The Red Rose of Anjou - Plaidy Jean - Страница 35
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There was only one thing he could do. It was the very thing he had fought against. He must leave this profitable nest which he was feathering so lucratively and find some other outlet for his talents.
He hid the girl’s body in the shrubbery and crept back to the house. There he collected the money he had amassed, put his clothes into a knapsack and chose the opportunity to leave the house unseen.
The Dacre episode was over. He had to find fresh fields to conquer.
He made his way to the coast. He was making plans. He would go to Dover or Sandwich and wait there until he found a ship which was going to France. There were always ships going to France carrying troops and ammunition. He could join one of those and seek his fortune as a soldier of war. Soldiers were always welcome in this perpetual war against France.
It would be well for him to get out of the country for a while.
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He was right. It was not difficult to join a ship at Dover. As many men as possible were wanted to fight the French. He had taken the precaution of acquiring a tin box, putting most of the money he had amassed in it and burying it in a wood near the coast. So he crossed the sea and thought of that little incident back at the Dacre estate as closed.
It was a pity. It had been profitable but it would have been the end of ambition if he had been forced to marry and knowing Lady Dacre he was certain that would have been the outcome. It was a pity he had been driven to murder. But the girl had been a fool. It occurred to him that he could have got away like this without murder. However it was done and he was now putting it behind him.
It seemed a wise precaution to change his name. He had always liked to imagine he was of noble birth and he thought Mortimer was a good name. It had royal connections. He became Jack Mortimer and let it be believed that he was related to the Duke of York—on the wrong side of the blanket maybe, but the blood was there.
Free of servitude in the Dacre household he began to assume a certain air. He was careful not to overdo it, to learn gradually, to ape those of noble birth; and within a few months no one questioned his right to the name of Mortimer.
He began to be rather pleased at the manner in which life had changed for him. He did not dwell on the Dacre incident but he did occasionally wonder who had found the girl’s body. They would suspect him, of course, because he had fled and the girl was pregnant. Still, better to have fled than have stayed behind to face it. Doubtless if he had he would be hanging from a rope by now.
He had dreamed of sacking towns, acquiring great trophies as he did so, but the war was going badly for the English, and there was little booty to be found.
The army was proving less profitable than the Dacre household had been, so he decided that he would return to England. If he changed his name and settled in another part of the country, assuming a different personality, he would have nothing to fear.
He deserted from the army and decided to find some quiet village where he could set up as a physician. Why not? He had always been interested in the body and having talked to many quacks had learned the secrets of making lotions and potions.
Arriving in England, he first retrieved his fortune from the wood and made up his mind that he would stay in Kent. He found a suitable village and calling himself Aylmer practised there as a doctor. His charm of manner and his undoubted good looks soon made him popular and he was amazed how easily he slipped into his chosen profession.
Fortune smiled on him for in due course he was called in to attend the master of the manor house and the treatment was successful so the family there believed he was a very clever doctor. He was invited to dine and became a special friend of the young man of the house. He had certainly moved up in the social scale since his days as scullion to the Dacres.
As the months passed his connection with the gentry had an effect on him. He spoke like them, acted like them and as he was assiduous in his study of them and determination to be accepted, he passed unquestionably as one of them.
A Squire from Tandridge in Surrey was visiting at the Manor for a week or so and the doctor was invited to the house.
It so happened that the Squire had a beautiful daughter and no sooner had the self-styled Dr. Aylmer set eyes on her than he determined to marry her. What a different proposition from the little Dacre serving maid! He knew how to charm her and because he was considered to be a man of standing the Squire could see no reason why there could not be a marriage between the worthy doctor and his daughter.
The marriage was celebrated. There was a handsome dowry for the bride and Jack Cade began to think that the best thing that had happened to him was to murder a girl in a shrubbery.
If he had not he would still be there, perhaps married to her— which God forbid—or making a little money here and there. Ah, this was different. He had achieved an ambition. He had taken a big step up in the world.
He rather wished that he had kept the name of Mortimer. But perhaps he was wise to have changed. Such a name might have set people probing to discover his true origins.
For a year or so he lived quite contentedly with his new status, his new wife and the profession he had chosen. But there were one or two moments of uneasiness. One came with the arrival of a doctor friend of his wife’s father who visited them and naturally expected there to be a mutual interest in medicine. It was occasions like this—when Cade experienced great apprehension—when he realized he could be exposed. And if he were? What if he were traced back to the Dacre household in Sussex?
He was not quite so contented. Moreover his nature was such that he was always seeking for some higher place.
There was a great deal of murmuring throughout the country. Taxes were extortionate and Kent seemed to have been selected for even greater hardship.
Jack had always liked to hear himself speak. He had never been at a loss for words. He found himself holding forth on the subject; he was invited into people’s houses and he would talk there; and very soon people were coming to hear him speak. This delighted him. He was enchanted with his new role.
And when the Duke of Suffolk was murdered he declared that the King was hard on Kent because from Kent had come the ships which had intercepted him.
Memories of a certain Wat Tyler were revived. He had led the people to London in protest. He had failed, it was true, because King Richard had ridden him out to Smithfield and Blackheath and confronted the rebels, promising them all sorts of concessions which he had no intention of complying with. Wat was only a tyler. Jack Aylmer, Cade or Mortimer, whatever anyone liked to call him, was very different.
Wat Tyler had begun his insurrection when he had murdered a tax collector who had insulted his daughter. Well, Jack Cade’s adventure had begun with murder...of a different kind it was true, but there was a similarity.
But how different were these two men. Poor Wat was a humble tyler. Jack Cade was a man who had left his humble origins behind.
He knew something of politics. There was trouble in high places. The Queen was very unpopular. The King was weak. There was no heir to the throne and the Duke of York, though in Ireland, had a very strong claim. The House of York was ready to push the House of Lancaster from the throne.
And what of those who were in at the beginning to help? What of Jack Cade, Aylmer as he called himself? Why should he not take an active part in politics? It would be more interesting than administering to the sick in some remote country village.
Jack was impulsive by nature. He was soon preaching revolution.
‘Let us gather together, my friends. Let us go to see the King as others in Kent once did before us. They failed. They had not our foresight. Wat Tyler was their leader...a man of strength and purpose but a tyler of no education. It will be different with us. We shall set out in a different fashion. We have a leader who can talk to the King when he comes face to face with him. You will have a leader from the royal house itself Yes, my friends, my real name is Mortimer and I am a cousin of the Duke of York. We will work for my cousin. A strong man...a man more royal than the King for he is royal through his father and his mother. He will rule England and we will set aside this scholar with the French harlot who leads him in everything he does.’
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