A Woman of the Road Page 5

  “We must avoid all things royal, for—” he glanced at Jeffries, “His Majesty might be merry but esteems his mistresses and children.”

  “That is so,” said the captain. “We must aim for lesser gentry.”

  “Perhaps an errant earl!” called Carnatus.

  “Or a doddering duke,” said Aventis.

  “I say forsake them all,” I ventured boldly. “Why not rob the merchants? They have never been taught to shoot and are fat and slow.”

  The rest of the company murmured their asset.

  “In truth, lads,” said Jeffries, “we will even the scales of justice by robbing from the middle: the merchants with their fat purses, and the untitled gentry. The poor we do not disturb, for they have suffered enough.”

  “Why not lessen their plight?” I asked, “and give them a bit of coin?” I well recalled my life as one of their sorry number.

  “Megs wants to be Robin Hood!” Carnatus shouted at Gad.

  “‘E wants ter give to the poor!” Gad laughed, pointing as if I already wore Lincoln green.

  “Enough.” Aventis leaned over his saddle. “Megs, it is a laudable impulse. Did not Jesus say, ‘“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.’?”

  “And look what happened to Him,” said Carnatus.

  “I for one applaud Meg’s notion,” said Jeffries. “Let us gift some gold—not a great deal, mind you—to the next set of paupers we see.”

  I had to stifle a laugh as I watched Carnatus’s face; the poor fellow looked like he had just swallowed his sword.

  “There are some likelies!” called Jeffries, trotting onto the road. I saw him exchange a handful of guineas for a series of bows and thanks.

  After a quick meal at Jeffries’s hideout, we galloped back over the Heath. I suspected the captain was anxious to replace the gold he’d given away. As I breathed in the dry scent of scrub, I had to admit that Hounslow was pretty with its high yellow grasses and occasional clumps of trees. It was no Epping Forest, of course, but neither was it a desert.

  Once our band arrived at the Road to Bath, Jeffries gave me a smile. Many pilgrims sought a “cure” in Bath’s waters: unfortunately, at our hands, we cured them of being rich!

  “All right, lads—come quick!”

  We followed Jeffries up a slight rise where we surveyed the road below. Poor pickings, to be sure: just a drover herding his cattle. But wait! Behind came a sole black coach trundling over the rocky expanse. Even better, it had no seal, and was manned by but a driver and a single guard!

  “Megs and Carnatus—go to!” Jeffries cried.

  “Heigh ho!” yelled Carnatus, now clad head to toe in yellow and looking for all the world like that new fruit, the banana. Despite his bulk, he was a skilled horseman, and outpaced me by several lengths as we both galloped downhill.

  “You give the cry, Megs,” he said, and I did, wheeling before two matched bays.

  “Stand and deliver!” I cried in my best low register. “Your money is not worth your life!”

  My pleasure at this turn of phrase was cut short by a pistol’s report.

  “Hullo?” said Carnatus. “Did that fellow shoot at us?”

  He sounded as offended as if someone had wrinkled his collar.

  “At least he did not hit—” I began, but the rest of my words were lost as another blast rang out. I looked down at the white cuff now dangling from my long shirt sleeve. Carnatus and I stared in wonder at the shredded lace.

  “This means war!” he bellowed, aiming his own loaded pistol at the shaking guard’s head.

  “Peace. peace!” the man called, hurling his gun to the ground so fast it skidded across the pebbles.

  “Dog!” Carnatus roared, “bastard son of a Frenchman! You are fierce enough unopposed, but cry ‘peace!’ the moment we return fire!”

  “Stay,” I counseled, putting out a conciliatory hand. “Why compound our crimes?”

  “What matter when we still swing for them?” he groused, but his face began to lose its redness. He motioned for Gad to dismount and to bind the driver and guard.

  “What have we here?’ I asked, vaulting from my saddle and swaggering like a lord up to the coach. Upon opening the door, I found within a nicely dressed woman—but thankfully, not too nice.

  Still, I regarded her warily as I stared above my mask.

  “You wouldn't be a mistress to the king?” I asked.

  Her response was a musical laugh. As I continued to eye her, I saw she was quite attractive—and young: young enough, in truth, to be my twin.

  “I am hardly grand enough for the king,” she said, stepping onto the road. “I am merely Barbara, daughter of a London merchant.”

  She gave a pretty curtsy, and I bowed in turn.

  “Sweet,” growled Carnatus, “but we haven’t time to play Du Vall. Mistress, we will not keep you, but I fear I must search your coach.”

  He gave a cursory bow, appearing for all the world like a giant royal canary.

  “You both speak prettily,” said Barbara, giving me a flirtatious glance. “What would it require for you not to rob me? Would a kiss suffice?”

  She gave me a closed-mouth smile, causing me to step back.

  “Hmm,” said Carnatus, considering her offer. “I’ve had kisses enough, but what would you say to throwing a main? With each toss of the dice, the loser must remove one item of clothing. At the last, he or she who bears no raiment shall be declared the loser.”

  “If I win, may keep my purse?” Barbara asked.

  “Indeed, ms,” said Carnatus.

  To me, his scheme was inventive if not downright alarming. Though a heavy dread coursed through me at the thought of Carnatus unclothed, I thought I might withstand the sight if only I looked away.

  “Young Megs, you cast the first throw,” Carnatus said, placing two small dice in my glove.

  “I beg your pardon?” I asked, actually feeling faint. “This is your sport, is it not?”

  Carnatus laughed, standing with hands on hips.

  “If I know one thing,” he said, “besides ale and gaming, it is women, and this one fancies you! Will it cost you so dear to see her in a state of undress? I should think that a man of your age would charge to the sight like a bull!”

  “He is shy!” Barbara cried.

  From the gleam in her eyes to her seductive posture—back bent to show her breasts to full advantage—I could tell she was delighted.

  “Very well,” I mumbled. “May we at least retreat from the road?”

  “Your modesty becomes you,” said Barbara, leading me to a hollow which could not be spied by passersby: or Carnatus and Gad. She took a seat on the heath, her long skirts tucked beneath her. “Your play.”

  With hesitation, I knelt and took up the dice, scoring a five and three. She then threw two sixes!

  “Your hat, sir,” she said demurely.

  I groaned as I placed it beside me. Was there no way out from his contest? I wanted to get up and run but then thought of the taunts I would endure from Carnatus.

  And so the game progressed. This Barbara was an adept for she threw so many high scores! Was she a secret gamester? Was it her good luck or my ill? I only know that in one half-hour, I had lost my cloth falling band, coat, collar, doublet, and boots. She, however, was minus but one brooch!

  “Shall we halt?” I asked with hope. “It is clear you are the winner.”

  “Oh no,” she protested, “we must continue to the end.”

  Of course she could not know this would be the end of me! A mounting fear seized me as I lost more vexing articles: my silk stockings and breeches. As my apparel lessened, Barbara’s closed-mouth smile grew wider.

  “I shall have you yet!” she said merrily, and I felt like Lady Castlemaine giving over her jewels.

  Assuredly, at that moment, there wasn’t much left to shed, and—damn those dice!—it quickly came off: all but my mask, long white shirt, and what lay beneath it—the thought of which caused m
e to sweat.

  “A three and a four!” Barbara squealed, removing her lace collar and pulling down the neck of her gown. As my faintness increased, my limbs began to shake.

  “Do not worry yourself,” she breathed, “I will show you what to do.”

  Now it was my turn to hurl those cursed bones: alas, my bad luck held: two deuces!

  As I crouched without moving like a tall scrub on the Heath, I vaguely saw Barbara approach and seize the end of my shirt. As she pulled it over my head, I was left completely naked: except for a narrow white cloth wound tightly around my chest.

  “Dear Lord!” Barbara shrieked, running back toward the road. “You’re a—”

  “Here.”

  Aventis stepped from behind a tree and threw his cloak at me, which I wrapped over trembling flesh.

  “Well, Megs,” he said, calm as when he’d first met me, “it appears the game is over.”

  Meg’s Story

  As I realized the import of his words, I crumpled to the rough heath, tears stinging my eyes. In the near distance, I could hear voices and a coach leaving, then the rhythm of hooves as Jeffries and Carnatus fled. I hoped that Barbara had told them the results of our unequal contest so she could at least keep her purse.

  I removed one of my last bits of clothing—my mask—and stared up at Aventis, who leaned against the tree. His countenance remained calm, unburdened by emotion.

  “What is your name?” he asked evenly.

  “What is yours?” I spat. Jeffries said that in Latin, ‘Aventis’ means ‘cheerful,’ but that hardly describes you.”

  Beneath his thin moustache, his lips formed a slight smile.

  “It is an opposite, you see. My real name you will learn in time.”

  “Margaret,” I whispered.

  “Beg pardon?” he asked.

  “My real name is Margaret, Meg for short.”

  “Ah.”

  Aventis took out his sword and began to swing it idly.

  “Excuse my queries, Margaret, but after what I have witnessed, I feel I have a right to know.”

  I sighed. There was some justice in that.

  “First, from where do you hail?” he asked. “And how came you to meet Jeffries?”

  Beneath his cloak, I exhaled. When the words tumbled out, it was almost a relief.

  “I am from here, Middlesex, and my father, Richard Tanner, operates the Whale.”

  “One of Jeffries’s haunts,” he said.

  “Yes. That is where I first met the captain.”

  “Why not start from the beginning?” he asked. “What is your origin?”

  “My coming into the world was accompanied by my mother leaving it.”

  “Alas,” he said sadly, “it is common enough, I know.”

  “Before I went off with Jeffries, I wished to have gone with her.”

  Aventis gave me a searching look with those sharp black eyes. “That bad?”

  I sighed.

  “My father is a man who cares only for money. And he is not particular about his manner of getting it.”

  “Like us,” he remarked.

  I nodded.

  “From the age of five,” I said, “I knew nothing but backbreaking toil and the bark of commands: fetch water from the well, knead the dough in the kitchen, wash all the stone floors. I learned to stave off all manner of pests—biting insects, rats, and the searching hands of customers.”

  I could see disgust eclipse Aventis’s face.

  “It is common,” he said. “Even in the sacred church.” He shook his head. “Pray, continue.”

  “As I grew, the hands became more searching, especially as I now served as tapstress and barmaid.”

  “You could not free yourself from this servitude?” he asked.

  “That is all I thought about,” I said, picking at the neck of his cloak. “How to rise to a better life. But there is no option for a poor girl—”

  “—lest she be indentured or kept. That is the way of things.”

  “It should not be.”

  I met his eye with defiance.

  “I agree,” he said.

  Now that we had this understanding, I did not hold back.

  “There was a man . . .” I said. “His name is Claude and he runs the stable.”

  “He is no Du Vall, I take it?”

  “Hardly. He is a great brute of a man, disgusting in appearance and especially in manner. The more I tried to avoid him, the more he would paw me, never passing up the chance for an unwanted kiss.”

  “A shame you were not a swordsman then,” he said.

  “If I had been, I would have slain him. Along with father.”

  He did not evince alarm.

  “They were in league in?” he asked.

  “Yes. Claude had a notion to wed me, not out of love, of course, but a desire to gain the Whale. His final persuasion to father was that he would pay a groom’s dowry.”

  “An offer the old man jumped at?”

  “Faster than Barbara at a game of dice.”

  Aventis chuckled.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said, “I do not laugh at your tale. So. You were to be wed against your will?”

  I closed my eyes, a familiar rage swelling through me. Even thinking of the past made me want to kill . . .

  “Father knew of my hatred for Claude, and so to speed the wedding, he kept me under lock and key. In my room there was but one small window, and he took care to bar it. It was, you might say, my personal cell at Newgate.”

  Aventis started at the infamous gaol’s name.

  “How did you escape?” he asked.

  “Father came for me the morning of this ‘sacred union,’ a smile upon his face.

  “‘Now, m’girl,’ he said, ‘at last, I will see some profit from ye.’

  ‘And a full thirteen years’ labor does not enter into your reckoning?’ I asked.

  ‘Now I will have guineas—and your labor besides.’

  I shuddered, for he spoke true.

  ‘I will never marry Claude!’ I cried. “You shall have to kill me!’

  ‘I don’ mind,’ he said, approaching and slapping me hard in the face.

  I barely flinched, so accustomed was I to his beatings. But on this particular morn, something inside me unloosed.

  ‘This wedding will never be!’ I yelled, and I don’t know what overcame me, but I leapt at him like a stag. Seizing a small white basin which rested beside my bed, I hurled it at him full-force, just missing his skull.

  ‘Damn your blood!’ he hissed, coming at me with closed fists.

  ‘Then you damn your own!’ I said, and using what fingernails I had after a lifetime of scrubbing, I raked him across the face, drawing thin lines of blood.

  ‘She-wolf!’ he screamed, putting his hands to his face.

  ‘If I were, I’d tear you from limb to limb!’

  I tried to make good on my promise. Taking a few steps back, I hurled my whole self at him, and recalling the pain of his thrashings with wooden spoons and leather belts, put my hands round his neck and squeezed with all my might.

  ‘Cl-laude!’ he tried to wheeze but was unheard by all save me.

  ‘That devil cannot help you,’ I hissed.

  Even as my knuckles reddened with the sheer force of my grip, I would not desist until his head fell back, his tongue hanging from his mouth.

  ‘Farewell, father,’ I said, throwing my few things in a sack and hastening down the stairs. Claude, fool that he was, was already deep in his cups, so I was able to speed past him to freedom. And that marked my last appearance at the Whale. As Margaret, anyway.’

  “Merciful Heaven!” Aventis cried, placing his arms over his breast. “I should have taken care when I first met you! But how came you to join Jeffries? Was he a particular friend?”

  “Indeed,” I said, brightening. “I would see Captain Jeffries often at his corner table. I knew what he was: that could hardly be secret so long as he bribed father. But since I can first r
emember, whenever I served the captain, he was always so kind to me—almost fatherlike, in a way. Then, at the end of his stays, he would slip me a shilling or two.” I turned away, blushing. “I confess I thought him quite mysterious, and I dare I say it . . . handsome.”

  Aventis laughed. “Pray, do not tell him that. His head will swell to the size of Carnatus’s!”

  I smiled.

  “In any case, after I fled the Whale, I made for the nearest crossing to catch the public coach.”

  “Where were you headed?” asked Aventis.

  “I thought I might secure a servant’s post in a quiet farmhouse.”

  “Yet a quiet life is not yours,” he said, pointing to my costume which was still strewn about the hollow.

  “No. And for that, I thank Captain Jeffries.”

  Aventis raised an eyebrow.

  “How so?”

  “He rode down the Great Western and robbed the public coach!”

  “Ha!” Aventis laughed for a full minute.

  “Of course,” I went on, “I well knew who he was, even with his mask. And he recognized me, of course, and allowed me to keep my purse. Yet he did something curious: he said that since he took none of my money, I must ply my trade instead.”

  Aventis looked puzzled. “Did you then draw him an ale?”

  “No. He had on his person a private bottle of wine and made me serve it to him!”

  Aventis laughed again.

  “So that’s when he took you on?” he asked.

  “Oh no, there were too many people about. So I contrived to meet him again.”

  “At the Whale?”

  “Good Lord, no! That afternoon, I took care to walk down the road by myself . . . quite slowly. I was sure to remove a fake gold necklace and twirl it in the air. You can imagine it took but an hour before the captain appeared.”

  “What delayed him?” asked Aventis.

  “When he came charging up on his horse, he saw that it was me, and thought I had played a good trick on him. But as we were now alone, I begged him to take me on.”

  “Whatever for?” asked Aventis. “Did you not seek a life of quietude?”

  “I thought I did,” I sighed. “But when I saw Jeffries on the road: so bold, so gallant, and presumably . . . so rich, I desired to join him.”