A Woman of the Road Read online

  He proceeded to crash back through the trees.

  I confess that when he departed, I must have fallen asleep, for I was jolted upright by the report of a pistol. There followed the heavy tramp of boots, and then Jeffries himself, holding up a fat rabbit. Despite my fearsome exterior, I had to look away as Jeffries prepared it for stew. I had never hunted and felt sorry for the poor beast but knew it had given its life to ensure our own survival. Good Christ, I thought, the sheer arrogance of man! We think ourselves better than all creatures on earth . . . which, the Church tells us, do not even have souls . . .

  While I brooded, Jeffries stomped back to the cave, and I heard his echoed, “We’re in luck; it’s still here!”

  He next emerged bearing a large silver jug and two chalices of gold. What a robbery that must have been! He sat next to me on the grass as he poured a ruby liquid and handed me a cup itself inlaid with rubies!

  “Enjoy this Latour,” he said, quaffing a mouthful and stabbing some meat with his knife.

  I took a small sip, followed by several others. “Nice fruit,” I said, “tastes of plum.”

  Jeffries roared with laughter.

  “Aye, far better to drink fine wine than to serve it.”

  “The Whale’s is none too fine,” I said. “Excepting your stock, captain.”

  “By God, you speak the truth!”

  Jeffries put his hands under his head, enjoying the warmth of the fire like a satisfied cat. “This life’s not too bad, eh, Megs?” he asked. “There are others that exceed it in comfort

  but . . .” He trailed off, staring into the flames. I wondered what life he’d led prior. He was so well-spoken . . . and an intimate of Price Rupert, so . . . I closed my eyes, imagining him a lord overlooking his lands.

  “What are your thoughts thus far?” Jeffries asked, refilling our cups. “Do you wish to continue? Many who join me do not last long.”

  I mimed his physical attitude, placing my hands behind my neck.

  “Well . . . in the main, I s’pose I like it. Despite the riding of horses.”

  “Would you wish to be a lowly footpad?” I heard the horror in his voice.

  “Oh no, sir. I like being a highwayman. We stand atop the thieves’ ladder.”

  “I’ll be dam’d if you’re wrong!” said Jeffries, draining his cup again.

  “I am still afeared of guns. But I like going where I please, and of course there’s the guineas. And . . . the fear in their eyes when you first ride upon then. Then the relief when they discover you’re a gentleman.”

  “Just so!” Jeffries nodded, taking a clay pipe from a pocket and lighting some fragrant tobacco. He offered it to me, but I merely coughed at the smoke.

  “Megs,” he said, half-jokingly, “you must learn to acquire the vices of a respectable thief!”

  I smiled. “Aye, sir. All but smoking and one other.”

  “Hmph. Yes.”

  We could hear the stirrings of beasts beyond our cover of trees: a herd of deer, perhaps, or game birds—all serving at the pleasure of Charles. What would it be like, I thought, to effectively own a forest so vast you could journey for days on end without reaching its border? Yet, Jeffries had said the king rarely came here. Perhaps Epping was just a small prize which came with a reclaimed crown. Or a future gift to dispense on some grateful vassal. Unlike Jeffries, I had never experienced royalty. I could only lie back and enjoy like a denizen of these woods. Well, I thought with contentment, let the king have it all. As long as he stays away from me!

  Another Merry Companion

  Jeffries and I rested for the remainder of the day, dining on a deer which he brought down with a single shot.

  “Let us say grace,” said the captain before we sat down to our dinner.

  This left me puzzled: he had never before bothered with such niceties.

  “Dear God,” he began, bowing his head. I hastily followed suit. “Thank you for this bountiful meat which we sought in the wilderness. But mostly—” here he gave me a wink, “thanks to our precious new monarch, the redoubtable Charles II, who taketh away that which his father hath giveth. Amen.”

  “Amen,” I said, not knowing what to make of this strange prayer.

  After our fill of venison (and wine), we set about sleeping “rough,” though there was nothing unpleasant about this fine spring night. Aided by Jeffries’s cave full of hidden supplies, we were warmed by soft blankets and our constant fire. The trees stood sentinel over us until we woke with the sun.

  Jeffries was quick to warm some venison, but I have to confess I was growing tired of game. What I would not give for a good shoulder of lamb, or even an oatmeal pudding!

  I sighed as I splashed my face with cold water while Jeffries loaded his pistols.

  “We’ve a busy day before us,” he said.

  I was unsure whether to be glad or not. Sensing my apprehension, the captain clapped me on the arm and then harnessed our mounts, who seemed well recovered.

  “Where to, sir?” I asked.

  “Newmarket Road!” he said. “Usually fresh pickings this time of day.”

  I swung aboard my mount.

  “Aye, aye, captain,” I said. “But isn’t the present hour a bit early for thieving?”

  From his saddle, Jeffries laughed.

  “Daylight is the best time. Night provides cover, of course, but few travel after sunset, for the ‘hundreds’ will not reimburse them.”

  “What does that signify?” I asked. He might as well have been speaking French.

  Jeffries urged his horse forward.

  “Travelers avoid the night for they are perceived as rascals—those bent on evil deeds. But . . . if we meet them during the day, they are entitled to half the cost of what we steal. An admirable system all round!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Ah, here is Harlow.”

  Not far from Epping, Jeffries pointed out a small village which contained an ancient church. I saw what must have been the Newmarket Road, for Jeffries led us from it down a small path covered with trees.

  “Ho,” he told his mount. In excitement, he pointed a black glove. “Megs. Have a look!”

  I set my gaze on the road, ignoring the groups of riders and the poor on foot, until I spotted Jeffries’s prey: a fat bishop, riding alone on a mule laden with packs.

  “The fool!” Jeffries whispered. “Does he think his vestments protect him?”

  Before I could answer, he pulled up his mask and plunged from our hideout, forcing me to do the same.

  “Hey ho, friar,” Jeffries called, “where to so early in the morn? Off to harry some Catholics? Or is it Dissenters today?”

  “Blasphemer,” said the bishop, looking high up to heaven. “Continue your depravity, and you will suffer hellfire!”

  “As will you,” said Jeffries, who leaned down to seize the mule’s reins. “Is not the Church of England, founded to permit an unjust divorce, as fully corrupt as our court? Do you not jail Quakers for sport? And adopt every Papist ritual? I expect that shortly, you’ll answer to the Pope himself!”

  “I-I will see you tried before the Court of High Commission!” the bishop sputtered.

  “Not the vice court!” Jeffries cried in mock-horror. “Yet I am about to commit an act which shall bring you low.”

  Despite the bishop’s rich silks and velvets, I could not help but laugh.

  “Impudent whelp!” the bishop snarled. “Wish you to be cast in the Pit along with your friend?”

  “It is better than going alone,” I said.

  “Enough,” said Jeffries. “Let us see what this overfed churchman carries.”

  I was sure to unloose my pistol as Jeffries dismounted and approached the trembling cleric.

  “Now. This ass must alight from his ass!” Jeffries ordered.

  I could barely hold onto my weapon since my body shook with such laughter.

  Jeffries kindly helped the bishop off his mount and was rewarded with oaths unfit for a sailor. Pushing the m
an aside, Jeffries unsheathed his blade and ripped open the mule’s packs. From the brown leather spilled forth two golden candlesticks, an enormous Cross of gold, and more coin than I had ever laid eyes on!

  “Well met!” Jeffries crowed, bending to scoop up the guineas. “Keep ‘im in your sights, Megs.” He straightened and turned to the bishop. “Is His Holiness on the way to supply an altar, or in retreat from just having robbed one?”

  The bishop glowered as Jeffries proceeded to strip him of his raiment. Soon, a heavy silk shirt, joined by a long black billowing garment, sat at the side of the road. I had to avert my eyes, for the bishop now stood exactly as God had made him.

  “This is an outrage!” he shouted, while attempting to cover his privates. “Are you not aware that King Charles heads our Church?!”

  “I am,” said Jeffries, motioning with a pistol for the bishop to mount his ass—but with his head facing its tail!

  “Since Charles is so rich, he will surely not miss these trifles,” I said, pointing to our gold bounty.

  “We would not wish you to fall ere you reach the next town,” said Jeffries, tying the bishop to his saddle with the man’s own reins!

  “You will hang for this!” cried the bishop. “I will see to—”

  “Ha!” Jeffries slapped the mule’s rear, causing it to take off. The sight of the naked bishop turned wrong-way-round on his ass caused tears of laughter to spring to my eyes.

  Jeffries turned to me.

  “There will be a tale told in the tavern tonight!”

  “Indeed,” I said, smiling beneath my mask. “You have reformed the Reformation!”

  “And restored these from the Restoration!”

  He held up the two giant candlesticks.

  We both laughed all the way to Waltham.

  I left Jeffries there with a “friend” who, in an act of alchemy, could change gold straight into guineas. Dreaming of future riches, I felt so lighthearted that on my way back to Epping I sang a snatch of “The Three Butchers”:

  With that, came out ten swaggering blades,

  With their rapiers in their hand.

  They rode up to bold Johnson,

  And boldly bid him stand.

  Oh, I cannot fight; says Gibson,

  I am sure that I shall die!

  No more won't I," cries Wilson,

  For I will sooner fly!

  With my hey, ding, ding, with my ho, ding, ding,

  With my high, ding, ding, high dey!

  May God keep all good people from such bad company!

  With the realization that I was now bad company, I headed for our camp and dismounted with relief. Would that the pain in my thighs might dispel! My horse, at least, seemed pleased as I released him. I searched our cave but did not find what I was after: namely, something to eat. Just as I resigned myself to wait until Jeffries’s return, I felt a sharp object explore between my shoulder blades. Was this the captain bent on a jest? But as the object tore through my coat, I knew it for what it was: the hard, pointed tip of steel.

  Since I was facing the cave, my hands hidden from my assailant, I attempted to free my pistol with as much stealth as I could.

  From behind came the sound of laughter. This, more than anything, set my blood afire and gave me the courage to whirl around.

  “What do you want?” I growled. I tried to lower my register as Jeffries had instructed.

  “Your purse, of course, dear fellow!”

  My masked attacker soon freed me of the guineas on my person.

  “You are making a grave mistake,” I said. “I am a feared highwayman who rides with Captain Jeffries. Rest assured that he shall hear of this.”

  “Oh, I guarantee it!” said the man. “For now, feared highwayman, I challenge you to a duel!”

  I looked at him with consternation. This man was tall and gaunt, dressed all in black down to his sleeves. His long dark hair cascaded from beneath his hat and his eyes were so dark I could swear they were black too. Most notably, he sported a mustache and small beard.

  Bah! I thought with contempt. Foreigner!

  “Stand and deliver!” he cried, and at hearing our outlaw’s phrase from his lips, I grew more enraged. With a hesitant hand, I accepted from him a second sword he unloosed from his belt. In truth, I had never held such a weapon and feared this foe who raised his like a master. Though I tried to mimic his stance, I could see my own blade quaver. What chance did I, a neophyte, have against this practiced fellow?

  In my defense, I can say I did not run. My opponent could barely contain his glee as he smote the thin steel from my hand time and time again. He whirled and feinted so gracefully, using arms and legs with equal skill, that at last I collapsed on the ground, ashamed of my defeat.

  “Take all I have, blackguard! How dare you attack without warning?” In a fit of pique, I added: “May God damn your soul to hell!”

  He surprised me by growing reflective.

  “Who amongst us will dwell in the eternal fire?” he asked. “As for your query, ‘If the master of the house had known the hour of night when the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and not let his house be broken into.’”

  “God’s legs!” I cried. “What are you, a priest? We have just dealt with one of your number. When he returns to Harlow, he will tell his tale as God brought him into the world: without a stitch of clothing!”

  The tall man chuckled as he resheathed his weapon and with his other hand ripped off his mask.

  “Insomuch as that priest was likely not of my faith, it troubles me not at all,” he said.

  I wanted to ask and what faith is that? but, knowing his skill as a swordsman, I wisely held my tongue, rolling to my feet and brushing the grass from my breeches.

  “You may wonder who I am,” he said.

  “It did cross my mind,” I said sharply.

  “My name is Aventis. And you are he who answers to ‘Megs.’”

  “How do you know that?” I asked, eyeing my fallen blade.

  “Captain Jeffries. You see, young Megs, I too am a member of his company. I am newly returned from France.”

  “Oh.”

  This news took me aback. I had assumed Jeffries rode alone since those before me had quit him. And before my appearance, he never took anyone the Whale.

  “Here.” Aventis handed me back my guineas. “In future, you will not be taken unawares. Your blade will not master you: you will become its master.”

  “That hardly seems likely,” I told him.

  His face remained impassive as he threw that hated steel at me. I caught the hilt in one gloved hand as I strove to hold the blade steady.

  “Now,” said Aventis, “when I do this—” he thrust his blade toward me, “—you do this—” In one motion, he showed me how to parry. For the first time that afternoon, steel struck steel more than once in quick succession. Still, I thought, to my own surprise, I prefer a pistol; it was quicker, more deadly, and did not seem as hoary as this centuries-old art. We lived in a brand new age and it demanded a new form of fighting if it were ever to last.

  “Good!” Aventis said, as I managed to meet his sword by springing onto a tree stump.

  “I see you have the instinct to use everything around you—rocks, walls, men—to keep the high ground and hence the advantage.”

  He slashed beneath my blade, and for once I managed to keep my grip. The sun’s rays on our crossed steel nearly dazzled my sight.

  “Very well,” said Aventis. “This will suffice for the present.”

  He sheathed his sword in its narrow black scabbard while I made a move to hand back the one he had leant me.

  “No,” he said, holding up a black-gloved hand. “That blade is now yours. It is my gift to you.”

  “I-I thank you,” I said, touching my hat. I was such a stranger to gifts that I did not know how to respond. “I take it that Jeffries sent you?” I asked.

  “Indeed.” Aventis smiled.

  As the sun shone down on his face,
I saw how handsome he was: even his foreign moustache began to grow on me. His features were fine and even, and unlike most of my countrymen, his teeth were perfect and white. Realizing that I stared, I directed my gaze to the grass. I then fought to direct my thoughts more to the matter at hand.

  “I-I must be a dreadful burden to both you and Jeffries,” I said. “Knowing so little, in truth actually nothing.”

  “Nonsense,” he said, “one good man is worth fifty guineas. A loyal one—a hundred. And Jeffries tells me you are loyal.” His black eyes scanned my face. “That you have reason to be.”

  I broke from his gaze. Had he been apprised of my reason?

  “Not to worry, young Megs,” said Aventis. “I only know what I must. Jeffries would not have endured this long had he not the power of silence.”

  I nodded, feeling better.

  “As long as we are here,” he said, “what say you to a Lafite?”

  “If it is as good as the Latour, then let us be friends forever!” I cried.

  Aventis strode to the cave and removed a silver jug, along with three matching cups. He filled two with precious red liquid, the finest that France could provide . . .

  All I remember from that night is Aventis, joined by Jeffries, offering toasts to each other and singing a verse from “The Three Butchers”:

  Out sprang ten bold highwaymen with weapons in their hands.

  They strode up to young Johnson and boldly bid him stand.

  "Stand I will" said Johnson "as long as ever I can.

  For I was never in all my life afraid of any man".

  Then Johnson being a valiant man he made those bullets fly,

  'Til nine of them bold highwaymen all on the ground did lie.

  This wicked woman standing by young Johnson did not mind,

  She took a knife all from his side and stabbed him from behind.

  Curious, I thought, as I lay sprawled on the grass, my brain clouded with wine. Those two sing of betrayal, but I have never seen two more congenial friends. Indeed, by the light of our campfire (and aided, it must be said, by my impaired vision), they seemed more like black-clad brothers than mere men of the road.