A Company of Rogues, page 21
Mistress Pike in a bad way. “Wait for me—I must pack a bag. I will be ready to return with you in half an hour,” Kathryn said, moving towards her still-room as she spoke.
Sheila Pike had certainly colluded with the pirate attack on the Guys’ first plantation, and might even now be in league with Thomas Willoughby to threaten Harbour Grace and Musketto Cove. But as Kathryn packed a bag with everything needful for a difficult delivery, she could not think about the grudges she held against Sheila Pike. She would not refuse to help at a birthing-bed.
“You ought not to go alone,” Nicholas said. “I should come with you.”
“You were gone all day yesterday; you should be here today. If anyone is to come with me, it should be one of the women, to help with the birthing.” Nancy had been a good, steady helper at Bess’s and Elsie’s childbeds, but she could not ask Nancy to come to Carbonear for an unknown length of time; either leaving Lizzie behind or bringing her would be difficult.
In the end, Kathryn took Daisy, and told her husband he did not need to go himself, nor to spare one of the men who should be out fishing today. “Whatever the Pikes are, they surely would not call me for help and then threaten or hurt me,” she assured him, with more confidence than she felt.
There was no sign of Thomas Willoughby, nor of Gilbert Pike or any other man, when they got to the Pike plantation on the north side of Carbonear harbour. The Pikes’ menfolk were all out fishing. The house was a woman’s domain: one maid trying to care for the children, another running to the door shouting, “Thank God you’ve come, mistress!” And Shelia Pike, in her sleeping chamber, screaming as if she were being attacked.
Later, when there was time to think, Kathryn reflected that this was by far the most difficult birth she had ever attended. The loss of Bess’s babe last winter had been a terrible blow, and she felt, as she had then, that she was unlikely to be able to save the baby. But she had never seen a mother bleed so much, cling with such a faint thread to life.
The child came out, finally—a boy, still and grey. He was not breathing, and she could not make him cry. Kathryn wrapped him in a blanket and told one of the maids to put the little body in a basket by the hearth while she worked to save the mother’s life.
In the end, she thought, her herbs and potions, and the little skill she had, did not make much difference. Sheila Pike seemed to cling to life through her own fierce determination, more than anything Kathryn had done. As the late-afternoon shadows lengthened, Kathryn thought the worst was over, and that the woman would live. Daisy brought in the cordial she had brewed from the Kathryn’s herbs. Sheila Pike could only manage a few swallows before she closed her eyes, but it looked as if she were sleeping naturally rather than slipping into unconsciousness. She had not asked about the infant.
“Will she live?” one of the Pikes’ serving girls asked when Kathryn told her to stay by her mistress.
“I have hopes she will. She is through the worst of it now, but the next few days will be uncertain.”
“Will you stay here in case she has need of you?”
Kathryn wanted very much to be back at Musketto Cove, but she looked at the sun dipping towards the horizon and sighed. “We will stay tonight. If she is well enough in the morning, we will have one of your men take us home.”
Gilbert Pike made his first appearance in the house as Kathryn was finishing her meal. “How fares my wife?” he said, without greeting or preamble.
Kathryn’s last meeting with this man had not been a pleasant one. Three years ago, her husband had almost had to haul her away from the Pikes’ wharf as she accused Gilbert Pike of planning the attack on the Guys’ plantation. They had not met since.
Briefly, she told him of Sheila’s condition and the chances that she would make a successful recovery. He nodded. “’Tis a shame the child did not live. I’ll see you’re paid for your trouble. I will settle with your husband.”
He turned to leave the house, but Kathryn followed him out. “Master Pike, a word, if I may?”
He eyed her warily. No doubt he still thought of her as a spitfire and a disobedient wife, and she had been unable to save his infant son.
“There is one thing my husband would like in payment for my saving your wife’s life,” Kathryn said. “If you are in league with Thomas Willoughby and know where he is to be found, we would appreciate you telling us.”
Pike spat on the ground. “I was thinking more in the line of a few chickens as payment.”
“Fowl are always welcome, but information is worth more. We know you are working with him against us, and yet you send to us for help when your wife is in childbed. ’Tis bold of you to think that we would be willing to help. But as you see, I came at once.”
“Birthing and dying is women’s matters. Business and trade is men’s matters. You’ve tried to meddle in men’s matters before, and I told your husband he needs to control you better.”
She stifled the flare of rage in her chest and kept her tone as even as she could. “Men’s matters, was it, when pirates attacked our home, when one of my maidservants was wounded and another taken captive? How is it a men’s matter, if women are the ones who suffer?”
Pike turned his head to spit before looking back at her. “That’s no business of mine, one way or t’other.”
“So, you will tell me nothing of Willoughby? Not even where he may be found?”
“He is not here on my plantation, I’ll tell you that much.”
“But he is not dead, or gone back to England? You have seen him?”
“You’ve earned no help from me. All I’ve got out of this business is a dead brat and a wife who might or might not live to bear me more. You’ll be doing well to get a brace of birds out of this day’s work.”
She turned back up the path towards the house, fists clenched. Nothing could be gained by getting angry at this man.
Sheila Pike’s children were playing in the grass, watched over by one of the maids who was also feeding the hens. Two of the menservants were turning fish on the flakes down by the water. The life of a plantation went on, regardless if a baby was born or died, if a mother survived or succumbed.
Kathryn did not like Sheila Pike, had never liked her since their first meeting and since then had accumulated many reasons for her dislike. Even after spending hours trying to help her survive, she still could not feel any warmth or fondness for the so-called princess. But she felt a kinship with her, all the same, as she looked at the work going on all around and thought how none of it would be possible but for women. If Sheila Pike had died in childbed, her husband would likely have taken one of the maids to warm his bed; the women were both essential and expendable.
“Mistress!” Daisy threw open the door, clutching a blanket. Kathryn opened her mouth to ask what she had there, but then she saw.
“I looked—into the basket, I was adding wood to the fire, and—I saw it. Saw it move—the hand.” She thrust the blanket-wrapped bundle, the baby that was supposed to be dead, into Kathryn’s arms. He was still little and pale, but the grey-blue tinge had gone from his skin. His eyelids fluttered.
“He might yet survive,” Kathryn said. “We will put him back by the fire for now, for surely ’twas the warmth that brought him around. And when Princess Sheila wakes, we will give the child to her to nurse. There is colewort in my bag; boil some in ale and I will give it to her when she wakes, to bring in her milk.”
It was a miracle, but such a fragile one. Later, Kathryn took the baby and laid him on his mother’s chest.
“I thought…he was…”
“We all thought so. But he is alive. Look you, you have a miraculous baby who has come back from the door of death. Feed him; ’twill do you both good.”
It did, indeed, seem to do them both good, and Gilbert Pike returned to the house to find his wife nursing the son he thought dead. Kathryn thought of asking him, What do you owe me now? but said nothing.
In the end, it was Sheila Pike who paid the debt, not her husband. She slept a little more that night, woke with better colour in her cheeks, and was able to take some ale and pottage for breakfast. The babe slept cuddled in beside her; he too had a better colour.
As Kathryn was bidding farewell to Mistress Pike with some final instructions, the Irishwoman gripped Kathryn’s arm. “I owe you great thanks, Mistress Guy.”
“I did my duty. I am glad the outcome was so happy.”
“You might have left me to die, and my son as well.”
“I would not do that,” Kathryn assured her. “If I can save life, I will.”
“I am—sorry, for things that have passed between us.”
“There is no changing the past.” Kathryn paused. “But the present and future—that is another matter. If you can do something to help us now, it would be all the payment I require for my services.”
“What matter?”
“I mean the prince and the duke. I mean these demands your husband and his allies have made to my husband and Governor Hayman, their demand that we pay them tribute. Most of all, I mean Thomas Willoughby. If you know where he can be found, I would be most grateful for that information.”
“I cannot…I cannot tell you that.”
“Cannot or will not?”
Sheila Pike was silent, looking down at her son in her arms. He was still so tiny, so frail. When she looked up at Kathryn again, her expression was wary. “Will you come back?” she said. “If I need you again, or if the babe does?”
“I do not know how much I can do, beyond the remedies I am leaving with your women. If you need me…”
“You will come, if I give you the information you seek.”
Kathryn willed herself to keep still. The thought of trading care for information would not have entered her mind, but Sheila Pike was a woman who judged other people by her own measure, and enjoyed having power over them.
She wished she had brought Nancy, instead of Daisy, with her. She remembered one of Nancy’s tales about her time on the pirate ship, how she had told those men that she had once been accused of being a witch, but also told them it was true, she did have a witch’s powers to curse those who harmed her. I am no witch, Kathryn thought, though she knew in some people’s minds the lines between midwife, wise-woman, and witch were very faint. Sometimes it may not hurt to let people think you are more powerful, and more cruel, than you truly are.
“Willoughby has a house here, in Carbonear,” Sheila Pike blurted. “At the far end of the harbour, near the mouth of the river. It cannot be seen from the shore; it is well back in the woods. He has a ship, but ’tis not always there. He has men working for him. That is all I know, I swear.” She hesitated, then added, “And yes, my husband and I have made common cause with him, but—I will put a stop to that, if I can.”
Kathryn held her breath. This was more than she had hoped for. The Irishwoman went on. “It is Willoughby, not my husband, who wants to threaten Bristol’s Hope. We never wanted English settlers on this shore, but now that you are here, we have no quarrel. I will try—try to make sure our business does not touch upon yours, that Bristol’s Hope is left unharmed. Will that content you?”
“There is only so much that we women can do to affect the decisions of men, Mistress Pike. If you vow to me that you will do your best, that is enough for me.”
It was not, of course. But it would be enough for now.
Twenty-Six An Attack is Averted
Musketto Cove and Harbour Grace, June 1619
There, close upon the sea, sweet meadows spring;
That yet of fresh streams want no watering…
—Homer’s Odysseys, Book 9, 203–4
On the voyage home, in a shallop rowed by one of Pike’s men, Kathryn said nothing about her conversation with Sheila Pike. Daisy had no need to know about it. When she got home, Kathryn planned to tell Nicholas of the promise she had managed to wring from Sheila. She would not tell him what Mistress Pike had said about Willoughby having a place in the woods at the end of Carbonear Harbour; she could not risk a confrontation between Nicholas and Willoughby.
Daisy was lost in her own thoughts. “’Tis a hard thing, bearing a child, is’t not?” she said as they rounded the point past Carbonear Island.
“Aye, it can be. Few women have as hard a time as Mistress Pike, but she and the babe both survived, which is more than many can say.”
Daisy was silent again for a few moments. “Perhaps ’tis not so bad, to be spared all that.”
“It might happen to you yet, Daisy.”
Daisy shook her head firmly. “No. I was right before. After what happened to poor Matt and Tom, I’ll not marry again.” The morning light slanted on her pinched little face. Daisy was no great beauty, but she looked sweet and almost young in the soft sunshine. “Even poor Isaac. I never cared for him, and told him I’d not marry him, but he died anyway, just because he fancied me. And Tisquantum—”
“He cared for you, and you for him. But he did not die.”
“For all I know, he could be dead. He’s gone off to sea. Who knows what may happen? If he lives, likely ’tis because he never stayed here with me.” She drew a deep breath. “I did the right thing, for him and for myself.”
Who can ever know when we’ve done the right thing? Kathryn wondered. She told her husband what had passed between herself and the Pikes, leaving out the information about Willoughby’s whereabouts. With Nancy she discussed the whole matter thoroughly. And then all she could do was let time pass for a fortnight, until it was Midsummer’s Eve.
Nicholas said he would spend the night at Harbour Grace. “’Tis best I be there first thing in the morning, and you as well, if you would come with me. Governor Hayman, Holworthy and I have talked it over, and we believe that is where these pirates will approach, since ’twas there the message was sent.”
“Unless they do not come at all,” Kathryn said.
“That is our hope,” Nicholas said. “If your skills as a healer have won us a reprieve, the whole colony will be grateful to you. But we cannot rely on it. Pike may not honour his wife’s promise, and even if he does, he may not be able to sway Willoughby.”
There had been no time to put in any sort of defenses, though Nicholas had already spoken to the governor about getting a big gun for Harbour Grace, similar to the ones at Cupids Cove. In case there should be any attack on Musketto Cove, he had told Frank, Rafe, Stephen and Hal to take their muskets out in the fishing boats with them today, and to stay near the mouth of the cove.
Kathryn asked Nancy if she minded being left at Musketto Cove while Kathryn and Nicholas went to Harbour Grace on the morrow. “Nicholas seems very sure they will not land here, but I hate to think of you being here if—” She broke off, unable to put it into words. Surely the horror of that attack six years ago could not come a second time? “Come to Harbour Grace with us tonight. Or I could stay here with you.”
“Nay, be not so foolish,” Nancy said, with a lightness of tone that Kathryn suspected was more than half a pretence. “If they are more like to land at Harbour Grace than here, why would I want to run there? ’Tis right for you to go, and for me to stay.”
Kathryn was still uneasy. But her place, she thought, was at her husband’s side, so she went with him and left Nancy behind.
At Harbour Grace everyone was going about their evening chores with an air of tension, waiting to see what the morning would bring. They dined with Governor Hayman and the Holworthy family, and talked about the news at both plantations in an attempt to avoid talking about the prince and the duke.
“And what of your own house, Jem? Are you working at that still?” Nicholas asked.
“Nay, we have laid aside plans to finish that house ourselves, and turned it over to young Marshall here,” Jem Holworthy said, nodding towards James Marshall. “He’s having a wife sent out from England, by special order.”
The young servant ducked his head as his cheeks coloured. “The maid is a cousin of my stepmother. We knew each other a little when we were younger, before I came out. I sent word, and it seems she is willing to give life in the colony a try. She will come out on the company ship at the end of the fishing season, and we will be wed.”
“And glad we will be to have another young couple to begin a family here. I have invited the Holworthys to make our arrangement permanent, that they will remain here, in the governor’s house,” Governor Hayman said, pouring himself another cup of ale and passing the jug on down the table. “It is as much their home as mine—more, perhaps. ’Twill be good to have someone in the place over winter, too, so that it falls not into disrepair.”
“Ah, then you mean to go back to England, and not stay a second winter here?” Kathryn asked him.
“Yes, I have business in England that I must attend to. There is little work to do here once the fishing season is over. Nothing you brave colonists cannot manage for yourselves. I will, of course, return on the first vessel in spring.”
“Of course.” Kathryn hid a smile. As the first snows fell last winter, Governor Hayman had waxed poetic about how clean and lovely the blanket of snow was, how fresh and healthful the air, how clear the skies. But after the long, cold months of winter, after snowstorms and supplies running low and John Crowder freezing to death in the woods, he had apparently decided his new territory was best governed in the summer months.
She and the governor read aloud from Homer that night, and the governor commended her on the few lines of script she had produced. For the first time, she had written something of her own rather than copying lines from the book she was reading. “Why, this is quite good. You have a good turn of phrase, as well as your hand being clear and easy to read,” he said. “If you had been born to a higher station in life and been educated earlier, why, you might be one of our lady poets. Another Countess of Pembroke, perhaps. You might be the first poetess of the New World.”
“Ah, you flatter me! I could never be a poet. But if I could get hold of paper, I have thought I might keep a kind of journal—an account in plain words, of what it is like to be a planter’s wife here in the colony. Has such a thing been done before?”
