In only a few months, political organisation in the New Model had become busy, with the soldiers' enthusiastic support For a meeting at Bury St Edmunds infantrymen contributed fourpence a head, which was half a day's pay; they wore red ribbon armbands on their left arms to signify solidarity to death. Not only was the main army involved, but messengers travelled to the navy and to detached forces in Wales and the North.
Incessant trips to plan were made between units, over long distances. Ciphers protected identities. It was a curious situation because, since the appointment of Agitators had been officially approved, their activity was sanctioned by the high command; more than fifteen hundred pounds was allocated from the army's contingency fund, authorised by Fairfax, for the Agitators' expenses. When Rainborough's regiment was quartered between Petersfield and Portsmouth, men on extremely high-quality horses came to inveigle the sea-greens into what the Agitators wanted.
Gideon and Lambert heard the Agitators' request and marvelled. Rainborough's men were being asked to defy their orders. No longer trusting either Parliament or any of their own Presbyterian officers, radical soldiers had identified two immediate aims: first, not to lose control of the King he was still confined at Holdenby House, although there were strong suspicions that the Presbyterians in Parliament intended to transfer him to Scotland; second, not to relinquish the New Model's artillery, which was currently at Oxford. If Parliament moved the artillery to the Tower of London, the Trained Bands, under new Presbyterian leadership, might turn the guns against Fairfax's men. The Agitators were hoping Rainborough's troops would help prevent that.
Gideon was chosen to take the regiment's reply. He went with a colleague; message-carriers rode in pairs, in case of accident. Because he had been a dragoon, the others assumed he was an assured rider and the Agitators produced a mount for him. Unlike the late Sir Rowland, this was a superb horse. His speed and stamina would be needed, for they had to reach the army's current headquarters in Chelmsford, an awkward trip of over a hundred miles. The Agitators' message had come from a man known as Cipher 102, whom they believed to be Lieutenant Chillenden of Colonel Whalley's regiment. But when they came to Chelmsford, the two saddle-sore messengers were taken to Edward Sexby.
Sexby was having the time of his life. Gideon, who recognised him at once, saw that the man had found his life's mission. When they were brought into his presence, Sexby was intently crouched over a letter he was writing. He was totally engrossed. Though the text was short and his pen-strokes controlled, the vigour with which he shook sand to dry the ink on the completed paper said everything. Gideon spotted that he had a cipher key by him, which he covered quickly.
Now thirty years old, all Sexby's waking moments were devoted to conspiracy. It seemed to Gideon that Sexby was so entirely taken up by this work that he almost loved the game more than the ideas. Gideon shook off his own curmudgeonly reaction to his colleague's intensity.
To establish his credentials, Gideon mentioned how Sexby had been at his wedding. Sexby took a moment to remember. Then he was all charm. 'Of course!' He did not ask after the fate of the marriage, the health of Gideon's bride, or whether they had been favoured with children.
Gideon never had any wish to discuss Lacy, yet he bridled a little. Years later, with hindsight, he thought Sexby was too self-centred. Perhaps at the time he was jealous of Sexby's success; if so, he rebuked himself. None the less, he reckoned that Parthenope, Sexby's hostess at the wedding breakfast, would disapprove. It was an odd moment for Gideon to be thinking of his mother but he knew she would have said a polite guest should at least have remembered the quantities of ale and the fine cuts of meat.
Still, revolutionaries are often bad at social relationships. Too many believe that all men are born equal — but that they themselves possess special talents which give them golden destinies.
'You helped my brother put my delinquent uncle in a horse-trough.'
'Ah Lambert Jukes!' The easy charm returned. 'Lambert — such a good fellow!'
'A stalwart of Rainborough's regiment. One of us,' said Gideon, where 'one of us' had particular resonance. 'True unto death.' The code-words brought them back to the reason for his visit.
He and his colleague reported their regiment's eagerness to be involved. Although Colonel Rainborough was still in London, Sexby seemed to have some private information that he would support the soldiers. If Rainborough holds extreme radical views, thought Gideon, he is the only senior officer who does… He saw that it left the colonel dangerously exposed.
They were given a letter to the regiment, a letter that Sexby rapidly prepared, explaining it to them carefully before it was sealed. 'There are those who would prevent us — Colonel Jackson, who is in the Presbyterians' pocket, may interfere; we are seeking a way to banish him from his regiment…'
'If we are captured,' said Gideon, almost the light-hearted bridegroom again, 'do we eat the instruction?'
Edward Sexby looked sour. He had passion and energy, but little sense of humour. 'Don't get captured. Keep the terms clear: your boys are invited by the Agitators to join with other regiments.'
His fellow-soldier from Portsmouth dug Gideon in the ribs. 'We understand, sir.' Sir? Though he had the manner of an officer, Sexby was in fact a trooper still.
'We do understand,' Gideon reinforced it, close to an apology though he saw no reason to fawn on Sexby.
Sexby leaned back in his chair. 'You are a printer.'
'Was, before I came to the army'
'Do you write?'
'Not for the public'
'We are seeking able pen-men… We need a press,' Sexby growled fretfully. 'If a press is not got into the army, we are handicapped.'
While Sexby drummed his fingers in frustration, Gideon saw the point. 'We must be able to print documents speedily and safely. It needs a trusted printer, with his own press. That press must always travel with the army, so we can react fast to whatever happens. There are many loyal printers in London, but distance is a hindrance. Dangerous too — Parliament can, and will, shut down a press, then throw the printer into prison.'
'Walwyn's group have the means,' grumbled Sexby, 'but they are constantly under suspicion. Lilburne and Overton are stuck in the Tower — ' He seemed to know a lot about the Levellers.
'Walwyn has issued a great petition, calling for their release.'
Sexby started, surprised that Gideon knew. Gideon let him wonder.
He considered suggesting Robert Allibone as the army printer. Robert behaved discreetly, but he was not entirely invisible from the authorities; besides, Robert was a stay-at-home. Gideon had a brainwave: 'I know of a press, now silent and ripe to be claimed. We would not need to bring it from London.'