The Red Rose of Anjou - Plaidy Jean - Страница 34
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JACK CADE
In his Manor House in the county of Sussex, Sir Thomas Dacre was seated at the long trestle table in his spacious hall entertaining his guests. It was summer and they were all tired after a long day’s hunting. The smell of roasting meat came from the kitchens behind the screens and serving-men and –women were scuttling to and fro with steaming dishes.
Jack Cade, the Irishman, was giving orders. He was the sort of man who liked to give orders. He had started her in the Manor as an ordinary scullion but he had quickly shown his abilities and it was not long before the cooks were giving him special duties. He was in charge of the serving-men and –women; it was his task to make sure the dishes arrived hot at the table and to decide who should carry them.
He was quick and clever; it was said that he had a little tucked away which he had managed to save here and there. He would ride into market and buy stores that were needed and everyone knew that he took a little profit on that. Never mind. A blind eye was turned to these transactions. Jack Cade was a clever fellow. Even Sir Thomas Dacre had said that if he had been better born he could have done well for himself.
John Cade undoubtedly did well for himself in Sir Thomas Dacre’s household. He was a man to be reckoned with, a little Caesar, a man who was outstanding in his world.
If he had a weakness it was for women, and he had little difficulty in satisfying his desires in that quarter. He was an outstanding man, good-looking, debonair, fond of fine clothes, often his master’s valet gave him some garment of which Sir Thomas had no need and which would not fit the valet. He was forceful, powerful; and eager that everyone should recognize his power. He often hinted that he was of noble birth—his father was a duke who had got him on a serving-girl and had then failed to acknowledge him. That was his story. He was not going to say who the duke was. There were not all that many and that would be fining it down a bit. Suffice to say that he was part noble birth and part humble and this combination had made of him the very fine fellow he was.
On this occasion he was a little uneasy. There was one of the serving-girls who was giving him some trouble. The silly young creature had become pregnant and wanted him to marry her.
Why couldn’t she have gone to the witch in the woods nearby who had a very good way of dealing with unwanted babies? Some of the more accommodating girls had had their babies and smothered them at birth, burying them respectably in some secret place; others had the little bastards and accounted it just a way of life. But this one—she had to shout and threaten. He would never have started with her if he had known what she was.
Willing enough after a time, a shy sort of wench, she had needed a lot of persuading. And now...she was threatening to go to Lady Dacre to tell her all and ask her to force Jack Cade to marry her. It really was disturbing, because although he had no intention of marrying the girl it would be very awkward if Lady Dacre insisted on his doing so.
The girl was there in the kitchen now turning the sucking-pig on the spit. The cook wanted it hot and succulent by the time it was required to carry to the tables. That would be in fifteen minutes’ time, after they had worked their way through the partridge pie and the beef and mutton.
She caught his eye as he was about to pass her, and there was that in her expression which made him pause. It was half pleading, half threatening. He knew from experience that it was those quiet ones who were capable of strong action. He had to go carefully with her.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ he muttered.
‘You know well. Jack Cade, and ‘tis of your doing.’
‘I reckon you played your part in it, eh.’
‘We both did and we both should have our part in what’s coming.’
He gave her a playful push.
‘Come on. You was willing enough.’
‘Talk like that if you will, Jack Cade. I shall go to my lady.’
‘Now listen. You go too fast. I want to talk to you. I’ve got plans.’
‘What plans?’ He saw the hope springing into her eyes.
‘Listen. When they’re served and lolling over the tables listening to the minstrels, slip out to the shrubbery. See you there. I’ve got something to say to you.’
‘All right. Jack. I’ll be there.’
He was thoughtful. What could he say to the girl? He was not going to marry her. That did not fit in with his plans at all. She would be no good to him. He was going to get on in the world. When he married it would be the daughter of some gentleman of standing. That was the way to get on in the world and Jack Cade was going to get on in the world. Let no one make any mistake about that, and he was not going to do it by marrying one of the lowest serving-girls in the Dacre household.
It was very unfortunate that this girl had got herself with child. She was a determined little piece, too. He hadn’t liked the look in her eyes when she had said she would tell Lady Dacre. It would not be the first time her ladyship, who believed in forcing morality on the poor, had insisted on a marriage. He wanted to stay at Dacre Manor. He was doing well here. He was not ready to pass on yet. He had found a profitable way of life with the tradesmen.
And now this slut threatened to spoil it all.
He would have to find a way of dealing with her.
When he went out to the shrubbery she was already there.
‘Jack,’ she cried, and flew at him, full of affection now, thinking that he was going to give in.
‘Now listen here,’ he said, ‘you’ve got to get one thing straight. There’s going to be no marriage. You’ve got to go off to the old witch. She’ll give you something...and then in a little while you’ll be slim and straight as a virgin.’
‘It’s too late, Jack. You know what happened to young Jennet. She left it too late and it was the end of her.’
Would to God it would be the end of you, he thought.
She was looking at him pleadingly. ‘Well, what then?’ she asked.
‘Well then...you’ve got to have it, that’s all. What’s one more little bastard in the world?’
He was unprepared for the blow he received at the side of his face and staggered under it. The girl had strength.
He seized her arm and their faces were close, glaring at each other.
‘Don’t you talk about your baby like that,’ she said.
‘That’s ripe, that is, from someone who a minute ago was talking of doing away with it. Besides, how do I know it is mine?’
Her eyes glinted at him. She looked murderous. Here was one he would have to handle very carefully.
‘It’s your baby and it’s mine,’ she said, ‘and it’s not going to be a bastard because I’m going straight to Lady Dacre tomorrow and she’ll make you see where your duty lies.’
‘You’ll not go to Lady Dacre.’
‘I will. I promise you. Jack Cade, I will.’
She would. Yes, there was no doubt of that. He gripped her arm and twisted it behind her. She continued to look at him in spite of the pain.
He released her suddenly and as she was about to run from him, he caught her. He shook her. ‘You’ll not go to Lady Dacre.’
‘I will,’ she cried. ‘I will. I will.’
It had all happened in a few moments. His hands were at her throat. She opened her mouth to protest and then was silent. Her eyes seemed to be coming out of their sockets; her face was growing purple...and suddenly she was silent.
When he released her she slid to the ground.
‘God help us,’ he ejaculated. ‘I have killed her.’
He stood still for a few seconds looking down at her. His problem was solved. Lady Dacre could not now force him to marry her.
He was a man who acted quickly. It was one of the reasons why he had come so far. He could bury the body. How long could that remain hidden? She would be missed. There were people who knew that he had been friendly with her. There might be some who knew she was carrying his child. If she disappeared they would wonder where. They might start making enquiries.
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