‘I don’t suppose Northwood will help.’
Drinkwater looked dubious. ‘I doubt it, but it’s worth a try.’
‘Maybe your granddaughter could persuade him.’
‘Jane? I’m not sure she has much influence over her husband, but I’ll ask her.’
‘I need advice on the wording of the appeal. There’s probably a protocol.’
‘That’s what lawyers are for. Ask Parkstone.’
There were three lawyers in Kingsbridge. Most of their business was in property transactions, wills and disputes between Shiringfarmers over boundaries. Parkstone was the oldest. ‘I’ll go and see him now,’ said Spade.
‘Aren’t you going to have some dinner?’
‘No,’ said Spade. ‘Right now I don’t feel I could eat.’
*
Kit resigned from his job as manager of the two Barrowfield mills. Amos was sorry but good-humoured about it, and said that if he was offered the chance to buy the first Jacquard loom in England, that would be some consolation. He also asked Kit to work for another month to give time for new arrangements. Kit agreed. He was glad the change could be made without bad feeling.
The month was almost up when Kit received a letter.
He had never had a letter before.
It arrived on a Saturday and it was waiting for him when he got home from the mill. The neighbours said it had been delivered to his house by a soldier carrying a canvas bag that appeared to be full of letters.
It informed him that he had been conscripted into the militia.
He felt ill. He had never been a fighter and he was afraid he would be no good at it.
He should have anticipated this possibility, for he had been eligible since he turned eighteen, but he just had not thought about it.
The family discussed it over dinner. ‘I will hate the army,’ Kit said. ‘I know we have to defend our country, but I’ll be the worst soldier in the world.’
Jarge said: ‘It will toughen you up.’ Then he caught a reproving look from Sal and said: ‘No offence, lad.’
Sal said: ‘The militia is not the army. They can’t go abroad. They have to stay home and defend the country in case of invasion.’
‘Which could happen any day!’ Kit said. ‘Bonaparte has two hundred thousand men waiting to cross the Channel.’
Even if there was no invasion, this would ruin his plan to build Jacquard looms with Roger. He would lose not just the money but the joy of working with the man he liked best in all the world.
Sal said: ‘It doesn’t have to be you who saves us from Bonaparte. You’re allowed to pay someone else to take your place, usually. And it doesn’t even cost very much. Hundreds of men have done it. Let the boys down at the Slaughterhouse do the fighting – they enjoy it.’
‘First we have to find someone willing.’
‘That won’t be hard. There are plenty of men out of work, many of them in debt. With your help, such a man could pay off what he owed and get a job. The wage is low in the militia but you get food and a uniform and a bed. It’s not a bad deal for a young man in trouble.’
‘I’ll start asking around tomorrow.’
The next day was Sunday. At the Methodist Hall, after the communion service, Kit was approached by Major Donaldson, who asked him to sit down in a quiet corner. Kit wondered what on earth was coming.
Donaldson said: ‘I know that your name has been pulled in the lottery.’
Kit’s spirits lifted. Perhaps Donaldson was going to help him evade recruitment. He said: ‘I’d be no good as a soldier. I hate violence. I’m looking for someone to take my place.’
Donaldson looked solemn. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can tell you now that that won’t be possible.’
