Juliet Landon

by The Maiden's Abduction

  ‘Come in…come in! Are these two gentlemen with you? No…please, leave the introductions till later. You look all in. That rough sea. Ah, you poor things, come.’ Taking immediate control, she turned the four shivering passengers towards the house, calling to Master Summerscale over her shoulder, ‘You’ll sup with us tonight, master? Bring the crew, if you will.’

  The three customs officers, however, had other ideas. ‘One moment, mistress,’ one of them said, signing the others to go aboard. ‘This is your ship, I take it?’

  ‘No,’ Dame Elizabeth said, ‘it isn’t. It belongs to my employer, and this is hardly the time, Master Customs Officer, to start asking questions. Let it wait on the morrow, if you please, and give these good men some peace after their voyage. You can see what weather they’ve come through.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, mistress, but any delay benefits you, not us. We need to know what you’re carrying.’

  Master Summerscale, halfway up the gang-plank, came to the point. ‘I’m carrying four exhausted passengers, sir. What else d’ye need to know?’

  ‘Cargo?’

  Master Caxton stepped forward, imposing and dignified despite his pain, his face scowling at the hold-up. ‘The cargo, sir, is books. My books. Printed on my press in Brugge.’

  The searcher, his short well-filled neck overlapping the good woollen cloak under his chin, turned his attention to Caxton with obvious sharpness. ‘You were a passenger on the ship?’

  ‘You know I was. You watched me disembark. My name is William Caxton, sometime governor of the Merchant Adventurers Company in Brugge and returned by command of his Majesty King Edward to set up my printing press in Westminster. Are you suggesting that I have travelled on a ship carrying contraband? Do you want to open each box to take a look?’

  ‘Master Caxton? Er…no. No indeed, sir.’ The man’s eyes and mouth gaped simultaneously as he struggled to stay in command of the situation. ‘My apologies, sir, truly. No need to trouble Mistress Brakespeare further. I bid you good day, sir. Mistress.’

  ‘Not now or at any time in the future, I should hope,’ Caxton added, severely. ‘Whoever’s sent you to investigate this lady’s affairs had better look to his own, for this is a red herring if ever I saw one. A red herring, I say.’

  ‘Absolutely, sir. Routine investigations, sir, no more than that.’ The man called to his two hesitant companions and together they made haste up the hill towards the Ship, holding their dignity together over the slippery cobbles.

  John Brakespeare stole a glance at Isolde and smiled shyly, removing the well-travelled bag from her hands so that she could support Mistress Cecily. Dame Elizabeth, overcome with relief and admiration, offered Master Caxton a genuine welcome, English fashion.

  ‘We are in your debt, Master Caxton. I hope you will accept our hospitality for as long as you need it. Silas has often spoken of you, but your timing was perfect. You’re unwell, I see. Come, and you too, sir.’

  ‘My brother, Allard Medwin,’ Isolde said, ‘and Cecily, oh…dear…!’ As she spoke, poor Cecily sagged and was caught by Allard. ‘We are indeed a sorry bunch. And an intrusion, I fear.’

  But Dame Elizabeth was smiling as she placed an arm around Isolde’s shoulders. ‘You are the best thing that’s happened to me all day. I mean it; the very best thing. Come, there is some tending to do. John, Francis, run on ahead and tell Cook. And tell Emmie to heat more water,’ she called after them.

  There was no denying that Fate had taken a hand in Isolde’s affairs and left her little to do but accept the hospitality that she had, only a few miles out, decided to avoid. How could she impose a second time upon this good woman’s generosity? What Fate had omitted to tell her was that Master Caxton carried a letter of introduction from Silas to Elizabeth, knowing that he would need at least one night’s lodging before continuing his journey to London. Nor did Isolde understand that, over the years, Caxton and Dame Elizabeth had had their praises sung to each other so often that, except for an unbiased physical description, they were as well known to each other as if they’d been friends of long standing. Now, at last, they’d been brought together in the most auspicious circumstances. Caxton saving his hostess from deep embarrassment, as well as himself, whilst she was able to put him straight to bed with some broth and a dose of laudanum for the pain of his fracture. Needless to say, he went out like a light.

  The riddle of how Isolde, her brother and maid came to be on the same ship from Flanders was a mystery that still had to be solved, but Dame Elizabeth’s perceptions disallowed any questions about that until her guests had been made more comfortable, bathed, changed and, in Cecily’s case, put to bed with the first nourishment she’d had for many days.

  ‘No questions,’ she told the boys. ‘We do not interrogate our guests. Mistress Isolde will no doubt tell us, when she’s recovered.’ Nevertheless, she had not missed the tears filling Isolde’s eyes which had been quickly brushed away, but her curiosity was not allowed to overcome her compassion. She met Isolde and Allard speaking together in low voices upstairs on the wide landing. ‘Now, my dear guests. Do you have everything you need? I have dry clothes a-plenty, and some of Silas’s things that would fit you well, Master Allard. He’d not mind you borrowing them, I know.’

  Protectively, Allard kept hold of his sister’s hand. ‘Dame Elizabeth, your kindness is overwhelming. Isolde and I had intended to—’

  ‘If you’d stayed anywhere but here, sir, I’d have been mortified. Now, I see that you lack some dry shoes. I shall get you a pair of Silas’s.’

  Isolde caught at Dame Elizabeth’s hand. ‘We owe you an explanation,’ she said.

  ‘No, dear. Not now you don’t. First you must have food, warmth, and a night’s rest. Then we can talk. Yes?’

  Partly from fatigue, Isolde’s eyes brimmed again.

  But the plan, devised out of kindness, had not allowed for Isolde’s pressing need to unburden herself and to secure the approval of someone wiser than she, Cecily and Allard having been otherwise engaged. Far from diminishing over the distance, her anguish and uncertainty had grown, and now one more night was one too many. Wearing one of Dame Elizabeth’s loose robes, and the cotton cover from her bed around her shoulders, she tiptoed down the staircase towards the soft light from the parlour, catching the same evocative aroma of beeswax, lavender and spices that she had noticed on that first occasion. It seemed like years ago.

  Dame Elizabeth was standing alone before the great hearth, her face lit by the embers and piles of ash that spilled on to the stone, and Isolde was tempted to turn back so as not to interrupt her hostess’s reverie. The hesitation was caught.

  ‘Isolde, come in. I was thinking what a pity it is to cover the fire when it gives such comfort. Share it with me for a while. You are not ready to sleep yet?’ She held out a welcoming hand and guided Isolde towards a low bench on the opposite side of the hearth.

  ‘Forgive me. I know I should wait for a more convenient time, but would it impose on you too much if I were to tell you what happened, instead of waiting till tomorrow?’

  ‘My dear, it would be no imposition. I was not ready to sleep either. The day’s coincidences are whirling around inside my head, and your account is probably what I need to explain them. Master Summerscale told me he brought you all from Sluys with a cargo of Master Caxton’s books, so I realised you must have decided to go there with Silas, after all.’ She threw a log onto the fire to revive it.

  ‘Not quite,’ Isolde said, watching the sparks fly. ‘He told me he was going to York.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I understood. Didn’t he?’

  ‘No, he’d been there before coming here. Did you not know that?’

  ‘Yes, but he told me he had to go back there. It was a sudden decision, but it was important to get you back there without being seen.’

  ‘It was a bluff. He didn’t intend to take me there, or to meet Bard.’

  ‘So he didn’t…?’ A crease appeared between Elizabeth’s eye
s. This was something she had not foreseen.

  ‘No. He left Bard waiting and he took me straight to Brugge. He has a house there, you know, on the Dijver opposite the Gruuthuis.’

  The log crackled under the licking tongues of flame and the wind roared in the chimney, pulling the blue smoke upwards. Dame Elizabeth’s hand covered her mouth in utter astonishment, then dropped, slowly. ‘He…he abducted you, Isolde? Is that what you are telling me?’

  ‘Yes, he wanted me to become his mistress.’

  ‘I see. And you agreed?’ She had not meant to probe, but the question seemed natural enough, and when Isolde’s hands visibly shook, Dame Elizabeth moved to join her on the long bench, to place her own warm hands on Isolde’s for comfort and to catch the first warm rain of tears that fell. ‘Shh…I know. Don’t say any more. He was attracted to you from the first; I could see that easily enough. But he’s a powerful beast, isn’t he, and I don’t suppose he gave you much time to refuse? He’s always known what he wanted, ever since he was a young apprentice. One could never call him impetuous, but when he sets his mind to something, he’s not known for the subtle approach. My husband used to call him a young bullock.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘You decided to leave, then?’

  Isolde was not sure how much Dame Elizabeth knew about the feud between the Medwins and the La Vallons and so, little by little, the full story emerged, during which the sympathetic listener had only to confirm what she already understood, or to prompt a detail. Yet when Isolde reached the part concerning Silas’s connections with the Duchess of Burgundy, her voice grew incoherent with anguish, making questions concerning her love for Silas quite unnecessary. She shook with grief.

  Dame Elizabeth allowed her to weep, then brushed the unruly mop of red hair away from her face. ‘I think there is something you should know,’ she said, ‘though it might have been just as well if Silas had told you himself.’

  ‘I know,’ Isolde said, forestalling her. ‘They were lovers in York before the Duchess’s marriage.’

  ‘He was no more than twenty, Isolde. Ambitious. Confident. Irresistible to a woman like Margaret of York. She was only a year or so older than him at the time, and quite wild. My late husband had managed to obtain foreign goods for her that no one else up here could get; furs, books of hours, perfumes and silks. She’s always loved silks. Naturally, she took a fancy to Silas. Everyone did. It was a very brief affaire. My husband put a stop to it, but it was enough to guarantee him a patron for life and exclusive links with her family who all wanted whatever he could obtain, especially books and fabrics. But it also made him a lot of enemies, Isolde, especially in York.’

  ‘Master Fryde?’

  ‘Yes. Fryde never had the same success in his trading as my husband, because for one thing no one could trust him, and he never managed to acquire the same kind of patronage as that which John had from Margaret of York.’

  ‘You had a house in York, as well as here?’

  ‘On Coney Street, alongside the river. It was convenient.’

  ‘So Fryde was envious of Master Brakespeare’s success?’

  ‘Very. Especially when Fryde desperately wanted to take high office within the Merchant Adventurers Company and on the city council, because one needs a certain amount of wealth for that, you see. Even the lower positions require an outlay: bridgekeepers, for instance, must do their stint before they can be nominated for office. Granted, they get to keep the rents and tolls, but they also have to maintain both bridges out of that and their own pockets. My John never aspired to that, but Fryde loves the power it brings. Eventually, he brought my husband down.’

  ‘Tell me, if you please.’

  The lovely mature face showed soft lines for all the forlorn years. ‘Henry Fryde was a councillor at the time. He authorised my husband to buy four hundred pounds’ worth of luxury goods from Flanders for him and agreed to pay John five per cent commission. John was foolish to trust him, but he didn’t see what could go wrong. On the way home from Flanders, crossing the North Sea, John’s ship was caught by pirates. They stole the cargo, killed my John and sent the ship empty to York bearing his body. And young Silas. I was expecting our second son at the time. The cost of crew, handling, and cargo had cost us dearly, but Fryde refused to pay a penny compensation, not even as a gesture, and I was ruined.’

  ‘My God! So that’s it!’

  ‘Fortunately, Silas had just completed his indentures, and Fryde offered to take him on as journeyman, but Silas refused. He’s always been sure, you see, that those pirates were hired by Fryde himself, and that the cargo was taken on to York for Fryde to sell. These merchants keep an ear to the ground, you know.’

  ‘There’s a scar on Silas’s forehead. Is that from the fight?’

  ‘Oh, yes, he came home well-bloodied but full of remorse that he’d not been able to save John’s life. He swore to me that he’d stay with me and the boys until I remarried and that he’d see Fryde brought down or die in the attempt. I’ve told him he stands no chance, but we went to the Duchess and borrowed money from her to repair the ship—that’s the cog you sailed on to come here—and enough to keep me going until he could earn what he owed her. He’s not stopped working, Isolde, not for a moment. He re-bought the house in York when he was accepted into the Merchant Adventurers and insisted I stay here in Scarborough so that I’d be well away from Fryde’s attentions.’

  ‘You mean, he’s pestered you?’

  ‘Indirectly. It was always Fryde’s aim to marry me off to one of his merchant cronies so that he could take a hand in my affairs and make it look as if he’d done his best for a fellow-merchant’s widow. Silas thought it would be best for me and the boys to be here, where I can run the second part of his business.’

  ‘And a house in Brugge. He’s done well. Is it all legal?’

  Dame Elizabeth’s blink was slow to recover. ‘Ah…’ she said on a sigh. ‘Then you know, do you?’

  ‘I saw something in Brugge. I wasn’t meant to. They’re with the books.’

  ‘So you know about the courier service, too?’

  ‘Between the Duchess and her brothers here in England? Yes, I can see how well he’s trusted.’

  ‘And enterprising, too. He’s explored every avenue to make enough money not only to get ahead of Fryde but to keep me and the boys in comfort. His courier service extends to several members of the royal family here and to the Duke of Burgundy, the Medici bank, and any merchant who can pay him, except Fryde. What you saw in Brugge that concerned you is Silas’s attempt to prevent Fryde getting hold of luxury goods and bringing them over here. Silas burns to revenge himself on that man.’

  ‘Which I suppose is why he saw me as a perfect bargaining tool. Did you know that Fryde sent his son Martin to find me and take me back?’

  The dame’s large brown eyes grew rounder and not a little concerned. ‘No. Did he really? So, is he still there? If so, he’s probably well primed to do whatever damage he can before he leaves.’

  The silence was heavy with speculation, then Isolde’s hand upturned to clasp Elizabeth’s, caressing. ‘So it could have been Fryde who sent the customs men up here to start looking. He suspects?’

  ‘Oh, he’s suspected for some time, I’m sure, but he’s not been able to prove anything, especially in a place like this. You know how close Yorkshiremen are. He’s left us well alone so far, because Silas is seen in York regularly and appears to make no secret of his merchandise, otherwise the Merchants Company would become suspicious. But Fryde can’t complain because, in theory, there’s nothing to stop him trading in the same goods. Only Silas himself, who has so many exclusive contracts. Fryde doesn’t have his own ship, and Silas won’t allow him to use his. Other merchants, but not him.’

  ‘Isn’t that against regulations?’

  ‘Yes, but there’s nothing he can do if Silas invents unacceptable delays or puts the price up too high or says he has no room. And the other merchants like Silas, anyway. They don’t care for Fryde, but he�
�s one of them, so they have to lump it.’

  ‘So how could he be elected sheriff, Dame Elizabeth?’

  ‘Elizabeth,’ she said, gently reproving. ‘By moving up the ladder one rung at a time with just enough friends to push him up it.’

  ‘And bribery?’

  ‘Oh, of course bribery. That’s where the money goes. You’ve stayed there. You’ve seen what goes on and what kind of company he keeps. That’s the kind of bribery they like.’

  ‘I’ve seen what he does to his wife, too.’

  ‘So have I. I never disliked her, poor woman. I feel sorry for her because she’s on the receiving end of the man’s frustration against Silas. Everything Fryde tries to obtain from Flanders—goods that have come overland from the east or by sea from Europe—has to be done through his agent in Brugge, who happens to know Silas rather well. He lets Silas have most of whatever Fryde wants, and more, and Silas brings it over here to our Scarborough warehouse and sells it to Fryde’s customers at a profit.’

  ‘So Fryde wants astrakhan fur?’

  ‘Certainly he does. All those fur-trimmed ceremonial gowns, Isolde. Just think of the impression, eh?’ Elizabeth grinned, then became suddenly sober. ‘I’ve no sympathy with him. He took my husband and my sons’ father.’ Her voice faltered. ‘There’s no wealth in all the world that could replace that, but Silas has done everything possible for us. He could have married a diamond merchant’s daughter, but that would have interfered with his travels. He said he intends to keep going until Fryde’s on his knees. Foolish, really.’

  ‘Did he love her, the diamond merchant’s daughter?’

  ‘No. I’ve never seen him smitten the way I saw him with you, Isolde. You’d not have known it, of course, but I could tell. And you’d be quite mistaken to think that he has any real love for the Duchess, either. That was never love, and it was donkey’s years ago. There’s still affection, I dare say, but it must have been some urgent political business for her to have visited him at night, alone. That’s the most likely explanation, my dear.’