Ben: Historical Fiction

By T M Goble

In the heart of the Late Elizabethan era, a young and ambitious Ben Jonson finds himself at a crossroads. Enveloped by the fear of losing his life in the tumultuous Low Countries, he yearns for an escape from his overbearing stepfather's tyranny. Little did he know that his decision to enlist in Elizabeth's army would lead him down a treacherous path.

As the world around him is torn apart by war, Ben's dreams of becoming involved in the thriving Elizabethan theatre scene, where William Shakespeare reigns as the leading playwright, seem increasingly distant. The possibility of an ordinary life as a mere bricklayer looms on the horizon.

Despite his humble beginnings, Ben's heart is filled with the yearning for sophistication, a longing inherited from his grandfather. He yearns to savour the sweet fruits of his education and immerse himself in a world of culture and creativity. Yet, the harsh reality of drudgery, poverty, and ceaseless labour threatens to engulf him entirely.

In this gripping historical biographical fiction, follow Ben Jonson's journey as he navigates the perilous terrain of the Low Countries, battles the Spanish, and grapples with the mundanity that threatens to smother his dreams. Can the elusive promise of fortuitous gold be the key to breaking free from the shackles of his past? Will Ben Jonson rise above adversity to carve his name in the annals of history and find his place in the illustrious world of the Elizabethan theatre?

"Ben: Before They Were Famous" is a compelling tale of ambition, courage, and the relentless pursuit of a brighter future in a time of uncertainty and upheaval. Step into the past and witness the extraordinary journey of a young man who dared to dream beyond the ordinary and become one of history's most celebrated playwrights.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Creative Peak
• Release date: Feb 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224594542

Book preview

02

The Spaniard has me trapped against the rock. My stamina has weakened, my muscles ached from the continual battering of his sword. He has drawn a second breath and is lunging towards me again.

The bounce in his movements hadn’t diminished. His eyes squinted, his upper lip curled. Concentration and intent on killing me riddled his face. Eyeing the middle of my chest, he jumped forwards with rapid thrusts. As I parried sideways, his point dug into the cliff face. Yelping in pain from the jarring, but undaunted, he swished his blade close to my face. Would I be trapped? Could I run faster, I dismissed the thought as the slight nimble Spaniard closed.

I shot my sword vertical for protection, but he forced me to sidle along the bare rock face. A quick glance revealed the next rock over hung about shoulder height. His vicious actions were unrelenting, I had no choice but to slither towards the overhang. The glee on his face was easy to behold. Could he see the terror in mine?

A smile creased his lips and a glint sparkled in his eye. Too quick for me I backed into the corner as my arm ached from the battering of his sword. He gasped a second breath and began a furious thrusting attack. My head caught the overhanging rock as I backed away. Restricted by the tight corner I read his intention of trapping my head on the rock restricting movement. Locking swords, I pushed him away, but he sprang back.

This is it, he has trapped me and is coming for the kill. My God! My life could end. One last attempt to stop being trapped and picked off. My head crashed against the rock again from the savage assault, his eyes glistened and mouth opened, but he delayed the final stab of the sword. I ducked under the rock. The crashing of metal reverberated as his intended fatal blow clanged against the rock. His arm curved back in a wide arc as his sword resonated and bounced. The overhang had protected my head.

The rock prevented me swinging my sword. My spare hand closed on my dagger, but it would be a hopeless task against a rapier. He had freedom of movement outside the overhang. With my head low and vulnerable to his sword, he thrust forward.

I lunged sideways, the point of his rapier hit the solid face with a resonating clang and slid into the crevasse of the overhang. The sword reverberated as it twisted and momentarily became trapped. It would be my only chance. Snatching my dagger from my belt and keeping low I dived at him.

I’d moved past the point of his sword as he untangled it from the gap in the rock. The flat metal of the blade crashed across the back of my ribs, the stout jacket took the blow forcing a gasp of breath from deep within me. Inside of his guard as his blade lay along my back, I had a chance.

Dropping my sword, my hands grasped the dagger as I dived at his torso. My weight propelled me forwards as my arms stretched. My eyes widened as the point of the dagger reached his jacket. The blade with my body’s momentum behind it, drove through his clothes and disappeared until only the hilt remained visible.

His legs staggered backwards and buckled as he pitched sideways, dropped his sword and emitted a pitiful groan. Springing sideways from under the rocks, I scrambled for my sword and with both hands ran it through his torso.

Weakness overwhelmed me and my legs buckled as a twitching shudder consumed my body.

Staggering sideways, I slumped on to a boulder. One glance at the blood covered body assured me he was dead. Weakness filled me. I’d nearly lost my life. Had the noise of the fight alerted his patrol? Anxiety surfaced. Motionless, I leaned against the rock, my ears straining to pick out any nearby sounds. The icy wind howled as I waited for the next attack.

03

Temptation for booty overcame me as it would be too good an opportunity to miss. All is quiet, but I’m shaking because I fought a skilled swordsman. I’ve only ever practised with other soldiers. In a silent prayer, I praised God for delivering my life.

Killing a man is not satisfying, but I had no option as he would have shown me no mercy. The despair of war and a needless death ran like a shiver through me. Fighting with Spain continues, but I must believe I can escape this nightmare. I don’t want to be a soldier. The continual danger and the harsh life fill me with despair.

Returning to the body when I had checked no Spaniard lurked in the vicinity, I shivered at the motionless corpse. Bending, I examined him, his Mediterranean face with an olive tanned skin stared back at me with the blankness of death. Would he reveal treasures, no longer of any use to him, that could help me to escape this horrendous war.

In his death throe, he had staggered forward onto his face. I shall not forget his surprised, almost indignant expression, as he pitched and twisted with the dagger embedded in him. I need to turn him over to search. A shudder ran through me, his outer body had cooled. No time for weakness. I rested my sword on the ground within arm’s reach, then heaved the body onto its back. The fine black jacket had been covered with blood.

Kneeling at the side of the body I faced the entrances to the clearing as I wanted no more surprises. The dagger had struck through his ribs into his heart so I hadn’t needed to run him through, but I couldn’t have been certain. The silky touch of his clothes exuded quality compared to the coarseness of my jacket.

Judging from his regalia, he must have been a rich man and possibly a member of the Spanish aristocracy. How had an officer become separated from the rest of his patrol? I would never know the answer, but it had been a blessing for me that they hadn’t been nearby. No doubt trained by a sword fighting school, his confidence had given him no fear, but his boldness had cost him his life. The cover of the rock had given me the defence I needed against his superior swordsmanship. However, had the fight taken place away from the constraint of the clearing, I would have lost my life.

The tailored clothes fitted him to perfection, and he sported a short-pointed beard following the current European fashion style. The cut of his uniform had given him a handsome and sophisticated appearance. As I eased his jacket open at the collar, I studied his face and my mouth moved into a shaky smile, my first of the day. Judging by his distinguished profile he would have been a lady’s man. He would no longer make a beautiful Spanish woman happy. I refocused on my task.

Delaying might expose me to more danger, so I’ll check him out and then begin the perilous journey back to the town of Flushing. Danger could be hidden behind any erratically lying rocks. The rest of my patrol may be dead. I’m on my own.

His sword lay on the ground next to him. A high-quality weapon, with an elaborate falcon embossed grip and guard made by a craftsman. Perhaps the falcon represented the coat of arms of his family. Compared to my sword, his was more rapier-like. In many circumstances, it would have suited his quick and skillful movement. Another check on the clearing. Where were those Spanish troops lurking? They wouldn’t have returned to base without their officer, so they would be searching for him.

Should I swap his sword for mine? No, I’m larger than him and can handle the added weight of my weapon. I have not learned the swordsmanship skills he possessed to use such a fine blade. I resolved that if I successfully returned to base, I will practice until I reach his skill level. The sword is a rich bounty and I will take it with me as a spoil of war. I could sell it in Flushing Market or give it to a young trooper who has a poor weapon.

While still maintaining an eye for any attacks, I hadn’t finished with the Spaniard. The richness of the clothing could lead to something of further value inside his jacket. I removed his belt and buttons with my knife. Flicking back the bloodstained jacket he had tucked his velvet purse inside. I manipulated the contents with a smile.

Now let’s examine this pouch. Excellent, gold coins. Their exact value was a mystery, but I anticipated I had become the richest I’d ever been. A better life in London beckoned. My mind drifted to other soldiers who had returned to barracks with profits from their fighting encounters. The captain and officers demanded detailed explanations and threatened to confiscate the bounty if they suspected the trooper of stealing. My fingers tightened around the smooth leather pouch. I weighed up the options. In an instant I arrived at my decision. I’ll keep the gold coins to myself and hide them inside my jacket. I won’t mention the Spanish officer; I have no wish to be labelled a hero. The bleeding arm is obviously a sword wound so I will have to conjure up an explanation.

Checking the rest of his jacket, he had nothing else of value. I stood and averted my eyes from his lifeless body. Relief that I was still alive flooded over me although my whole body ached with fatigue. I hid the pouch deep inside my coarse clothes. When I’m back at the fort, I will sew the purse into the lining of my jacket. It will be useful when I return to London. I could buy myself out of the apprenticeship and become a journeyman. Then I can earn money myself as I will be a member of the Guild and won’t have to work for my stepfather. That will give me a plan until I can decide how to restore my family’s fortunes and become a gentleman like my grandfather.

I have the gold, but can I reach Flushing? Standing in the clearing the coldness engulfed me. The mist had rolled in, good visibility will be near impossible. Unsure of which way to head I plodded along a path between dense undergrowth with my senses on high alert. Another Spaniard might be somewhere nearby and next time I might not be so lucky.

04

Hearing an unusual noise, but not a natural sound, I stopped and concentrated through the background of the overhead gulls and the distant waves. The mist rolling in from the North Sea had enveloped me. Waiting motionless, I strained my hearing.

The thumping sound transformed into running footsteps. The wet sand squelched under my feet but treading with care the noise wouldn’t dissipate far. The rapid running footsteps drew closer. I slipped the Spaniard’s belt, carrying the sword, over my head and shoulders to free my hands. Unsheathing my sword, I inched forwards and strained my eyes to peer through the gloom. With nowhere to hide I would stay still and silent. Whenever he emerged from the mist, there would be a surprise waiting.

A pang of worry shot through me at the noise, less subdued by the mist, which became more distinctive. The sound of more than one person’s footsteps reached me. They approached from in front of me on my path to Flushing. With no option, I inhaled deeply and held a silent position. More footsteps echoed from somewhere behind the first pair. I squinted hard into the mist, but to no avail. Shouting reached me from the trailing group. English swearing and cursing were a welcome sound as they shouted, ‘Kill, kill!’ If they are chasing, the front runners must be Spaniards, so I prepared for their assault.

The thumping of the footsteps closed. The heavy panting of the runners resonated through the mist and would emerge from the fog within seconds.

‘Stand!’ I bellowed at the two Spaniards rushing from the drizzle, I gulped with uncertainty. Could I tackle both? The English voices were closing, I yelled, ‘Over here!’ The Spaniards stopped and stared with wide eyes. One glanced over his shoulder at the English shouting from the mist. Two of them would be an uneven match, but their eyes which stared unblinkingly, told their story. I flashed my sword through the air. The Spanish officer had smiled a look of contempt, but not his troops.

My stomach tensed and I increased the grip on my weapons. Focusing on their faces, I wanted to gauge their intention. The pair could easily rush me. Did those eyes hold aggression or fear? They had delayed their attack on me. Why? They were lowly troopers who were desperate to save their lives. The stalemate between us would allow the English soldiers to arrive into our clearing in the mist from behind.

I didn’t move. Neither moved towards me, they weren’t up for a fight. I stepped forward waving my sword and dagger. They scampered sideways into the mist. I breathed a sigh of relief. My guess was scruffy forced conscripts and not the same level as the officer I had killed. Their initial reaction had been to run, but when they realise it’s only me, will they return for the kill?

05

I needed to be certain that as the Englishmen approached, they didn’t mistake me for a Spaniard. They were chasing and anticipating the kill. Not expecting a different person in the mist, they were armed and intent on inflicting death. Would they delay enough to assess the situation as they encountered me? I doubted it.

‘Hail, good fellows!’ my voice reverberated through the gloom. The pounding footsteps thundered closer. Death would be at the forefront of their minds. I stood firm and shivered with apprehension. Could I deflect the first blows until they grasped their mistake and that they were attacking an Englishman?

The pounding feet closed. It would be a matter of seconds. Breathing heavily, I tried to control the panic that threatened to overtake me. I raised my sword and dagger to defend myself. ‘Ben, great to find you!’ a familiar voice shouted from the mist.

Relief spread through me. John must have recognised my voice. I lifted my head, inhaled deeply and raised my voice above the roar of the wind, ‘And you my friend.’

The three men burst into the clearing. John led the way. His small frame scampered and skidded to a halt on the wet sand. Two others, panting hard, almost collided with him. One shouted, ‘The Spaniards!’

John’s voice was firm and not to be challenged, ‘Let them go. We’re too far away from base without support in this weather.’ The others panted with relief as they stopped. One arched forward to draw in the air from running. Toby, the round man of the patrol, put his hands on his knees and wheezed heavily, no doubt relieved that the fighting and exertion for today had finished.

Relief spread over me as I grasped John’s hand. ‘Brothers in the fight,’ he mumbled. I slapped him on the back with a sense of euphoria that we had survived. ‘A sad day as we’ve lost two,’ John lowered his head, ‘Did you know?’

‘Yes, the Spaniards were standing over them.’

‘You must have been close?’

‘After I lost contact with you, I heard Spanish shouting. In trying to hide from them, I saw our two dead friends.’ The three lowered their gaze. My thoughts became selfish. Despite what had happened, I had survived.

John touched my arm and showed me an ornate dagger, not as elaborate as the embossed metal handles on the officer’s weapons but not a common trooper’s knife. Despite the events of the day a grin lurked, ‘Did you kill him?’

‘No, only clashes of swords then he scarpered, but dropped the dagger.’

Toby had recovered his breath following the chase of the two Spaniards. He eyed me with startled interest as he had noticed the sword on my back, ‘You have taken rich spoils and must have killed one of the Spaniards.’

I had my wits about me. John would be proud to show the dagger back at the fortress, but I would be more circumspect about my involvement in the fighting. Not wanting to be labelled a hero and brought to the senior officers’ attention, I stumbled over my words. ‘One of you must have run him through. He was near dead, so I finished him and picked up the sword.’ None of the three would question my account as they would wish to take credit for the kill. The gold, now secreted deep into my damp clothing, was more important. ‘Let’s return to the Fort.’

The others were not inclined to make another attempt to pursue the errant Spanish troopers. Weariness had begun to take its toll, but at least there would be more confidence with four of us together. The mist remained thick. I squared my shoulders, ‘Let’s not be complacent.’ The others knew my meaning. They sheathed their swords but made sure they were free and easy