15 The Sempster's Tale

by Frazer, Margaret

  Daved stopped with a sickened look, as if he had bitten down on something foul. Frevisse took only a bare second to see where his thought went next, and with that same sickened feeling that showed on his face, she said, “Then he could have cut those marks on Hal’s body deliberately to…”

  ‘… to set people thinking about secret Jews in London, not only to confuse who had done the murder but to make me wary about returning any time soon. Thinking that if Anne despaired of me, she might be willing to him.“ Anger, not there before, darkened Daved’s voice. ”If Brother Michael hadn’t been there, Raulyn would have named the cuts as Hebrew himself. What he didn’t know was Father Tomas’ secret. That Father Tomas would say they were false.“

  ‘But how would Raulyn know anything of Hebrew letters at all? Even enough to make false ones.“ But she answered her own question before Daved could. ”Books. A picture of Moses with the tablets of the law with a few marks on them meant to be Hebrew. Or Melchisedek with a scroll. I’ve seen such. But if he wants Anne, why not simply kill you?“

  Daved’s laugh was brief and bitter. “And lose the profits that come his way through me? I think not. Even if I no longer came myself because of what’s passed, I’m his way to others who would come in my stead, and he knows it. He wouldn’t want me dead, only out of his way.”

  ‘But Hal’s death,“ Frevisse said slowly, thinking as she went. ”It didn’t have to be the boy he killed and then marked. It could have been anyone. No.“ She found the objection to that. ”It had to be someone he would be called to see, so he could point out the marks were Jewish, lest no one else did. That Brother Michael happened to be there saved him the trouble. But one of his own servants dead would have done as well. Would have been better, given what Hal’s death has done to Pernell.“ She paused, thinking it further, then said more slowly, ”Maybe we should suppose the marks were merely a ’benefit‘ added to another purpose altogether.“

  ‘With any secretly done death the question always is who profits from it. The question here, then, is how would Raulyn profit from Hal’s death if there was more to it than being rid of me? From all I know, only Lucie profits from Hal’s death. The inheritance that was split between them will now be all hers.“

  ‘Does Raulyn profit from that? No,“ she answered for herself. ”Mistress Hercy has already told me how that stands. Hal’s death hasn’t gained Raulyn anything, and it cost him the profit he would have had from selling Hal’s marriage.“

  ‘Come to it,“ Daved said slowly, ”seen from one way, Brother Michael stood likely to have the most profit from Hal’s death. Hunting down Jews was far more to his pleasure than pursuing only Lollards.“

  With distaste and disbelief, Frevisse said stiffly, “You don’t truly think he killed and mutilated the boy.”

  ‘No. If we’re going to so far afield for possibilities, we might as well consider if there’s a Lollard in the household here took this chance to be rid of him.“

  That being a thought she had already had, Frevisse granted unwillingly, “That’s possible.”

  ‘But again, there’s the matter of the gate. Of being sure of it.“

  ‘Unless it was one of the men during his turn at guard there. There was at least one besides Pers, after Master Naylor.“

  ‘But he couldn’t have been sure of anything here in the house,“ Daved said. ”All his hazard would lie this way instead of the other and still be large. We’re brought back to the only one who could be sure both ways.“

  To Raulyn Grene.

  Chapter 24

  “We’re back to gain,” Frevisse said. “What does Raulyn gain by Brother Michael’s death?”

  ‘First, chance for me to escape,“ Daved said readily. ”He gets rid of me. Second, safety from any stir of trouble over Jews because who is there left to raise it?“ ”Myself. The Naylors. We know.“

  ‘But Raulyn can count on your silence because you have a secret to keep, too.“

  Barely, Frevisse held back from raising a hand to the hidden gold. He was right—she would not dare draw attention to herself that might bring on questions about why she was in London.

  ‘For the same reason, you’ll order your men to silence,“ Daved said. ”But even if they made report to the bishop despite of you, how interested—with all else that’s happening—is he likely to be over alleged Jews no longer here? Raulyn would claim he knew nothing of what we were and might, at most, be fined for his ignorance. The friar would never have settled for so little, would have raised far more trouble. Now he won’t.“

  ‘Daved,“ Anne said from just behind them. With their backs mostly to the room and intent in their talk, they had not noted her rise and cross to them, Daved’s doublet folded over her arm. They turned to her, and worriedly she said, ”You’re near to dropping. You need to sleep. Go to bed. I’ll mend your doublet the while.“

  Frevisse was a little ashamed she had been so in talk she had not noted how near to dropping he looked, and she said, “Mistress Blakhall says aright. You should rest a time. The questions we need next answered I think are for me to do.”

  Before Daved could begin an answer, Raulyn flung into the room exclaiming, “We’ve got the barriers up at either end of the lane and at the alley end, and there’s word Cade’s not getting yesterday’s welcome at the Guildhall. Sure as sinning, there’s going to be trouble.” He sat on the edge of his desk, catching his breath and grinning. “Come to it, it looks to be trouble breaking out all over London. I’m for the streets to see what’s happening. Who’s with me?”

  ‘Raulyn, you can’t!“ Anne said. ”What of Pernell?“

  ‘You’ll keep her better company than I can. Daved, you’ll come?“

  Before Anne could protest that, Daved said evenly, “I’ll stay here and see to things.”

  Raulyn looked to Master Naylor. “What about you?”

  ‘My charge is here,“ Master Naylor replied as evenly as Daved had; and added at Dickon, ”Nor you’re not going anywhere, either.“

  ‘You’re a dull lot!“ Raulyn laughed. ”I’m away then.“ And was gone.

  For one long, blank moment no one did more than stare after him, Frevisse trying to match what he outward seemed to what she feared he inward was, before Anne said wonderingly, “He’s eager for it.”

  ‘His blood-lust is up,“ Daved said grimly. ”A liking for sight of other men’s blood. Crowmer and Lord Saye provided it yesterday. Raulyn is hoping for more today.“ Ignoring Anne’s stare at him, he said to Master Naylor, ”With Master Grene gone, it will be his senior journeyman Wyett who should take over the household and watch. If we—“

  ‘You’re not fit to be doing aught,“ Master Naylor said bluntly. ”All you look good for is to fall over. Better you do it on a bed. Wyett and I have been dealing together these two nights and a day past. We’ll see to things, both here and with the household’s share at the street barriers.“

  ‘Good then,“ Daved said. ”I’ll go fall onto a bed, since everyone wishes it.“ And because he probably could not keep to his feet much longer anyway.

  He and Master Naylor were much of a kind, Frevisse thought with surprise. Two well-witted men who might have come to friendship if things were otherwise, but because of their faiths’ necessities they would deal only distantly with one another and never with full trust and surety between them. A waste and loss it seemed to her.

  But then see what waste and loss were come to Anne and Daved because they had put aside all the bars there should have been between them.

  Frevisse had a sharp, bitter longing never to have been part of any of this. There was too much hopelessly wrong to it all.

  But Master Naylor and Daved were trading curt nods of agreement; and saying, “Come,” at Dickon, Master Naylor started to go, except Frevisse said quickly, “I’d have Dickon with me, ready to hand if I need send to you about anything. He can keep watch at the parlor windows meanwhile.”

  ‘Good enough, my lady,“ Master Naylor said with a bow and left. />
  Beside her, Daved said to Anne with a smile and very low, for Dickon not to hear, “Best you go with Dame Frevisse for now. I would not sleep the better having you with me.” He shifted his look, less smiling, to Frevisse. “If you mean to do more, take care.”

  ‘I mean to talk to Mistress Hercy, maybe others. That’s all.“ Because they needed to know more to be sure of Raulyn’s guilt or innocence, and Mistress Hercy was somewhere to start.

  ‘Take care at even that,“ Daved said.

  ‘I will. May you rest well.“

  He bowed his thanks.

  They all went from the solar together, Dickon following, and parted company in the screens passage. Anne’s gaze followed Daved as he went away toward the narrow stairs at the passage’s far end until Frevisse said, “Come, Mistress Blakhall,” and led the way up the parlor stairs, Dickon behind them, enough rebellion in his footfall to tell how little he wanted to be with them, but that was his ill fortune.

  No one was in the parlor, but someone had put away Frevisse’s bedding and the bedchamber’s door stood open, and Anne said, “I’ll go to Pernell. Both Mistress Hercy and Lucie surely need respite.”

  ‘So do you,“ Frevisse said, because Anne’s face was as marred by grey weariness as Daved Weir’s, however much outwardly she was again the calmly capable woman Frevisse had first met.

  ‘I mean to fall on Pernell’s pity and let her tend to me for a time. It will serve to turn her mind from other things,“ Anne said with a wan smile and went away.

  Frevisse valued that calm the more, knowing what it cost her. That she was holding so steady through this dark and fear-ridden while told much about her courage and good sense. And deepened Frevisse’s pity that she and Daved Weir should be forbidden to each another and that their love had brought their bodies and souls into danger of death and damnation. Though set against the darkness of heart and mind of whoever had killed the boy Hal and savaged his body and then struck down and killed Brother Michael, Anne and Daved’s love seemed far less worthy of damnation, no matter that Daved was Jew. Better a man of courage and honest heart than—

  Frevisse stopped that thought short. Those were matters for priests and scholars to determine and debate. Murder was what she must needs have in mind, and she said to Dickon, already gone to the southward window in what she knew was a vain hope of seeing more than rooftops and sky, “You’d be away into the streets if you could, wouldn’t you?”

  His voice heavy with the burden of youth and obedience, he said glumly, “I would. Everything is happening, and I’m seeing none of it.”

  She forbore to say that with Cade’s promise to keep order in London looking to be gone like smoke in a high wind, sideways and away, he still had good chance of seeing trouble. Those barricades in St. Swithin’s Lane would do little if true pillage and fighting broke out through the city.

  Mistress Hercy came from the bedchamber, shooing Lucie ahead of her with an alacrity that bespoke her readiness to be out of there, and said when the door was closed behind her, “You’ve been a very good girl. I couldn’t take care of your mother so well without you. Now go sit at the window in the sunshine for a while. You’re looking wan.”

  As her grandmother said, Lucie was pale; nor did she smile as her grandmother patted her on her way, only went toward the southward window and Dickon while Mistress Hercy went toward the other window, beckoning Frevisse to join her, saying brightly, “Do come sit with me. Anne says all is well, there’s no news different than there has been.” But she was wan-faced herself; and when they were sat down together, she said, her voice dropped to keep her question for only Frevisse to hear, “Is all well?”

  Her voice equally low, Frevisse said, “No,” and told what Raulyn had reported.

  ‘Well,“ Mistress Hercy sighed. ”There’s naught we can do, is there? Only wait while the men sort it out. Though why Raulyn had to go out, I don’t know. It’s just foolishness. Men. This Jack Cade. No one was going to mind he robbed Philip Malpas clean from floor to rafters and did for those men yesterday. None of them were liked. But London won’t take general thievery or much killing going on for long, no. Why he was ever let over the bridge anyway…“ And again, with deeper annoyance, ”Men.“ Her indignation seemed to have used up the last of her strength, though. She sank back into the corner of bench and window, closed her eyes, and murmured, ”I am so tired.“ But her hands knotted tightly together in her lap told how little eased she was, and before Frevisse found anything to say, she had opened her eyes again, to look at Lucie.

  Dickon had brought out a long string, was playing cat’s cradle games for the girl, and Mistress Hercy smiled. “There’s a good young man. Poor Lucie. It’s all going so hard with her. I gave her some of her mother’s sleeping draught last night to help her sleep.” Mistress Hercy closed her eyes again. “I wish I could do as much for myself.”

  ‘Why don’t you?“ Frevisse encouraged.

  ‘Because that would be when Pernell started birthing, wouldn’t it be?“

  ‘Is it likely to be a bad birthing?“

  ‘No worse than most, save she’s so frighted this time. St. Margaret defend us from the worst that could come, but if it did, what could she do, big-bellied as she is and hardly able to stand? Not flee or fight or help herself or Lucie or anyone. It would fright me, too, to be so helpless.“ Mistress Hercy rubbed at her cheekbones with her fingertips. ”I think the world has gone mad.“ She looked, abruptly sharp, at Frevisse. ”With the friar dead, that talk that Master Bocking and Master Weir are Jews will stop, won’t it?“

  ‘What? Stop?“ Frevisse repeated blankly, left behind by the shift of thought.

  ‘There’s no talk among the servants. I’ve pried. Asked if they knew what the trouble was. As if I hadn’t been told. So if there’s no talk among them, and if you say nothing, or your men either…“

  ‘I won’t and neither have nor will they.“

  ‘And Anne won’t say anything. For her own sake as well as Master Weir’s.“ Mistress Hercy slid a quick look toward the bedchamber. ”Though what’s to be done about her and this…“

  ‘Is for her and her priest to determine,“ Frevisse said quickly.

  Mistress Hercy, covering a yawn, granted that with a small nod, and closed her eyes again, murmuring, “True. True.”

  Her voice trailed so gently to silence that Frevisse hoped she was slipping into sleep. Even a few minutes oblivion would be a blessing. But eyes still closed, Mistress Hercy said darkly, “What I’d truly like to do is get my hands on the villain that lured Hal out to his death. That would give me some pleasure.”

  Frevisse caught on one of her words. “Lured?” No one had said anything about the boy having been lured.

  ‘Lured,“ Mistress Hercy repeated darkly. Dragged back from however near sleep she had been, she sat up and glared out the window. ”Some villain came to Master Yarford’s door, asked to speak to Hal, told him he was wanted at home, his mother was in a bad way, and that’s the last was ever seen of him. Until he was found.“

  ‘I thought he just went out,“ Frevisse ventured. ”The way boys do. And didn’t come back.“

  Mistress Hercy shook her head, firm against that. “This fellow came for him. Hal didn’t even stop for his hat, just said over his shoulder to one of the other apprentices that he had to go and went, and that fellow must have killed him.” Her glare out the window failed to hide the tears filling her eyes. “God only knows why. There was never a better boy.”

  Despite it would have been kindness either to offer comfort or else lead her thoughts a different way, Frevisse asked, “You’re sure of that’s what happened?”

  Mistress Hercy dashed an angry hand at her tears. “It’s what Hal’s master said when he came the next day to see how things were with Pernell. I heard him myself. Raulyn made light of it, and we didn’t tell Pernell. But after the second day of him being gone and Raulyn still making nothing of it, I knew we couldn’t keep it longer from Pernell and went myself to ask
questions. Master Yarford hadn’t been there that night, see, only the other apprentices, but they said the same about how he’d come to leave.”

  ‘They didn’t see who was at the door?“

  ‘The boy who answered the door didn’t know him. Some rough-looking man like you see being idle in the streets. The kind in riot with the rebels now and likely attacked Brother Michael outside our gate for the sport of it. Unless they were Lollards.“

  A new thought jarred into Frevisse’s mind. She had never questioned that the attack on Brother Michael had been other than by chance—by men who would have attacked any friar they happened on. Or by Lollards. But what if it hadn’t been? If his death had been Raulyn’s doing, what if the attack had been, too? Had Raulyn hired men to do it? They’d not been using weapons, so maybe Brother Michael wasn’t to be killed, only made to think it was Lollards so he’d turn his heed back to them. Or maybe he was to be hurt enough he’d leave matters be a while, until Daved and his uncle could be gone, hopefully not to come back for a long while. Raulyn had probably expected only ripples of talk about Jews after Hal’s body was found—enough unease and talk to drive Daved Weir and his uncle out of London, nothing more. He hadn’t counted on someone like Brother Michael seeing the body. Nor had he known Father Tomas’ secret. Or that Brother Michael would find out Daved’s secret. Or that the rebels would keep Daved in London when he might have been gone.

  By way of all that, everything had become far more dangerous than Raulyn had ever intended it to be. And he’d surely never meant those men—if indeed he’d hired them— to attack Brother Michael outside his own gate. Or for himself and Daved to see it. Or Daved to go to the friar’s aid. After that, everything was far worse than before, and Raulyn had desperately needed to have the friar dead.

  If she was right that the friar’s death was Raulyn’s doing.

  She paused, reminding herself she must not take such tight hold on believing him guilty that she missed anything leading another way. Everything so far was all so much guessing.