CHAPTER TEN.

THE UNEXPECTED GUEST.

Prisoners toiled before The Fat Duck, sheathing the lane with graded stones.

Eppie dropped a twig into the river. She was tired of the hammering and splintering of stones, the clank of spades and crash of buckets hurled into carts. *Mister Jonas told pa that he didn't like Mister Lord making the guards and prisoners keep their covered wagons in the field behind the inn. They make a racket and pinch logs from his barns to make fires.' A horse cantered towards the packhorse bridge. *Uh oh, Mister Lord's a-coming!'

Martha averted her eyes as du Quesne rode loftily towards them.

Eppie was bolder and curtseyed. *Tis a mighty fine morning, sir.' She watched him pass by without uttering a word of reply. *Why don't his lordship ever bid us a good day?'

*He reckons he's too grand for the likes of us.'

Later that morning, having fetched chairs from the parlour, Eppie settled at the streamside to practise carding, ready for Martha to spin the fibres into yarn. It was difficult balancing the boards of short metal teeth in her small hands.

*Deary me, that's getting twisted,' Betsy said. She brushed the fibres in the same direction in a continuous skein. *What ya need's a bit o' elbow grease.'

*I'm tired of it, anyhow.'

Martha scrubbed Eppie's pinafore and dunked it beneath the bubbling waters. *Judging from these stains, you must spend half your life climbing trees.'

When Eppie had told Martha and Gillow about her visits to the Crusader Oak, they were pleased for Gabriel's sake. *He seems such a lonely boy,' Martha had said, *though there'd be trouble if Wakelin finds out you are friends with Thurstan's cousin. And Lord du Quesne certainly ought not to learn about your meetings.'

Already Gabriel had taught Eppie to recognise simple words and write her name on a slate.

*O't else needs doing, Mam?'

*There's Gillow's Sunday shirt.'

Returning, she found Eppie had placed her chair in the middle of the stream. Wading in, she handed her the horn-button. *Remember, the needle goes up and down in the holes, not over the edges.'

Betsy lay her carding on her lap. *I think I'll join you, Eppie, m'dear. Martha, stick my chair in that shallow spot. Make sure it's steady, I don't fancy a tip in.'

Kicking her feet in the water, Betsy tugged her mobcap low over her wrinkled forehead. *This is doing my ankle a treat. Look at you, Eppie - you're as brown as your mam's gravy.'

Riding across Miller's Bridge, du Quesne scowled at them.

Betsy tittered. *His lordship thinks us most unladylike, sitting here with our skirts rolled over our knees.'

For the fourth time, Eppie attempted to thread the needle.

Claire leant over the bridge. *You two look like decoy ducks. Mind that prison guard doesn't fetch a shot at you.'

In the lane, the pack draper rang his bell, heralding his arrival.

Seeing Martha making off, Betsy said, *Afore ya go, dear, give me a heave out. Your

pa left me coins to buy him cloth for a smock. I'll be able to make a start on it.'

Left alone, Eppie jumped at the sound of a man's voice. *I see your cow's off.'

Sam Scattergood stood on the path, other prisoners gathered around him.

Frightened by the lean, haggard faces, Eppie surged through the water, forgetful of Gillow's shirt, which tumbled into the stream and caught on rocks.

*I used to rent a farm,' Sam said. *I could take a look at her?'

Bellowing plaintively, the cow was a pathetic sight, ribs jutting through flesh.

Slowly, dubiously, Eppie turned to face Sam. *If ya wan'.'

Spotting the prisoner wading towards Eppie, Martha dashed back, shouting as though to one of her father's stray sheep. *Shoo, shoo, get out of my garden!'

Jaggery leered. *That's right, missus. Don't let him near ya. He's doing time for attacking a woman.'

Martha appealed to the guard. *Please, send him away.'

*It's all right, Mam. I asked Sam to take a look at Celandine.'

Sam examined the cow's teeth. Methodically, he ran his hands over her stomach and rear-end. *Looks to me like tail-shot, ma'am.'

*What's that?' Martha drew near, eyeing Gillow's pitchfork propped beside the cart shed, just in case.

*D'ya want du Quesne on our backs again for dallying, Scattergood?' Boyle asked.

Gazing into the stranger's brown eyes, Martha warmed to Sam's open countenance. Despite his unkempt appearance, he was handsome.

He brushed straggly locks from his broad forehead. *If you touch her tail, you'll be able to feel where the joints have separated. Not there. Here.' He put his hand over her fingers. Sensing her pull back, he flushed with embarrassment at his over-familiarity. *If you want, I can help.'

*What do you need to do?' she asked hesitantly.

*I'll need to slice the tail where the joints have slipped and strap on a boiled, salted onion. I once tried it with one of my cows. There's something in the juice that helps it mend. If you have the things ready upon my return, I'll remedy it.'

The prisoners moved on, Jaggery ridiculing Sam's considerate nature.

Martha sat spinning. *I must admit to feeling guilty about my earlier attitude towards the prisoners, thinking they were all the same, not to be trusted.'

Gillow was securing a bolt to the door. *You can't go by one action alone. Always be wary. Don't encourage them in any way, handing out food and the like.'

Jam bubbled and popped in the pan over the fire. Eppie laid down her winding thread and went to check. *It's sticky on the spoon.'

Gillow tossed down a spare nail. *That's another job well done.'

*There's still the gate to mend,' Martha said.

*Not now. I'm off to Litcombe. Whilst I'm out, stay indoors and keep the door bolted.'

Martha lined up warmed green jars. *Hot jam scalds. I'll pour. You cut the string.' She was ladling the last of the jam, Eppie tying on mutton-skin seals, when Harvey Elmer, the cheapjack, bellowed his arrival.

Martha joined other women at his wagon.

Harvey had a nauseating quirk of clanking his loose jawbone by opening and closing his mouth like a gasping trout. *Here ya are, Mrs Dunham.' He passed her the slipper muller she had asked him to get. The previous one had burnt through on the fire. *We can't have Gillow going without his warmed ale of a winter's night.'

On the lane, the prisoners were shovelling large stones onto a prepared bed of small ones. The freckle-faced boy tugged a jiggle-pin, thus skelling a load of stones from a wagon.

Sarah glanced furtively over her shoulder and spoke confidingly to Martha. *Since them prisoners have been around I've not slept a wink. Any one of them might murder me in me bed.'

An argument broke out amongst the prisoners. Eppie wandered up the lane, curious. Twiss followed.

Jaggery threw his arms wide, pleading. *Go on, Boyle, give us a breather. I've been at this for months, up at four, only two snivelling breaks a day.'

*You know du Quesne's orders,' replied the guard.

Jaggery kicked a bucket and sent it sailing into Jacob's vegetable patch. *I'm working meself into an early grave. I'm already a foot shorter than I was when I started.'

Boyle's thin, blue-veined hands clasped tight around the musket. He aimed the gun at Jaggery's legs. *Do that again and you'll be two feet shorter. If you're complaining about the long hours labouring, it's your own fault.'

*Mine?' Jaggery lurched towards Eppie. *If it's anyone's fault, it's hers. I was only having a bit of amusement at the pool.' He glared into Twiss's glistening eyes. *Nice bit o' steak on that dog.' He turned to the gang. *Anyone fancy stewed mongrel? Make a change from tripe.'

*Stop stirring trouble,' Sam said. *If it hadn't been for you roughing up his son, du Quesne would have let us alone. We wouldn't be working seventeen hours a day. We're only down for thirteen.'

*It's all right for the likes of you,' Jaggery answered scornfully. *You've gorra easy life in jail. The best ale, and bread without worms.'

*Give it a rest,' Sam persisted. *It's tiring enough doing this work, without having to listen to you ranting on, day after day, in your small-minded way.'

There was a murmuring of agreement.

*Small-minded is I, Scattergood?' Jaggery wielded his spade. *We'll see how small your mind is when I've flattened it.'

*Watch it, Jag!' Boyle warned.

Sam raised his hand to protect himself, too late. Jaggery brought the spade down on the side of Sam's head. Groping the air, Sam staggered.

Eppie held her breath as the prisoner made ready to inflict another blow.

The freckled boy grabbed Jaggery's arm. *No!'

Jaggery shot a baleful glance at him. *You askin' for a dent in the head an' all, Dick?'

*Raise that shovel to anyone again, I'll blast out your brains,' Boyle shouted. *Some of you lug Sam back to the wagons.'

*Have a heart!' Dick cried. *He'd like as not bleed to death if we left him alone.'

Boyle's gaze swept the cottages that straddled the lane. Fay had watched the quarrel from her doorway. *You there, missus.' Startled, she ushered Wilbert and Sukey inside and slammed the door.

Jacob scurried off with the bucket, heading for the solitude of his woodshed.

Sam lay unconscious, sprawled in the dirt. Blood oozed from the wound, matting his hair.

Boldly, Eppie stepped forward. *My mam will put him back together.'

*Why'd she wanna do that when most folk around here treat the prisoners like the black plague?' Boyle asked.

*Mister Sam mended our cow.'

*Shift him, you two.'

Martha was storing a batch of jam on the dresser shelf when the prisoners burst in. *Oh, my!' A jar fell from her hand and crashed to the floor.

*Where d'ya wan' us to stick him?' asked a grim-faced intruder.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

IMPRISONED FOR LOVE.

*You can't stick, I mean, bring him in here,' Martha cried.

Eppie crept in sheepishly.

*Eppie, you know what your pa told us.'

*But it's Mister Sam.'

For the first time, Martha glanced at the prisoner's pained face. Long lashes swept his closed eyes.

*Hurry up, missus. He's dripping blood on yer rug.'

Recovering her senses, Martha climbed to the loft and fetched down Wakelin's sack bed.