I watched from the entrance as our two guards dragged the gate opened and Thomas shouted to the stable lad, ‘Take the horse and stable it, and my friend’s mount too.’
One of our Italian friends, Antonio Bonvisi, slid from his horse onto the cobbles. He hopped towards me, clutching onto Thomas’ arm. Blood poured down his leg into the yard straw.
He had been stabbed.
‘Oh, my good Lord,’ I said. ‘Get him inside.’
‘I found him on Hert Street,’ Thomas told me as I pulled the door opened so he could help the Italian into the hall. ‘He was trying to reach the Tower.’
The terrified Master Antonio babbled in a mixture of English and Italian. Thomas translated, ‘He says it is not a deep wound.’
Thomas helped him into his great chair while I ran to the still room to find vinegar, water, cloths and a paste of turmeric. I cleaned his wound, which was only a surface cut to his leg. Once he was bandaged, I put him to rest in the chamber behind the parlour and closed the door. Thankfully, his wound healed.
We could hear the clashing of swords all that first night and far past Prime of the next day. On the day following his arrival, the riot died down. The City apprentices were punished after the King’s guards were set loose on them. Antonio was safe with us for we kept our doors bolted for five days while he remained with us in case the riots started up again.
The King wanted revenue from foreigners’ trade and punished the guilds. He hung apprentices and fined their masters. As quickly as the trouble had begun it blew over, leaving the guilds furious. Successful merchants like Master Antonio determined to leave the City. The London guilds were insisting on trade protection. New laws would soon be passed restricting foreign merchants’ trade in favour of home trade and foreigners were being watched.
Thomas was probably right when he said that Northleach could be working for a dubious cloth merchant who had remained in England that summer. Sly dealings in France and Italy could explain Northleach’s long absence abroad.
‘Lizzy,’ Thomas said, holding me, his hands on my arms. ‘No one will take you from me. I shall find this evil creature and once I discover his weakness, I shall destroy him.’
‘Susannah and Marcus? What about them?’
Thomas’ eyes darkened. ‘It was foolish of you to accept a token from a man seeking your hand, one whom you did not intend to wed.’ He looked at me sternly, ‘Until I get to the root of this you must not leave this house. Do you understand? The streets are dangerous when men such as Edward Northleach are loose. As for Susannah and Marcus, if they are innocent of lying they can be left alone. If not, there are ways to deal with them. I shall find that pair. Now come to bed. It has been too long.’
He led me from the garden and up to our chamber. When he had undressed me down to my shift, I told him my other news.
Laying his hand on my stomach, he said softly, ‘If it is a girl we shall call her Grace, but I would like us to name him Gregory if he is a boy. When will it be?’
I counted on my fingers, thinking Grace such a gentle name, though I liked Rosamond. ‘October, November, Christmastide… after the year turns,’ I said.
He climbed the two steps up into our bed, lifted up the embroidered cover, and drew back the crisp linen sheet. ‘Come, my love; how I have missed you.’
‘How I have longed for you to return to me.’
I climbed in beside him and glanced down at his still firm, though now slightly stout stomach. He had dined well in Italy. ‘You do believe me, Thomas, don’t you, when I say there was no agreement between Edward Northleach and myself?’
His response was to draw me into his arms and whisper into my ear., ‘If that wretch of a merchant, so-called, returns to bother us, Elizabeth, he shall soon disappear again. Trust me in this and do not leave the house until I find him.’
I heard him draw breath. ‘There is something else you should know.’
‘What?’
‘Though I did not speak of it tonight, I have helped a man of the new faith. I am not an evangelical nor do I care for them, but I think well of this person and I will acquire papers for him to leave the country.’
‘So he is an evangelical?’
‘Possibly. I think he is. He was staying in an inn I stopped in on the Canterbury road, a printer who wants to get to Flanders.’
‘What does he print?’
‘Poetry. Now he hopes to print prayers in the German language. We talked long into the night and I promised to try to get him papers to travel with cloth to Antwerp.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘Lodging by the Walbrook. The house with the green door.’
I drew in breath and slowly exhaled. ‘You have put him in one of Cousin Robert’s properties.’
‘I am looking after the lease for Cousin Robert. I have a key. I told the porter that my guest was going on business to Bruges and was waiting for a travel permit. I shall get him the pass and send him on his way.’
‘He is a heretic?’
‘Some would say so. He has been questioned once. Next time he could be tortured. They say Thomas More has instruments of pain in his gatehouse. He thinks to extract confessions and save souls. Surprising for a man of the new learning.’
‘Thomas, you cannot be associated with evangelicals,’ I said firmly.
‘I am not, but I find that I cannot turn my back on them either. All my learning, the way religion was once in England when the Bible was scribed in our own language, speaks to my very soul. Besides, this is a good man and a very learned one.’
‘His name?’
‘Ah, my sweeting, this information is not for your ears. He will be sent as my agent to Antwerp. I have chits for the Merchant Adventurers which he can carry for me on one of the wool ships. If he is discovered to be a heretic, I shall deny all knowledge of his beliefs. By then he will be in Heidelberg.’
I learned against his chest, listening to the calm, even beat of his heart. I prayed a silent prayer to the Virgin that no ill would touch Thomas.
Chapter Twenty-eight
FATHER ARRIVED IN OUR yard on the second Monday of October with three pack horses, two servants, several guards and a frown on his face. I could see that he was unhappy, despite the amount of cloth he carried in his packs from the Gloucestershire weavers.
‘Clearly you have not been to Putney.’ He shook his head, his face as long as a shovel. I took his arm, steadying him, and added, with concern creeping into my voice, ‘Tell me, Father, what troubles you.’
‘Later,’ he said.
Sagging great bags hovered below his eyes. He was pale, almost as white as the alabaster statue of the virgin in our hall. Father was too old for these journeys, but, it was more because I was sure that something unpleasant had happened on this expedition. His bearing was not that of a man who had just made a successful trip into the country to purchase cloth.
Holding onto his arm, I took command. ‘Father, you must bathe first and rest for the night with us. Your men can sleep in the hall. Tomorrow, Smith will take the goods to be checked for sale.’ His men had unloaded the goods and were carrying them into our lock up store by the stable. I followed his watchful eyes. ‘By the look of the number of packs on those horses, you have done very well.’
‘If Smith could have the cloth weighed and measured, it would be a help. I have no desire to go to the Drapers’ Guildhall this week nor, indeed, any time soon, Elizabeth.’ He wiped away the sweat that glistened on his brow, and handed his reins to our stable boy.
Anxiety churned up the insides of my stomach. I was sure he must be ill.
‘Come inside and I’ll send a maid to the chamber behind the parlour with ewers of hot water. Do you have clean clothing or do you want the loan of fresh garments?’ Father was of a similar size to Thomas.
‘Thank you, Lizzy, fresh clothing please, hose, breeches and coat. Where is Thomas?’
‘At York Place; he will be pleased to see you back safely. We all are.’ I stood on t
iptoes and kissed him. At last Father’s face broke into a warm smile and he held me close for a moment.
‘Not very safely, as it happens, but I shall explain shortly. Drink, food, bath, in that order. My dear, Mercy must wait until tomorrow for her husband’s return.’
What could be so important that it could not wait until he had returned home first, I wondered.
Thomas returned for supper, took one look at Father and expressed concern.
‘Something has happened, Henry. Won’t you speak of it?’
‘Later,’ Father said. ‘It is not a pleasant tale.’
We had to wait, and there was also the matter of Northleach. It promised to be an uncomfortable evening. We dined with very little conversation.
After supper, we retired to the parlour with a pewter jug full to the brim of hippocras, and a dish of sweet almond cakes. It was a misty, cool autumnal evening, so we sat around a log fire, as much for Father’s comfort as for warmth. He smelled astringent from the cleansing herbs that the maids had mixed in with his bath water, and, at last, he appeared more relaxed.
He told us about the Oxfordshire weavers and the cloth he had purchased. He answered Thomas’ interested queries about life in the wool towns, describing how he travelled about clusters of cottages seeking out the finest weaves. Many of the larger towns were wealthy from their trade. This, Father said, was reflected in large churches and the handsome, tall, glass-paned windows that adorned men’s houses. He spoke of monasteries and abbeys that nestled in sunlit rolling hills, and of mills that stood by fast flowing rivers. I was transported by my father’s English villages just as I had been a week earlier by Thomas’ descriptions of Italian towns, and, for a time, as he talked of wool, he seemed happy and fulfilled.
‘So, Father, you have had a pleasant journey, a successful one apparently. What happened to upset you?’ I could wait no longer to find out why he had not returned to Mother before coming to us.
‘That rogue Northleach happened,’ Father said, his voice raised, veins standing out in his face.
‘What,’ I said. ‘Northleach found you in the wool towns? I -’
Thomas placed a hand over mine. ‘Hush, Elizabeth, Henry first. Tell us, Henry.’
Father had encountered Edward Northleach that morning just as he had entered the City gates, as he was crossing the Fleet River to Ludgate.
Thomas shook his head. ‘We knew Master Northleach had returned. Lizzy saw him at the Drapers’ Guildhall in August. That was what she would tell you, but how he knew you were on your way to the City is a mystery.’
Father looked from Thomas to me quizzically. He said, ‘Well, somehow, he had discovered that I was on my way home from Oxfordshire and waylaid me on the Fleet Bridge. He followed me through the gate, riding a great dark stallion.’ Father gripped the chair’s arms. ‘If he can afford that sinister beast, he can afford to pay me what he owes me.’
‘What did he say?’ Thomas asked.
‘He did not mention that he had seen Lizzy at the Drapers’ Guildhall. He greeted me as if I was an old friend whom he had, by happenstance, bumped into. “By St Christopher’s holy bones,’ he said. “If it is not Master Wykes with whom I have wanted to speak these past weeks.” I stared at him, shocked at his greeting and his appearance.’ Father shook his head. ‘He was not the man we had known. He is thinner and hard-faced.
‘Anyway, he insisted we spoke in an inn close by the gate. We retired there. I was surprised to see him and I was hungry too. We set down in The Angel’s Gate and ate dinner, settled down in a private corner room, a fowl and oyster stew, which I bought for us. Horses were watered and fed, including that dark stallion of his. He called him Beaumont, a fancy Frenchified name, rolling the name smoothly off his tongue, as if it were a delicacy like marzipan or spun sugar to be savoured. I asked him what his business was with me and,’ Father paused. ‘I asked about the fabric he stole from me over four years since.’
‘What did he have to say about that?’ Thomas looked grim, and I felt my own eyes widen. I suspected the rest.
‘He did not speak of it, except to say his delayed return was because he was imprisoned in a French dungeon for years. He had been attacked; was in an affray; a man killed by his sword, though, naturally, our friend Northleach was only defending himself. He claims he was wrongly accused of causing it. He said he lost everything. “You seem to have made good again, Edward, to afford a stallion,” I said. He grunted and claimed that he worked for a Nicolo Duoda. The Italian provided him with work, horse and roof.
‘I said to him that it is a dangerous business working for the Italians these days. He replied, “I carry my protection under my mantle and I watch my back.” He moved his cloak to show an Italian stiletto in his belt.’
‘Well, well,’ said Thomas. ‘You have discovered more in an hour than I found out in a week of enquiry. Duoda indeed. That Italian’s business is suspect. This I do know.’
‘He was with Italians at the Guildhall,’ I ventured. ‘They were in a group of their own.’
My father lifted his cup to his lips and drank deeply. He shook his head. ‘So Edward Northleach is working for aliens?’
‘Not all Italians are crooks, Henry. Let us be clear on that. But Duoda is a crook and he was one of the merchants the apprentices attacked on May Day.’
‘Ah.’
‘Duoda was using Italian apprentices, untrained, and was undercutting our merchants and other foreign merchants. One of his untrained workers was murdered in the riot.’
‘And, by law, he must use English apprentices?’ I said.
‘Yes, he should, and the law will be stricter as soon as Parliament is in agreement with the City’s requests. In future, foreign traders will only lodge in houses owned by Englishmen and be answerable to Englishmen. Duoda will know this. It will be why he is using Northleach. He will have placed Edward Northleach’s name on his house lease and continued to use untrained apprentices. By Christmas you’ll see changes. The Flemish, French and Italians will be enforced to sell cloth within two days of arrival and they must sell wholesale, and not just cloth, Henry, but leather and even pots and pans. No free trading, no cheating.’
‘This may be so.’ Father drew breath. ‘But this was not all Northleach wanted to speak of. The cur had the temerity to suggest was that I had contracted him to Elizabeth and that Lizzy had agreed. She accepted a token from him to seal it, he claims. There is no written contract, of course, but tokens indeed? Was there a verbal contract, Lizzy?’
I gasped my protest at my father. ‘None.’
Thomas narrowed his eyes. ‘I believe this man is obsessed with my wife. He wants her so badly that he is determined to use any means - bribery, lies and nonsense! I have ordered Lizzy to remain at home until I discover his whereabouts.’
‘Of course, he lies, Father. He gave me a funeral token which I accepted; a small cross on a chain that had belonged to his dead wife.’
‘And although I permitted him to woo my daughter, Thomas, it went no further.’ He turned to me. ‘He said he had witnesses, Lizzy, and I said “produce them.”’
‘What happened then?’
‘He closed his eyes, smiled, and pushed back his plate. “Thank you for dinner, Master Wykes. Yes, indeed, I can marry your daughter. As she is pre-contracted to me, her present marriage is null. I owe you no debt. You owe me your daughter.”‘ Father paused at last. His words had tumbled from his mouth. ‘What do we do, Thomas?’ He turned to me. ‘Are there witnesses to the token, Elizabeth?’
‘I had a maid then, Susannah, who may be witness to the gift, along with Marcus, a gardener’s boy. How can we stop his lies?’
My husband’s grey eyes had grown cold as ice on the river in winter. He turned to Father. ‘Henry, go home to Mercy and stay there. I shall destroy this falsehood and its bearer. Keep away from the City and rest. You look tired.’
‘I shall if Smith watches the business.’
Thomas agreed to take care of everything. He ha
d a plan, though I knew that he would not be questioned about it. This would be as secret as the acquisition of papers for an English heretic who was to travel to Antwerp.
Smith’s boy discovered Susannah a week later in a stew where her husband had put her to work as a whore. Marcus had apparently turned from bad to worse. He rarely worked. Thomas ordered the pair brought to the house secretly that October night. He took dense, concealing woollen cloaks from them, threw these over his chair in the hall and ushered the terrified pair into his closet.
They stood awkwardly before us, frightened and bedraggled. Smith once again took up a position by the window, wearing a look that could only be described as menacing. I wondered what had been done to them before they had been brought to Fenchurch Street to scare them witless. Yet, the evidence showed on their faces. A crimson bruising covered Marcus’s left cheek and a chastened Susannah looked down at her muddy clogs. I noted that her cloak, though serviceable, was patched and her gown brown and plain. Her brothel clothing, assuming she possessed a fancy gown, had remained in whatever stew they had discovered her in.
‘Do you understand why you are here, Susannah?’ Thomas began.
Susannah hesitated and then looked up at us and nodded dully. Her once bright eyes looked dull. She was as thin as a sparrow. Susannah’s marriage had clearly not brought her the happiness she had hoped for. Thomas caught my eye and said, ‘My wife has questions for you, Susannah, concerning Master Northleach, who I believe has given you coin to lie for him.’
She looked tearful. Marcus shifted about on his feet. He began to open his mouth.
‘Be silent,’ Thomas snapped. ‘You have been the cause of enough trouble.’ He looked at me. ‘Elizabeth, you have questions?’
I came to the point. ‘Susannah, what did you see on the day Master Northleach visited my Wood Street House?’ I ignored the pathetic wretch who had ruined her in the four years since she had left my service.
She stammered a response. ‘I meant no harm, Mistress, but I did see him give you that token. I did, Mistress Elizabeth. I saw you two walking together and I saw you sitting close as lovers together on the garden seat under that mulberry tree. I did, and he a fine gentleman asked you to marry him. Marcus heard that.’
The Woman in the Shadows: Tudor England through the eyes of an influential woman Page 23