meanwhile I’d not have you visit The Grapes without a drop of something. Spend
this, or a piece of it.” I put a coin in his hand.
“What of Jeremy? We miss him about here.”
“We’ve been about together, and he’ll be waiting aboard ship. We’ve a voyage
coming.”
“Ah? I have given thought to it myself.”
“Give more thought, and if it is to Raleigh’s land you come, be asking of me
discreetly. There’s a new land yonder where there are no lords nor gamekeepers,
and the air has the flavor of freedom in it. And there’s a wide land all about,
fit for a man to move and breathe in.”
“The savages?”
“They be few and the land be wide. They plant a little corn and live much by
hunting. I think we can live together, for some I have met were good people,
although they love the ways of war.”
“Here I know what to expect and where to turn.”
“Aye, but there’s no press-gangs yonder, nor any debtors’ prisons.”
“Give them time,” he said grimly, “and they’ll have both.”
“It may well be, but I think not. There’s a different temper in the minds of
those who go over the sea. There will be abuses, for they are only men and not
angels, but they will be the better for starting afresh.”
Once in the boat we pulled strongly for the Prospect, holding close in shore
where we might not quickly be seen. My ship was waiting for me, and I was keen
to reach and board her again.
“We must sail for America, Tom, to forge a new land, you and I and others of our
like.”
“Others of my like?”
“Why not, Tom Watkins? Why not, indeed? There are no privileges there, and let
us not have them. You are a man, Tom Watkins, and you have lived. You have erred
as have we all, but we know what is right and just. The land yonder is fresh,
wide open for such as you and me, and if we make again the old mistakes the
fault will be ours. If we see clearly we can build something new.”
“I am a simple man, Barnabas. I have given no thought to such things. It’s for
my betters—”
“Betters? Who is better unless he makes himself so? You can be one of those for
whom laws are made if you so will it, or you can be a maker of laws yourself.”
“I cannot read, Barnabas. I have no learning.”
“You have lived, Tom. You have done good things and bad, you have seen others
who did likewise. You know what you respect and what you do not, so all that is
left is to weigh each law, each idea against what you know, decide how you would
like things to be, and then work to make them so.”
“The great lords will own the land. There is talk that the Queen will grant them
land.”
“You have not seen it, Tom. This is no tiny island bounded by the sea, but a
vast land stretching westward. If you do not like what they do you may go west,
but once you breathe the air in America, you will no longer worry about great
lords. England itself will change, but she will change first over there where
the land is new.”
We bent to the oars then, and there was no time for talking, and truly I had
much to think on that had no part of kings or lords or free air or land. I had
first to wonder who it was that pursued me and why the Queen’s warrant was still
out for me. It was easier to swear out a warrant than to recall one sworn, and
this might be the very same one caused by Genester, my old enemy. But I had a
feeling there was another reason, of what I knew not.
Again the thought of those blue mountains came to me, and as much as I loved
England, the lure of them was a challenge, making me forever restless. But had I
the right to take Abigail to that far country? Yet had she not lived aboard ship
with her father? And she had few ties in England.
I had not the right, yet even as I told myself that, I had to smile at my
foolishness, for I had not the choice, either. Abigail had said she would not be
left behind. She would be there beside me.
We moved alongside the small dock, tied the boat to an iron ring, and walked up
to the Prospect. I entered. Black Tom waited without.
Two men sat within, and one of them was Peter Tallis. The other man was stocky,
with a scar on his right cheekbone. He wore a black cloak.
We moved to a table in a corner, and spoke in low tones.
“We have but little time,” Tallis said quietly. “If you are found we will both
be in Newgate and you on the way to Tyburn.”
“Tyburn!” I was startled.
“Genester had friends, and they have stirred the Queen to anger. You have been
pictured as a dangerous rebel, a murderer, and a mutineer. They say you attacked
your ship’s captain, that you stole a ship’s boat, that you looted cargo.”
“But I was taken forcibly! I was knocked on the head! My own goods were stolen!”
“They will say you were pressed. You will be taken up for murder, for piracy on
the high seas and several other charges.”
“Cannot the Earl help me?”
“He is an old man, and ill. He is in no condition to do anything. There is one
thing he has done, however. He has given you the ship. He has made it over to
you, from topm’st to keelson.”
“Given it to me? I understood it was simply to carry me over the sea, and my
goods back.”
“It is in your name. She is an old vessel but sound. Captain Tempany is aboard
with a full crew, but the ship is watched, although they do not yet know you own
her. But they will have you, no matter how.”
“I don’t understand. With Genester dead, I thought—”
“You sold some gold coins to Coveney Hasling?”
“I did.”
“You found them, you said, on the dyke near Reach?”
“What has that to do with it?”
“Barnabas, you are in more trouble than you know, and I see no way out for you.
Those coins you found were gold, and Roman. It so happens some such coins were
in the royal treasure, along with the Crown jewels when King John lost them in
the Wash.”
“But—”
“It is believed by the Queen, and undoubtedly by some more loyal to themselves
than Her Majesty, that you have found the Crown jewels.”
“What?”
My voice raised somewhat, and the other man in the common room turned to look at
us.
“Why, this is foolishness! The jewels were lost in the Wash!”
There was irony in Peter’s tone as well as his glance. “And who comes from the
fens near the Wash? You do. Who suddenly appears with gold coins? You do.”
Every Englishman knew the story, but we of the fens had cause to know it best,
perhaps, because it happened right at our door.
King John’s forces were moving up from Weisbeck to a crossing of the Willestrem.
In the train of supply wagons that followed were the Crown jewels, all the royal
regalia, along with many ancient possessions of England, valued as greatly as
the jewels themselves. Much gold and silver plate, gems beyond number, gold
coins stamped with the symbols of many royalties and kingdoms, and also the
sword of Tristan.
All he possessed was there, and King John moved forward toward their stop for
the night, which was to be at Swineshead. The King was in pain from the gout,
impatient to be at ease and off his horse, and the Willestrem was a simple
enough stream that seemed to offer no danger.
If they considered the tides of the sea at all, they did not understand how
fierce they might become where the rushing force of the sea suddenly narrowed at
the river’s mouth.
What happened was sudden. The supply train was in the water, fording the river,
when the full rush of the tide swept in. In an instant they were engulfed, and
in another they were gone—only here and there a man or horse fighting the rush
of water, a few splashing ashore.
In an instant the accumulated treasure of the Crown of England was gone, swept
away by the tide. Buried in mud, perhaps, or floated into the deeper waters of
the Wash, only to sink into the mud at the bottom.
The blow was a bitter one. Within hours, King John himself was dead, poisoned
some said, but more likely dead as a result of the cold and wet, combined with