Chapter 15
If a person or animal is bewitched, their nail parings or hair must be added to their urine, which must be boiled in a closed room, but this will only break the spell if every entrance and hole in the room has been sealed shut.
Lincoln
I drift through the marketplace, looking for excitement. But excitement comes from danger, from not knowing what lies around the corner. There is no danger in being dead. Unseen, I pull an apple from a pile and listen to the shrieks of rage as the whole stack tumbles and bounces into the street and the urchins, who will be blamed, scrabble to snatch them.
I see a butcher cheat a poor old woman by swapping the juicy chop she’d chosen for one that’s as dried-out as old shoe leather. Mavet, my ferret, bites the butcher’s ankle. He gives a startled howl and the knife in his hand slips, slicing his finger. That is funny, but there’s no danger in it, not for me or Mavet, though I can’t say the same for the butcher.
But for the living, danger lurks around every corner, and it wears the most innocent of masks. They seldom recognise it for what it is, until it’s too late.
It was already dark by the time Robert left the Braytheforde and set off for home. A misty rain was falling, clinging in tiny beads to clothing and making the cobbles treacherous. Toiling up the street, Robert, though used to the steep incline, felt a heavy reluctance to face it tonight. The last of the shopkeepers were busy pushing up the counters of their stalls and fastening them over the shop fronts to form shutters. In the rooms over the shops, candles and rush lights burned and the air was thick with peat and woodsmoke, infused with a hundred different cooking smells.
Beggars drifted across the city, like flocks of ragged birds, forsaking their daytime feeding grounds around the markets for their nightly roosts in archways, alleys and church gates. Those citizens lucky enough to have homes, however mean, were hurrying to reach them, anticipating warm fires and steaming suppers. Others, weary after their day’s labours, dragged themselves, in two and threes, towards the taverns and whorehouses.
Robert, aware of his dry throat and growling belly, was sorely tempted to join them. He knew he should return home to sit with his wife, but each time he saw her, it only increased his sense of helplessness and failure. Watching her cry in pain, and being unable to relieve it, was more than he could bear. He’d always been able to provide the best for her, had prided himself on it, but no matter how much he spent on cures and remedies, it was all useless, as if Edith’s sickness mocked the wealth he had worked so hard for all these years. Just as he had been unable to take away her grief at losing her babies, he could do nothing now to help her, nothing. He felt rejected, shut out from her suffering, just as he had done when she had been grieving for her lost babies. He was her husband: he should be able to make her world safe, but he couldn’t.
As if his legs had made their own decision, Robert found he had turned aside from his usual route and was wandering down Hungate, without any thought as to where he was going. He had almost reached the last house when he stopped. A small familiar carving of a horned imp grinned down at him from the arched door lintel.
He found himself picturing Catlin’s sweet face, her smile, which greeted him whenever she saw him standing on her threshold. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had smiled in his house, much less on seeing him. A brief visit couldn’t hurt. It was only common courtesy, since he was passing, to enquire if all was well. He wouldn’t stay. He wouldn’t even sit down.
Robert stared up and down the length of Hungate. Save for a couple of stray dogs snarling at each other as they fought for possession of some scrap, the darkened street was empty. The shutters over Maud’s windows were tightly fastened against the cold, though that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have an eye pressed to the crack. With one final glance around to ensure that no one was abroad, Robert rapped at the door.
Diot flung it open. ‘Thank Heaven you’ve come, Master Robert. The mistress’ll be so relieved, she’s in such a state.’
‘Is she ill?’ Robert said in alarm.
He didn’t wait for an answer. He squeezed past the stout old woman into the small hall. Catlin was sitting by the fire, both hands clasped around a steaming beaker of mulled ale. Her face was pale, her lips dry.
‘Robert, thank God. I’ve been so worried.’
Robert crossed the room in a couple of strides and, with some difficulty, knelt in front of her and clasped his hands around her own. ‘What is it? What’s happened? You look as if you’ve seen an apparition.’
He could feel Catlin’s fingers trembling beneath his. Even the heat from the beaker didn’t seem to be warming them. He took the cup from her and gently chafed her hands.
‘I thought he’d harm you, Robert. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘Who? Who would harm me?’ Robert was starting to feel as frightened as she looked. His rent-collector had been viciously murdered. Was someone now threatening to do the same to him?
‘A friar . . . A dreadful man, with a horrible voice. He came begging at the door. I gave him what I could spare . . . but then he spoke your name, Robert. He seemed to be looking for you. I slammed the door at once.’
She clutched at his shoulder. ‘Oh, Robert, I was so afraid for you and then just now Leonia went out into the yard and she found . . . she found the puppy you gave her lying dead. See for yourself.’
Reluctant though he was to leave Catlin, Robert lumbered to his feet and trudged out into the dark courtyard. The fine rain swirled in the wind, but Leonia seemed oblivious to the cold or damp. She was crouching on the wet stones prodding something that lay at her feet. Robert took a lantern from the wall and held it over the dark mass on the ground. The glassy eyes of the dog glinted in the lamplight, but he could see at once there was no life in them. He’d no desire to touch the creature, but he steeled himself to grasp a cold paw between finger and thumb and roll it over onto its back. He held the lantern lower. A dark wet stain covered the belly and throat of the dog, but it wasn’t rain that had soaked its fur: it was blood.
Leonia pointed. ‘Someone must have stabbed him. They did it four times, I counted. Look!’
She spread the bloody fur with her little hand and poked her finger into one of the deep puncture wounds in the puppy’s throat.
‘Don’t touch it!’ Robert snapped, and Leonia looked up at him in mild surprise, her fingers smeared with scarlet.
Robert was startled, not just by the savagery of the attack, but by the calm in the child’s voice, as if she were more curious than upset. He had no time for children who cried at the slightest thing but, having no daughters of his own, he had always assumed that girls were given to shrieking at the sight of a mouse, let alone a viciously slaughtered pet.
He pulled the child to her feet, glancing uneasily around him in the darkness, but the gate leading to the lane beyond was barred and the little yard too small for anyone to be concealed in it. ‘We’d better get you inside, child. You shouldn’t be out here alone, not . . . after this.’
At that moment, Diot came hurrying out and enveloped Leonia in her arms, holding her tightly against her great breasts as she bustled the girl towards the door. ‘Upstairs with you and I’ll bring you a nice posset to help you sleep.’ She turned back to Robert, shaking her head. ‘I thought the fox was wicked enough, Master Robert, but what’s the world coming to if they can do that to a defenceless dog?’
‘He wasn’t defenceless, Diot,’ Leonia protested. ‘He could bite. He bit me hard!’
‘That makes it all the worse, then,’ Diot said. ‘If they can stab a dog that can fight back, what chance do we have? We’ll all be murdered in our beds.’
Robert, somewhat shaken, made his way back into the hall where Catlin was still hunched by the fire. He went to the laver that stood in the corner, rubbing his hands in the water over and over again as if he was trying to wash away the image of the child’s blood-stained fingers.
The old woman’s words at last penetrated hi
s mind and he turned towards Catlin. ‘Diot said something about a fox.’
Catlin rose and handed him a linen cloth to dry his dripping hands. ‘A few weeks ago she found a sack with a dead fox in it. It had been decapitated, and its muzzle was tied with periwinkle, or so she swears. She was convinced it was some kind of a death-threat. Edward persuaded me it was just boys playing pranks, but after today . . . Robert, I think Diot might have been right. It was a warning. It must have been the friar who did this. But I don’t understand. Why would this man threaten you, Robert? Has he a grudge against you?’
Robert raked his hair distractedly. ‘There are always men who think they had the worst of some business deal, but I can’t recall having any dealings with a friar. They don’t sell wool and they don’t have the money to buy the quality of cloth that I sell. Nor would they wear it.’ His frown deepened. ‘But if it’s the same man who was hanging about the warehouse a few weeks back, he may not even be in Holy Orders. I think he’s one of a gang of thieves. We’ve had a lot of goods stolen over the past months and one of my men was found . . .’ He trailed off, realising he would terrify Catlin even more if she learned that his rent-collector had been murdered. ‘You saw the man at the warehouse, the first day we met. Was it the same man you saw tonight?’
She gnawed her lip. ‘I didn’t see his face at the warehouse, or even properly tonight – his hood was drawn low – but I’m sure the robe was the same. And I’ve seen someone dressed like that several times, here on this street. It’s distinctive, not like the robes of the other friars who beg in Lincoln. He obviously knows you come here. Perhaps he’s trying to trap you, follow you into some alley in the dark.’
Robert sank into a chair. Suppose this man and his gang had murdered the rent-collector not simply for the money he had been carrying but as a ghastly warning to Robert himself. Now he’d unwittingly brought grave danger to the door of this defenceless woman. He’d never forgive himself if any harm came to her or to Leonia.
‘I’ll report this to Sheriff Thomas at once, tonight, and insist his men hunt down this fiend. First thing tomorrow I intend to hire a burly manservant for you, Mistress Catlin, one who knows how to use a weapon. I shall pay his wages myself.’
Seeing she was about to protest, he wagged a finger sternly. ‘No buts, Mistress Catlin, he will stay in the house at least until that felon is caught. He and your son should be able to fend off any attack. But you must not go out alone, not even to the market. Promise me that.’
‘I’ll see to it that my two precious angels are not left alone for a minute, you can be sure of that,’ Diot said, shuffling in with a rabbit pie and a jug of wine. She set them on a small table next to Robert’s chair. ‘Now, Master Robert, there’s nothing like a good wedge of pie to settle the stomach after a shock.’
Catlin smiled wanly at Robert as the maid waddled out again. ‘Diot thinks food is the answer to every problem in the world, bless her.’
She rose, came over to the table and cut Robert a generous slice. ‘But it’s you I’m concerned about, Robert. It is you who needs the guard, not me. You should take an armed linkman with you when you walk abroad at night.’
Robert grimaced. ‘Edith said as much some weeks ago.’
‘And how is the poor creature? Is she any better?’
Not for the first time Robert marvelled at Catlin’s generosity of spirit. There weren’t many women in the world who, after such an upsetting encounter, would show concern for another’s troubles. ‘Alas, she grows weaker each day. Hugo Bayus keeps trying new remedies, but I see no improvement.’
‘I’m sure he will find the right physic soon. You must try not to worry, my poor sweeting, but I can see that you do. You are exhausted. Is this news of the Lombard merchants vexing you?’
‘How the devil do you know about that?’ Robert stared at her. She never stopped amazing him. ‘I have only just learned of it myself.’
Catlin smiled. ‘I passed through the beast market this morning. I heard one of the farmers talking about the Lombards trying to buy fleeces before the shearing. Is it true?’
‘It is, devil take them.’ Robert drained his goblet and set it down hard. ‘God’s blood, those foreigners are stealing our own English wool from under our noses. As if we weren’t having a hard enough time of it already, with the Flanders weavers in rebellion.’
Catlin slid out of her chair and came to stand behind Robert, tenderly massaging his temples. ‘Then there is only one thing to be done. You must go out on the road yourself. You know this shire better than any Lombard merchant. You told me once you could tell which fleeces had come from which farm by looking at them. Buy them before the Lombards discover them. I’m sure the abbots and farmers would sooner deal with an honest Englishman than a foreigner, who’s likely to sail away with their fleeces and their money.’
‘Would that I could!’ Robert caught her soft little hand and kissed it. ‘But with Edith so sick, I can’t leave her and I can’t spare Jan to go. He’s enough to deal with here. There’s been some trouble with the tenants.’
‘Then Jan must stay and you must go. It would be safer in any case for you to be out of Lincoln, if this mad friar is watching you. He could hardly follow you if you were on horseback, and the sheriff will catch him long before you return.’
As Robert opened his mouth to explain again why that was impossible, she pressed her finger to his lips. ‘I will take care of Edith while you are gone. I nursed my dear mother and father for many years before they died. I’m not without skill in the sickroom. Besides, a woman much prefers another of her own sex to be with her when she’s ill. There are certain needs that no woman can confide to a man. And no wife wants her husband to see her when she’s not at her best.’
Robert, his headache easing and his whole body relaxing into a blissful stupor under her expert touch, had no doubt as to Catlin’s skill. And it would certainly give him peace of mind to think that she was safely under his roof, with Tenney and Beata to watch over her, for his house was far more secure than this one.
He shook himself. What was he thinking? Edith was so unreasonably and insanely jealous of Catlin that he feared she would sooner throw herself down the stairs than let Catlin into her house.
‘You’re an angel, my dear, but I’m afraid Edith would never agree. She’s allowed herself to be persuaded by those with venomous tongues that you and I . . . that we . . . are more than business acquaintances.’
‘As indeed we are, for I’ve come to look upon you as a friend, a very dear friend, as I hope you regard me.’
She moved to the table, refilling the two goblets with wine. She handed one to him and stood before him, looking down at him with a sad smile. Even through her gown, he could feel the soft warmth of her leg pressing against his thigh.
‘But, Robert, we know we’ve done nothing to reproach ourselves for, nothing that would give truth to the lies she’s heard or imagined in her poor fevered brain.’ She reached down and gently caressed his cheek. ‘I’d never betray one of my own sex. I’ve felt the pain of such treachery only too sharply myself, as well you know.’
It was beyond Robert’s imagining that any man lucky enough to have been blessed with such a woman as Catlin for a wife could ever betray her in another woman’s bed. Not for the first time since she had confided in him, he wished Warrick still lived so that he could thrash him to death with a horsewhip. He deserved no less.
‘I’ve told my wife a thousand times that our friendship is entirely chaste and innocent, but she refuses to believe me.’
‘Then the solution is simple,’ Catlin said. ‘We will not tell her who I am. You will explain to Edith that you have asked a gentlewoman to come as her companion to stay with her while you’re away on business. She’s never seen me. I will use some other name. Why should she suspect? It’s a deception, I know, but a harmless one and for her own good.’
Robert beamed at her. Then his face clouded. ‘But Jan has met you. He’d recognise you.’
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br /> ‘Of course he would. He’s a dear boy and he’ll be relieved that someone is there to care for his mother. I think he’ll be delighted you have shown enough faith in him to leave him in charge of the warehouse. I saw for myself that he longs for a looser rein when he is handling your business affairs and he will see this as a way to earn your trust and prove himself as a man. He’ll not want to let you down. And with me there to relieve him of the worry of his mother, he’ll be able to spend all the hours he needs on the business.’ She clapped her hands as if an idea had just occurred to her. ‘Why don’t you let me speak to Jan myself, tomorrow, at the warehouse? I’m sure I can help him see that this is the best solution for both of you.’
Robert caught her hand and kissed the soft, warm palm. ‘I’m sure you can. You, my dear, could persuade a man to anything.’
Catlin bent and brushed her lips against his forehead in a chaste kiss. He could smell the rose perfume between her breasts and it took all his willpower not to pull her into his lap and enfold her in his arms.
‘That’s settled then, Robert. Who knows? By the time you return, Edith will have learned to love me as a sister and realise there were no grounds for her suspicions.’
Chapter 16
Whoever steps upon the grave of an unbaptised child will be infected with grave-scab, which some call grave-merels. His skin shall burn, his breathing be laboured, his limbs tremble, and soon he will die.
Beata
I thought it a queer business for a man to bring his mistress into his house to take care of his wife, and I had half a mind to say something to Mistress Edith, but the dear soul was so sick, I didn’t want to add to her troubles. As it was, she fretted herself half to death whenever Master Robert was away, one moment afeared he’d been robbed and murdered, the next that he might be in the company of Mistress Catlin or some other woman. Her fancies had grown worse since she’d taken to her bed for she’d little else to think about, save where her husband and sons might be at any hour. She imagined a hundred deaths lying in wait for them while she was not there to protect them.
The Vanishing Witch Page 12