‘They have arrested Christian!’ she cried. ‘And Phillip and Walter! They came this morning, and ransacked the shop. Not the bailies, Hew, but soldiers!’
At the panic in her voice, the child began to cry. Hew sprang to his feet.
‘Dear God, what now! What for?’
‘They would not say,’ Meg sniffed. She lifted William into her arms. ‘They dragged Christian out in front of her child. They were both distraught.’
‘I will find out,’ Hew assured her. ‘Take William back home and wait for me there.’
To the astonishment of Richard’s clerk, he ran out without closing the door. At the old tolbooth, he hammered and swore until the gudeman appeared. ‘Be quiet, sir! Where is the fire?’
‘Where is Christian Hall?’ Hew demanded. ‘Take me to her!’
‘That is no manner for a gentleman to ask,’ the gudeman answered crossly. ‘Since, as I recall, you are supposed to be a gentleman, and not, as some may take you for, a thief. Who is Christian Hall? I do not ken the name.’
‘Do not play games!’ snarled Hew. ‘Open up, and let me see the iron house.’
‘You will see it soon enough, and presently, if you persist in taking such a tone. Desist, sir, and speak plainly. What is the matter?’
‘What in God’s name are you doing, Hew?’ A cool voice spoke behind them. Richard Cunningham was fast approaching from the nether tolbooth. He walked between the justice general and the king’s advocate, Robert Crichton. Hew shot them a glance, and continued with his ranting undeterred.
Crichton said, amused, ‘This is your young pup, is it not, Richard? He is exceedingly loose.’
‘Surely, this cannot be your prentis,’ the justice general frowned, ‘that makes a row and clamour in the street. I’ll warrant he wants discipline.’
‘He is, and he does,’ Richard answered grimly. ‘With your leave, I will amend it.’
He grasped Hew by the arm and muttered, ‘Have you quite taken leave of your senses?’
‘They have taken Christian, Richard, and they will not let me see her!’ Hew cried wildly.
Richard sighed. ‘Aye, I have just heard. Do not berate the gudeman. She is not here.’
‘Where is she?’
‘Not here,’ Richard warned. He bowed stiffly to the justice. ‘My lord, please excuse me. For there is a matter that I must attend to.’
‘So it seems,’ sniggered Crichton. ‘You have your hands full there.’
The justice peered disapprovingly at Hew. ‘Young man, if you hope to be an advocate, then you must learn a little self-control. Brangling in the market like a fishwife will do not at all.’
‘We are right sorry,’ Richard answered firmly. He propelled Hew down the street, and did not let go of his arm until they reached the safety of their buith on Leche’s close, and he had firmly shut the door.
‘Now, sir, you have some explaining to do.’
‘Where have they taken her?’ Hew cried, unrepentant.
Richard sighed. ‘They are at the castle,’ he admitted. ‘I must warn you they are charged with a most serious crime. Christian and her men are accused of leasing-making; it is the slander of the king’s person, and akin to treason.’
‘But this is madness, Richard! Who is it that persecutes her so? As if the killing of her maid and kidnap of her child were not enough! What is she supposed to have done?’
‘A scandalous tract has fallen into the hands of the justiciar, defaming the king. It bears Christian’s signature and stamp.’
‘Aye, very like! And if she were to print a paper that defamed the king, then think you she would sign her name to it!’ exclaimed Hew. ‘This is but another attempt to discredit her. Surely you must see that.’
Richard said oddly, ‘We may not discuss this further. I shall overlook your wild behaviour in the street, though it might be apposite to write a letter of contrition to the justice general. You made a poor impression there.’
‘May not? Why not! Richard, you have ever been most free with your advice; do not desert me now, by failing to defend her. Surely, you must speak for her, for surely, you must see, how wrong this is,’ cried Hew.
‘I regret, I cannot.’
‘You cannot? You will not! How can this be possible?’
‘I regret I may not speak with you further on this. I am engaged to speak against her for the Crown.’
‘What! You are appointed pursuer? That was precipitous, Richard! Arrested but this morning, and you are already set against her! Your eagerness betrays you; if the charge is treason, as you say, then properly it belongs to the king’s advocate, or failing him, his depute. Did you have to beg for it?’ Hew accused him bitterly.
Richard said quietly, ‘You know well enough that I am powerless to refuse, if the Crown demands it. Crichton cannot take the case, because he is engaged with Morton’s. Therefore it devolves to me. Understand, it gives me no great pleasure to harangue a helpless woman to her death. Since I understand you are upset, I will forgive this gross discourtesy. Now, you and I will have no further discourse on this matter, the case is sub judice, and the subject closed between us.’
‘The subject is not closed. For I shall conduct her defence,’ Hew promised hotly.
‘Now that really would be a mistake,’ Richard frowned. ‘I counsel you most strongly against it. If you speak for Christian, you will lose. And you will lose not because I am the better advocate or have the more experience, but because of your own fatal weakness; your lack of detachment. If you stand against me, then I can promise you, Christian and her friends will hang.’
‘I assure you, I intend to speak for Christian,’ Hew asserted.
‘I urge you, do not set your wits against me, for I do not want this argument.’
‘There is no other course,’ Hew answered coldly. ‘Understand, I am determined.’
Richard nodded curtly. ‘Then we are opposed. I will leave you now, to reconsider. I have work to do.’
Hew sat alone for a while, allowing this new horror to sink in. At last he took his coat, and returned to the printing house. The door stood open. He was startled to see Richard there before him, looking through a pile of papers. Richard looked up. ‘I trust you are disposed to be a little more temperate, than when we last met,’ he ventured mildly.
‘What are you doing here?’ Hew demanded.
Richard sighed. ‘Alas, not more temperate. Your passion will undo you. Specifically, in this case. As to what I am doing here, I will make no secret of it. I have come to look for proof. Since Christian’s trial is to be precipitate, in about ten days, there is little time to lose.’
Hew blanched. ‘As soon as that?’
‘Aye, as soon as that. You should be grateful that she will not suffer long.’
Meg had appeared from upstairs. ‘William is asleep,’ she said to Hew, ‘worn out by his tears. I let Richard in. I hoped that he might help us.’
‘That he will not,’ Hew retorted tersely. ‘He is acting for the prosecution.’
Meg looked aghast. ‘Surely—’
‘It is a matter in which I have no choice,’ Richard answered quickly, ‘as your brother must well know, though he fails to understand it. Though I do not expect you to see it, I had hoped for some sympathy from him.’
‘Is it true?’ Meg whispered to Hew. ‘Can he really not help it?’
‘It is true,’ Hew admitted reluctantly, ‘that it is the law. If he is appointed, he cannot turn it down.’
‘I thank you,’ Richard nodded, ‘at least for that. I can assure you,’ he said softly to Meg, ‘this brings me no pleasure. I wonder, what is this?’ He changed the subject quickly, pulling out a paper from the pile.
‘It is the title page of my father’s book,’ replied Hew. ‘To be more accurate, it is a proof copy.’
‘That is very good,’ Richard answered thoughtfully. ‘Did you see this printed on the press?’
‘Aye,’ Hew admitted.
‘Excellent. But where is the rest
of the book?’
‘That is all that was printed,’ Hew explained. ‘Christian was not happy with the proof. There was too much broken letter, and the printer’s block was worn. She has ordered more, and a new plate has been made, but with recent events, you must know, the press has been at a standstill.’
‘I understand. But where is the manuscript?’
‘Is it not here?’ Hew looked surprised. ‘Then I do not know.’
‘Suppression of evidence is misguided, to say the least,’ Richard commented.
‘I have not suppressed it. The last time I saw it, it was here. You were here before me,’ Hew pointed out. ‘You cannot think I took it.’
‘Aye, maybe not.’ Richard looked displeased. ‘Though this will be enough.
‘I tell you, as a friend, that you have lost your case. This is the paper that will hang Christian Hall.’
Hew stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It bears a strong resemblance to the offending document. The letter and devices are the same. They have come from the same press.’
‘That is not possible!’
‘I have expert witnesses will swear to it. I am so sorry, Hew. But you know I cannot throw away the prosecution case. However, since you have become more reasonable, I will explain the charge. Christian has been charged with leasing-making, that is the crime of spreading false report, or slanders of the king. A scandalous tract was found pinned upon the market cross, that bore the signature and device of Christian’s press. You will see the tract in court, where it will appear as evidence.’
‘May I not see it now?’
‘I’m afraid not. The matter is so sensitive it cannot be disclosed. In point of fact, the man who found it pinned there on the cross and reported it to the magistrate is now in gaol, for reading it.’
‘That is madness!’ Hew exclaimed.
‘Quite so,’ conceded Richard dryly. ‘However, the magistrates have examined the tract, taking due precautions to protect themselves, and conclude that the contents are both treacherous and scandalous. That is all you need to know. This paper is the proof it came from Christian’s press.’
‘No printer, in his right mind, would defame the king, and put his name to it,’ insisted Hew.
‘You would think that, wouldn’t you?’ Richard smiled sardonically. ‘But juries are much harder to convince. They prefer the simplest option, for it does not tax their wits. If a man’s name is inscribed upon a paper, then they will assume he wrote it there. It is the common position, from which you will find it hard to deflect them. You will not find it simple to convince them this was forgery. I have, besides, two expert witnesses to swear that it was not.’
‘May I know their names?’ inquired Hew coldly.
‘I see no harm in it. I believe you know them both. They are Master Allan Chapman, printer of this town, and Phillip Ramsey, Christian’s compositor.’
‘Phillip!’ Hew exclaimed. ‘I thought he had been charged with the same crime.’
‘He may well be complicit,’ Richard nodded. ‘He is a strange man, I think.’
‘Both he and Chapman are suspect in this,’ declared Hew.
Richard looked more sceptical. ‘Ah, if you say so,’ he agreed politely. ‘I will leave that up to you. But I have said too much. When we talk of this again, it will be in court.
‘How is the little boy?’ he inquired of Meg. ‘I understand, he does not speak?’
Meg shook her head. ‘This new distraction does not help. He is lost and scared. He will not talk to us. I will go and wake him now,’ she turned to Hew. ‘It is his dinner time.’
‘Poor bairn!’ Richard took his leave. ‘His mother and his nurse! Life can be cruel.’
Hew followed Meg upstairs, and watched her wake the little boy and sit him at the table, where she fed him broth from a spoon. He opened up his mouth, mechanical and urgent, like a baby bird. It seemed he had forgotten Christian, for he did not look for her.
‘Still no words?’ sighed Hew. ‘Does he run about and play?’
Meg shook her head. ‘He does nothing.’ She wiped the child’s face with a cloth. ‘You may get down, and go and find your ball.’ The little boy slid wordless from his stool.
‘He understands,’ Meg asserted. ‘He will not play with the ball, but he will go to fetch it if required. I will take him to the west port inn, to see the horses.’
‘Aye? He’s feared of horses,’ Hew mentioned absently.
‘Really? That is strange, for I had not remarked it. He has a wooden hobby by his cot. No matter, though. We’ll feed the ducks. Ducks, William?’ Meg asked brightly. The little boy looked blank.
‘There has been no change,’ Meg sighed, ‘since you first brought him home. Giles and I will move into the shop. I am convinced that locked inside there is the same bright little boy, if only we could find the key.’
‘If anyone can reach him,’ Hew declared, ‘it will be you and Giles. I could not think of a kinder pair of foster parents.’
His sister flushed. ‘Paul has gone to Doctor Dow’s, to ask for Giles. He is in the midst,’ she sighed, ‘of one of his interminable conferences. But I’m sure he will come when he hears. Hew … I have done something that is perhaps a little foolish. I have hidden father’s manuscript.’
Hew held up his hand. ‘Stop! Say no more! Do not tell me where. Whatever instinct led you to do that?’
‘I do not know. But Phillip had been working on it when the soldiers came. And when I saw it lying there, and thought what it had been through, something made me take it – it was ours, our father’s. Then I heard Richard asking for it, and he was not pleased to find it gone.’
‘Aye, you’re right, he was not pleased,’ Hew said thoughtfully. ‘You have suppressed the evidence.’
‘Did I do wrong?
He shook his head. ‘I do not know. But since Richard wants it, let us keep it hidden. Fortune is against us; we must take our chances where they come.’
The next few days were uncomfortable for Hew. Since he could not ask for Richard’s help, he had to make his case alone, and he made little progress. The charge against the pressman had been dropped, on the grounds that Walter could not read. But Walter threw no light upon the mystery. He knew nothing of the paper on the market cross. Hew was working blindly, in the dark. He came often to the door of Richard’s buith, and stopped. He felt a desperate sadness: in his fear for Christian he had lost a tutor and a friend. He missed Richard sorely, on both counts. At home with the Cunninghams, the atmosphere was strained. Hew took refuge in the company of Grace, and as he watched her play, he gave thought to William. Privately, he spoke to Eleanor.
‘May Meg bring William here to play with Grace?’
Eleanor looked taken aback. ‘The printer’s bairn? I do not think so, Hew. Richard would not like it. In truth, he has asked me not to speak with Meg, until the trial is done. It is a very serious charge. He is anxious that we are not tainted by it.’
‘I understand. Then there is no chance, I suppose, of going there with Grace?’ Hew ventured hopefully.
Eleanor shook her head. ‘None at all. You know that Richard does not speak about these things, but he has said enough to make it clear the case is awkward for him. He is embarrassed by your opposition, while you live here in this house. I wish that you would drop it.’
‘I’m afraid that I cannot. Perhaps you would prefer it if I left?’
‘You were always welcomed in this house,’ Eleanor protested warmly, ‘and are welcome still. I hope you have no doubt of Richard’s love for you.’
‘I do not doubt it. And I bitterly regret that I must stand against him.’
‘I cannot pretend to understand it,’ Eleanor said sadly. ‘We must hope and pray it will be over soon. Why did you want the little boy to play with Grace?’
‘He is remote, and will not speak. I hoped the solace of another child might draw him out.’
‘As well it might. There are other children, surely, near his age?
’
‘Aye, there must be, surely. But I do not know of any.’
Hew did not entirely let the matter drop, for it came to him again, when Grace was prattling on the stairway to her dolls. Grace possessed two poppets, known to the selected few as Arabella and Celeste. Arabella had a head of German clay and a linen body stuffed with rags; her wardrobe, made by Eleanor, was a replica of Grace’s own. She was said to be long-suffering, sweet-natured and content. Celeste was a Flanders baby, and a wooden fashion doll, discarded by a lady Richard knew at court, when her outfit was no longer à la mode. This sense of second best had left her snide and cross. Despite her Flemish origins, she spoke a faltering French, in the manner of the spiteful and despised Jehanne. With these two poppets, Grace rehearsed her daily tribulations; while Arabella listened sympathetically, Celeste was cruel and withering.
‘Arabella is good at keeping secrets,’ Hew observed.
The child looked at him suspiciously, assessing whether he was making fun of her. Deciding he was serious, she nodded. ‘She understands everything.’
‘That must be a great comfort. May I borrow her?’
An expression of alarm came fleetingly across Grace’s face. She clutched the doll closely towards her. ‘Why?’
‘A little boy I know is very sad,’ Hew explained. ‘Both his mother and his nurse have had to go away. And he has no baby, like Arabella, to talk to. In truth, he is so sad he does not talk at all.’
Grace struggled to make sense of this. She was a kindly child, and she well understood what it was to have a nurse who went away. To lose a mother also must be worse. And she was fond of Hew, and dearly wished to please him. But her love for Arabella must come first. ‘He might have Celeste,’ she offered doubtfully.
Hew considered this. Celeste, for all her finery, was brittle as her nature; her clothes were hung on a tight wire frame, and there was little in her pointed pouting features to attract a two year old. ‘Celeste is not as kind as Arabella,’ he said gently, ‘and I do not think that she would understand as well.’
Fate and Fortune Page 24