Page 224 of The Armor of Light
‘Let’s find out if he can help us.’
The dean’s house was a few steps away. A maid answered the door and showed them into Mackintosh’s study. They found him packing books into a trunk. His handsome face was creased with anxiety. Drummond said: ‘You’re taking books to a war zone?’
‘Of course,’ said Mackintosh. ‘A Bible, a prayer book and a few devotional volumes. My mission is to give the troops spiritual nourishment. What else would I pack – pistols?’
Hornbeam did not want to discuss the role of army chaplain. ‘Joe Hornbeam and Sandy Drummond joined the 107th Foot yesterday and we can’t find out where they are.’
‘My word!’ said Mackintosh, startled. ‘I hope my boy Stephen isn’t tempted.’
‘They’re almost certainly on their way to Spain, where the 107th is fighting under Wellington.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Have them sent home!’
‘Well, I sympathize, but I can’t do that. I’m not going there to undermine the army by having its best young men sent home. If I tried it, I’d probably be sent home myself – they’d undoubtedly feel that chaplains aren’t as useful as healthy lads. If it’s any consolation, I will give them a Christian burial if the need arises.’
Suddenly Hornbeam felt his strength drain away. It was the mention of burial that floored him. For decades he had been sustained by the idea that pain and loss were over, that he was master of his fate now, and that life owed him no more tragedy. But that conviction crumbled inside him and left him with a trembling fear that he had not known since he was a child thief.
‘Mackintosh, please, I beg you,’ he said miserably, ‘when you get there, seek Joe out, and discover how he is, whether he is in good health, and well enough fed and clothed, and write to me if you can.He’s closer to my heart than any other human being, and now, suddenly, he’s out of reach, on his way to war, and I can’t take care of him any more. I’m a helpless man, on my knees to you, pleading with you: keep an eye on my boy – will you?’
Drummond and Mackintosh were staring at him in astonishment. He knew why: they had never seen him like this, never even imagined him like this, and they could hardly believe what they were seeing and hearing. But Hornbeam no longer cared what they thought of him. ‘Will you, Mackintosh, please?’ he said.
Looking bemused, Mackintosh said: ‘I’ll do what I can.’
34
JARGE CAME HOME INa foul mood, smelling of ale and tobacco smoke. He had clearly spent most of the day in a tavern with his friends. Sal was dismayed. ‘I thought you were going to see Moses Crocket today.’
Crocket was a clothier. For a year or two his mill had struggled, but now he had won an army contract with a Devon regiment and his business was looking up. Jarge was still working only three days a week for Hornbeam, and Sal had suggested that Crocket might now be looking for weavers to work a full six days.
‘Yes,’ said Jarge. ‘I saw Mose this morning.’
‘What went wrong?’
‘He’s changing to steam looms, that’s what. He can’t employ all the weavers he used to, let alone take on more. One man can monitor three or four steam looms at a time.’
‘What a shame.’
‘He’s got to move with the times, he says.’
‘Can’t argue with that.’
‘I can. The times may have to move back, I say.’
Sal felt sorry for the mild-mannered Mose Crocket confronted by an angry Jarge. ‘I hope you didn’t quarrel.’ She put a steaming bowl in front of him. ‘It’s your favourite, potato soup, and there’s fresh butter for your bread.’ She hoped the food would soak up some of the drink inside him.
‘No, I didn’t quarrel with Mose,’ said Jarge. ‘But Ned Ludd may quarrel with him, one of these days.’ He slurped some soup.
Ned Ludd had first appeared as the mythical leader of machine-breakers in the Midlands and the north, then Luddism had spread to the West Country too.
Sal sat down opposite Jarge and began to eat. Soup and bread were good and filling. It was just the two of them at table since Sue had got married and Kit had set up home with Roger.
Sal said: ‘You know what’s happening up in York, don’t you?’
‘They’ve arrested people.’
‘There will be a trial. And do you suppose it will be a fair trial?’
