Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall (35 page)

“You should be fighting for him then, not stuffing your head with words.”

“Oh, let him go,” the first soldier said.

“Walk your horse across the bridge, then.”

Nat led the horse and, passing the houses and boarded up shops on the bridge reached the other side. The guards there, satisfied that he had been allowed on, waved him through. He stood on the quayside of Newcastle and looked about him.

The first thing that caught his eye was a young woman asleep on a bench against the wall. She wore a light green gown, the skirt open to show a paler green petticoat sprigged with yellow flowers. Her sun-bronzed country face, tilted up to the light, was quite large and square, a strong jaw and a bold forehead, her curly hair having fallen back from it. The darker green shawl behind her head framed her like the leaves of a flower. The whole effect sang of Spring.

As he gazed at her with delight, she stirred, perhaps conscious of his scrutiny, and though she didn’t wake she moved and her head slid along the wall overbalancing her. She would have fallen off the bench if Nat, dropping Jed’s rein, had not leapt forward and caught her.

Her eyes flew open and she squealed at finding a man’s arms gripping hers and pulling her upright.

“Oh ma’am, I’m sorry,” he cried. “You nearly rolled to the ground.”

Other people crowded round. A voice yelled, “Hands off her, you villain.”

Another cried, “He was trying to rob her.”

The girl was laughing. Her eyes, instantly alert, had now focussed on Nat’s. His whole body tingled. She seemed to be looking into his soul. “Nonsense. He’s no robber. I was asleep. He saved me from falling.”

Nat marvelled at how smartly she had assessed the situation. She was no hysterical young lady. She stood up now, adjusting her shawl, still with her eyes on his.

“I thank you, sir.”

The small crowd was beginning to move back when someone shouted, “Man, you’d better look to your horse.”

Nat looked round in alarm and saw that Jed, startled by the commotion and finding himself loose, had cantered off along the quay.

“Please stay there. I’ll come back.” Nat surprised himself by addressing the girl. He ran off after Jed. Why had he said that? Was it the feel of her sturdy torso between his hands? Was it her bright intelligent eyes? Was it her free, joyous laugh?

For the moment, he concentrated on reclaiming Jed. People were scattering. A runaway horse was a danger. Nat was desperate not to lose him. Suppose he leapt off the quay in his fright and landed in the river or worse, broke his back against the many boats moored below! He saw a burly waterman reach out and grab Jed’s reins. Thank God for that! But when he came up the man demanded a reward.

“What’s he worth to you, young man? He’s a fine beast.”

“My thanks for your swift action.”

“Let’s see your silver before I hand him over.”

Nat had stayed two nights on the journey so that he could be in Newcastle early in the day and he was not sure how much he had left of the little money he had set out with but he fished in his pocket and found a sixpence.

The man bit it with a scowl.

“I am a poor student,” Nat said, “and the horse was lent to me.”

A voice spoke at his elbow. “Come friend, this gentleman loosed his horse to help me. You are well paid.”

Nat turned in astonishment. The girl in green and yellow, his Spring maiden, stood beside him.

The waterman yielded Jed’s rein, grunted a little and rolled off to the alehouse.

“Why, I am for ever in your debt,” Nat began.

She laughed again. “Nonsense. You saved me from a bump. I saved your horse. We don’t need pretty speeches. So you are a student? I envy you.” They were walking Jed back along the quay as people resumed their occupations after the small diversion.

“You envy me?” Nat wondered where his terror of young ladies had gone. She was at ease with him but not as Hermione Branford had been. He could speak to her naturally as to a casual acquaintance, while all the time his heart was quickening as he noted her well-packed bodice, neat waist and the flowing movement of her skirt.

“Yes,” she said with passion, “I think I would love nothing better in the world than to be a student. I always wanted to be a boy.”

That would have been a waste, he thought, but didn’t dare say it in case it was called a pretty speech. But he glanced sideways at her and gave her what he hoped was a smile of sympathy and understanding. She smiled back readily.

“I need to stable this beast somewhere,” he said, facing the immediate practical problem. “I have inquiries to make and that will be done better on foot. Can you advise me? Do you live in Newcastle?”

“For the present,” she said and a shadow seemed to pass across her face. “But I can show you where to go. We’ll walk up The Side and round behind the big church where there is an inn which should accommodate your horse reasonably.”

Leading Jed who came quietly enough now Nat walked up with her.

“What are you studying?” she asked.

“Theology, which with my tutor includes the whole history of philosophy as well as Greek and Latin.”

“Are you going to be a priest?”

“I do hope to be ordained; in the Church of England, what’s left of it if the Puritans have their way.”

“So you’re neither Roman nor Puritan. A compromise.”

Nat smiled, not sure if she meant it critically. “Our beliefs are stated in the creeds – the essence of the Christian faith – about which most Romans
and
Puritans agree.” This was the most extraordinary conversation to be having with a very brief acquaintance, especially a lively and attractive young lady wandering on her own round a garrisoned town.

“You say they agree,” she stood still at the top of the steep bank. “If they do, why are they all fighting?”

“Why indeed? It is madness. My dear father, a parish priest himself, always taught me peace not violence, love not hate.”

She nodded and walked on. Then she asked suddenly, “Did you have plenty of love as a child?”

Her questions were astonishing but he would answer with the same directness and complete honesty. “From my father, yes, not my mother.”

“You were fortunate. I didn’t have much from either.” She brushed her hand across her eyes and pointed ahead. “There, that’s the inn. Get rid of your horse and then come back to the church door. I’ll wait for you there.”

“You can spare me some time?” He felt he was gazing at her with too much intensity.

She laughed and shrugged but her eyes were moist. “If you are to be a priest, perhaps you can teach me to pray.”

She turned away and he walked on with Jed to the inn stables. He was so taken aback by this encounter that he could hardly collect his wits to arrange for the stabling of Jed till he should come for him later. As soon as the bargain was made he hastened back to the church. Would the extraordinary girl still be there?

She was, a bright patch of colour in the back pew. He sat down by her with no idea what he was going to say.

She looked up brightly, with eyes still glistening with tears and she resumed their conversation as if it had had no break. “I must not malign my father. He is ill and has been tender to me lately.”

“Your words reproach
me
. My
mother
is ill and has also smiled upon me lately. But she always loved my brother more.”

“Ah, both my parents cared more for my brother and my sister. I felt that keenly when I was young. Have you a sister?”

“No and my brother is dead, so they have only me.”

“My brother also is dead and my sister is married and is far away with my mother, so my father has only me.”

“We have much in common.” He desperately wanted to put an arm round her. She looked small and woebegone now.

“Ah, but we don’t,” she burst out almost savagely, “you are studying and have work ahead of you. I have nothing. And you believe in God and I don’t. That’s why I said teach me to pray.”

Oh, this was sad! This was a new view of her. He thought for a moment, meeting her challenging eyes. He said gently, “You can’t pray to a God you don’t believe in.”

“No; it is because I can’t pray that I wonder if there is a God.”

“How old are you?” he ventured.

“Sixteen. How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.” He had thought her older until her last petulant outburst.

“You think I am a child. If I’d been willing, I could have been married a year ago. By now I might have been a mother.”

He was ashamed. So much maturity was expected of girls when they were hardly ready for it.

Her big green eyes were staring defiantly up at him.

“No, you are not a child. I must be honest and admit I have no experience of talking to young ladies. In fact I have never spoken so long alone with one as I have with you now and I don’t even know your name.”

She cocked her head, thought a moment and grinned. “There’s another thing we have in common then. I have never walked and talked alone with a young man as long as this. Not even the one I was supposed to be betrothed to. I don’t think we’ll trouble about names, as we’re unlikely ever to see each other again. But I was serious when I said, teach me to pray. If you are going to be a parish priest one day you should be able to do that. I truly want to pray for my father but I feel only emptiness.”

The thought of not seeing her again saddened him, even more the thought that she was indifferent to their meeting again. Could he help her now? He was overwhelmed by diffidence. He bowed his head and began in a low murmur to ask God to bless and heal her father, then he added his mother too. “And help your dear daughter here to pray. Surround her with your love. Surround us both with your love and ...”

“All right,” she said, standing up. “I can see how to do it. What you don’t know is that I am a lost soul. The clock is chiming noon. I must go.”

“Jesus came to save the lost. Please tell me your name.”

“Just Bel, B-E-L. I like only three letters in a name.”

“And I am Nat, N-A-T.”

“Oh good. I like that. Then goodbye, Nat and thank you for bearing with my silliness.” She gave him a smiling wave and ran off into the sunshine.

He stared after her, utterly unable to place her in the web of society. A lost soul! She speaks well, she dresses well though her clothes looked crumpled and a little grubby when I was close to her. Did her planned marriage come to naught because she was found to have been with another man? She had great boldness certainly, speaking to a stranger, yet her frankness seemed without guile. She said she had never spoken so long alone with a young man. I have to believe her. And her childhood? She was unloved as a child. That has wounded her.

He got up slowly and looked about the church before leaving it. It was a vast and beautiful building. He drew a long breath and wandered outside. Where could he go to make inquiries? This strange and disturbing encounter had put his purpose completely from his mind. He paced the streets looking for any public buildings where he might seek information but secretly hoping to see a green and yellow figure flitting along. Coming upon an ale house advertising best mutton pies he realised how hungry he was and went inside.

While he was enjoying his pie he asked the landlord, “Have you heard of a mansion called Horden Hall somewhere in the country round about?”

The man shook his head. “If it’s not within the walls I don’t know it.”

“Ay,” said a man at another table who by his bloody apron was a butcher, “there’s little villages with the name Horden beyond the Liberties. There’s a Nether Horden and an Upper Horden. The Hall’s that way I reckon.”

“How far is it?” Nat asked.

“Be four, maybe five miles from the town gate, northards.”

“Thank you.” Nat paid his bill. Should he walk or go back for Jed? Or should he make further inquiries.

He was hesitating outside when a carrier’s cart drew up and the man handed in some parcels for the innkeeper.

“My good man,” Nat accosted him, “you know your way around. Do you know a place called Horden Hall.”

The man looked startled. “Ay, it’s on my regular route. What do you want with the Hordens?”

“To speak with Robert Horden or Sir John.”

The man shook his head. “Ay, well, sir, I fear you’re behind the times. Mr Robert fell off his horse and broke his neck. It’ll be two year gone or more.”

“And Sir John.”

“Died this very morning. My daughter Molly told me not an hour ago. She was running an errand so she couldn’t stop. I’m sorry if you was acquainted with the gentleman, sir, for you’ll not be speaking with him now in this life.”

Nathaniel looked him in the eye.

“You’re sure of this.”

“Ay, that I am. He was staying where my daughter’s a housemaid. Why, she’s been helping nurse him. She’s a good lass. She would never make up a tale like that.”

“Your pardon, my good man, I believe you. And I thank you.” Nat moved off and the carrier gee’d up his horse and was gone.