Marbeck and the Privateers by John Pilkington Page B

‘Keep her well fucked and poorly shod. Those were his orders.’
    Marbeck drew a long breath. ‘Did you not come here of your own will?’ He asked, after a moment. ‘Your mistress said you were a stray.’
    â€˜That’s a lie, but leave it aside. I came to ask you to aid me. To get me away as far as you can, or soon it may be too late. Once on the roads, I can beg for myself …’
    â€˜Wait … please wait.’ Marbeck took a step back, and sat heavily on the end of the bed. Just now, this was the last thing he needed. He looked at the floor, fresh strewn with rushes by Mary herself, then raised his eyes again and saw her gazing at him.
    â€˜I ask too much,’ she said, with sudden disappointment. ‘Mayhap my heart overruled me … I’ve known many men here: sea traders, ships’ masters, even gentlemen. But you seemed different.’ Then in a harsher tone, she added: ‘I’ll pay if you wish it, in the only way I can …’
    â€˜No!’
    At once he was on his feet: she had lowered the sheet, and was reaching down to raise her shift. ‘Cover yourself,’ he hissed, lowering his voice. ‘Yes – I’m different, if you like. Not that I’m a saint, but using someone like you in that manner is not one of my vices.’
    A pause followed, until in relief the girl let out a sigh. ‘Then you will help me?’
    â€˜I’ll try,’ Marbeck answered. ‘But has no one offered to help you before? To pay off the Bucks, for instance, and set you free?’
    Mary shook her head. ‘If they have, I know nothing of it. In any case, many are afraid.’
    â€˜Of John Buck?’
    â€˜Not him, in the final turn. He’s but a servant.’ She hesitated, then: ‘As for offering to buy me, they would be too late. Such a bargain was struck even before I came here … last year, when I was ten.’
    He blinked. ‘You’re eleven years old?’
    She nodded, and as the import of her words sank in, added: ‘I can tell you things, Master Blunt. Testimony that you may use to your advantage, even to getting a reward. Wickedness abounds here. Can you not sense it?’
    â€˜Perhaps.’ In sympathy, and with a deep anger at her plight, Marbeck met her gaze. He saw her pinched face and slatternly appearance, but there was no deceit in the girl’s eyes. And though he wanted to know more, his questions must wait. On impulse he reached out to take her hand, then thought better of it. ‘Can you sit a horse?’ he said finally. ‘And can you be ready to fly from here at a moment’s notice, with only the clothes you wear?’
    â€˜Gladly,’ she replied, and a wan smile appeared. ‘I weigh little … your horse wouldn’t even notice me.’
    He looked away and listened: the house was quiet. ‘Go to your bed now,’ he said. ‘Leave me to think. I can’t say how soon it will be. I have some business here.’
    She got up, padded to the door and lifted the latch. ‘I’ll wait for a sign,’ she said, and was gone.
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    The next day was the Sabbath. Weymouth people, Marbeck discovered, climbed the hill above the harbour to a little chapel of ease, or went further off to the village of Wyke. Others crossed the bridge into Melcombe, however; so letting Mistress Buck think he had gone to find a church, he left her house as soon as he could. A breakfast had been set for him, but to his relief his hostess did not share the table. Just now, he thought, he would have found it difficult to maintain his calm. Instead the woman hovered about with one eye on Mary Kellett, who served Marbeck in her usual downcast manner. None would have suspected that anything had passed between them, let alone revelations that had set Marbeck’s teeth on edge.
    Soon he was outside, standing by the inlet which he now knew as Hope Cove. Seabirds screeched, and across