Andrew Swanston: The King's Exile

The captain turned back to face him. ‘Master Hill, we have decided to believe you. We did not like Tobias Rush and we are not unhappy to hear that he is dead. However, if he should come to life again you will have some awkward questions to answer. In that case, you may expect a visit from us at your shop in Love Lane.’

Thomas let out a quiet sigh of relief. Rush had returned from the dead once. He would not be doing so again. ‘That is understood, captain. And if you do see Tobias Rush, be sure that you will be looking at a ghost.’ The captain did not reply but gave his soldiers the order to turn and off they marched.

‘I did not enjoy that,’ said Margaret. ‘I did not think they would believe you.’

‘Nor did I. Another spell in Winchester gaol looked horribly likely. Still, the war’s over and a man’s word may be worth something again. Let’s hope so.’

The next six months were spent in trips to Winchester to visit Mr Rose and Mr Cole, meetings with the mayor and aldermen of Romsey, and weekly conferences with builders, carpenters and stonemasons. Thomas watched impatiently as the work progressed, until, at last, just before Christmas Day, it was finished. The house that had once belonged to Tobias Rush had been transformed and a new house, perfect for a well-to-do family of four, had been built in its grounds.

On the first day of January 1653, Thomas Hill, accompanied by his sister and nieces, all three dressed in new bonnets and new gowns made from the silk he had bought in Winchester, attended the official opening. The mayor spoke warmly of the man who had conceived the idea, paid for the work and endowed the establishment with a capital sum sufficient for its needs for many years to come. Then he announced that the new Romsey School was now open. It would start with eight pupils, all of whom had lost their fathers during the war, including Polly and Lucy Taylor. Until a schoolteacher was appointed the children would be taught mathematics, Latin and English by the benefactor himself.

After the ceremony the party repaired to the Romsey Arms. He had survived, he had prospered and he had made good use of the Gibbes’s gold. The celebrations were long and merry and when eventually they were over, he set off unsteadily up Love Lane. Only when he reached the baker’s shop did he remember that he no longer lived above the old bookshop. With an embarrassed grin, he retraced his steps down the lane, past the inn and the abbey, to his new house beside Romsey School.