The Two Confessions by John Whitbourn (good books to read for adults .TXT) 📕

shakily upright. Samuel kept hold of a bunchedhandful of nightshirt and shook a bit more awareness into him. He smiled closeinto his captive's face.

‘Walkies!’Samuel told him.

************

‘That'sabout the shape of it. I don't know no more.’

Samuelindicated that, however reluctantly, he believed him.

‘Verywell. Yeah, it ties in with what I've been told. But things would have beeneasier on everyone if I hadn't had to prise the story out.’

CousinTrevan judged it was safe to let some of the exasperation he felt out to play.

‘Iwas a boy when it all happened. No one weren't proud of it. You reckon it was atale we swapped round the Yule log? No, you just heard rumours and passingcomments. Aunt Lucy never said a mite that made sense anyhow. And normal folkdon't have much time for innocents. She were getting on when I knew her and satby the cooking range all day. They let her turn and baste things. That's all Irecollect of 'er. We never 'eard hide nor hair of you till you ships up here,and I call on God to witness I've kept nothing back.’

‘Aftera little prompting, cousin.’

‘Andthat's another thing. You had no call. You made I look a right Tudor in frontof all. How I gonna stand up in front of wife and workers to exercise authorityafter what you done?’

Samuelseemed abstracted, his thoughts elsewhere.

‘Icouldn't say. I don't care. Time's a great healer in these things I'm told.People soon forget.’

‘Notround 'ere they don't. You've done I an ill service.’

Samuelcame to a decision and returned his full attention to the exchange.

‘Thenwe're all square now, the Trevans and me. We can start afresh.’

Thefarmer warily shook his head. Pound for pound and unarmed he might be no matchfor this family-foreigner, but he had brothers and cousins and friends, andtogether they might....

‘I'mnot so sure of that, mister. We can't reckon out exactly what you might beafter.’

‘Nothing.I want nothing of value off you. That's how we can be at peace. If you want,I'll sign a document renouncing every interest. Go into Bideford or Bude andget a lawyer to draw one up. Then I'll sign it.’

CousinTrevan's interest was aroused. If the kin thought it was he who 'drove' thecuckoo out there might be a powerful lot of credit in it for him. Still, he hadto beware of a trap; in this hard, harsh world it wasn't natural, not reasonable,to exchange something for nothing.

‘Thatmight work...,’ he said hesitantly.

‘Andall I ask of you in return,’ Samuel continued, relishing both thedisappointment and pleasure warring over the man's face, his hopes puncturedeven as his prejudices were confirmed, ‘is one thing.’

CousinTrevan resumed his normal, bristling, ‘us against the world’ self.

‘Ithought as much! And what might her be?’

‘Aday of your time.’

‘Don'tmuck I about. It's cruel.’

Samuelcaught his shifty gaze.

‘No,really. Since I'm stuck here in this last-place-God-made, I may as wellknow it well. I want a guide, I want a tour.’

Theman's eyes widened. He made a final inspection for mockery or fraud but foundnone.

‘Done!’he said.

Ahand was upturned, spat upon, then held out.

Sucha sweet deal was never going to be walked away from, no matter what the slight.But excess hesitation might sour the ‘family moment’.

Samuelfastidiously brushed the proffered palm and thus broke with yet another past.

************

Theysealed their farmyard treaty with a quart of beer in 'The Forge Inn' atWelcombe. This was where Samuel was lodging, in the absence of hospitality fromhis wide-ranging family. The owner knew and feared him, concerned about theupshot of those long brooding sessions at his fireside, and only Trevan’s readymoney and prompt payments made him a tolerable guest.

Consequently,they got good service, full tankards and a breakfast platter to set them up forthe day. Samuel spoke little and paid for all.

Hisrelative warmed to the new role and a day's break from cursing at the churls.He soon so far forgot himself as speak to Samuel like a fellow human being fromDevon. They strolled out into the rolling landscape and Samuel took what heneeded from the accumulated wisdom of centuries.

'The road branches 'ere but both ways lead down to the sea. 'Er's thequickest but the foreshore there has an evil spirit so don't tread 'er afterdark. The other beach has a Lady Shrine carved in the cliff so she's clean andsafe to use.'

'Stratton's down that way and she's fine if you want the simpler things,especially on the first Thursday market. Anything rarer or made-to-order yougotta head for Bideford. There's no two ways about it. Her market is on theTuesday every week and if you go to the Joiners Arms you'll get a specialmarket luncheon that'll half kill yer. Proper job!'

 

'That land's sour. What? No, I don't know how come but 'er is, take myword for it. If you're a blow-in with money sooner or later you'll be offeredsome. Steer clear.'

'Look over there and you might see Lundy. Steepholm's that way too butshe's not often visible. Evil places! Avoid they however gracious theinvitation. The Lord of Lundy is a pirate, famous poet or no. I've seen emptydrifting boats with blood all in 'em with my own eyes. That's their work, orsome of their Irish brethren. Go armed if you put out in a little craft, orelse stick close in unless there's a King's ship nearby. They sweep down fromBristol periodic-like. Any privateer they take they hang 'em from theirbowsprit and leave 'em on as a trophy, like crows on a fence. I've seen thatsight too'

 

'And don't buy of their produce. There's a plague-pit hard by,though they'll swear blind otherwise. They can only sell to uplanders or theWelsh slave plantations.'

'Cider? No, you'll derive no money there. Each farm makes its own. The firstdraw goes to the family and the churls 'as the scrumpy. My advice is don'ttouch it. It blows up the veins in yer nose and can put a fighting frenzy onyer, if enough's taken. Mass production? What's that? No - who'd buy it? Thegentry wouldn't be seen dead with cider, and you'll not make a farmer pay coinfor what he can brew in a barrel hisself. You've got some funny ideas, mister,I'll give you that.'

 

'Mebbe two hundred souls in all,