Sal stepped closer to him and stared in his face. She was almost as tall as him and just as broad. Her voice changed without her intending it. ‘Let me pass,’ she said in a low, clear tone, and she could not quite hide her rage.
She saw a flash of fear in his eyes, as if he might be regretting this confrontation. But he would not back down. He seemed determined to cause trouble. ‘Are you threatening me?’ he said. His scorn was not entirely convincing.
‘Take it how you will.’
Fanny spoke in a high, frightened voice. ‘Kit has to go home, Mr Will, the surgeon said.’
‘I don’t know why my father bothered to send for the surgeon. It would have been no great loss if the whelp had died.’
That was too much for Sal. Wishing someone dead was a terrible curse, and Will had already nearly killed Kit. Without thinking, she swung her right arm and punched the side of Will’s head. Her back was broad and her arms were strong, and there was an audible thud as the blow connected.
Will staggered, dazed, and fell to the floor, crying out in pain.
Fanny gasped in shock.
Sal stared at Will. There was blood coming from his ear. She was horrified by what she had done. ‘God forgive me,’ she said.
Will made no effort to get up, but lay there, moaning.
Kit started to cry.
Sal took his hand and led him around Will, who was groaning in pain. She had to get out of the house as fast as possible. She led Kit to the stairs and hurried down. They passed through the kitchen without speaking to the other servants, who stared at them.
They left by the back door and went home.
*
That afternoon she was summoned by the squire.
She had broken the law, of course. She was guilty of a crime. Worse, she was a common villager who had attacked a gentleman. She was in deep trouble.
Law and order was the responsibility of justices of the peace, also called magistrates. They were appointed by the lord lieutenant, the king’s representative in the county. They were not lawyers but local landowners. In a town such as Kingsbridge there were several justices, but in a village there was usually only one, and in Badford it was Squire Riddick.
Major crimes were tried by two or more justices, and charges that carried the death penalty had to be heard by a judge at the assize court, but lesser offences such as drunkenness, vagrancy and minor violence could be dealt with by one justice sitting alone, usually in his home.
Squire Riddick was going to be Sal’s judge and jury.
She would be found guilty, of course, but how would she be punished? A justice could order an offender to spend a day in the stocks, sitting on the ground with her legs clamped, a punishment that was more humiliation than anything else.
The sentence Sal feared was flogging, commonly ordered by justices and an everyday event in the army and navy. It was usually public. The convicted person was tied to a pole naked or half naked – any clothing was likely to be shredded during the ordeal anyway. The whip used was usually the dreaded cat-o’-nine-tails, with nine leather thongs studded with stones and nails to quickly break the skin.
Drunkenness might be punished with six lashes, fighting with twelve. For attacking a gentleman she might get twenty-four, a real ordeal. In the military men were often given hundreds of lashes, and sometimes died; civilian punishments were not so savage, though bad enough.
She left immediately for the manor house, taking Kit with her – she could not leave him alone. As they walked side by side, she asked herself what she could possibly say in her defence. Will was at least partly responsible for what had happened, but it would be unwise for her to point that out: it would add insult to injury, literally. The gentry were allowed to make excuses for their offences, but common people were expected to be contrite: any attempt at self-justification would probably bring a harsher punishment.
At the manor Platts, the butler, showed her into the library, where Squire Riddick was sitting behind a desk. Will was beside him, with a bandage over his ear. Rector George sat at a side table with pen and ink and a ledger. Sal was not invited to sit.
The squire said: ‘Now, Will, you’d better say what happened.’
‘The woman confronted me on the upstairs landing,’ said Will.
He was already lying, but Sal said nothing.
‘I told her to get out of my way,’ Will went on. ‘Then she punched my head.’
The squire looked at Sal. ‘And what have you got to say for yourself?’
‘I’m very sorry for what happened,’ Sal said. ‘I can only say that I think I have been driven mad by the tragedies my family has suffered in recent months.’
