Page 27 of Against the Wind

“And ye told this to the men in the provinces, Oliver?” asked a swarthy man in dirty breeches and jacket.

“Aye, I did. And they listened, too.”

“Just how did ye make friends with them workers?” another asked, taking a swig of his ale and wiping his mouth on a rough woolen sleeve. “Why would they trust a Londoner?”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “My friend Joseph Mitchell was my guide. I told him ’twas the desire of the London Committee, which I represent, to form a connection with the country friends. He obliged me when I asked to be taken along on his next trip to the provinces. Only last month, Mitchell introduced me to the reformers in the Midlands.”

“Where is Mitchell today?” asked a man who had not yet spoken. “I would like to meet him. He has long been a leader speaking for reform.”

“Aye, well, that was a bit of a tragedy, that. He was just arrested and now lies in prison, I’m afraid,” Oliver replied.

The man’s sadness was surely feigned. Most convenient, Martin thought, that Oliver’s contact in the north was suddenly eliminated, leaving Oliver as the only link between the “London Committee,” which Martin doubted was real, and the “country friends.” The man was sly. Or perhaps Sidmouth had arranged it.

“What about this here London Committee?” the swarthy man asked. “Mayhap it is time we met this committee of yours.”

“Nay, the time isn’t right,” Oliver cautioned. “It’s too dangerous to call them together, as some are well known. But ye can be sure they are many and will rise to demand change when the time is right. Aye, they will fight for it, along with thousands of others. Liverpool’s government is weak after the war with France. The time is right!”

Martin was now certain there was no London Committee, nor any London friends. But the time had come to make himself known.

Allowing his French accent to rise, he called out from where he was sitting, “Good men of England, I could not help but overhear your talk of reform. My friend John and I are from France. My family is a product of the Revolution. Fought for the right of all men to be heard, we did. Liberté, égalité, fraternité was our motto. I am surprised to hear the same sentiments from Englishmen.”

Oliver studied him and John where they reclined insouciantly in their chairs. For a moment Martin was uncertain of how his comments had been received, but he forced himself to remain calm as the men with Oliver took in his common attire and John’s artfully shabby clothes. He waited, as if he cared not whether the men would offer up an invitation to join them.

“If yer seeking reform here in England like yer family brought to France,” Oliver said at last, “we’ve the opportunity. Yer welcome to join us.”

The half-dozen men around him relaxed at hearing Oliver’s words, so Martin nodded to John and the two slowly rose and walked across the room.

“If you would find that to your liking,” Martin said, “we’ll just do that.” Martin introduced them as Messieurs Martin Donet and Jean Fournier, as they took their seats.

“We’re all patriots here,” announced Oliver, “tired of living under the thumb of fat Prince George and his decadent friends. Spending the country’s money on his pleasure palace in Brighton while the hardworking men of the country starve. ’Tis a travesty, I say.”

“And what would you do to change that?” asked Martin.

“Did ye hear about the rocks thrown at the Prince’s carriage?”

“All of London has heard,” said Martin.

“Well, ye see now, I was there.” Tapping his thumb to his chest, Oliver continued proudly. “’Twas me who told the crowd to show the princeling just how they felt. I say we need more of that kind of demonstration. Petitions like the one the weavers of Manchester planned to deliver will get us nowhere. A long list of names is too easy to ignore. And did ye see how their march to London ended? The King’s Dragoons wounded some and arrested others. Now the military laughs and calls them Blanketeers. ’Twas only a joke to them!”

“So you advocate a challenge to the government?” Martin was surprised that Oliver would be so brazen, but perhaps with the backing of Sidmouth he felt free to openly recruit revolutionaries, urging them to violent protest. That would certainly provide Parliament justification for more drastic laws.

“The whole country is about to rise,” Oliver said, looking at the men around him glazed with drink and taking in his every word. “There be thousands in London who will join the workers in the north when the time comes. I’ll be traveling to Derbyshire soon meself to see how their efforts are coming and to tell them about the London folks, as I am their delegate.”

“Would you mind if Jean and I join you?” asked Martin, indicating himself and John. “We’ve several weeks free just now, and I’d like to meet the workers. Though the revolution has long faded in France, perhaps I can help the men of the English countryside see the good that came from what happened there.” He was testing the waters to see how badly Oliver wanted an ally. As Sidmouth’s lackey, the man might be leery, but perhaps his enthusiasm would override his caution.

“’Tis your decision, Monsieur Donet. I’ll be at the Talbot Inn in Derbyshire. Ye can join me if ye like.”

Pleased beyond words, Martin stood and shook all the men’s hands. His task had officially begun. He would meet Oliver in Derbyshire.