‘You are wrong about Christian,’ Hew exclaimed fiercely.
‘In the end, you chose Christian, when you left me to look for her child. That was what saved you. But you were willing to deceive her; like a bairn, you came scrabbling at my pockets, in the search for sweets. It grieved me, for I cared for you.’
‘That is hard to believe,’ he accused her.
Catherine sighed. ‘I loved my husband Robert, though he risked it all, to tumble in the sheets. I do not doubt he loved me too, as deep and fierce as I loved him, and yet he did allow himself to be lured, with promises of sticky sweets and comforts, and coming homewards to his wife, infected me.’
‘And you thought to pass on his gift?’
‘You were so willing to accept it, Hew, so ready to forget her and her child,’ Catherine answered sadly.
‘This sick revenge is skewed. And you know nothing of my love for Christian. Aye, I came to you, in spite of her. But I came with clear regard for you; and for your sweets, your wit, your charms, I could have loved you, Catherine, you must know, I wanted to.’
‘As you say, in spite of her.’
‘Despite her love. Christian is my sister. Therefore I may not be free to love her,’ Hew said quietly, ‘as I believed I was free to love you.’
Catherine was silent for a moment. ‘I did not know. But though she is your sister that does not absolve you from your guilt. You used me for your comfort. Can you deny that you came hot and willing to my bed while thinking of another?’
Hew shook his head. ‘I wanted to make love to you.’
‘And yet when Christian called, you left me in my bed, without a second glance.’
‘She needed me. She needs me now,’ he answered helplessly.
‘Of course she does. And have you given thought to me since? Or sent a note to tell me how things were? Or did you pause to wonder what became of me, the woman you left lonely in her bed?’
Hew fell silent then.
‘You did not. You forgot me. And when the soldiers took me, you were nowhere to be found. The truth is, in the printer’s shop or in my bed, you only saw and wanted Christian.’
Hew cried out, ‘You blamed me, for betraying Christian; and you blame me now, for not betraying her! I liked you, aye, I liked you, for your humour and your wit and for your charms; I thought that they were yours to give, and mine to take as freely. If I forgot you, in the search for Christian’s child, and in her present danger, then you must allow for circumstance. But Catherine, I am here; surely that must tell you something?’
At the sound of raised voices, the guard edged closer. ‘Enough! It’s time to board.’
‘Aye. I am ready.’ Catherine lifted down her veil. Already wan and frail in sickness, she appeared to lose her step, and leant upon the soldier, who held out a hand to steady her. ‘Hew Cullan, some advice: do not give way to bitterness. It is more vicious than the pox, and infectious to the core.’
There was nothing he could do but watch her go.
False Impressions
On the day of Christian’s trial, Hew and Richard shared breakfast in the gallery above the street. It was not quite light, and the morning chill did little to dispel Hew’s nerves. He felt sick with fear. Richard, by contrast, seemed calm and composed. As they broke their bread he mentioned curiously, ‘Grace told me the strangest tale. She claims you took her poppet, Arabella, and returned it broken. I think that that cannot be true. If Grace is lying, I will punish her.’
‘I am afraid that it is true,’ owned Hew. ‘Certainly, you have no cause to punish her. She was kind enough to lend her poppet, and unfortunately, it was broken. However, it has been repaired, and Grace has now forgiven me.’
‘Whatever did you want it for?’
‘I wanted it for William, by way of an experiment. It proved a little too successful, at least for Grace’s poppet.’
‘You mean the printer’s boy? What sort of an experiment?’ demanded Richard.
‘I hoped that Grace’s baby would unlock his silence. And so it did. William saw the murder of his nursemaid, Alison. He showed it in his play with Grace’s poppet. And he has begun to speak again. He named a man called Davie as the killer,’ Hew explained.
‘This is outrageous!’ Richard exploded. ‘How dare you implicate my daughter in your wild experiments? Have you no care to the risk!’
Hew stared at him. ‘There was no risk to Grace,’ he answered reasonably. ‘She was not there. Though, I must confess, I had not counted on the risk to Grace’s poppet. I have made my peace with her, and she has now forgiven me. She gave up her baby, of her own free will.’
‘God help you, man, have you no sense at all? In truth, you know nothing of children! You cannot make a contract with a bairn of six! Grace gave up her baby, that is dearest to her heart, out of her regard for you. This is ill done, to take advantage of a child. She says you promised her a gown! Now do you think that proper, sir? I begin to think it is no longer fitting that you stay here in my house.’
‘No, Richard, you are over-wrought,’ Eleanor protested, coming up behind them with a pitcher of fresh milk.
‘Richard is right,’ Hew replied quietly. ‘I have stayed too long. I will remove this evening, to the west port inn.’
As they left for court, Hew found Grace in the doorway, tearfully clutching her doll. ‘Daddie has sent you away,’ she whispered. ‘Is it because of me?’
He shook his head gently. ‘It is because of the trial.’
Richard was trying to rattle him; it would take little enough.
Hew was shaking as he came into the courtroom. And when he saw Christian, frightened and bewildered, standing at the bar, he almost lost his nerve. He wanted to hold her, to take her in his arms, and yet he knew he had to look at her remotely, and remain detached. It was the hardest thing that he had ever had to do.
The jurors were sworn in, and Hew looked at them in panic, searching for a sympathetic face. He could not read the inquest, or find any trace of their affiliations. Richard, meanwhile, seemed to know them all, and went through the jurors briskly and decisively, until he had them whittled down to his own exacting shape. Hew stood by, helpless, as they were sworn in.
Christian then made her plea, so quiet that the jury could not hear her, and she was forced to speak again. No sooner had she spoken, than the door to the outer chamber opened, and the king came in, with his favourite, Esme Stewart, and several of his council, to take their seats upon the stage.
‘Since the charge is leasing-making, then we thought that we should hear it,’ James acknowledged languidly. ‘Now, pray, begin.’
The judge peered out at Richard. ‘Will you set out the case, Master Cunningham? Who is it that the panel sets against you? Your young pup? Surely not?’
‘Indeed, my lord, it is my prentis, Hew Cullan, who would try his wits today, in a momentous case,’ Richard answered gravely.
The king, leaning forward to observe, was heard to say aloud, ‘I know this man, Hew Cullan. We have met before. We may have some entertainment here today.’ Aware that the court had paused to wait on him, he waved his hand expansively, ‘Did I not say, begin?’
He was so very young, thought Hew, and so assured, and yet he seemed overshadowed by the lords that flanked him. The young king shifted nervously, and did not sit still. His taut and watchful presence set the court on edge.
‘I thank you, your grace,’ Richard bowed. ‘My lords, I call as my first witness, Allan Chapman.’ Chapman shuffled forward to the stand.
‘Are you Allan Chapman, master printer, of the netherbow?’
‘I am.’
‘And you have been in business there for how long?’
‘Nine years, come Michaelmas.’
‘Then you must be fully master of your trade,’ Cunningham remarked.
‘And if I am not, sir, I would like to meet the man who is my master at it,’ Chapman replied, with a hint of smugness.
‘Tis well, for you are well placed to advise us.
I have in my hand, a piece of printed paper, that, in deference to his majesty,’ Cunningham bowed to the king, ‘I may not read out in open court. Suffice it to say, that it is slanderous to the majestie’s dear person, and were it not required in evidence, then it should have been destroyed; and presently we shall consign it to the flame. But though we like it not, we must preserve it for a while, only in this place, as evidence.’
Here Hew interrupted, looking to the justice general, ‘For the jury’s sake, should it not be read out?’
The justice shuddered. ‘I think not. The assessors have seen this paper, and that it defames our sovereign lord is not the matter in dispute here. Surely, you do not contend that?’
‘Not at all,’ Hew answered quickly, ‘But I thought perhaps the jury—’
‘The jury have been told the document is slander,’ said the judge severely. ‘Since that question is resolved beyond dispute, there is no cause for them to hear its content.’
Richard winked at Hew. ‘You show your greenness now,’ he whispered. ‘Have a care!’ And he turned back to the printer.
‘Master Chapman, I pray you to look at this paper, without looking at its content, which you need not know, and will not be asked of you. But pay particular attention, if you will, to the print, and tell us, coming with a printer’s knowledge, what you see there on the page. I pray you, look upon the letter and the block, and do not divulge the matter.’ Richard passed the paper to Chapman, who studied it closely. ‘Tell me, what do you see?’
‘I see thirty lines of copy, set as verse, and below it a signature and device, such as printers use.’
‘Can you describe the device?’
‘It is of a black bird, like a raven or corbie, and the bird is atop a tree, that we call the tree of knowledge, for it often represents the matter in a book, and below the tree entwined the letter H pierced through with a cross, that signifies—’
Richard interrupted, ‘but for a moment, do not tell us what it signifies; tell the court, merely, do you recognise the device?’
‘Certainly. It is the device of … should I say the name?’ Richard nodded. ‘It is the device of … of her,’ he jutted a thumb towards Christian, ‘I mean the panel, Christian Hall.’
‘One moment,’ Richard turned to Christian. ‘Do you admit this bird and tree and letters, to be your device?’
‘You do not have leave to question her,’ objected Hew.
‘My lord,’ Richard said to the judge, ‘it will save us all a lot of time if the panel will say now if her device consists of letter H, a cross, a raven and a tree. The point is not contentious.’
The justice looked at Christian. ‘You do not have to answer this,’ he advised, ‘however, if you choose to do so, it will save us time.’ His tone made clear which he considered the expedient choice. Christian glanced at Hew, who nodded cautiously.
‘It is my device,’ she said, in a small voice, ‘or one very like it.’
‘I thank you. May I put to you one further question? You need not answer,’ Richard continued hurriedly, as Hew rose to object again, ‘but if you will not, it may hurt you. This is a paper taken from your shop. Can you look at this paper and tell the court if you recognise it? Is it from your press?’
He showed the page briefly to Hew as he passed it across. It was the title page from Matthew’s law book. Christian took it, trembling. Once again, she glanced at Hew, who nodded his assent.
‘Do you recognise it?’ Richard asked her gently, in a voice made low with pity and respect.
‘It is a page from a law book we are printing,’ Christian whispered.
‘From your press, beyond a doubt?’
‘Beyond a doubt.’
‘Specifically, what page?’
‘The title page.’
‘And the picture we see on that page, of the bird and the tree and the H and cross, that is your mark or device?’
‘It is,’ Christian admitted.
‘Then I thank you. You have been most helpful. We need trouble you no more.’
Richard plucked the paper from her hands. Unsure of herself, Christian looked again at Hew. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. But he was thinking rapidly. Richard had returned to Chapman.
‘Now, sir, if you will, consider this paper. Set the two there, side by side. Pray take your time.’
Richard remained silent while the printer examined the two sheets of paper, eyes screwed in concentration, and did not speak again until Chapman looked up to meet his gaze.
‘In your opinion, as a master printer, were these two papers produced on the same press?’
Chapman said stoutly, ‘Beyond a doubt, they were.’
Hew leant forward a little, his eyes upon Chapman. He gave no answering smile to Christian’s imploring looks across the court.
Richard continued, ‘You seem very certain of that. Perhaps you could explain to us, who are not expert in the field of printing, how you come to be so sure?’
‘Well sir, if you would look here first at the device, you will see that the ink is not distributed quite evenly upon the page; at the righthand side of this tree the leaves are quite marked and distinct, while on the left, the leaves are blurred, and in one place do not show at all, and that place is left blank on the page. This device has been block printed, quite cheaply. That is to say, it has been carved from wood, rather than engraved in copper, in the new style, and in consequence the wood has become somewhat worn, and in places, the original engravings have smoothed out. On both these papers, the ink has failed to take in exactly the same way, in exactly the same part of the design. Therefore it is proved beyond a doubt that the same block was used to print both pages.’
‘It is not possible, I suppose, that another block could be constructed – what my friend here will call a forgery – to mimic the same sort of wear?’ Richard suggested.
‘It is not possible. That wear is the result of many, many presses; and its distribution is due perhaps to the peculiarity of a particular pressman. It is like … it is like, sir, a pair of boots that wears down in a particular place; another man who had the same pair of boots could never wear the sole down quite the same. And even the same man, when he had another pair of boots, and in his same peculiarity of walking wore them down in about the same place, would never wear them quite as thin, unless he wore them exactly the same, for the same length of time and in the same places, and for the same number of days.’
Richard allowed another smile. ‘Indeed, I have a pair of boots that show such particular wear. You explain it very well. Tell me, though; is it not possible, that though the same block were used on both these papers, they were printed on different presses?’
‘I would stake my reputation, sir, that that is not the case. The letter is the same in both.’
‘Can you explain?’
‘In several places, the characters are broken – here, on the upper case T, and there the lower case a, and here the O, that looks more like a C. These are what we call naughty letter, sir, and in a proper printers ought to be discarded. But these broken letters appear on both papers.’
‘The same?’
‘The same.’
‘And it is not likely that a different set of letter should appear, by coincidence, to be broken in just the same places?’
‘It is inconceivable, sir.’
‘I thank you. You have been most helpful. And I have no further questions. Perhaps these two papers might be passed around the jury,’ Richard appealed to the judge, ‘that they might compare the broken letters and the smudging of the trees – without, of course,’ he qualified, ‘attending to the matter of the slander.’
The justice nodded. ‘Master Chapman, don’t step down. For Master Cullan may have questions.’
‘I do have one or two,’ Hew answered pleasantly. ‘Master Chapman, I must thank you for your clear and full account. It has been most illuminating.’
Chapman grinned complacently.
‘You have been p
rinter here for nine years now?’
‘As I said.’
‘And in that time, you have made, as I understand, no less than thirteen complaints against printers, stationers, bookbinders and booksellers, here in the town. Is that correct?’
‘I have made some complaints, against unfreemen and strangers, who did unlawfully trade in the town. I couldna tell you how many.’
‘I can tell you, Master Chapman, for they were recorded in the burgh records, that there were thirteen. How many of those were upheld?’
‘Since you have seen the burgh records, no doubt you can tell me yersel,’ Chapman retorted. For I don’t remember.’
‘Since you don’t remember, happily, I can. Two were upheld; one was a French merchant, selling Catholic tracts, and the other, just the other week, was a playing card seller, to whom you subsequently gave employment in your shop.’
‘Aye? Well, he was unlicensed,’ Chapman answered.
‘Indeed he was.’
‘I do not see where this is going,’ interrupted Richard.
‘My lord, I come to it. Do you think it fair to say you do not care for competition?’ Hew enquired of Chapman. But before he could reply, Hew hurried on. ‘Did you, on William Hall’s death, attempt to take his press from Christian Hall? Have you, in the past two years, made several such attempts? In short, Master Chapman, have you in the months since William Hall’s death made such a noisome nuisance in her shop that she was forced to bar her doors against you, and on one occasion, her pressman was obliged to remove you bodily?’
Richard rose to his feet.
‘I take it amiss,’ Chapman answered huffily, ‘that you construe my interest so. The truth is,’ he appealed to the jury, ‘that I offered her my help, and the use of my premises, when she was frozen out. Is it widow’s work to run a press? Of course it is not. The work is hard, and not fit for a woman. Least of all, a woman who has lately had a child.’
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