The Exiled

by Posie Graeme-Evans

  William was mortified when he saw her distress.

  ‘Sweet girl, surely this is a relief to you? How can it be anything else? As a woman it is not suitable for you to trade — you must see that. I suppose, because you’re young, it seems exciting to you; I promise you it is not.’ Now he did reach forward, he could not help himself. If she would just let him take her hand ...

  But she shook her head brusquely, swallowing tears. There was a moment of painful silence, which Caxton tried to fill.

  ‘I am sorry to make you sad. But there are other, more hopeful things to speak of. Your happiness.’

  Seizing the moment, William Caxton hurried on.

  ‘Except for your guardian, a guardian who does not live in this city, you are a woman alone. Oh, I know,’ he held up his hand as if she had tried to interrupt him; she had not. That rattled her guest. ‘Ah, I know that you value independence, that you have Deborah and Maxim to guard you and that you have some of the means to be independent.’

  Anne did not look at him, turning her attention to the snow as it fell, faster and faster. ‘But what happened last night will happen again — until you are settled. Safely, happily settled.’

  Under strict emotional control now, Anne leant forward to stir the fire, one part of her seeing the snow had suddenly stopped; the world was white, unsullied. There was silence outside the window. That pleased her.

  ‘But Master Caxton, I am settled. As you see. I am part of an excellent, well-run household, as you say, and I am surrounded by those who have an interest in seeing that my ... independence ... is safeguarded, as you know.’ There was truth in this; independence was deeply important to her. If she trusted only herself, then she would never be let down by the actions of others.

  William bought a little time to think by walking over to the casements. After a moment he turned.

  ‘You are a prize, lady, and as such, you are not safe. Last night showed us this. At present this city is full of lawless men and that will only become worse, as the year wears on.’

  Anne was cool. ‘I am uncertain what you mean, sir. If you refer to the mercenaries, well, Ivan had proved himself their match.’

  ‘Not the mercenaries, madam. Those who pay them.’

  Now Anne was genuinely puzzled. ‘But Duke Charles pays them. He would not harm me. Sir Mathew and Lady Margaret Cuttifer are especial friends of the Court of Burgundy, and through them, so am I. Who else?’

  William bowed in acknowledgment before he chose to reply. Yes, it was true. She was favoured by Duke Charles, witness the venison.

  ‘The duke, yes. He, as I understand it, holds the House of Cuttifer in high regard. But there are others — surely you know?’

  Anne was finding it hard to maintain her calm. Her heart was beating faster — she had been badly frightened last night, though she was determined that the little world she lived in, personified by the man standing in front of her, would not know that.

  ‘Master Caxton, if I listened to every little piece of malicious tittle-tattle from the Markt, I should be frightened of my own shadow.’

  Again she laughed, a little breathlessly this time. ‘As it is, I doubt that the Guild of Merchant Adventurers would be so upset should anything happen to me!’

  ‘Ah lady, you do us a disservice. Many of our members are very worried about your situation, yet there is good news at this time also, especially for your guardian. And that, in turn, will be good news for you, I am certain.’

  He said it kindly, earnestly. Anne looked at him measuringly. ‘Now that is the second time you’ve hinted at something extraordinary, Master Caxton. Will you tell me this important news?’

  William smiled broadly, happy to tell her. ‘News that we have long suspected is at last confirmed. Duke Charles is to marry again.’ He watched her closely as he spoke, but her face did not change. He was not a man who thought he understood women very well, but she seemed unaffected, emotionally, by the news. ‘Well then, I wish him and his new duchess much happiness.’ Anne was quite calm. ‘When will the marriage be celebrated?’

  ‘In the later summer, I understand.’

  Anne’s breath was suddenly ragged; rage flushed through her. He was sharing remarkable trading information with her because it didn’t matter. She would not be permitted to join their guild, so being told of the wedding was merely pleasant gossip. She’d never profit from it.

  ‘And who is the bride, Master Caxton?’ She was proud of how detached she sounded.

  William Caxton was delighted to tell her. ‘The Lady Margaret of England — sister to the king.’ Even now he couldn’t quite believe it — such remarkably good news! An English princess as the Duchess of Burgundy would massively strengthen the bonds of the English trading community to the court and all its wealth, its disposable wealth, in this previously hostile city.

  ‘Mistress, are you ill?’ All the colour had washed from Anne’s face. Her eyes were closed and she’d slumped against the embossed back of the chair. William, panicked, leant forward to pat her hand. Another moment — and he stroked her brow, touched her cheek, was about to gather her from the chair and call out ... when Anne spoke. ‘No, no, please I, I must have eaten something putrid. It was just a wave of ...’ She swallowed hard and opened her eyes, forcing herself to smile ‘There, see, it’s gone. Whatever it was.’

  Margaret of York. Edward’s sister! Would Edward, King Edward — her Edward — come to Brugge to give his sister to Duke Charles in place of his dead father?

  Would she see the king again?

  ‘Lady, you’re not well. Shall I ask for your maid?’

  Anne laughed shakily. ‘No, Master Caxton. I am well, believe me. There, you see?’ She stood, suddenly filled with energy.

  Now she was desperate for William to leave so that she could think and make plans — such plans — in private.

  Caxton was astonished — truly women were odd creatures. Here was this girl, one minute fainting, the next pacing alaunt, a war-hound. It was curious, too curious — William Caxton was no fool.

  ‘Mistress, there is also the other matter of your personal happiness, as we began to discuss.’

  Anne was finding it hard to be polite now. ‘Master Caxton, perhaps we could meet to talk again, if you would like that, in a day or so?’ She stopped pacing and looked at her guest, smiled at him, trying hard to soften the directness of her words.

  ‘But, Lady Anne, allow me to repeat how concerned we’ve been, my colleagues and I, about the case you find yourself in?’ Anne could not help it, she was sharp in response.

  ‘Case, sir?’

  He looked slightly embarrassed. He could hear the edge in her tone. ‘Mistress, as I said to you, plainly you need a husband to protect you.’

  ‘Sir, you are not my father.’ She was flushed, hot; the one thing she could not control, even if her voice was low and carefully steady as she spoke.

  ‘No, mistress, that is true. But I speak as if I were since I am so much older than you.’ He laughed slightly to lighten the mood, so did she, to be polite. They both knew that in other circumstances — if his wife were not alive — he might have considered himself her suitor. That spark between them again.

  ‘Unscrupulous men covert what you have. What you are.’ He was being very frank, though he kept his eyes firmly fixed on her face. ‘I am convinced that being a merchant would be most unnatural for you, that it would worry you greatly. As I said, allow a good man to take care of you and you can relax into your natural sphere of family and care of a fine house. You will be happier for it, I promise you. A good marriage is ...’

  ‘Yes, a good marriage, Master Caxton — and a good wife — is above the price of rubies. I know the text. It’s just that I would prefer to trade in gems, rather than become one.’

  He shook his head, trying to reach her, trying to make her listen. ‘Please think on what I have said, Lady Anne. I believe, we believe, that you cannot go on living alone, or aspiring to trade. This city is plainly too dangero
us for you now. Allow me to help you choose your destiny rather than have it forced upon you. There are good men within the English community here, men who are my friends and would like to be yours.’

  Anne said nothing for a moment then sighed. What William Caxton said was the plain unvarnished truth in some respects; she did not want to live surrounded by drawn steel, and a young unmarried woman was not just a scandal, she was a prize, he was correct. She would speak of it to Mathew Cuttifer — he would give her sound advice because he always did. But for now, there was so much to think of! And dream about.

  ‘Thank you, sir, you are very good to me. And I thank you for your care of my person. I shall think on what you have said, and take advice.’

  To his surprise, Caxton felt himself being walked to the door of her room without being aware she had taken him by the arm.

  And as the door of that substantial house closed him outside in the white, still world, he shook his head.

  Round one had ended, he rather thought. When would round two begin?

  Chapter Seven

  Everything had changed, everything! This was the hinge point in her life and Anne recognised it. She measured the moment as if it were a solid thing — the moment when her life tipped from precarious stability into potential chaos, and she found herself detached, unmoved by the danger. The risk felt right, felt destined in some odd way.

  The feeling of unruffled clarity remained with her as she hurried through the double cellar which, underground, joined Sir Mathew’s house to the warehouse next door — a clever security device, since his trading-house had no other entrance — up to the counting floor under the eaves of the warehouse. She ran up the last few stair treads, arriving slightly breathless, and found Maxim, the steward, on the counting floor with Henry Fowler and John Aigret, the two young Englishmen who were Sir Mathew’s apprentices in Brugge. All three were poring over ledgers with Hans Boter, the chief clerk, a canny Lowlander whom Sir Mathew had enticed to work for him some years before.

  ‘Maxim, I must speak to Meinheer Boter for a moment, but can you come to the work room soon and ask Deborah to join us, please? There is something important I must say to you both.’

  The warehouse was no less well built than the gabled house next door because Mathew, careful to look to the welfare of his most valued servants, had made sure that the counting floor was warm, light and dry even in freezing weather. People worked better if they had warm hands.

  It was a matter of security too. Happy staff were slightly less likely to cheat him out of the trading capital kept in small iron-bound coffers in a locked, windowless inner room.

  Maxim was startled and intrigued by Anne’s passionate energy, but the pleading look in her eye convinced him.

  ‘Very well, mistress. I shall join you a little later. Come, lads.’

  Anne could barely contain herself until the steward and the two apprentices left the counting floor, though she was careful to drop the wooden door-bolt into its keeper as the door closed behind them — to the chief clerk’s bemused amazement.

  ‘Meinheer, I have something urgent that needs doing and I have extraordinary news. If we move very fast, I will be able to take advantage of it.’

  Quickly she told him of the wedding that would soon be announced; now was the time to gamble whether she was an accredited merchant or not. Mathew Cuttifer would approve, she was sure of it.

  ‘We must send to the Medici in Florence and arrange for credit letters to be honoured. The first will be for one thousand florins; the second for three thousand florins — to be cashed in Venice. I intend to mortgage all I possess — my income from England and my mother’s lands there — so that I can back the credit. I shall give you letters before Vespers tonight with orders for the goods which must be bought. And then I want what I have ordered to arrive before the Feast of Saint Michael and Saint George. I will take advice on whether we should have them sent by sea or by land.’

  The careful Dutchman did not allow his expression to change, but he was stunned by this boldness — and the risk. This girl was not an accredited merchant; if she deliberately brought trade goods into this city expecting to sell, the guilds would shut her down. And also, one, let alone two, precious cargos on the sea well before the end of spring was a doubly enormous gamble. Instantly he calculated the odds. Perhaps the land route might be slightly safer, though, of course, the mountain passes at this time of the year were also very dangerous. If the snow did not close them, roaming companies of ‘wolves-heads’ — brigands, soldiers, the murderous dross of late wars — who lurked on the trade routes must be repelled.

  ‘Meinheer, please do as I ask. An opportunity like this is rare. And send Henry to Sluis for me also. He is to wait there until the Lady Margaret is docked so that we can give your master the news as soon as possible.’

  Meinheer Boter mildly asked if she had any more orders for him.

  ‘None, my friend. But I should like your prayers. Such sober prayers on this hazardous undertaking would stand us well.’ She grinned at him and he smiled.

  Hans Boter hardly ever smiled — perhaps it had something to do with the absurdity of his name. Boter meant Butter and he’d been much mocked for that as a child, especially as he was always afflicted with fatness. Now, on a day such as today, when this girl had risked all of what little money she had, it seemed strange he did not despair at her folly.

  ‘If my poor prayers can do some good for you, I shall be proud. As I will be when your cargoes land safely. You are right to be bold at such a time, and if there is much risk, the reward will be greater.’ It was the longest speech Anne had ever heard from him, and both he and she were amazed he’d uttered it.

  Anne smiled. ‘Thank you, Meinheer. You shall have the commissioning letters as soon as I can write them — and one for your master.’

  Energised, she tried not to run back to the parlour where Maxim and Deborah were waiting as she’d requested.

  She took one, two, deep breaths as she sat in the chair that was proferred. It was hard, but she had to find strength and composure if she was to be effective now.

  ‘Maxim, I have something very important to tell you — and you, Deborah.’ For the second time today she passed on William Caxton’s remarkable information, and how she proposed to bargain with fate. If this gamble came off, she would be able to buy a home of her own, begin to build a truly independent life.

  Maxim, like his colleague Anders Boter, was stunned by the boldness and risk of her plans. If the gamble failed she would be ruined and that worried him deeply, for he liked her. Also, even if she landed her goods, the Guild would surely stop her trading them.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, Maxim, it’s on your face, but the Guild will not stop me — and yes, I could ruin myself, but I have the right to risk my own money. It will be Sir Mathew’s choice to co-invest, if that’s what he wants to do. Henry will give him my letter as soon as he lands.’

  Anne saw Maxim’s surprise and some instinct made her say the one right thing that would bring him around to see the vision behind the risk.

  ‘Ah, Maxim, you are my guardian’s steward, but I think of you as my friend. I trust you. I ask for your help now. And your support.’

  Deborah, still stunned to hear of the Lady Margaret’s marriage to the Duke of Burgundy — and what that would mean to Anne — said nothing, but she was warmed when she saw Maxim’s wary correctness turn to something very like a smile.

  ‘I want the cargoes here to Brugge before the feast of Saint Michael and Saint George.’ Little more than two and a half months, a ridiculously short time. Could it be done?

  ‘And yes, before you ask, it can be done, but you must be there to do it. I want you, personally, to carry my letters of commission — and the requests for credit to Venice and Florence. And I want you to leave as soon as the Lady Margaret can be turned around — naturally, only if Sir Mathew agrees; you must help him to understand. Once you are in the city states, you must assess which will
be the quickest way back to Brugge with the goods I’m ordering for the wedding. And bring them back yourself — under a guard that you arrange. And, Maxim, there’s five per cent of gross after the crews are paid as a bonus for you when all the landed goods are sold.’

  What could Maxim say? That he thought this girl was foolish? And over-generous? She was not the first, though she was the last, but that was good — generosity commanded loyalty, though she already had his. He liked her, yes, he liked her.

  A certain restless urgency warmed his blood. It was a gamble but, yes, he would go!

  ‘Mistress, allow me to consider the best route for your goods as you write your letters of commission. I accept the terms you have offered — and will be honoured to do you this service provided my master agrees.’

  He bowed himself out of the parlour. Both women could hear the soft slither of his house slippers as he hurried away, back to the counting floor, to consult Meinheer Boter about this mad undertaking ...

  ‘That was gracefully done, Anne.’ It was Deborah’s turn now. She only rarely called Anne by her name — most often at moments of great importance, when they were alone.

  Restlessly Anne got up and strode over to the windows. The snow was falling again and the expensive leaded glass was very cold as she leaned her head against it. She smiled ruefully. No horn-lights for Mathew Cuttifer — everything of the best! To be successful one must look successful: a good lesson to absorb. But if she lost, if this gamble failed, the promise of real independence — her own home, her own future, success on her own terms, making her own money — would disappear like mist in the morning.

  There was silence for a moment between the two women. Finally Deborah spoke.

  ‘Lady Margaret, our princess. Did William Caxton say when the wedding would be?’

  ‘Summer. Some time near to Lammas day, he understands. When the vernal gales are long gone.’ She couldn’t help herself — Anne grimaced at the word ‘gales’. God knew, she was committing them all to great risk.