Anne of the Fens by Gretchen Gibbs Page B

top they could see us, but not well. Soon we would disappear from sight altogether.
    I faced forward, straining to see where the channel might open up. Flies and mosquitoes swarmed around us and began to feast. Our skirts covered our legs, and my shift protected my chest and upper arms. I had a kerchief tied round my shoulders. I took off my bonnet, draped the kerchief around my face so only my eyes showed, and retied the bonnet. My flaxen blue skirt, cleaned after I had gotten it so dirty at the fair, was now filthy on the bottom, and I wondered how I would look when I returned to the castle. I almost laughed, realizing that I had no idea at all of what would happen to us. Worrying about my clothes seemed to belong to another lifetime.
    I remembered the beggar’s message for John and handed it to him.
    He read it and laughed. “Good,” he said. He says that there is a boat heading towards Holland tomorrow, and that he will wait for me along the river today and tomorrow. Also that the Sheriff’s men are looking for me. I would have had to leave today anyway, even if the Sheriff had not arrived when he did.”
    â€œWho is this beggar?”
    â€œWho knows. He is a rebel against the King, he is a Puritan, he is a scoundrel.”
    â€œThat is no answer.”
    John sighed. “I will tell you all I know. First, do we have anything to eat?”
    I realized that John had not eaten all day, while I had taken a good midday meal in Boston. I was hungry myself, now that I was a bit more relaxed. It was probably past nine o’clock, and the mid-summer sun was finally beginning to set.
    I pointed to the dandelions he had dumped from his apron into the bottom of the boat. He made a face.
    â€œSpeaking of beggars, they cannot...” I said, and he nodded, knowing the end of the expression.
    I added the dandelions from my own apron, dipped a few into the water to wash the dirt from them, then handed them to John. I ate a few myself. Dandelions are so bitter before they’ve been cooked. We ate them slowly and we ate them all.
    While we were munching, John told me about the beggar man.
    â€œHe comes from Scotland originally, but has lived in these parts many years. He goes back and forth, from here to Holland, taking Puritans who seek to escape, and bringing goods back and forth for those who have made the trip. I think he takes a good cut for his labors.”
    â€œHe seemed so ragged.”
    â€œThat filthy cloak is a disguise. He does not want to attract attention.”
    I digested that. I seemed to be learning a lot about lying, today. People were not always what they seemed.
    I wanted to tell John to go faster, to leave some of the insects behind, as well as to escape, but I realized he was going as fast as he could. I picked up the small pole in the bottom of the boat and began to help.
    We had poled for perhaps ten minutes, the channel growing narrower, then wider, and then narrower again, nothing but reeds and insects. Flies, big green ones and little, blue damselflies, buzzed about catching an occasional mosquito. Even in our dangerous situation I watched the damselflies, so bright they seemed to have swallowed a piece of the sun.
    We came to a channel that crossed our path. There were only a few trees, and none with an egret’s nest. I thought we should take the path anyway. It seemed to me to be the right distance from the castle.
    John said, “No, this is so narrow we would not be able to pass. It cannot be the right channel. We must press on.”
    My arms grew tired, and I rested for longer and longer periods. John was cursing under his breath more frequently. He had placed Cook’s apron around his face to keep off the bugs. He looked alarming, and then I thought I must look quite strange myself.
    I picked up the little pole again, and pushed it into the water. I almost fell out of the boat and I almost lost the pole. There was no bottom here that I could reach. We were