Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. (13 page)

"Colonel and captain, self. Lieutenant colonel and captain, Thomas Robinson." Dick ran a hand over his bald head. "He may prove untrue, but as militia colonel, he carries much weight. Major and captain, you, Gaston. Adjutant, Will. A troop captain. Ram. He's a trifle young, but I'll give him a good lieutenant—and make the man pay handsomely for the privilege. Abel Thornby will be Ram's sergeant. How many private men have we?"

Gaston scanned his lists. "Raw recruits, eighty; militia, fifty-six; old soldiers, twenty-seven. Total, one hundred sixty-three."

"Good. Now the other captains. There's Mostyn—hasn't a rabbit's guts, but he's worth seven hundred a year, so he'll pay a cool thousand for his troop. And Robinson's son—he's a coxcomb, but the old man will pay a thousand for him too. There, we have our six troops captained."

With all Britain torn by alarms and skirmishes, he worked as if possessed to whip his men into shape: more commissions sold, more recruits 'listed, contracts let for uniforms. He spent the commissions money as fast as it came in. And when Authority conceded that his seizing of the militia arms had forestalled a possible rebellion in the Riding, he was bursting with pride.

So was Ram— Captain Ramillies Anstruther! True, some of his troop grumbled at sendng under a boy not yet twelve, but he was quite confident he could lead them against the whole Jacobite army.

It was he who first learned of possible action. One November day, while maneuvering his troop near Bowes, he found the Roman Road red with regulars marching westward. Learning that they were General Carpenter's force, moving to cut off an invading army of Scots, he ordered his lieutenant, George Slingsby, to bring the troop back, and raced ahead himself to report to Dick.

"Sir, our army's marching into Westmorland to cut off Highland invaders!" he cried, too excited even to salute.

Wlien Dick learned the scanty details, he blared: "Sound Boots and Saddles! Gaston, bring the regiment after me when mounted." Then, with Robinson and Ram, he galloped to overtake the general.

Having previously ordered Dick to remain in the Riding to maintain order, Carpenter greeted him coldly. But when he realized that Anstruther's was made up of Dalesmen who knew every mile of the road west, he ordered that it should provide the advance and flank guards through the hill country.

Within two hours Dick had his troops in position. As he rode at the head of the advance, he wouldn't have changed places with King George himself. Across Westmoriand into Lancashire and down to Preston town they went, where the Scots had been trapped by another regular force from the south. In two days the Jacobites surrendered, so all Carpenter had to do was to guard prisoners.

So disappointed Dick was ordered home, leaving two troops under Robinson to help with the prisoners.

"Bah, those miserable few can't be all the rebels," he opined as he neared Bowes. "We'll see plenty of action yet."

They did. Young John came racing back from the Advance. "Dales-view, it's afire!" His voice cracked. "Eigh, Uncle Dick, coom quick, there's summat awful happenin'!"

Dick stared ahead and saw smoke billowing from what must certainly be the house. "God!" he groaned, realizing that the regiment's reserve powder was stored in one of the barns. A spark, and all Dalesview would vanish.

"Regiment—tr-rot!" He led across country, Gaston and Will beside him, Ram, heading the first troop, at his heels.

The gates gaped. As he sped through them, he glimpsed old Seth Cobley lying on his back staring sightlessly up at the sky.

Snarling, he twisted in his saddle, "Captain Ram, deploy left and take the stables. Will, bid Captain Mostyn deploy right and take the barns. The rest follow me!" He galloped up the avenue, the remaining dragoons thundering behind.

The house lay ahead, smoke pouring from the upper windows. A shot rang out. Clearing the chestnuts, he saw a dozen horses tethered outside the stables, saw men battering at the house's main doors with a big timber. These he charged and sabered one, while Gaston pistoled another. The rest dropped the balk, one screeching, "Jesus, soldiers!"

Dick recognized one raider—Johnson, and the rogue was aiming a musket at him. Instinctively he bent low in his saddle, just as Pride smashed down the highwayman. When the stallion had sped on, Johnson lay still, blood on his face.

The remaining raiders pleaded for quarter as dragoons appeared from all points—Ram's troop from around the stables, Mostyn's from the barns, the remainder along the avenue.

Dick dismounted. "Captain Ram, see the powder's safe and set a guard over it." He looked up at the house. "Buckets—anything! Form a chain from the well." He ran up the steps and pounded on the doors. "Open! All's safe!"

Bolts and chains were drawn and Hannah appeared, cap gone, her small pistol in one hand, her face smut-streaked.

"It's about time ye coom," she greeted. 'T'rogues was like ti fry us alive, wi' their tossing fiery straw oop in t'winders."

Behind her stood Rob, carrying a big blunderbuss and followed by the maids and two old farmhands. 'They've slain Fred Bates, they have, and Molly too!" he choked. "Ooh, Uncle Dick!"

"Where's Joan?" Will raced up, his eyes wide with anxiety.

"In t'cellar wi' Sue," his mother said. "Nowt's harmed 'em."

"The smoke'll kill them!" He rushed inside.

It took hours to put out the fire. The stone walls and the slate roof were safe, but floor beams and some rooms were charred.

Meanwhile, Dick made prisoners talk. Johnson was their leader and had killed both old Cobley and Fred Bates for having recognized him. They'd expected to take only horses, weapons and food, but Johnson had wanted Milkmaid Molly too. Warned by the shooting, those within had locked the doors and shuttered the lower windows; so they had shot out the upper ones and tossed up burning straw.

Then Johnson threatened to massacre the defenders unless Molly was handed to him. Hannah had refused, but Molly had jumped from a back window, making him promise he wouldn't harm the others. He had taken her into the barn, but soon returned raging, with a bleeding hand. There were women inside easier to handle, he'd said, and ordered the doors battered in. That was all.

"God damn him, search him for papers, then throw his body in the midden!" Dick roared. "And find Molly, poor lass."

But Johnson had vanished. Dick was incredulous, being sure Pride had killed the man. It was Mostyn who found him in a barn, and this time he was dead. Molly had done it; Molly, with staring eyes and with clothes spattered with blood, her own and his.

"E tied me 'ands," she said, all too calmly. "Ah bit 'im, so 'e strook me, t'bastard. 'E used me bad an' left me. Theer's noise o' guns an' fightin', an' 'e cooms back, slow laike, wi' blood on 'is face. 'Moll lass. Ah didna mean ti 'urt thee. 'Ide me now and Ah'll marry thee,' 'e says. 'Let me free,' Ah says, an' 'e does. Then Ah oops wi' a sickle an' cuts 'is lyin' throat. 'E wor reet sweet on me when 'e wor 'ere wi' Capting Edwardes. Why did 'e use me so ill?" She looked around at the pitying faces. "Eigh, Mistress will be reet angered. Theer's not a gallon o' milk churned this living day."

She moved stiffly toward the dairy. Joan, herself pale and dishev-

eled, took charge of this oversimple girl who had given herself to be raped in the belief that her sacrifice would save others.

She never recovered and became vague in her mind, so that they called her "Mad Moll." But that was later.

Though in England the Preston defeat was decisive, the rising smoldered on in Scotland where, months too late, James Stuart at last landed. He spent further weeks making declarations and addresses; then, realizing that all was over, he left his adherents to shift for themselves and sailed back to France. For political reasons. Government was lenient, and only a few of the leaders were executed and some hundreds of their followers transported to the American colonies.

Early in the new year, Dick set out for London on the regiment's financial affairs, leaving Robinson in command. To him Dick wrote occasional dispatches, but not to his family. So Hannah took the initiative, maintaining that it was only just that Dalesview, ruined by the rebels, be rebuilt by royal aid. She browbeat old Robinson until all dragoons who were carpenters or glaziers were put to work. Cash was low, but she was able to replace the damaged oak rafters, floorings and wainscots.

But Robinson grew desperate trying to find rations for 300 men and fodder for their horses, with only his pledged word that Government would at last pay for them. He almost hated Dick for having forced him to the winning side, since it looked as if the Crown would repudiate the debts incurred by those loyal to it.

On an April day Ram, up on Moor, was watching Lieutenant Slingsby drill the troop when Volunteer John rode up and bowed formally. "Sir, the major's compliments," he began in a high soprano which changed to an indefinite baritone, "and please to exercise your troop in the charge." Then he turned an embarrassed red.

"What ails ye?" Ram gaped, dignity forgotten. "Are you ill?"

"They've dropped!" John swallowed. "Faither says I'm a man now." The "man" came out baritone, the "now" in a high treble.

Ram remembered his duty. "Sir, my thanks," he nodded. "The command will be obeyed." After passing the order on to Slingsby, he was about to ask him what "they've dropped" had to do with

John's strange voice, when he recognized a redcoat who had appeared from the avenue, riding wearily. "Father!" He raced to him.

Dick did not speak and looked worn and ill. "Your honor!" Ram ranged alongside him. "What's wrong?"

"Send for Gaston and Will." Dismounting, Dick dragged up the steps and into the house.

When Villebonne and Will arrived. Ram went in with them. Dick sat in his grandfather's chair, staring at the floor.

"We're disbanded," he announced. "All the new regiments are."

"Our pay?" Will choked. "We've not touched a penny since ye left. And what you issued before was from the commissions sold."

"Paymaster Walpole says I'll be reimbursed. But what of Robinson and the rest, who paid handsomely for their rank?" Dick turned to Gaston. "I'll be needing wrist-exercise. The poor sods will be out for my blood and, damme, I can't blame 'em!"

So the privates were dismissed with an ofEcial commendation and the officers allowed to retain rank up to captain only, save for Dick himself, who held his major's grade on the half-pay list.

Anstruther's Dragoons had had a short life.

There was much ill-will against Dick, but no duels. He bore it all grimly and would have returned the commissions money by mortgaging Dalesview had Hannah's fury not deterred him.

He took off his red coat, swearing never to wear it again. Ram, too, felt lost. He had been a King's Captain, now he was only a boy again, with nothing to do but ride and swim with his cousins.

In July an elegant officer arrived and asked for Colonel Anstruther. He was, he explained, an aide of his Grace of Marlborough. While Dick was being sought, he accepted ale from Joan, ogled her blatantly, spoke of sylvan maids and was about to mention rustic romances when Dick appeared.

"Sir, I bring this from His Grace." He proffered a letter.

Dick's fingers shook as he broke the seal, imprinted with the arms of the House of Churchill.

As he read—in the Duke's own hand, ecod!—his heart pounded and his shoulders squared. Gulping, he bowed to the aide. "My thanks, sir, and I trust you'll accept what my poor house can provide." He bade Joan take him up to the best chamber.

Only then did he grip Ram's shoulder. "Our fortune's made!

Government is paying all it owes me. But, best of all, Old John interceded with Prince Eugene, who's appointed me a colonel of foot in the Austrian service! War's declared 'gainst the Turks and I'm to report in Vienna as soon as maybe—and, lad, you come with me as a volunteer!"

CHAPTER 5

AUSTRIA-HUNGARY,

1717

Vienna! When Dick arrived with Ram in September, he found that Eugene was still at the front and that nothing could be done as to Herr Anstruther's commission until the prince returned.

As there was still much ill-feeling among the Austrians toward "Perfidious Albion" for having deserted the alliance, Dick was several times almost involved in duels to defend English honor. Luckily, someone always intervened in time as a peacemaker. But as weeks slid into months, he began worrying that even his well-filled purse couldn't stand the strain indefinitely.

Ram, meanwhile, explored the city, picked up German quickly and made some friends. And when he could prove that, though he had no "von" before his name, he was a gentleman, he was permitted to take lessons at the School of Fencing. The technique was different from Gaston's, yet he won several bouts from youths older and bigger than he.

It was January before Eugene returned to savor the triumph of having won the first campaign against the invading Turks.

Soon afterward, Dick received a summons. Taking Ram with him, he arrived at the Prince's palace so nervous he was shaking. After a long wait, both were admitted to the Presence.

Eugene, older and looking frail, sat at a desk. "Colonel, my regrets for the delay," he said in French. "It was unavoidable, I assure you." He glanced at Ram. "Ah, the young grenadier. He's grown splendidly. Young sir, do you recall when we last met?"

"At Tournai siege," Ram began in excellent French. But then, horrifyingly, his voice plummeted as he added, "Your Highness." His face beet red, he looked around wildly for somewhere to hide. But then he stiffened, jaw clenched, lest he seem even more foolish.

Eugene shook with laughter. "A man—a true man—comes to serve the Emperor! He'll end by commanding all our grenadiers."

Though appalled that Ram had chosen this moment to achieve adolescence, Dick guffawed with relief. "Why shouldn't he play the man, Highness, since he will serve under you?"

"When I saw him first, perhaps we were all happier," Eugene sighed. "I warn you, sir, memories are long. Your politicians ruined a great man and deserted our common cause, so your welcome will be warmer if you change your English red for Austrian white."