The Flame Eater

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  “When I leave you sometimes on the road, I go to meet others.” He shook his head. “I have – I call them errands – call them what you will. For the business I do, I need contacts and friends in many places, and this is a useful time to reseal those friendships, which can prove important to me in the future. And those I meet up with are neither lords nor ladies, but invariably folk who prefer to keep their own identities quiet. So we travel my way, my love, whether you approve or not.”

  It was four days later when they came to the capital, and Emeline saw London for the first time. Not yet wishing to be recognised in Westminster or expected at court, Nicholas had first followed Watling Street from the west, and then branched north along Tyburn Way to the city wall at Newgate. The prison building and its great square gateway menaced those who entered London beneath its high iron portcullis, and the wailing, whining misery reeked into stone and earth and air all around. The place stank. Emeline shivered, keeping her palfrey closer to her husband’s side. There had been neither hanging nor visible remains at Tyburn junction itself, but each step of the road had seemed increasingly sad, as though only death claimed the path. They had crossed the River Fleet, busy with barges, but the water had slunk in smelly gurgles, brown as her horse’s big weary eyes. Then the final stage, and Newgate prison’s menace was gone into the sunshine.

  She had been excited to come to London. Goldsmiths’ Row gleamed and sparkled in the sunshine and even the cobbles had been swept clean. Traders sat within their little doorways, leather aproned, carving wood and polishing pewter. Some shops, so grand the doorways stood wide and customers wandered both in and out as if a palace awaited them, displayed gold and silver merchandise glimmering through the windows, window shutters folded down as counters. Emeline stared. Nicholas noticed her expression and said suddenly, “I’ll take you there once we’re settled. But other matters come first. They’re not so pleasant, I’m afraid, but we’ve come for reasons other than shopping.”

  “I didn’t say anything about shopping – I’ve never cared about shopping.” Emeline stuck out her chin. “Papa always says –” and then she stopped. Since Nicholas offered no reassuring smile of sympathy, she said crossly instead, “But it’s a horrid way into London. There are other gates, aren’t there? Are they all so vile?”

  Nicholas smiled then. “No. I chose the worst.”

  They spoke loudly, their voices raised, for London was noisy. A hundred chatterers, welcoming calls from vendors, children squabbling and dogs barking. A shopkeeper chased a dog from his shopfront with a broom, but the dog raised a leg and pissed on the broom’s rushes. Ravens flew low to scavenge from the central gutters, and small gaudy selds had set up where the road was wider, leaving little space for the horses to pass. Nicholas dug in his heels, Emeline followed, and they trotted, hooves like cracking glass on the cobbles, pushing the shoppers aside as they clutched at their hats and their baskets. Then with a sudden turn right they entered Bread Street where cobbles ran out into beaten earth and the early morning bakers had already closed. It was quieter. They headed south.

  Rob, directly behind Emeline, called out, “The tenement first, m’lor, or the Bear, to settle your lady?”

  Nicholas turned and grinned, “You think I’m taking my wife to an ale house, my friend? I might as well leave her in Cock Lane or drag her up Seethinge Alley.” David pursed his lips, riding to Emeline’s left but staring adamantly ahead. Nicholas, now in front, grinned back at his wife. “There’s the Swan, large and clean. We’ll go there first.”

  “You’ve no need to say it, my lord,” Emeline shrugged, tired. “You intend leaving me there while you travel elsewhere without me. May I expect you back before the end of the month?” She ignored the instant cackle behind her.

  Nicholas said, “Almost positively my love. Even within the day. But where I intend going, you could not come.”

  She clenched her fingers on her reins and brought her horse alongside her husband’s, leaving David Witton in the dust. “You seem to think me exceedingly delicate, my lord, and pretend I’m incapable of facing anything at all. I cannot meet this person, and cannot go to that place. But you bring me past the executioner’s gallows and through a gateway of degeneration and horror.” He continued grinning and did not answer, so she said, a little louder, “And you told me not to bring either my nurse or a maid so I’m entirely dependent on you. But you have three servants, and one is remarkably young. He only appeared when we left Gloucester, so was this the person you went to see when I was forced to stay alone in that nasty little tavern? I was not allowed to meet him – yet it seems you have brought him along with us so I have the pleasure of meeting him every day.”

  Nicholas chuckled. “My plans need to be adjusted from time to time. I’m an adaptable soul. Otherwise I wouldn’t be undertaking this venture with a woman in tow. And as for the urchin, he’s simply a waif I didn’t want to leave to starve. Not the brightest brat, and only twelve years old, but he may yet prove useful.”

  “He’s small for his age. What unsavoury use do you have in mind?”

  “Roasted, I think, when we run out of food. But think, my love. Having no servants at all would hardly please you. I’d be expecting you to unsaddle the horses, and lead the baggage drey. I imagine you might complain.”

  “I would never dare complain, my lord,” Emeline said coldly, “when you are such a polite and considerate companion yourself. Besides, I should be terrified you might leave me camped by the river, since you abandon me so regularly however pliant I try to be.”

  “Pliant?” hooted Nicholas. “You’re as snappy as a pike and as doleful as a haddock, my dear, but far less biddable. But you’ll share in all the adventures from tomorrow on, I promise you.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Oh the surety of your promises again, my lord. How that fills me with faith and composure.”

  “Show off your composure now then, my love, for this is your hostelry for the next couple of nights.” Nicholas waved an arm to his left where a long white limed building stood four stories tall and as grand as a mansion. “I’ve made no advance warning of arrival, so we must now pretend to be respectable or risk being turned away. But you’ll like the place. The food’s good, there’s minstrels sometimes, no rowdy tavern below, and the chambers are spacious. Promise to let me wash your back, and I’ll order a bath set up this evening.” Emeline blushed, one eye to the three men of their company, now dismounting. Nicholas had stopped, and swung his leg over his horse’s back, hopping down quickly, throwing the reins to David, and coming around to help his wife dismount. “Rob and the boy will take the horses to the stables. Come with me now, little one, and you can rest at last.”

  “Will you – rest too?” Both hands to her waist, he lifted her down to the hostelry’s open paved courtyard. Then he took her arm and led her to the wide open doors and the flickering candle light within.

  “Not exactly,” Nicholas said. “I have other places to go and other things to do. But I’ll join you for supper, I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The sudden and violent banging on the door seemed so unexpected and threatening that Sysabel pulled the covers over her head. “What? What has happened? If it’s Avice you want, she’s not here anymore.”

  “No,” Avice shouted from outside the door, “that’s because I’m out here. You have to get up at once and come downstairs. Get dressed quick. Where’s your silly little maid? Does she sleep like a drunken sailor too?”

  Having no clear idea how a drunken sailor might sleep, Sysabel emerged from the bed’s cocoon, and looked around. No one else was in the room and the truckle bed where her maid had slept, was now empty. She rubbed her eyes and said, somewhat plaintively, “I wish you’d come in, Avice. I have no idea what you want of me.”

  Avice poked her head around the door. “I just want you, silly. Everything is in chaos, your uncle is about to murder everyone and my mother’s having hysterics in the hall. You have to get up. Don’t bother
dressing since your maid seems to have run off too.”

  They had shared a bed, Avice and Sysabel, since Emeline now occupied a grand guest chamber with her husband. But only Sysabel, tired after the previous day’s journey, had slept in long past dawn. Now she mumbled, “I expect the girl has gone to try and get me some breakfast.”

  “No time for that. Other matters are far too urgent” said Avice with a grin of pure delight.

  Within the echoes of the high ceilinged hall, the earl reverberated. He glared at the servants, at his miserable hostess and at his niece as she hurried into the room. “Let my damn fool of a son out of my sight for a few hours and every standard of decent behaviour crashes,” the earl bellowed. “Has nobody any idea where that wretched boy of mine has gone?”

  The baroness, recollecting her courage, murmured, “Nicholas and my daughter have taken only their own mounts and one baggage horse, my lord. Emeline’s nurse informs me that my daughter took almost nothing with her, and practically all her clothes have been left behind. She took no maid and crept out without a word. But she is with her husband, my lord, and I can hardly complain. I am sure Nicholas will look after her.”

  “And just who will look after him, I’d like to know,” roared the earl, unappeased. “He’s as much sense as a raw cabbage, and is no doubt off doing something entirely absurd and irresponsible.”

  “Emma left me a note,” ventured Avice with an ill-concealed smirk.

  The earl rounded on her and snatched the scrap of scribbled paper she was holding. His ruddy colouring increased considerably as he read. “No intention of obeying me, indeed! And off to solve the riddles of murder and intrigue, is he! As if the boy is capable of even tying his own hose around his waist, let alone solving genuine mysteries.”

  The baroness managed a few more proffered words. “Nicholas has taken one servant and his squire with him. David Witton is a respectable young man, I believe, sir. I have considerable respect for his intelligence, and he is obviously loyal.”

  “Anyone loyal to Nicholas needs their wits unravelled,” declared the earl, throwing Emeline’s careful apologies and explanations to the ground. “I shall leave here at midday, Madam, immediately after dinner. I shall then travel to London and hope to intercept the young fool before he brings more scandal and ruin to the family.”

  “Wine, my lord?” suggested Avice, stepping forward with her smile in cement.

  “Don’t interrupt, Avice,” her mother frowned. “This is not your place.”

  “Place be damned,” retaliated the earl. “Bring the wine. I need strength.”

  As soon as the earl and his entourage had clattered down the path from the stables to the Gloucestershire lanes towards London, Avice grabbed Sysabel’s hand and dragged her back upstairs to her bedchamber which they had shared the night before. They sat together on the bed, hugging their knees, and Avice said, “We have to run away.”

  Notably unconvinced, Sysabel mumbled, “That’s a horrid idea. You have a lovely house and a lovely mother, and just because your sister has been silly, it doesn’t mean you have to as well.”

  Avice was disappointed. “But of course we have to. She’s gone searching for murderers, so we need to follow her and be ready to help. And think of the excitement.”

  “Think of the danger.” Sysabel shook her head. “Honestly, Avice. Only children chase excitement.”

  “I’m not a child,” Avice pouted, “I’ve turned fifteen. And you’re almost fifteen now, aren’t you? So we’re quite old enough to make decisions, and be brave, and help your cousin and my sister. Besides, we have to warn Nicholas that his father is out to catch him and beat him.”

  “He’ll guess that already,” Sysabel pointed out. “And I’m still only fourteen, but Peter said I was very mature for my age. And Adrian is out there somewhere already looking for Nicholas.”

  “That’s it then,” Avice insisted. “We need to help him too, since he can’t have any idea of where everyone is and what they’re doing.” She was animated, grabbing at Sysabel’s arm. “We know things that Nick doesn’t, so it’s our duty to tell him. Look, someone murdered Papa. I may not have liked my father very much but people just shouldn’t go around killing people’s fathers and getting away with it. And Nicholas said it was the same person who killed Peter. Now that ought to give you courage. You really liked Peter, didn’t you? Well. We have to find his killer.”

  “We do?” exclaimed Sysabel. “Of course we don’t if that’s just what Nicholas and half the sheriffs of England are already doing. Which perhaps proves that it wasn’t Nicholas who did it after all – though I had always thought – but now perhaps not. And,” she sighed, extricating her hand, “I’ll have you know I did a lot more than just ‘like Peter’. I was in love with him. And he was in love with me.”

  Avice screwed up her nose. “How was he in love with you? He was supposed to marry my sister.”

  “He didn’t want to,” said Sysabel with a sniff. “He wanted to marry me but his father wouldn’t let him because he wanted an heiress in the family and I haven’t any property at all. But Peter didn’t care about money, he only wanted me. And he proved it.”

  “Proved what?”

  “His adoration,” whispered Sysabel, looking at her lap and blushing slightly.

  Avice said, “He told Emma he loved her too.”

  “He couldn’t have.” Sysabel looked, up, eyes moist. “She must have – I mean, she was mistaken. And I suppose,” she sniffed loudly, “it would be brave – and loyal to Peter – and maybe the right thing to do. Finding who killed him, I mean. Perhaps we should run away after all.” She paused, summoning courage. “Peter would want me to do that, I expect. And he always told me I was brave – especially later when – but I don’t want to talk about that. He must be in heaven, because he couldn’t still be in purgatory because I’ve prayed for him every night for months and months, and anyway, he never sinned in his life so he’s surely sitting on a golden throne at Holy God’s right hand already. Do you think he can see me from up there?”

  Avice brightened. “No doubt he’s watching right now. That’s it then, we make our plans this afternoon and we creep away tonight.”

  “Your mother will be horribly worried.”

  Avice continued grinning. “Not at all. She’s secretly so relieved to be rid of Papa. She’s already ordered three new dresses, and shoes with silver buckles. There’s a cartload of the best beeswax candles due tomorrow, and the kitchens have doubled their rations. All the village traders are thrilled. Now she’s talking of buying real books from the new printers, and a hat with a gold lace veil. I think she’ll be just delighted to get rid of me too.”

  “But ladies don’t run anywhere alone,” sniffed Sysabel. “It isn’t decent and it isn’t safe.”

  “Ladies travel all across the country just with armed outriders and a few attendants. And even ordinary traders do. There’s a big buxom woman who drives a cart full of ale kegs around Gloucestershire, and farmers’ wives going to market, and the women who travel with the Mystery Players, and ------”

  “But they have entourages and armed guards and proper guides.” Sysabel stared wide eyed. “And they’re all a lot older than we are.”

  Avice smiled. “We’ll take your maid and my maid, and I’ll ask old Bill. He’s a sort of guide, and he can carry a sword. And we, as you pointed out yourself, are extremely mature for our ages.”

  It was not such a secretive or quietly organised escape, but it was achieved without either interruption or disaster. Avice had stuffed three bread roles, well wrapped in her spare shift, into a large bag, and Sysabel had secreted some of the cold meat from supper up her sleeve. Once the household was quiet, Mistress Avice and Mistress Sysabel, warmly dressed and holding a small candle holder each, crept downstairs followed by two maids, one elderly dresser, and a reluctant page. Nurse Martha had not been enlisted, since she would undoubtedly have disapproved and spoiled everything by informing the baroness at once. Outside,
the maids and the page dutifully squashed the packages, bags and boxes into the sumpter’s capacious panniers as two stable boys saddled the ladies’ palfreys, and the one dour outrider, well bribed, temporarily ignored his arthritis and stuck his knife into his belt as he mounted his own elderly but impatient hunter.

  Rattling and thumping, panting, gates flung shut, muttered complaints and the irritability of the disturbed horses echoed, only slightly muffled, through the stables. But it was not until the whole party left that anyone was alerted. The page, who had been obediently quiet while ordered to help with packing, now ran back inside the house to spread alarm in case he was later blamed for having helped the thoroughly improper behaviour of five women and one old man setting off for places unknown in the middle of the night.

  The moon was now past its zenith, but it still squatted huge and golden above the tree tops. Having discovered that her elder sister had left behind some of her bright new belongings, Avice had taken advantage and was now wearing her sister’s dark blue velvet cape with a fluff of white rabbit fur within the hood. Sysabel, dressed according to her brother’s standards, wore a heavy worsted cloak in sturdy green and eyed her new friend with faint envy. The moon lit the girls’ eyes with avid brilliance, Sysabel’s light sky blue, and Avice brown as beef gravy, while the less enthusiastic servants followed in a small clump, eyes to their gloved fingers gripping tired to the reins. The armed guard rode a little ahead, looking occasionally over his shoulder with complacent contempt at his feminine following. But it was a quiet night, no thieves or marauders crossed their path, and only the pale passing of an owl shadowed the moonlight.

  They slept in a tiny inn where they would not be known, and with the energy of anticipation, they both woke early and immediately rode into Gloucester. Avice stopped for some time at a double fronted shop in the main street where bundles of sumptuous materials were on show, and the tailor and seamstress ready at hand to help argue a fair bargain. But eventually, convinced by Sysabel that her funds were only sufficient for their needs on the journey, she reluctantly refused the offer of a lemon silk gown with heavy crimson velvet sleeves which had been recently been made for but rejected by another customer. Instead Avice agreed to ride on until supper time.