by Andy Croft
Perhaps the friar was right. Perhaps God was about to punish the world.
Chapter 8
Heaven
On the fifth day the rain stopped and the sun came out. The sky was cloudless for the first time in weeks. Will said that they should reach London by noon. Adam was so excited he stopped worrying about the blisters on his feet.
In the distance, Adam could see a line of church spires pointing to the sky. Bells were ringing in the sunshine. It looked like the shining city of heaven.
‘It must be Jerusalem!’ he exclaimed.
‘Welcome to London,’ laughed Will. ‘Some people may think it a kind of paradise. But people who live here are not angels, little brother, as you will discover if you don’t watch out.’
He pulled Adam off the road as a line of armed men thundered past on horseback, their armour and weapons jangling behind them.
‘You wanted to see London? Well here it is!’ Will had only visited London once before, but he wanted to show Adam how well he knew it.
‘Look! That spire is St Paul’s. Over there is the great Guild Hall. The great Tower is in the east. And that is Westminster Abbey to the west. Father says that there are more than a hundred churches in London.’
‘They must be very godly people, to need all those churches,’ said Adam.
Will shrugged. ‘They may be godly for all I know. They are certainly a goodly number. It is said that there are more than sixty-thousand people within those walls.’
Adam couldn’t imagine such a big number.
Will tried to explain. ‘You know the chestnut-tree behind our house? Now think of the leaves on that tree. That’s how many people there are in London. Anyway, you will soon see what I mean.’
The road was much busier now. There were merchants on pack-horses, drovers with sheep, friars in richly painted carriages and travellers on foot like themselves. Adam had never seen so many people before. Some were leaving the city, some were arriving.
Soon, they reached the city walls. As they went beneath the city gate Adam looked up. There was a row of human heads stuck on spikes. Each wore an expression of dreadful agony.
‘What – I mean, who are they?’ asked Adam.
‘Probably cutthroats and cutpurses,’ said Will, trying to sounding knowledgeable. Adam put his hand to his throat, as though expecting to find it slit open.
As soon as they were through Newgate the noise hit them. It was like a farmyard of hungry animals, all cackling and grunting and barking and clucking at the same time. The narrow streets were full of people and horses, carts and wagons. People were selling and buying, laughing and arguing. Everyone seemed to be shouting at the tops of their voices.
Traders, carters, merchants, and street-sellers called out to each other. A jolly-looking woman with no teeth tried to sell them some ham. Dogs and grubby-looking children chased each other round the streets.
And the smells! The London streets were full of the smells of hot food cooking, roast meats and hot chestnuts. They passed several noisy alehouses, a fishmonger, two bakers and a butcher’s shop selling hot and cold meats. There were other smells too – horse-dung, smoky bonfires, human sweat and human waste. Cows decorated the muddy lanes with cowpats. Two men were sweeping the open sewer that ran down the streets towards the river. On Tyburn hill a blackened corpse swung on the gallows in the cold morning air.
Lord Mandeville’s house was somewhere by the river, near the Haywharf. Will wanted to go there at once, but Adam insisted on looking round the city first. They spent the afternoon exploring, amazed by the continuous hustle and bustle of the Londoners. They followed the narrow streets crowded with wagons and handcarts carrying spices and cloth from the river. From every side came the clamour and stink of the city’s workshops – leather-workers, goldsmiths, brewers, soap-makers, smiths, dye-houses, glove-makers, hat-makers, butchers and bakers. In some places the houses above them were so close they were almost touching.
Eventually, they joined the great crowd down by the river. ‘The river Thames!’ said Will proudly, as though he owned it. The wide grey waters of the Thames were busy with boats of every shape and size. There were long barges carrying grain, small boats ferrying people and tall ocean-going ships bringing goods from the Baltic and Italy. Their fine sails shone in the bright sunshine. Wooden cranes lined the riverbank, where an army of men were loading and unloading barges.
‘Look, Will!’ shouted Adam.
‘What? What’s the matter?’
‘There, on the church roof,’ whispered Adam, ‘there’s dozens of them!’
‘Dozens of what?’
‘Goblins!’
Will looked to where Adam was pointing. Then he burst out laughing. ‘They’re statues,’ he said. Adam looked again.
‘I thought you weren’t scared of goblins anymore!’ teased Will, pulling what he imagined was a scary face.
‘I’m not, it’s just that…’
‘Never mind,’ said Will. ‘I don’t know about you but I could do with something to eat. This city makes a man hungry. And thirsty. Come on.’
They went into an alehouse near the river. Inside it was dark and crowded. It smelled thickly of stale beer. Some men by the door were arguing about something. At a nearby table a group of old men were playing a game of dice. On the far side of the crowded room a woman shrieked with laughter at a joke. Will bought drinks and two hot barleycakes and they sat down at a table in the corner.
‘That’s better,’ said Will, supping his ale. ‘I needed that. My feet are feeling better already.’ He took his boots off and began to rub his feet.
Adam nibbled at his barleycake and smiled to himself. Here he was in London, at last! He imagined what Sam and Ned and the other lads in Brampton would say when he told them about it. London! The greatest city on earth! Just then the door opened and three men pushed their way into the room.
‘Don’t look now,’ whispered Adam.
‘Why?’ asked Will, turning round.
‘You see those three men who just came in?’ said Adam, ‘behind you, over by the fire. Don’t turn round but the one on the right has only one hand.’
‘So?’
‘It looks like the one-handed man we met a couple of nights ago.’
‘It can’t be the same man.’
‘How many one-handed men do you know?’ said Adam. ‘Don’t you think it’s strange that he is here? Do you think he’s followed us?’
‘Why would he want to do that?’ said Will, putting his boots back on. ‘Anyway, first thing tomorrow morning we are going to deliver the documents to Mandeville’s steward. Then we are setting off for home.’
Will saw the look on his brother’s face. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell Father not to be angry with you. I’m glad you came with me.’ He ruffled his brother’s hair, ‘even if you do see goblins and one-handed thieves everywhere.’
Adam laughed. The alehouse was getting busy now and people pressed up against their table.
‘Anyway,’ said Will, ‘forget about your one-handed friend and drink up. We need to find somewhere to spend the night.’
Adam reached under the table for the satchel. He felt himself go cold. It couldn’t be! He bent down to look under the bench. The satchel was gone. And so was the one-handed man and his friends.
Chapter 9
Hue and Cry
Will and Adam ran out of the ale-house. It was cold outside. Everything seemed suddenly quiet. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. Then they heard footsteps, running away.
‘Stop thief!’ yelled Will.
They ran down the alley in the direction of the footsteps. The alley led to a small square. It was empty. Will hesitated, then he turned right. The footsteps were just ahead of them. They turned left, left again, then right. A dead end. They ran back the way they had come, then down some steps and under a stone archway. The footsteps had stopped.
‘He can’t have disappeared!’ said Adam. ‘He must be here somewhere. Perhaps
somebody in the ale-house knows where he lives. Let’s re-trace our steps.’
Will shook his head. ‘How are we going to do that? Let’s face it. He could be anywhere by now. We’ve lost him. And we’re lost. Anyway, we don’t even know that your one-handed man has stolen the satchel. It could have been anyone in the ale-house.’
‘Well what are we going to do?’ said Adam. ‘We can’t go home until we have given the letters to Lord Mandeville.’
‘But we can’t go to Lord Mandeville’s house without the letters!’ cried Will. ‘Mandeville’s men will say we stole them. And they will arrest us both as runaways. We don’t have the letter giving me permission to be away from the village any more. They would at least give us a bad whipping. Or we might even be branded with a hot iron as vagrants.’
The curfew bells of St Bride broke into their thoughts. The four gates of the city – Aldgate, Cripplegate, Ludgate and Newgate – were being locked for the night and the taverns were closing. All the houses in the city were supposed to put out their fires. It also meant that everyone had to be indoors. In a few minutes the Watch would be out patrolling the streets, arresting anyone who was not at home.
Where could they go? The satchel had contained all their money as well as Mandeville’s letters. They knew no-one in this strange city and they were a long way from home. Adam tried not to cry at the thought of his mother cooking over the warm fire. Why did he ever leave Brampton? London suddenly seemed a terrifying and friendless place.
They slept that night in a stable behind St Paul’s. They had to share the straw with the horses. Several times Adam was woken by a rat chewing at his boots.
They spent the next few days by the river, hoping to find the one-handed man. Without those letters they were lost. Adam laughed bitterly when he thought how disappointed the thief must have been to discover that he had stolen a list of sheep and cows. At night they slept in the stable but the rats kept them awake. In the mornings they hung around the markets, stealing food when they could. One day, Will was almost caught trying to steal a pancake from a baker’s shop. The man chased him out of the shop but he escaped down the narrow lanes off Bread Street.
The street-sellers’ cries of ‘Hot pies, hot!’ and ‘Good pigs and geese!’ did nothing to lessen their hunger. Everywhere they saw the locked doors of the houses and the shut faces of the shopkeepers. It was terrible to be hungry in a city of so much wealth. Most nights they went to sleep hungry. But sometimes the poor, living in their wooden tenements among the cesspits and open sewers, shared their scraps of food with them.
One wet morning they crept into a church to escape the rain. Inside, the beautiful windows were lit by the winter sunshine. There were golden crosses behind the altar-screen and painted icons on the walls. The carved saints on the screen looked up to heaven. But God did not seem to hear Adam’s prayers. Outside, the threatening faces of the goblin-statues on the roof seemed to glare at him accusingly.
Later that day, they found themselves outside one of the great three-storey houses of the rich.
It was built of stone and timber, with glass windows. Behind the house was a walled orchard. There were still some apples on the trees. Adam climbed the wall and jumped down into the garden. Before he could get to his feet, two large dogs came running across the orchard towards him. As he scrambled back over the wall he could hear shouts behind him, ‘Stop! Stop thief!’ Will was already running down the street. Adam ran after him. Hearing the uproar of the hue and cry, several of the people in the market tried to stop them. A tall thin man in a yellow hat grabbed Adam by the arm. Adam pulled his arm free and ducked under the man’s legs. He was away again before the man could turn. Adam ran down a side-street, and then into a narrow alley. He could hear the footsteps and the shouts of ‘Stop thief!’ getting closer behind him.
Running out onto Watling Street, Adam spotted Will disappearing into a crowd gathered on the corner. Adam slipped among them and wriggled his way to the front, next to Will. A young woman was lying in the mud and filth of the gutter. She was holding a small child in her arms.
‘Have pity,’ she was crying. ‘Have pity, for the hand of God has touched me!’
No-one moved to help her. Adam went towards her – then he drew back in horror. The woman’s face was covered in black boils. Her dress was stained and her eyes were wide with pain. Her baby lay completely still.
‘God may have touched her,’ said a dirty-faced boy in the crowd, ‘but no-one else will.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’ asked Will.
‘It’s the Great Death come to London…’
Chapter 10
Hell
‘I’m Rob,’ said the grubby-faced boy. He turned to a pretty girl with short, fair hair, cut like a boy’s. ‘This is my sister, Eve. The hue and cry we just heard – were they looking for you?’
Adam grinned. ‘I was only trying to steal an apple,’ he said. ‘I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.’
‘You had better come with us,’ said Eve.
They took Adam and Will to an empty warehouse near the river. Rob climbed onto a wall, opened the shutters and climbed through. Adam and Will followed. Inside there were a dozen other children. Some were sleeping. Some were playing dice round a small fire. There was a strong smell of decaying sweetness in the air.
‘Cinnamon,’ explained Rob. ‘This used to be a store for spices shipped in from the Indies. Nutmeg, ginger, cloves and the like. Rich people like spices with their meat.’
The thought of food made Will’s belly ache. ‘Do you live here?’ he asked.
Rob pulled a turnip out of the fire, took a bite out of it and gave it to Will. ‘Peter over there is a runaway from Kent,’ he said. ‘Hal here was an apprentice until he hit his master, who beat him every day. Most of us have no parents. Our father went to France to fight for the king. That was three years ago. When Mother died we came to London to seek our fortunes.’ He pulled a face. ‘Some of us work down by the river, pushing barrows and running messages, but most of the time we live on what we can steal.’
The children agreed that Will and Adam could stay with them while they looked for the one-handed man. Rob and Eve even offered to help them. They soon taught Will and Adam how to find their way around the maze of narrow alleys near the river.
But, as they made their way through the city streets over the next few days, they realised that something strange was happening. It began as whispers, then turned into gossip. The gossip became rumours and then the rumours became fact.
A murderer was abroad and stalking the city. No-one knew where the plague was going to strike next. Some said it was evil spirits in the air. Others said the city’s water had been poisoned. But no-one knew for sure.
Most people died within three or four days of catching the plague. If they were lucky, death came faster. One minute you were walking and talking. The next you had a chill and a fever, then you felt stiff and your fingers started to tingle. Blotches appeared on your skin, and burning and painful boils grew under your armpits. Finally, you fell into a fit of vomiting and spitting blood, before falling unconscious.
The London streets were now deserted. The shops were empty and the great houses were abandoned. The only crowds to be seen on the streets were the endless funeral processions of the rich. The only music was the sound of passing bells. A hooded priest would lead the way, carrying a cross. Behind him followed the mourners holding candles. The poor, of course, couldn’t afford funerals.
Red crosses began appearing on doors. This meant that the plague lived inside the house. Every morning, the rakers walked the streets, collecting the bodies of the newly dead and taking them away by cart. Men whose job used to be sweeping the filth off the streets, now had the job of clearing away the dead. Stinking sewage began to gather in the streets. The smell was revolting and rats appeared in broad daylight.
The Thames was quiet now. Most of the river-traffic had gone. In place of the proud sailing ships, they could see bodie
s floating in the river down towards the sea. Only the alehouses remained busy. Maybe people thought that drinking would protect them from the plague. Or maybe they just wanted to forget their troubles.
Winter set in and the days grew colder. Adam, Will and their friends were not the only hungry children in London. Every day more children lost their parents to the plague. Every day more parents buried their children. There were beggars in the streets, asking for alms. Some were ill, most were just hungry. Many of the workshops had shut down because their masters had left London to escape the plague. Every morning there was a queue of fine carriages waiting to pass through Newgate. The richest families were leaving London.
Nobody knew how to stop the plague. Some doctors tried lancing the boils and rubbing them with butter, onion and garlic. Some people tried taking arsenic, lily root or dried toads. Others recommended putting live frogs on the buboes and boils. But nothing made any difference.
The children saw a plague doctor once, walking briskly down the deserted streets. He was wearing a long, black, hooded robe and a black mask. There were eye-holes in the mask which were covered with glass. Instead of a nose, the doctor had a long hollow beak. Adam thought he looked a black hooded crow.
Soon, there were too many bodies to bury. The churchyards were full. Two hundred graves were dug every day in the new cemetery in Smithfield. But it still wasn’t enough. They started throwing bodies into a huge burning pit. At night the foul-smelling flames and smoke from the fires lit up the cold winter sky, like a vision of Hell.