by Karen Brooks
When I found her one morning, unable to rise from her pallet, her body burning with fever and blood staining her pillow, I first checked for any signs of tokens, then ordered Lowdy to take Wace and Harry to the college, and swiftly sent Drew for the doctor. Lowdy returned immediately with the nun she worked with, Sister Cecilia, in tow. Together they prepared a warm caudle for Letitia, spooning it between her dried lips.
No-one went to Southwark that day.
When the doctor arrived, he sat with Letitia a long time. I watched as he read her star charts, tested her urine, examined her chest, studied her translucent skin and looked into her eyes and mouth. He whispered quietly with Sister Cecelia and Lowdy. A strange mix of pride and fear mingled as I watched Lowdy being treated as someone with knowledge. Before long, she would leave us. The thought made me melancholy. Had I not wished this for her? Ensured that everything we did was to give the children a future? Aye, and Lowdy would be the first to reap what we’d sown; proof that what we did, for all the sinning, was for a greater good.
‘Is it the pestilence?’ I asked quietly, when they eventually left Letitia to sleep.
‘Not the kind that visited a few years ago, mistress,’ said Doctor Thomas. ‘This is phthisis.’
‘Phthisis?’
‘The white plague,’ explained Lowdy, her eyes downcast.
Consumption.
Letitia lay there, unaware of her death sentence. Her hair tumbled over the pillow, her lips and cheeks so red, her skin so pale. She was like a damsel from one of Geoffrey’s tales. My breast ached.
‘Can nothing be done?’
The doctor didn’t deign to answer, but began to pull out pouches of herbs. He was a kindly man who, for a small fee, looked to those less fortunate within the precinct. Rumour had it he’d once been a monk, but left the order when he fell in love. I don’t know if he ever married, or even if his love was requited, but I know Doctor Thomas Hendy did everything he could for my girl – that day and for the next two weeks.
That’s what, in a short time, Letitia and her little lad had become: mine.
Letitia’s cough grew worse, her breathing laboured. Doctor Thomas came each day and ordered us to move her bed into the solar and do all in our power to keep the cold air at bay. Night after night either Milda or I sat with her, stoking the fire, tying the broken shutter closed, ensuring she drank the preparations the apothecary made, mopping her brow. Afraid the girls might catch something, I ordered them to keep away. Harry, Lowdy and Wace as well.
When it was evident Letitia was not long for the world, Father Malcom was summoned. He spoke to the doctor, then went to Letitia’s side. Bending over, he asked her a number of questions, took confession, then administered extreme unction. I could see her soul was fretting to be freed. The rest of the day, members of the household paraded through the solar saying their farewells, some bearing crucifixes, others candles. Neighbours also arrived, as did vendors and priests. Stories from the Bible were told, a psalm was sung. Afterwards, people congregated in the kitchen, drinking ale and eating whatever Oriel and Milda prepared.
Only when the sun began to set did I allow Harry to see his mother. I stood by his side, hands on his shoulders as she whispered to him and, between coughs, told him how proud she was, how much she loved him. I kept my face averted lest she see how much the loving beauty of her words moved me.
Harry, God bless him, crawled onto the bed beside her, resting his plump cheek against her hollow one.
‘I love you too, Mamma,’ he said. ‘But you must go to God now, so He can make you better. I’ll be fine. I’ve Mistress Alyson to look out for me.’
I stumbled out of the room.
When I returned, Letitia was in a deep sleep. She woke just before lauds. The house was quiet. The sky had begun to lighten, silver shafts squeezing through the cracks in the shutters to reveal the hulking silhouettes of the furniture, of the pallet bed upon which she lay.
‘Mistress?’ she said hoarsely.
I scrambled from where I sat, dropping to my knees by her side. Milda stirred in the chair.
‘I’m here, Letitia,’ I said, taking her hand. It was dry, light as an eider duck’s feather. ‘What can I do?’
She smiled. I could see her teeth in the dim light, a sheen in her eyes. ‘You have done so much, so much. But –’ Her throat made a peculiar growling sound, a cough was building. I tried to help her sit up, but she shook her head. Her chest rattled. She found her kerchief and spat into it. The red was vivid, even in the poor light.
She crushed it into her hand.
‘But – ?’ I urged.
‘I would ask you to take care of Harry when I’m … gone.’
‘Oh, there’s no need for me to do that. You’re not going anywhere –’ I began, then saw the look in her eyes, the hurt that I would pretend.
‘Oh, sweetling,’ I said, my words half-formed. I drew nearer to her, stroking her forehead with my other hand, careful to avoid the oily mark where Father Malcolm had imprinted God’s blessing. I could smell the sickness, the treacly, palling odour. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t say that to prevent you talking any more, but to give myself false hope.’
‘The time for that has passed,’ she said, with a wisdom that belied her years. ‘You will look to him, mistress? Keep him safe? See that he learns his manners, keeps with his words and scribbles?’
‘I will.’
‘You’ll see him become what I know he can –’
‘What’s that, sweetling?’ I was having trouble speaking, seeing.
‘A good man.’
I couldn’t wipe away my tears as I didn’t want to cease holding her. They fell upon Letitia’s face. She didn’t seem to notice.
She twisted her hand beneath mine until she held it. There was no strength in her fingers. ‘Thank you. Bless you, mistress. I thank God the day you found me.’ It was the girls and Stephen who did that, but I didn’t correct her.
‘I thank Him too.’ I did, with all my hurting heart.
Before I could say more, Letitia shut her eyes and drew one long last shaky breath as the bells tolled.
By the time prime was announced, Milda and I had washed and dressed her and brought Harry to see his mother. He stood by the bed, his face and hands clean, his eyes shining with unshed tears. I wasn’t sure at first if he understood. But then he crossed himself, and said a short prayer Lowdy had taught him. Along with the others, he placed a kiss upon her smooth brow, and with his head bowed, allowed himself to be led away, Lowdy on one side, Wace on the other.
In the kitchen a few hours later, I watched as the little boy, usually so full of vigour and energy, traced patterns in the flour on the table. Oriel didn’t chide him as she usually did, nor did Lowdy. Father Malcolm and the doctor had already been and gone. Letitia, now wrapped in a shroud Milda and Oriel had made, would be buried on the morrow, in the graveyard of St Agnes. Bless Father Malcolm.
Unable to settle, I looked at the children. Of the three, two were orphans – and if you didn’t count Ordric Fleshewer, and I certainly didn’t, the other only had a mother. Wace sat fidgeting on Leda’s lap, but he wasn’t the one who needed comfort.
Lowdy’s eyes were swollen, her lips trembled slightly as her gaze focused inward instead of on what was around her. I wondered if Letitia’s death made her think of her own mother. God knew, she’d been taken brutally.
I wiped my eyes, rubbed my face. God give me the strength and knowledge to do justice to their faith and give these women, these heaven-sent children, a decent life.
I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling. Smoke-stained, patterned with mould, it was quite dark, even with the firelight. Mayhap, Lowdy’s mother could see her, Harry’s too – well, they could if the damn ceiling wasn’t so grubby, the room so smoky. I needed to get them out of here.
‘Come on,’ I said, slapping my thigh and rising to my feet. ‘Who wants to come to Cheapside? See who’s in the pillory and if we can find some sweetbreads or honey apples
? The rain’s stopped and there’s no wind.’
Harry, Wace and Lowdy’s heads shot up. Harry began to climb off his stool. Lowdy looked from me to Milda and back again.
‘Do you think it’s right, Alyson?’ asked Milda. ‘We’re in mourning.’
‘Aye. But there’s no rule says we can’t mourn while walking about or eating, is there? And I need to breathe some air that isn’t tainted with death and candles.’
In the end, only Master Stephen, Leda, Yolande, Lowdy, Wace and Harry came with me. Between us, Lowdy and I held Harry’s hands, accepting the blessings and sympathy of all we encountered as we ventured out.
All too soon, we were in the thick of Cheapside. It was bright, noisy and smelly, and the pie and honey-apples purchased were delicious. Even Harry smiled.
We’d veered out of the stream of people, pausing on a corner near the White Bear. We were just opposite the entrance to Honey Lane. It wasn’t deliberate, it just happened. Harry was nagging me to keep going as he wanted to see who was in the pillory – Wace adding his arguments. A great crowd had gathered near the conduit where a preacher was warning about end of days as the New Year approached, telling us that Satan was nigh if we didn’t mend our ways. Leda and Yolande giggled and rolled their eyes. Aye, it was a bit late for the likes of us. I winked at them. I was about to suggest we move when the preacher finished and the mob began to disperse. At that moment, a group of mounted knights ploughed through, uncaring of the mass of people, who scattered before them.
It was just as well we were off the main thoroughfare, otherwise we might have been trampled. There were shouts, shaking fists, stones and clods of earth were thrown. They exploded on the back of the knights’ armour, on the caparisoned horses. Harry was pointing excitedly at the markings on one of the shields, asking me why the horse had a horn coming out of its forehead. I was about to explain when I became aware I was being watched.
Isn’t it strange how that can happen, even in a crowded space? The feeling of eyes upon you, as if ghostly fingers stroked your flesh. I twisted my neck slowly.
Separated from us by a few people and at least two levels, a man and woman were perched on a sill, looking down upon the street. I’d never seen the woman before, but the man … My breath caught. My heart seized.
It was Jankin Binder.
His golden hair curled about a face that was older, but more handsome with some age upon it. He’d a neatly trimmed beard that served to partly bury a puckering on his cheek and frame his sensuous mouth. As our eyes met, the one not hidden behind a dark patch widened and his face paled. I shifted Harry onto my other hip, looking boldly in his direction, then at the woman squeezed next to him.
Pretty, she had dark hair swept up in a fashionable do, a cap perched atop her head. Her nose was straight, her complexion darker than her husband’s. One hand was pressed to the side of her face. No doubt, she was shocked by the behaviour below. Aware he wasn’t paying attention to the fracas, she followed his gaze and saw me.
Her hand slipped away to reveal a terrible dark bruise. It filled the entire side of her face; one eye was swollen shut.
Jankin pushed his wife back inside their room and disappeared, closing the shutters.
‘What are you looking at, mistress?’ asked Leda as Wace and Harry began to get restless. ‘Are you alright?’
I remembered to breathe. ‘Me? I’m fine. Just thinking about marriage – well, husbands to be exact.’
Leda took Wace’s hand firmly, and nodded for Yolande to take the other. Lowdy extracted Harry from my hip. I indicated that Master Stephen should lead the way. ‘You’re not thinking of making an honest woman of yourself, are you?’ Leda asked, nudging Yolande, who laughed.
‘What, me? I’ve only ever been honest, girls. It’s men who make us dishonest.’ I glanced back at the shutters. ‘Trust me.’
Without another word, I followed Master Stephen east along Cheapside and granted the boys’ wish to visit the pillory.
Much to their disappointment, it was empty.
Unable to sleep that night, I rose and pushed open the shutters to stare out beyond the walls of the precinct and into the city. Somewhere out there was Jankin – Jankin and his new, young, and obviously thrashed wife. What had she done to earn his wrath? Probably nothing more than to look askance. Had he continued with that book of his? Poor woman. Sabyn Horsewhyre had not the wiles nor experience to know how to handle Jankin. Lord knew, I hadn’t and I’d been much older.
The moonlight cast pools of silvery light over the square. Residual smoke lingered in the air as well as the mawkish smell of rancid meat. A cat was slinking past a nearby house. A lone bird rose into the air, its outline stark against the pewter sky. It released a plaintive cry and, as it was answered, veered in the direction of its mate. Was it to seek solace or fight? Sweet Jesu, I wanted to fight. Drive a knife into Jankin’s other eye and finish what I’d started all those years ago. At least if he was blind, he would never see me again; he couldn’t be so swift with those bloody fists of his either.
My shoulders slumped as I recognised my bold reckonings for the fantasies they were. Geoffrey had the right of it when he advised me to forget Jankin – and, mostly, I had. What I hadn’t expected was that he’d appear on my doorstep with his new wife – a wife who reminded me of the misery he’d inflicted upon me and all those I loved.
Oh, Alyson.
How was I supposed to push him to the back of my mind now? But I’d made a promise to Letitia – Letitia, who we’d be burying in a few hours. I owed it to her and Harry, not to mention the rest of my makeshift family, to do the right thing.
If only I could take them away from here, from Jankin. What was he doing in London? Was it a visit? Or had he moved to the city?
How I wished I’d my own place, a house of ill-repute away from London, where I could retreat until the man was gone. But that needed more money than I was able to make; more than I’d a right to expect of the girls. I ground my knuckles into my stomach. Money I’d once had, which that bastard now flaunted. Him and his wife …
His wife.
I let go of the sill, rubbing the stiffness out of my fingers.
But I was his wife. I was Jankin’s lawful wedded wife. Which meant Sabyn Horsewhyre was not. In fact, she may believe she was married, but I was living proof she was no better than a whore.
A smile tugged the corner of my mouth.
How much might a proud man like Jankin, a gentlewoman like Sabyn with a family name to protect, pay to stop that information escaping?
My mind began to race. The tiredness and anger that had weighed me down all day sloughed away.
My guess was they’d pay a great deal.
FORTY-FIVE
St Martin’s Le Grand, London
The Year of Our Lord 1399
In the twenty-second year of the reign of Richard II
It was still early when Lowdy returned, walking as fast as she could through the mud, waving to neighbours and vendors who were just setting up their carts and opening their shops. I closed the shutters, ignoring the broken one when it refused to latch, smoothed my apron and went downstairs to meet her.
Only Milda and Oriel were home, the girls and Master Stephen having left for Southwark at first light. Drew had taken Wace and Harry to the college for their lessons soon after.
It was easy to sneak past the kitchen to the front door. Milda and Oriel were thick in conversation, discussing Letitia’s funeral, how kind Father Malcolm had been and how generous the neighbours, who’d arrived on our doorstep afterwards with ale, wine and all manner of vittles to share. Letitia had only been with us a few weeks, but with her ready smile and gratitude, she’d won hearts. Lord knows, she’d captured mine – as had her little boy.
It was for them and the rest of my household I was taking this next step. A step I’d recruited Lowdy to help me make.
Before she reached the door, I had it open, stepping into the cold so we wouldn’t be overheard.
&nbs
p; ‘Well?’ I asked.
She brushed a stray lock from her face. Her eyes were disturbed, her wide mouth downturned. ‘I gave it to him as you asked, Aunty Alyson.’
‘And – what did he say?’
‘I thought at first he was going to strike me –’
‘What?’
‘No, no,’ she flapped her arms to calm me. ‘It’s alright. He didn’t. But he did ball his fists and his face turned crimson. Then he shut the door of the room I’d been asked to wait in and told me to tell you he’d be here before the bells sounded sext – just as you asked.’
I inhaled sharply. It was done. There was no turning back.
‘Who is he, mistress? How do you know him?’
I stared, but without seeing her. How did I explain Jankin? I’d asked Lowdy to deliver the note for the simple reason she didn’t know who he was to me. That, and if I’d sent one of the girls, or even Master Stephen, they likely wouldn’t have been admitted. Oriel would have refused and Milda, well, she would have had me committed to Bethlehem.
Lowdy continued to regard me, a little frown puckering her otherwise smooth brow. When had she grown so tall? Tall and willowy like her mother, according to Leda. Megge had said the same when she saw her at the funeral. Unlike her mother, she would have a respectable trade and be able to marry well. Already, the apothecary’s son in Panyer Alley, whose father did a roaring business, being so close to the Doctors’ Commons and St Paul’s, had expressed interest in her. He was a fine lad, had been up to Oxford for a time.
‘He was someone I knew a long time ago,’ I said.
She was silent a moment. ‘Did Master Geoffrey know him too?’