Andrew Swanston - The King's Exile

There was no point in staring at bare shelves. Thomas asked the men to drag the chests inside and then remove the boards from all the windows. When they had done so, he handed over four shillings and they returned happily to the Romsey Arms. Thomas and Margaret dragged the chests through the shop to the stairs which led up to their bedrooms. They opened the chests to take out the few clothes they had crammed in with the gold, then Thomas pulled back the first three steps to reveal the place where the girls had once hidden from a pair of looting soldiers of Parliament, and they pushed the chests inside. The gold would be as safe there as anywhere.

The kitchen was intact and their beds were still in the bedrooms. There were even blankets and pillows. But the light now shining through the windows revealed a layer of dust on every surface and the house smelled damp. ‘Are we really going to stay here, Uncle Thomas?’ asked Lucy.

‘Of course we are,’ he replied. ‘We’ll soon have the house cleaned up. We’ll light the fire in the kitchen, sweep the floors and shake out the bedding. Then you and your mother will go and buy our dinner while I guard the house and fix a bar on the door. I’ll use timbers from the windows.’ Catching his tone, the girls did not try arguing. Their uncle was just as stubborn now as he had been four years earlier.

After several hours of sweeping and scrubbing Margaret took the girls to the market, while Thomas found suitable timbers and fashioned an adequate bar across the door. They returned with bread, cheese, onions, a chicken and a copy of Mercurius Politicus , a new weekly government newsbook. Thomas sat down at his old table to read it.

Among a number of articles extolling the virtues of the ‘Lord Protector’ was one calling, in the name of true godliness, for a law against Ranters. The Ranters Thomas had seen were a harmless lot, if alarmingly eager to dance about naked, and he could think of a good many other people he would rather have a law against, including intolerant politicians and religious fanatics. In fact a law like the Barbados ‘turkey and shoat’ law which had prohibited the use of the words ‘Cavalier’ and ‘Roundhead’, but prohibiting instead the use of the words ‘Puritan’ and ‘Catholic’, might be a good idea. Perhaps he would suggest it.

There was also an article on the cowardice of Charles Stuart, presently skulking in France with his mother, Henrietta Maria. Thomas remembered ‘The Generalissima’ well — a formidable lady, fond of spaniels and dwarves and devoted to her late husband. And an article on the back page of the newsbook contemplated the threat of war with the Dutch, following the recent ordinance which banned foreign vessels from transporting goods from European ports to England. Thomas smiled when he read it and could not help thinking of Adam and Charles, who had joined with the other planters in ignoring all attempted restrictions to their trade and happily sold their sugar to the Dutch merchants who had helped them with finance and advice. It was another foolish law, unenforceable and short-sighted. Perhaps there should also be a law against using the words ‘restriction’ and ‘navigation’.

Much as he would have liked to walk down to the Romsey Arms, Thomas dared not leave the girls and the gold unattended, so after they had eaten, his first evening on English soil for more than four years was spent quietly at home.

Before they went to their old beds, Margaret asked, ‘Are you still set on the idea, Thomas?’

‘I am,’ he replied, ‘and I shall go to Winchester tomorrow morning.’

The coach which carried Thomas, two armed guards and his two heavy chests to Winchester the next morning had been arranged by Margaret, who had found the coach and the guards at the Romsey Arms. They made good time to Winchester and Thomas was in the house of Jacob Rose, goldsmith, before noon.

It took Mr Rose three hours to count the coins and a little longer for them to agree values for the guilders and louis d’or. When they had done so, Thomas deposited with Mr Rose all the coins he had brought — one small bag of coins he had left under the stairs — and a letter of instruction, in exchange for a promissory note and a statement of the interest he would receive on his deposit. While the coachman and the guards refreshed themselves, Thomas went next to the office of Henry Cole, lawyer, where he handed over another letter of instruction, showed Mr Cole Lord Willoughby’s letter confirming the death of Tobias Rush and made a payment in advance against Mr Cole’s fee. His final visit was to a draper’s shop near the cathedral, where he ordered twenty yards of silk to be delivered to Romsey. His business completed, he collected the coachman and guards and was back in Romsey before dark. ‘It’s done,’ he told Margaret. ‘Tomorrow we will make our inspection.’

The four of them left the house soon after dawn the next morning and walked together down Love Lane, through the square and past the old abbey. At the edge of the town, they stopped outside a grand house, set apart and surrounded on three sides by its own land. It was three storeys high, built of red brick, with a red-tiled roof, tall chimneys and large latticed windows. The oak door, too, was large and looked strong enough to withstand any amount of battering. If he had not known better, Thomas would have guessed the house to belong to a successful wool merchant.

‘There are fifteen rooms,’ Margaret told him, ‘all well proportioned. There are stables and a well at the back.’

‘It looks perfect,’ said Thomas, smiling. ‘Quite large enough and plenty of land upon which to build. I can see why Rush bought it. It would have been a wise investment if he had lived to enjoy it.’

‘Thank God he didn’t. The world does not need monsters like Tobias Rush.’

‘Indeed not. But let us hope that in death his money serves a useful purpose.’

‘We’re not going to live here, are we?’ asked Lucy.

Thomas laughed and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘No, my dear, we are not going to live here but we are going to buy it. Your mother and I have plans for it.’

They walked around the house, peering into the windows and trying the doors. All were locked. An internal inspection would have to wait until Mr Cole had done his work. They were about to leave when a troop of soldiers appeared from the direction of the town and marched up to the house. Polly and Lucy immediately hid behind Thomas and Margaret, who stood to face them. The captain and his six men wore the red coats of Parliamentary infantrymen, their twelve ‘apostles’ containing powder and ball in loops on their bandoliers, iron helmets and tall leather boots. They carried muskets and swords. Even to Thomas’s untutored eye they looked better equipped and more disciplined than the men whom Rush had sent to arrest him on that cold March morning.

‘We are looking for Tobias Rush,’ announced the captain.

Thomas grinned. ‘I fear you will not find him here, captain,’ he replied.

‘Is that so? And where might we find him?’

‘Tobias Rush is dead and was buried on the island of Barbados. I have a letter from the governor, Lord Willoughby, to prove it.’

‘And who are you, sir?’

‘My name is Thomas Hill. I own a bookshop in Love Lane. My family and I have a mind to buy this house and we’re inspecting it.’

The captain looked suspicious. ‘Were you now? Or were you planning to break in and steal what’s inside?’

‘Certainly not, captain. As I have told you, Rush is dead. The house will be sold and we intend to buy it.’

The captain turned to his troop and spoke quietly to them. Thomas could not hear what was being said but he did see the glances in his direction. God in heaven, not again. If these men had orders to find Rush, they would not want to return with only the word of a stranger that he was dead. It would be more sensible for them to escort Thomas to whomever had sent them and let him tell the story himself. Even with the letter he would have to do more explaining than he would like — he had, after all, helped defend Barbados against Ayscue’s Parliamentary fleet. He put his arm around Margaret and braced himself.