A Crowning Mercy (32 page)

He sat at his table and reflected on the coming success. He had sent two men into the castle, gunners who were ostensibly deserters, but who were in fact sworn to him. They would fire the castle's magazine at their first chance. They were ordered to do it when the morning trumpets sounded in the Roundhead lines and Ebenezer prayed that they would do it soon. Let it be tomorrow! He had waited with excitement this very morning, praying that the great flame would explode over his enemies, but the dawn had come as usual. Colonel Fuller, the man sent by Grenville Cony to take over the siege from Lord Atheldene, had given his opinion that perhaps the two men had been detected and imprisoned. Ebenezer had given Fuller his coldest smile. 'Is the Lord not on their side?'

It was the clinching argument. Colonel Fuller had not been able to reply.

Ebenezer had discovered power, and the knowledge of it filled him with the same glorious excitement as the chanting of the psalm. Even Colonel Fuller, a hard, grim soldier who fought with a sword in his right hand and a Bible in his left, treated him with deference. Fuller had let Ebenezer reply to the letter of truce from the castle, had acquiesced humbly when Ebenezer had dictated how the castle was to be taken. Ebenezer spoke with Sir Grenville's authority, and his demands that the new part of the castle was not to be damaged, and that Fuller's men were not to interfere with his activities in the fallen castle, had not been questioned.

Ebenezer had power.

Tomorrow, if God willed it, he would have the Seal of St Matthew.

And tomorrow, when Samuel Scammell was dead, Ebenezer would be the legal holder of St Matthew's Seal, receiver of the monies passed from Sir Grenville, and the thought of the income filled him with excitement.

He would use the Covenant. He stared at the millpond through the window, watching ducklings trail busily behind their mother, and thought of his plans. A third force was rising in England, a force that threatened to defeat both King and Parliament. Ebenezer could hear that force now, hear it in the strong, virile voices of the young men who prayed as hard as they fought. They hated the King, they hated the Royalists, but they hated the Presbyterians of Parliament almost as much. They fought for Parliament, but Ebenezer knew they would never consent, after victory, to be ruled by Parliament. Presbyterianism made heaven into a lottery, and it was not to the taste of these Independent Puritans.

Sir Grenville had sided with the Presbyterians. Ebenezer would not. He would bide his time, and in time he would give a strong, harsh voice to the demands of the common soldier. It was the common soldier who carried the sword and the gun, and it was the sword and the gun that would make England holy. And it was the Covenant that would give Ebenezer the power to make his voice heard.

All was prepared for the morning, whichever morning it was to be. The men Ebenezer had hired as his own troop knew what was to be done. Samuel Scammell, in whom Ebenezer detected reluctance, was nevertheless obedient. Most of all, Faithful Unto Death Hervey and his new housekeeper, Goodwife Baggerlie, knew what was expected of them. They were rehearsed, ready, and their actions would bring the day of the Lord closer.

Sir Grenville Cony did not expect the castle to fall till the end of the month. That was good. Tomorrow, beneath the smoke from his explosion, Ebenezer needed just a few moments with the seal that was rightfully his. He did not know where those moments would lead, he knew only that he must prepare himself for the time when he would have to destroy Sir Grenville, as he planned to destroy his sister, and as he would destroy anyone who threatened the Kingdom of God he saw flowering in England.

He raised his voice. 'Girl!'

She came in, her face pathetically eager to please.

Ebenezer limped to the bed and lay down. 'Lock the doors.'

He closed his eyes. He would not open them or speak till she was done. His brain was filled with the emblazoning splendour of his vision as the darkness fell softly on the Lazen valley.

17

Campion's cat, Mildred, usually woke her before dawn, pacing to and fro on the covers, licking her exposed face with its rough tongue, purring loudly in her ear or forcing its warm, soft fur against her neck. 'Go away, Mildred.'

The cat interpreted any words as affection, redoubling its efforts to rouse Campion. 'Go away, Mildred. It's too early.'

Yet, coming into wakefulness, Campion knew that it was not the middle of the night. She could hear the sound of boots on the castle yard and knew that the garrison, as it did each morning, was standing to arms. Every soldier was on the ramparts at least an hour before dawn, and it was a time when Campion liked to be up. She stroked the cat's reddish fur and then hugged her. 'I might not see you again. No! I must go away, Mildred.' The cat purred louder than ever. 'You don't care, do you?'

She dressed quickly, putting a bonnet over her drawn-up hair. She would not dress properly or set her hair until the morning was half over. Mildred went to and fro between her ankles, rubbing her body against Campion, demanding to be fed. 'You're supposed to catch mice, Mildred, that's what you're supposed to do.'

She dressed in a plain grey dress. She could hear Lady Margaret next door ordering Enid to open the curtains and the sound made Campion pull back her own. The sky was still dark and she could not see if there were any new clouds. Mildred protested and Campion stooped to stroke the cat. 'You really don't care, do you?'

She opened her bedroom door, releasing the cat which sped away down the corridor, heading for the kitchens downstairs where, along with a dozen other cats, she would be fed and watered. There was not enough milk for the cats now. Campion followed more slowly.

She liked the dawn. She liked to walk on the dew-wet lawns and greet the soldiers who peered into the darkness across the moat. She would sometimes go into the church and kneel in the Lazender pew, saying a morning prayer for the safety of the garrison, adding a special prayer for Toby beneath the stone memorials of his ancestors. It was a quiet period of the day, a time before the big guns would begin to spread their dirty smoke across the meadows, a time when there was a semblance of peace at Lazen.

'Miss Campion?' It was Captain Tugwell looming in the darkness.

'Captain.'

'And a pleasant sight you are this morning, Miss Campion.' Tugwell, a small man, forced jollity into his voice. 'Did you have a quiet night?'

'I did. You?'

'There's not a lot happening. They were quiet all night.' Tugwell's silhouette nodded towards the lights of the village. 'They were moving early this morning, but that's probably their new man, Fuller. A new broom, Miss Campion.'

'I expect so.'

Tugwell hitched his sword belt higher and thrust his brass-hilted pistol further into its holster. 'Captain Lazender's at the gatehouse ruins, Miss Campion.'

'I know. Thank you. I'm going to the church.'

'Say one for me!'

She smiled. 'I will.'

She saw the faintest strip of pearl-grey light limning the eastern horizon. The trees of the great woods were outlined by the first appearance of dawn. She hesitated by the church porch, unwilling to exchange this first token of day for the gloom of the chancel.

'You're up early!' It was Mr Perilly, Lazen's vicar.

'Mr Perilly!'

He was coming from the church. A candle was lit inside, revealing him as he came to stand beside her. He sounded downhearted. 'Another window gone.'

'That's sad.'

The Roundheads had been trying, with increasing success, to shoot out the stained windows with their musket fire. Anything that was beautiful and dedicated to God gave them offence. Each depredation of his church made Mr Perilly more gloomy. 'I've swept it up as best I can, but there's still a lot on the floor.' He sighed. 'The rain gets in, you know.'

'I know.'

He stood beside her, staring unhappily at the sheen of light on the moat. 'I hear you're leaving us, Campion.'

'I'm afraid so. James is taking me, if it's dark enough.'

Mr Perilly shook his head. 'It's dark enough. Darkness throughout the land, Campion. I don't understand it, I truly don't. God tests his servants, but I sometimes wish we could be more certain of the outcome.'

A cock crowed in the stable-yard. The sound seemed to shake Mr Perilly from his depression. He smiled. 'I'll see you at matins?'

'Of course.'

'Be careful on the south aisle! It was the window of the raising of Lazarus. Quite destroyed! Quite destroyed! And there's no one who can do work like that nowadays! We can only destroy, it seems, only destroy.' His gloom was returning.

The explosion came.

At first Campion did not know what was happening. It seemed as if the ground shook, a small quiver that startled her, and she saw the moat, that had been silver and quiet, suddenly ripple with small, urgent flickerings of pre-dawn light.

Then there was thunder, the growling of rocks, the sound of ancient, massive stones moving and splintering, and then the great keep, whose stones had dominated Lazen for four hundred years, was lit by a spike of fire, a sheet of flame following, and then the noise came properly. It shattered the air, it fled outwards across the valley. It hammered at the defenders.

'Mr Perilly!' She seized his arm.

The keep was boiling flame and smoke now, a cauldron of fire that spewed its foul cloud over the valley. It reminded her of Samuel Scammell's burning yard, only this smoke seemed to erupt at far greater speed. There were new explosions now, smaller, but each one sent another flash of light to illumine the stones that toppled from the keep.

'To the house!' The Reverend Perilly took her arm, pulled her over the lawn.

'Watch your front!' Captain Tugwell shouted, and then a musket fired from across the moat, there were shouts and all the defenders on the castle lawn rested muskets on the spiked forks, pulled triggers, and at the same moment Campion became aware of a great, growling cheer from the north. She was running now, panic giving her speed, and in the light of the burning, destroyed keep, she saw where the stones, flung by the explosion, had shattered windows of the Old and New House.

The two gunners who had deserted from the Roundhead lines, and who had been promised twenty pounds apiece by Ebenezer Slythe, had done their work well. They had gone for powder, waited until the other gunners had collected their small kegs and then laid a simple powder trail. An old sergeant in charge of the magazine had found them, but he was dead in seconds, his throat cut, and then they had lit the powder trail and sprinted for the safety of the stable-yard. The explosion, coming sooner than they expected, had flung both men down, but they were unharmed. They went on towards the stable, laughing at the sound of destruction and burning behind them, intent only on hiding for the next few minutes until the castle was taken.

Toby, by the gatehouse ruins, saw the great spike of flame, saw the sheet of fire that followed which outlined the tall chimneys of the Old House. His men stared, aghast, and then there was a thunder of hooves mixed with the noise of the exploding powder, and Toby turned. 'Your front! Take aim!'

The lobsters stormed out of the darkness, wheeled their horses and fired pistols at the defenders. More men came from the west, their muskets spitting fire over the moat, but then, in the light of the. fire, Toby saw a mass of the enemy moving towards the keep and the kitchen garden.

Most of the defenders in that area, he knew, would be dead or dazed. 'Sergeant!'

'Sir?'

'Hold here with your men. The rest of you! Follow me!'

--<<>>--<<>>--<<>>--

Ebenezer Slythe felt an exultation as he saw the enemy magazine destroy the keep. This he had prayed for! Lord Atheldene, when there had been a suggestion that a mine might be dug beneath some part of the castle's defences, had refused the suggestion. It was not an honourable way to fight, he said, not unless the garrison was given warning of the explosion and time to remove their men from the immediate area. Ebenezer had no such scruples. This was the vengeance of the Lord, the mighty hand of the Almighty come to earth, and he felt a sudden, unexpected excitement as the killing fragments of the disintegrating keep scythed outwards and took death to Lazen Castle. Truly God was great!

The banners of the Parliamentarians surged forward. A cheer went up. The fire was bright on swords, pikes and helmets. The flags, bearing texts of scripture, forged ahead of the throng. Ebenezer smiled at Samuel Scammell and raised his voice:' "The Lord is mighty in battle!"'

'Indeed and indeed.' Scammell swallowed, hardly believing the thunderous pit which belched flame and smoke into the sky. 'Amen.'

The first Roundhead standards were going through the old breach into the kitchen garden, turning right to assault the Old House, and Ebenezer urged his horse forward. 'Come along, Brother Scammell. We take possession of your bride!'

Scammell stumbled forward, his feet clumsy in the darkness. His sword almost tripped him. They went onwards towards the shouts and the steel-ring of battle.

--<<>>--<<>>--<<>>--

Colonel Washington was blinded, stone scraps taking his eyes and leaving him helpless. He sat, his face a mask of blood, and listened to the rush of enemy feet in the yard.

Toby, cutting through the Old House, met the first enemy in the washroom. Toby felt about Lazen as his mother did. This was home, the seat of the Lazenders, and his fury gave him a massive strength. One man, then another, was slashed by his sword, tipped bloodily into the low stone trough where the castle's linen was scrubbed. James Wright, beside him, hewed with an axe, saying nothing as he slaughtered two men with horrid efficiency.

'Lazender! Lazender!' Toby bellowed his war cry, leading his men out into the lurid yard. He caught a fragmentary glimpse of the carnage wrought by the explosion, of the house savaged by masonry blocks, and then he was all but overwhelmed by a rush of Roundheads. A flag was close to him, its legend from the second book of Kings: 'Smite them with the edge of the sword'. Toby did the smiting. He was sobbing in anger and hatred as he chopped down the standard-bearer and thrust his sword into the belly of an officer who tried to defend the falling flag. James Wright was beside him, axe whirling in the flame-light, driving their enemy back.