and boomed:

  “We seek a deserter who hails from this town.” That brought the crowd to a buzz. “The deserter’s name,” continued the seneschal, “is Samuel, son of the miller.” The buzz devol
ved into pandemonium. Everyone knew Samuel and could not believe him capable of such infamy. “If anyone has knowledge of his whereabouts,” screamed Sir Toby over the din, “let him come forward now.”

  John Miller made his way forward to the knights. As he did so, many of the villagers looked away. “Sir Toby,” he quaked, “my son has not come home since he left to do the earl’s bidding. This news is a dagger in my heart.” He knelt before the seneschal, afraid that his entire life and all that he and his father had worked for were about to come to naught.

  After a particularly pregnant pause, Sir Toby said, “I believe you to be an honest man, John Miller.” He turned to the obvious leader of the other three knights. “Are you satisfied, Sir Hugh?”

  Sir Hugh stepped toward John Miller and stared down at him as if he were looking at a spider. A recently made scar marred the left side of his face, disfiguring his mouth into a sinister smile.

  “Oh, I trust the miller, Sir Toby,” his voice dripping with sarcasm, “but my orders from Lord Clifford are specific. The town is to be searched.”

  “As you wish, Sir Hugh,” said the seneschal reluctantly. “You will all stay here until the search is complete.”

  “I’ll start with the miller’s house. The rest of you start with the east end of town and meet back here,” Sir Hugh instructed his men.

  John Miller was blind with fear, not only at the thought of Samuel being discovered.

  As the riders went off to their assignments, a rare insight occurred to Stephen, the smith’s son.