The last course was custard tart and honey. Lucy took a little taste and then discarded the dish as she had done with the others. Lilith was horrified. This was a taste to die for. 'Please Lucy, please, just a little more," she thought.
"Go away and stop distracting me,' thought Lucy. 'Can't you see that I'm busy?'
Lilith relapsed into hurt silence and Lucy pushed the food around her plate, sighing loudly. Custard tart and honey was Lucy's favourite and Lilith suspected that Walsingham had asked cook to prepare it specially.
A nervous-looking servant removed the plates and poured a glass of burgundy for Walsingham and a small beer for Lucy.
"I have been thinking, Lucy," said Walsingham.
He was rewarded by a sob.
"Possibly, I have been a little hasty. I was talking to Lady Renfrew only the other day and she regularly takes her daughters to the theatre. Apparently, it's part of a young lady's education in the modern world. Personally, I can't see what is wrong with a little tutoring in Homer but I suppose that I am old-fashioned. So I have decided that I will take you."
"Oh, Uncle," said Lucy. "Thank you, thank you."
"I try, Lucy. I have to be both father and mother to you and affairs of state often draw me away. If only my dear wife had survived the plague." Walsingham paused, his mind elsewhere. "I think that is why I have kept you from London. The place is full of disease and you are all I have left, child. But I suppose that I can't swaddle you from the world forever."
Lilith stayed out of the conversation but there was no possibility of Lucy suffering from disease. The demon ran continuous checks on Lucy's physiology and any invading organism that appeared potentially pathogenic was met with a zero-tolerance response.
Lucy got up and rushed to her uncle's chair. She knelt down, took his hand in hers, and gazed up at him. "Don't reproach yourself, Uncle. No girl had a kinder or wiser guardian.
"Well, well. It has been my pleasure as well as my duty to look after you. Run along now as I have work to do."
Lucy got up to leave.
"Oh Lucy," Walsingham said. The girl turned. "The not-eating-supper ploy was very good but you must be hungry now. Pop along to the kitchens and I am sure cook will find you something."
"Yes, Uncle." Lucy was the very epitome of womanly obedience now that she had got her own way.
Lilith would never understand these humans. If Walsingham knew what Lucy was up to all the time then why did he allow her to change his mind? Maybe men liked being manipulated by women, something to do with hormones perhaps. Lilith's current hypothesis was that male-female interactions were essentially a large highly complex game, so when one player made a move the other had to respond in a certain way because of the Rules. Lilith was certain that when she had enough data she would be able to construct the Rules. Then she could model human behaviour and predict their decisions. The only problem was that humans seemed to change the Rules as they went along. It was all very confusing.
Lucy opened the kitchen door and a rich aroma entered her nostrils. Oh, please, pretty please, thought Lilith. Let it be custard pie. But she blocked the thought off from Lucy who was starting to refer to her as Glutton Demon.
Lucy stood regally at the dock waiting to be assisted into a Thames barge.
'We're going to the theatre,' she chanted in her head to Lilith.
'How can you stand so coolly when you are bouncing with excitement inside?' Lilith thought.
'Practice,' thought Lucy happily. 'All my life, I have trained to be a lady.'
Two bargemen knelt on the wharf, holding the barge tight against the wooden strakes.
Simon Tunstall got in first and held his hand out for Lucy to step in. "Go to the bow if you please, Lady Dennys. That's the sharp end."
Lucy gave him the Look.
"Um that is, I didn't mean to suggest that you did not know what an, um, bow was." Lucy swept past him as he drivelled. Damn, thought Simon, why couldn't he learn the value of silence?
Simon joined Lucy in the bow. Walsingham and Gwilym took a seat in the stern. The barge was designed as a cargo carrier but it was Walsingham's habit to use a decent-sized boat for transport, ever since one of his agents was killed in a wherry "accident."
The bargemen pushed off. One seated himself at the tiller while the other raised the single square sail. Empty, the barge heeled over and moved swiftly away from the riverbank. The steersman kept it close in to the south bank, where the main channel was located. Barn Elms was on the south bank of a loop of the Thames.
'Can you look at the sail, please?' thought Lilith.
'Only you could get excited by a sail, demon,' thought Lucy but she nonetheless gave Lilith a good look.
'I thought these devices were simply baffles that were pushed along by an air current but the wind is to the side of us, so how does it work, I wonder?'
Lucy smiled to herself. 'What does it matter, Lilith? Sails do work, what else do you need to know?'
'This is such a clever piece of technology. It's just a sheet that can be folded into a small space but it turns into an aerofoil when the air pushes. Look, Lucy.'
Lilith edited Lucy's vision to show the air pressures around the mast. 'The air compresses behind the sail but moves quickly over the leading edge creating a suction. This force then presses the keel of the boat against the water, which resists, creating a forward motion. You realise that this boat could actually sail against the wind?'
'I did know that, Lilith.'
'You humans amaze me. You have such small brains and seem to know so little about the universe but you make the most amazingly complex machines.'
'Wait until you see a galleon, Lilith.'
'I would so like to see a galleon, Lucy.'
'I will see what I can do. Now be quiet and let me talk to Simon."
Simon always enjoyed river travel. He was an indifferent horseman and considered boats much more civilised.
"Will you point out the sights to me, Master Tunstall?" asked Lucy.
"Of course, it will be my pleasure." He stood up, gripping the side of the barge to steady himself, and pointed out features.
"This is as far south as the river loops. On the right are the Wandsworth docks by the River Wandle. Thames barges move cargo up to the wharf, whereupon it gets transferred to wherry boats. These take goods up the Wandle to the towns beyond."
Their barge made repeated course corrections to avoid other boats. The Thames was the busiest highway in England. The boat cruised past farms, villages, and the occasional gentleman's villa. Simon pointed out the names of places, when he knew them, and made up names when he did not. Lucy sat in the boat, hair billowing around her shoulders. He kept sneaking glances at her.
"The first northern reach of the Thames ends here. The Chelsea wharfs are on your left. Chelsea town is just in behind the trees. It is becoming fashionable with the gentry to have a country home there."
The boat cruised on. Simon glanced to the rear. "Excuse me for a moment, Lady Dennys," he said. Simon climbed to the back. A bargeman guided his unsteady progress back to Walsingham, who was going through some documents.
"You see the barge about one hundred yards behind with a brown sail," said Simon "It has been following us since we left Barn Elms. It seems to have an unnecessarily large crew."
"Never mind, Tunstall. Gwilym handles security." Walsingham did not look up.
"Perhaps the genn'lman will take 'is 'at off to the lady." Gwilym grinned at Simon.
Simon gave Lucy a sweeping bow. Facing forward, she did not even notice. "Now what?"
Gwilym grinned again in a most annoying manner. "Some of the lads fancied a day out on the river."
A wherry split off from the Chelsea wharf and started to angle across the river. Simon watched fascinated as it meandered seemingly at random. Walsingham continued to read, apparently unimpressed.
The wherry careered around the river. The sound of raucous, drunken singing emerged from it. The rowboat's unsteady progress loo
ked unguided but Simon noticed that it moved ever closer to their pursuers. Two of the rowers began to argue violently. The helmsmen tried to intervene but he was knocked back with a crash. The wherry went out of control and came together with the barge in a huge crash.
A man on the barge shook his fist at the wherrymen and yelled a phrase that finished with the word off.
"Oo are you calling a bastard?" asked a rower. He stood up and swept his oar round in an arc that ended on a man's back. The unfortunate bargeman was swept out of his boat into the water where he splashed around screaming for help. Another rower wielded his oar like a pike. He caught the barge's steersman a clean thrust in the kidneys. General mayhem broke out. The barge crew were clearly getting the worst of it, as more of them ended up in the water. Someone pulled out the mast's locking mechanism and it crashed down on the barge crew in the bow. More screams carried across the water.
"That'll learn 'em," said Gwilym.
Walsingham looked up briefly from his document. "Well done, Gwilym. Remind me to pay the wherry crew a bonus."
Williams made his way back to Lucy.
"This is so exciting, Master Tunstall," Lucy said, eagerly. "Why are those men fighting?"
"Someone's had too much to drink, I expect," said Simon. He did not wish to frighten the girl.
"What's that place on that bend?" she asked.
"London," Simon said simply. "Well, it's the City of Westminster really but London has grown so rapidly that Westminster is part of the suburbia of the city. People flock here from all over England and from other countries. The Queen has passed a new act forbidding any new buildings around London, to try to limit the size of the suburbs outside the city wall. London now has a population of one hundred and fifty thousand people. Imagine that! It's the greatest city in Europe.
"Look to the right now, Lucy. Where the wherries are docked is Lambeth and that fine building with the tower is Lambeth Palace, the London residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury."
The palace had a central narrow building running back from the river. A large square tower rose from half way up the right hand side. Smaller buildings surrounded the central palace on each side. The hall built into the left wall had a low, squat, square tower surmounted by small domes with flagpoles. Brilliant streamers flew from them.
"It looks like a fairy-tale castle," said Lucy, clapping her hands.
The barge pulled alongside Westminster.
"That large building on the left bank is Westminster Abbey where English monarchs are crowned and beyond it is Westminster Hall. That's where the Lords sit and the Law Courts preside. The Commons sit in St. Stephen's Chapel next door."
Their barge turned eastwards along the river to London.
"There, Lucy, do you see the top of that monument, behind the trees on the north bank?"
Lucy shielded her eyes, "Yes."
"That's Charing Cross, one of the monuments to the fallen Queen Eleanor," said Simon.
"Queen Eleanor?" asked Lucy, uncertainly.
"Yes, she was the wife of Edward the First. She died in the north, near Harby. Her entrails were buried at Lincoln and her body was brought south for burial at Westminster Abbey. The King built a cross at every location that the funeral procession stopped. There is one at Cheapside in London and then the final one was put up here, at Charing Cross, just outside the city of Westminster."
"Oh, that's such a wonderful story," said Lucy. "The King must have loved her deeply."
"Perhaps, so," said Simon. He did not wish to ruin Lucy's romantic interpretation but kings and aristocrats married for reasons other than love, in his experience. Eleanor was popular so King Edward would wish to be seen to do the right thing. That would be good politics.
"Look at those villas along the north bank," she said.
"The Strand from Westminster to London is lined with rich men's houses." Simon pointed out those he knew. "That's Suffolk Place
and there's Durham Place
, the Bishop of Durham's town house."
"He can hardly ride back to Durham for his supper every night," said Lucy. "So I suppose he needs a little local place to sleep when he is in London?" Durham was an important city in the far north of England.
"There's Somerset Place
, the home of the Duke of Somerset," said Simon, pointing.
The boat headed along the eastern reach of the Thames. "And there is London, that's the city wall by the Fleet River on the other bank. Those houses on the other side are the start of Southwark."
London presented a sea of red tiled roofs, with innumerable towers and steeples reaching like fingers into the sky.
"That must be St. Paul's Cathedral," said Lucy pointing at a huge block building that dominated western London. The main building ran east-west and a square tower surmounted the centre of the cross.
"A thunderbolt destroyed the spire twenty years ago but it is still, by far, the highest building in the city," said Simon
"Did anyone decide what London did to incur God's displeasure?" asked Lucy.
"Not really," said Simon. "There was much talk of God punishing licentiousness and immorality but surely He would have directed lightnings to Southwark if that was His purpose."
"Why? What happens at Southwark?" Lucy had her most innocent expression on.
"Oh you know, drinking, gambling, and, er, so on." William coloured up. Lucy opened her mouth to ask something else. Simon said hurriedly, "Look, Lucy, London Bridge is in front of us. It is said that more than five hundred people live and work on the houses and shops built upon it. One of the buildings fell into the river some years ago and fifty people drowned."
"Oh," said Lucy, with delight. "How horrible."
"There is a dainty story about the bridge from my grandfather's day," said Simon. "One of the houses on the bridge was owned by a Sir William Hewet. He was a prosperous London merchant possessed of a wide estate worth no less than six thousand pounds a year. He had three sons but only one daughter, a fair child called Anne. One day the maid was dangling Anne out of the window to see the boats, when she dropped the girl. The child's fate seemed sealed when a young gentleman, Master Osborne, who was apprenticed to Sir William, dived in after her and swam her to the bank. Sir William was so impressed by this deed that he bestowed a great dowry on the girl, and gave her in marriage to Master Osborne."
"And did he treat her well, so she grew to love him and they lived happily ever after?" asked Lucy, with an odd expression
"My grandfather did not say," said Simon, puzzled.
"She was only his prize so I suppose it is not important," said Lucy. "But he had saved her so I prefer to think that she did grow to love him, and why should he not love her back?"
Simon did not understand Lucy's mood so he started to gabble. "The Constable puts the heads of traitors on spikes at the Southwark end of the bridge."
"How awful," said Lucy, with a delicious shiver.
"The bridge is held up by twenty arches of squared stone sitting on starlings," said Simon, with a straight face.
"Starlings?" Lucy giggled and held her hand to her mouth in a characteristic gesture.
"Small islands of stone and brushwood, wonderfully artificial," said Simon. "Not, um, small birds."
Lucy started giggling and they both laughed out loud.
"They actually have water wheels between the southern arches to grind corn," said Simon struggling to maintain his composure.
"Grinding corn, hmm," said Lucy. "Not starlings, then." She dissolved into helpless giggles.
Walsingham looked up to see what amused them.
"There are so many boats on the river that one could almost walk from bank to bank." Lucy was back in Lady Dennys mode.
The river was cluttered with wherrys, barges, and pinnaces. Some of the latter were big enough to be three- or even four-masted. "The Mayor's office have licenced two thousand wherry boats alone in London," said Simon.
Their bargemen half lowered the sail to slow them down and
the steersman put the helm over so that they cruised up to a small pier. "This is Parys Garden, Lucy. We land here," said Simon.
The theatre party walked along the embankment road towards London Bridge. Lucy walked on Walsingham's arm. The Thames lined one side and modest houses the other. Some of the houses advertised rooms while others were taverns.
"You're a fine gentleman. Want to come in for a little fun." At one house, a girl in her underclothes leaned out of an upstairs window and called to Walsingham. Lucy was wide-eyed. Walsingham gripped Lucy's arm like a shipwrecked man holds a spar. Simon had the distinct impression that Lucy was protecting Walsingham, rather than the other way round.
"Look over the river, Lucy. You get a dainty view of St. Paul's from here." Walsingham desperately tried to draw Lucy's attention away from women advertising their wares from the bawdy houses.
"Master Tunstall pointed it out earlier," said Lucy. She noticed a large hexagonal building flying pennants behind the Southwark houses.
"Is that the theatre uncle? How exciting," she said.
Walsingham played guide until they reached an alleyway. Behind it was a field with chickens and pigs. In one corner stood the theatre and Lucy stopped to admire the unusual building with its bright colours and flags. Walsingham leaned over to Simon. "That was somewhat embarrassing, Tunstall. Still I think I got away with it. The child has no idea that those women were Winchester geese, of course."
Southwark came under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Winchester. The city had been famous for its "stews," or brothels, for hundreds of years. The church had long had an equivocal attitude to sins of the flesh, regarding prostitution as a distasteful necessity and so often the clergy ended up regulating brothels. So the whores of Southwark were known euphemistically as "Winchester geese," after the good bishop.
"Of course not, Sir Francis. How could she?" Simon was shocked at the very idea. Lucy was as pure as any human being could be. He looked at Lucy, who gazed eagerly up at the theatre.
'Lucy, why were those women dressed in underclothes?' thought Lilith.
'Um, oh they were whores,' thought Lucy. 'If you don't know the word look it up in that library you carry around in your head.'
Lucy's Blade Page 14