As Meat Loves Salt (52 page)

'No, Hopton's,' Ferris teased her. 'He was the one fired the church.'

'God works through men, Christopher,' she reproached him. 'To ignore His help is to provoke His anger.'

'Very true,' Ferris answered. He filled his mouth with pork, as one who is done talking.

I knew about Torrington. Fairfax had fought his way into the town a fortnight earlier, and as the Parliamentary troops advanced towards the church the sacred edifice had 'gone up like a powder keg', which indeed it was: nearly two hundred barrels of Cavalier gunpowder stored in God's house, which their commander, Hopton, did not scruple to demolish. Fairfax himself escaped injury from the stone, lead and burning timber that rained down upon the earth like World's End. Hugh Peter, likewise, lived to preach amid the rubble in the marketplace the following day. Aunt was delighted by the extreme good fortune of these two godly men. I tried not to think about what must have happened to those around them.

Instead I worried over the words Zeb had flung at me earlier. Feeling sick, I continued to chew on the tough cut of pork as I rehearsed my memory, over and over. It was now clear to me that I had taken Zeb into the orchard (his shirt on? off?) and there beaten him over the back and shoulders. Then - a blank. Further than that I could not get, I could remember nothing of what followed. Surely I would, if- if—

It was all nonsense, an accusation born of spite. A man could not

do such a thing and forget it. Suddenly, a dry voice I had heard before whispered,
Why did you take him into the orchard?

'Jacob?'

I started guiltily. Ferris was leaning towards me.

'We are talking of you and the tents; I told Aunt how well you get on with the cutting.'

I forced a modest smile. 'Less well with the stitching.'

"There we come to it! Aunt, will you be so kind as to show him?'

I thought he was rather too quick. She looked unwilling, and even setting aside the awkwardness between us, I had scarce the air of a likely pupil.

'Plain sewing?' she enquired. 'Cannot Becs do that?'

'She has not sufficient leisure. Besides, Jacob must learn for himself, and you are the better teacher.’ Ferris made a pleading face.

She pursed her lips, considering. I wondered what she saw whenever she looked at me.

'He needs to learn tacking and how to make seams and turn over edges,’ urged her nephew.

'If you know what's to be done as well as that, can't you teach him?' she shot back.

'Knowing and doing are different things. He needs someone practised.' Ferris sat like a schoolboy begging a half-holiday, until she laughed at his earnest countenance.

'Tomorrow,' she agreed at last.

'Praise her, for her price is beyond rubies,' said Ferris. He took and kissed her hand.

'I thank you most sincerely,’ I said, dismayed at the course of study my lover had prescribed. It came to me that Ferris had hit upon a means of occupying my time while he busied himself with preparation for his dear colony.

The three of us were easier together than we had been for some days. I decided that if Aunt had guessed at us, which was by no means certain, she found it simplest to turn a blind eye. She played at chess with Ferris, while I looked over the more complicated kinds of tents by the light of a single candle. My head began to ache, so I left it off; but as soon as I shut up the book I felt Zeb's black

gaze boring into me, so I watched their game instead. Aunt won, and was exultant. They set up again so that her nephew could get his revenge.

The hangings were encrusted and Godfrey said I might use only a stick to cleanse them. I did well enough with the first and second pieces, slashing away until sweat polished my skin and the devices showed clear: the Lady and Unicorn, a Garden of Delight. One that stood by, watching, said I was a fine workman. When I laid into the third and last, the stick thudded dull against something sewn up in it, like a moth sealed in a leaf. I unfolded the tapestry to find Caro and Zeb looking up at me. They were lying packed about with a greyish dust, which dust flecked the air and stuck to my sweat. It settled on the hangings I had just cleaned, and when I turned to flog it away they laughed, so I raised my stick over them to teach them cleanliness. Caro shielded her face and turned her body away from me, into the folds of stuff. I brought the rod down on her back; she rolled deeper into the cloth and was gone. Searching for her I found stains and smears across the design and these came, I saw, from something stinking, which I was afraid to look at, on the ground nearby. At once I was in the orchard and come to beat Zeb. I turned and found him running at me with a scythe—

I leapt out of sleep with a cry.

Ferris was shaking me. 'Jacob! You're here, it's all right.'

I looked round wildly. Zeb was gone.

'What were you dreaming? You were throwing yourself about.'

A fight.’ The comforting solidity of the chair, the grip of his hands on my shoulders brought me back to myself; I put my arms and legs around him and pulled him close in to me. Laying my head on his breast, I heard the heart beating clear and calm.

'What time is it?' I muttered into the warmth of his shirt.

'Eleven. Aunt's long gone to bed. Here, let me go,' and he fetched me some cordial from the sideboard. 'I thought you would have a fit.'

I tasted the stuff with the tip of my tongue and found it pleasant enough. The misery of Zebedee settled back on my soul.

'Do you think, Ferris, that people know what we do? Do we betray ourselves?'

'No,' he answered at once. 'Tom and his friends don't know. Nor Dan.'

'Zeb saw it in you when you talked to him.'

'Indeed?' he asked with quick interest.

'He said you admired him.'

Ferris laughed. 'Your brother is used to admiration and is grown to expect it. He fancies himself a lady-killer, that I could tell on first meeting.'

'He has cause.’ My jealousy was a little soothed, but not my fear of discovery. 'Zeb knew about me, too,' I added.

'He's known you for years, who better?'

Following Zeb's accusations about beating, this was as comforting to me as a peach full of needles.

'Try not to think on him,’ urged Ferris. 'What do they say? What's past repair is past despair.'

'He could have us burnt.'

'Is that what's giving you nightmares?' He came over and took my hand. 'It needs evidence. He wouldn't get any, Becs loves my aunt too well.'

I was silent.

'I forgot to tell you,' he said coaxingly, 'but I had a visitor while you were out.'

'Ah.'

'Won't you guess who?'

'Keats?'

'Botts. You know, we may have to take him.'

I groaned. 'In God's name, what for? All he offers is physick. I'd sooner fee a doctor in the ordinary way.'

'That's where you're wrong,' Ferris answered. 'What we need most is
hands.
Forget professions. We need people to dig, and strong ones -the women will help, but we need men.'

I grudgingly admitted to myself the sense of this. 'Who have we got? You, me—?'

'Botts, Hathersage, Tunstall. Five in all. Then the women: Catherine, Susannah, Hepsibah. I can't see anyone else coming in.'

'Jack and Dorothy?'

He shook his head.

I was wide awake now. 'Ferris, why would a man like Botts, a surgeon, want to join us? There must be something amiss.'

'He's friendless,' said Ferris. 'By the look of him, I'd say his only friend is drink.'

'And you still think we should take him?'

'He'll find it hard to carouse where we're going, and if he does -well, an end to his time with us.'

'I suppose you'll ask
me
to throw him out.'

'Jacob, Man of Peace,' he pronounced in a ringing pulpit voice. 'But consider, it could turn the fellow round. That's a noble thing.'

'I see it is decided,' I said, remarking the familiar far-off shine in his eyes. 'But he'd best dig like a slave for I'll none of his medicine. If I find
himself
a leech on my side, I'll burn him off.'

'Give the man a chance,' said Ferris.

'He's a toad, an offence to the eyes.'

'Not a Christian objection. Come,’ he asked slyly,’ would you rather he were a golden lad?'

There was no disputing that point and I saw it was simplest to give way, since Ferris would surely tire of him in due course. We talked a while longer before bed. Ferris wished to go to Page Common the next day and look about for a good place, while I stayed in Cheapside 'learning to make my sampler' as he put it. While I was willing to stitch like a little maid if need be, I thought him unfitted to choose land by himself. We agreed he should go about business in the city and we would go to the common the day after that. Though the print-room was near piled to the beams with stores, there was still plenty to attend to. Harmonious, we went quietly upstairs.

I woke in an agony of fear, clammy, my eyes stinging, cheeks awash with tears. In my terror I had pushed the sheets away, and the air was cold on my damp flesh. I reached out to touch Ferris. He was gone, and I remembered he was returned to his own couch.

I rose and felt the wet hair stick on my forehead as I dragged the covers up from the boards, wrapping myself tight. They, at least,

were dry: they warmed my chill, slippery skin with the dumb comfort of familiar things. I lay motionless in my dark burrow, breathing his smell. I would have given much to have him hold me and talk to me then, but a grown man is not driven to another's bed by a nightmare. Besides, Ferris did not believe in the Devil.

Morning came, and was sunny. I was up betimes, more cheerful for the light at the window, and raised the latch of his door. Ferris had drawn back the bed curtains and was lying awake, hands behind his head. He threw me a look of innocent contentment. I saw directly that he was already full of the day's business, and would come home with more seed samples, diagrams and schemes for planting. Never such an industrious man, if his heart were only in the work. And kind, for he wished to recall Botts from the vice of drink. He is as good as Izzy, I insisted silently to the Voice, which had whispered in my ears all night, promising I should watch him burn.

'Are you well, Jacob?'

'Just bad dreams.'

'That won't do at all. We need you strong for the needlework.' He looked at me with amusement. 'Who was that Greekish hero, another big fellow, had to sew like a woman?'

'More of that,'I threatened, 'and I lay down my needle.'

'I'll get cords for the tent today,' he said. ‘
^’
Twill be a fine thing to see it go up.'

I would have liked to stay and watch him dress, but knew it was best not to, so closed the door and descended the stairs.

Aunt sat at the table, evidently just served; she nodded to me, her mouth full of bread. In front of her, some of the very best manchet. After saying Grace, I took a large piece for myself.

'Shall we start this morning?' she asked, pleasantly enough. I said I was ready and at her command. Ferris joined us before I had finished the first bit of bread, and had the aspect of an angel - not an angel of vengeance like Zeb, but a warm one, still dreamy from his bed. His evident happiness tugged at me and I could see Aunt was drawn likewise. Impossible to look coldly on one who breathes joy.
My life on

it, he is not damned,
I thought. I watched him eat the bread; he had an excellent appetite.

'I shall be out all day,' he said on getting up from the table, 'unless I get too tired or have too much to carry. But tonight, you'll see marvels!'

'Not the first man to promise marvels,' said Aunt.

'And I shall find Jacob fit to clothe the Pope of Rome.'

'If he wears tents,'I said.

Ferris kissed his aunt and made eyes at me from behind her chair. I could not help but laugh as I wished him a good day. He rammed his hat on askew and was gone.

At ten - that is, after an Eternity - I was permitted to take some salep, provided I brought my stitching with me. The pieces Aunt had set me to join were now bloody as a soldier's bandage, but none could say they were not fairly tacked together. As for me, I felt ready to run or fight, do anything but sit down and bend my strength to such fiddly work. It was far worse than cutting out. What patience Ferris must have, to have learnt to sew.

'My hands are too big. I will never be able to do it right,' I told her.

"There speaks sloth. Anyone can do it in time.' She drew up her mouth. 'I made that sampler behind you when I was nine years old.'

I nearly said, ‘And a very great loss of time it was,'but stopped myself. There was no need to examine the sampler, for there was so little ornament in the room that I had often looked it over and knew it off by heart: a row of bandy gentlemen, all sons of the one rickety father, advanced upon a line of ladies with waists long and thin as bedposts, perhaps to ask the ladies to dance, perhaps to snap them in half. In the centre of this masterpiece were the alphabet and numbers up to ten, the words 'SARAH TUKE HER WORK' and the date - the only thing I could not call to mind without looking — above the words,
A Virtuous Woman Is A Crown Unto Her Husband
stitched in faded green.