by C. B. Hanley
William gestured towards them. ‘My grandchildren.’ He spoke under his breath. ‘You see now why I wish to avoid more bloodshed?’
Edwin slumped on to a stool, the weight of his duties suddenly lying heavy on his shoulders.
He felt better after some bread and ale; he hadn’t realised how much he’d been flagging after his sleepless night, but there was no time to rest. After the brief repast, William instructed his daughter-in-law to take charge of the shop, with an aside to Edwin that there would not likely be many customers anyway, since people were not buying luxuries like spices these days. Then they left the house with the intention of walking about the town.
Everything about the city was big. Edwin had thought that he was accustomed to grandeur, living as he did in the shadow of the earl’s castle in Conisbrough, but there the keep dominated a village of small single-storey dwellings, spread around the three sides of the green. Here there were streets and streets of houses all packed closely together, many of which seemed to have a second storey which jutted out above the first. And so many! How did such a large number of people live in such a confined space? How did they grow their food? The amount of space allocated to each person or household must be very small, let me see, if each of these houses is about a perch wide …
Such thoughts occupied him as he followed William through the maze. One other thing which struck him almost immediately was how filthy the place was. Even though the weather had been dry for at least the past couple of days, the streets were ankle-deep in mud and rutted with the marks of cartwheels, and he kept carefully to the edge of the roadway to avoid having to wade through the worst of it. He soon discovered that it wasn’t merely mud; the place was oozing with ordure and sewage. What in the Lord’s name were these people doing? Throwing their waste out of their doors and onto the streets directly in front of them? It was disgusting. And it stank. The village of Conisbrough might seem rustic compared to the great city, but at least people had the decency to dig middens in their yards. He cursed under his breath as he planted his foot squarely in something noisome – he didn’t want to investigate it too closely for fear of finding out that it was something even worse than he imagined – and then realised with a wrench that this was something he would never have done had he been at home; if his mother had heard any kind of oath issuing from his lips she would have boxed his ears, no matter that he was nearly twenty and taller than her by a head. But as he followed the old man through the frightened streets, his mother and the life he had left behind seemed a very long way away, both in distance and in time. Was it really only a week ago he had been there? He could only visualise the peaceful village through a haze as the images faded.
He must concentrate. He looked about him at every person who passed. Which ones were helping the castle? Which ones might be traitors? Which were neither, but just hoping to come out of this alive? And how in the Lord’s name would he tell? He would have to look out for the slightest hint. He felt jumpy, with a dizziness and nausea which he tried to ignore.
At first he thought it was some kind of illusion, but as they drew nearer to the cathedral he could see that it really was that big, and he could feel his jaw sag. He knew, of course, that a cathedral was like a church only larger, but he had not been prepared for the immensity of the structure. Had he not been aware of the urgency of his mission, he would have stood in front of it all day, content simply to drink in the sight of something so unbelievable. He had never been overly religious. He went to Mass in the village church, of course, but even though he was one of the few there who could understand Latin, the priest’s dry and gabbled speech had never moved him and he felt no yearning, no vocation. But now, to think that men could build such a thing to the glory of the Lord … he wanted to drop to his knees in awe at God’s power and pray for salvation. Despite the weight on his mind he stopped and simply gaped. It was so beautiful it took his breath away, soaring into the heavens. How had they made it so tall without the walls tumbling down? How had they fitted a roof so high above the ground? How …
But William was pulling him away. ‘For God’s sake, boy, stop gawking! You will draw attention to yourself!’
Edwin’s mind returned to earth and he followed the older man towards a market which was being held in the open space to the side of the cathedral. To him it looked like a grand affair but William sniffed and muttered under his breath that things were not what they used to be.
They were hailed by two men who stood very close together at the corner of the market. William raised his hand and steered Edwin towards them.
‘Ah, good day, William, good day. We were just speaking of the latest news.’
The men were both dressed in what looked to Edwin to be very showy clothes – although who knows what might be considered normal in a city like this – and they were both staring at him. He felt uncomfortable and knew he was beginning to flush.
William cleared his throat. ‘Gentlemen, I do not think you have met my nephew, Edwin of Retford?
Each of the men nodded to Edwin, curiosity writ large on their faces, as William continued. ‘Edwin brings me news of my dear sister Eleanor. Living that far away, he had not heard of the trouble here, and once he did, he thought he was so close that he may as well carry on and get here, to see what had happened to me and to bring tidings back to my sister and goodbrother …’ Perhaps realising that he was gabbling and that everyone was staring, he tailed off and gestured at the men. ‘Edwin, this is Peter of the Bridge and Peter of the Bail, two of the most respected merchants in Lincoln.’
Edwin nodded at them, although he hadn’t quite grasped which was which. Probably better to stay silent and let William do the talking.
But the old man was interrupted by the Peter on the left. ‘Dear Eleanor. She was always so kind to me when I was a boy. I do hope she is well?’
Edwin tried to swallow the lump in his throat. ‘Yes, good sir, very well.’ Dear Lord, how typical that the first person he had run into should know William’s sister. He had better make sure he found out as much as he could about her from William, lest someone else should ask him.
But the merchant was continuing. ‘And that very handsome man she married, I can’t remember his name now …?’
Edwin opened his mouth but no words came out. The silence stretched on for what was probably no more than a moment, but it seemed an eternity. He was saved by the other Peter, who elbowed his companion. ‘Never mind that now! We have yet to tell William the news.’ He leaned closer. ‘Nicholas Holland is dead.’
William gasped. ‘When?’
‘Just last evening, or so I hear.’ Peter turned to Edwin. ‘I’m sorry to involve you in this when you’re so newly arrived, but you must know that Lincoln is not a safe place these days. Nicholas Holland was a respected merchant and he was struck down in the street some nights ago, the back of his head crushed in.’ He leaned closer into Edwin. ‘You must beware, young man.’ The merchant smelled of some kind of scent which was slightly off-putting, and Edwin tried to back away from him without looking rude.
The other Peter took up the tale. ‘And his son is still missing.’
William looked confused. ‘Thomas? But I thought …’
The merchant waved his hand, revealing soft fat fingers and a number of gold rings. ‘No, no. Thomas has been out of the town since before the trouble started – I sent him out to meet with one of my wool suppliers and he never came back. Hopefully he’s safe somewhere and waiting outside the city until the trouble is over. He’s a good apprentice and I shouldn’t like to lose him, especially when he’s so near the end of his indenture. No, it’s young Nick who has still failed to return, so Peter has also lost an apprentice.’
The second Peter looked at Edwin. ‘You look confused, young Edwin, the son of Eleanor.’ He patted Edwin on the arm, which Edwin found mildly discomfiting. ‘You will soon learn. We all live very close together here in Lincoln.’
William was muttering to himself and Edwin tried to
catch it; ‘… did not say anything about Nick – but then again, she did not say much at all …’ he looked up and spoke out loud again. ‘But what of Nicholas? Where is he?’
The first Peter answered. ‘At home. He was being looked after by that charming daughter of his, who will no doubt have to arrange the funeral. She had better hope one of her brothers comes back soon, or she’ll stand no chance – a girl with all those other children to look after. The wolves will soon be sniffing around her. She’s as pretty as a butterfly, but girls like that are not made for this sort of situation.’
The other Peter sniggered. ‘Come, Peter, you sound as though you’re about to say what pretty young girls are for, and that’s not the sort of conversation for this time in the morning!’
His companion seemed to find this very funny and they laughed together, jowls shaking. Edwin felt sorry for this nameless girl, and tried to get straight in his head the information he had just heard. A man. His daughter. His son. No, two sons, both missing. And how had he been attacked? And by whom? Had Peter said that? He didn’t think so. But maybe …
Peter was continuing. ‘Well, if neither of those boys comes back, I suppose the shop and all the goods will go to the next lad, though he is but a child. So perhaps young Alys had better get herself married as soon as she can, in order to have a man to look after things. A shame my son is so young, but perhaps something could be arranged so that I could look after everything for her? It’s a good business that Nicholas had there …’
A thunderous crashing noise suddenly sounded from not very far away, and Edwin was startled out of his wits. He leapt in fright and almost grabbed William’s arm, before noticing that none of the others had so much as flinched. One of the Peters was still murmuring to himself about business and had taken no notice.
William looked at Edwin sadly. ‘The siege machines at the castle. We are all so used to it that we hardly hear it. I am sure the walls cannot last much longer. It will all be over in a week or two.’
Sooner than that, thought Edwin. Both of the Peters shrugged at the same time, and one of them spoke in a peevish voice. ‘Yes, yes, the walls. The garrison. But how soon will it be before we can recover proper trade again? These people simply have not considered the inconvenience to us and to our businesses. Who cares about the king and the war when there is money to be made?’
Edwin gaped, wondering if it were possible that he would ever hear such a selfish statement again, but he was saved from replying as the two Peters turned away and strolled towards the market, chattering and gesticulating.
As they walked, William whispered to him as many of the details of his supposed life as he could. Edwin tried to rehearse everything in his head. As if it wasn’t bad enough being here and meeting all these new people, but he had to try and remember to be someone else at the same time. He went over and over again the names of his supposed mother, father and family, and the few facts he had learned about their business of cloth. It might be enough to get him past a general enquiry, but he prayed that nobody would have the opportunity to question him closely. And he begged the Lord to make sure that nobody would ask him anything about wool.
It was later in the morning, and after what had turned out to be a fairly uneventful walk around the town they were back at the cathedral again. He had been conscious of its looming presence throughout the morning, for there was no escaping it, but he wasn’t sure whether he should feel protected or intimidated. Now they were on the other side of it from where they’d been earlier, and here there was some activity – masons working on large blocks of stone. William saw Edwin looking and explained that there had been a terrible accident there some twenty years ago, when the building was split from top to bottom, and that since then work had been on-going on building a new cathedral in the modern style. Edwin had no idea that cathedrals could have a modern style, or any other for that matter, but of course he’d never seen one before, so what did he know? He merely felt a huge reverence, both at the size of the building and its purpose. He was reminded that the Lord was watching and saw all.
He looked up, squinting, and realised that there were men right up at the top, balancing precariously on scaffolding. At floor level there were ropes and pulleys, and as he watched, a large carved piece of stone was hauled up. He marvelled at the way the men above seemed unconcerned at being so high. He was sure he could never manage it.
‘It must be a very difficult task to make sure all the pieces go in the right places properly.’
William nodded, animated as he considered the huge building. ‘Yes. But it is to the glory of the Lord, and of the Blessed Hugh, the old bishop who will be a saint before too long if miracles at his tomb continue. I have lived in the shadow of this building since the day I was born, and it comforts me to know that it will soon be whole again. We have one of the best master masons in the country in charge of the building works. There he is over there, but before you meet him I should tell you that I am almost sure that he is a French spy.’
Chapter Five
Edwin wasn’t sure he’d heard properly. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said I am sure he is a French spy.’
Edwin spoke with great care. ‘And why do you say that?’
William looked uncomfortable. ‘Well … he is a foreigner. At least, he is not from around here, and I did hear him say once that before he came to Lincoln, he worked on a cathedral in France.’ He folded his arms and looked satisfied.
Edwin thought that he probably needed a bit more information than that before he could condemn a man as a spy. But here was his first real piece of information. ‘Do you have any evidence that he’s been spying? Has anyone seen him trying to communicate with the French?’
William unfolded his arms and stroked his beard. ‘Not as such, no. But he is always roving about here and there, and he has a good many men working for him who are not local, either. And … well, he has an air of suspicion about him. Look.’
Edwin followed the direction of the pointing finger and saw two men deep in conversation: one tall and gaunt-looking, the other small with hunched shoulders. ‘Which?’
‘The tall one. You see what I mean?’
Edwin conceded to himself that William did have a point – if the man had set out to look as suspicious as possible then he’d done a fine job, what with the skeletal frame and the black tunic and cloak.
William pulled his arm. ‘Come, let us greet him, and you can talk to him and see what you think. I shall engage him in conversation on normal matters, to try and draw him in, and you can see what you can discover.’
As they drew near, Edwin could hear the master mason speaking.
‘… and he didn’t regain his wits at all?’
The other shook his head. ‘No, or so she says. But …’ He stopped as he became aware of the men approaching.
William greeted the mason. ‘Master Michael, how good to see you being able to carry on with the work.’ He threw a broad wink at Edwin.
The tall man bowed his head at William, casting barely a glance at Edwin. ‘Greetings, Master Mayor. Yes, it will not be many more years before all the cathedral’s wounds will be healed and she will be well again.’
William looked again at Edwin. ‘If only the same could be said of our poor city.’
Master Michael stroked his chin. ‘Of course. I have been here nearly fifteen years now and think of it as my home; I shall be sad to leave once the cathedral is complete. But perhaps the current situation will work in my favour in the end – there will be many repairs to be done to the city walls and the castle once this is all over.’ He looked up, squinting high up towards the scaffolding. ‘But now I must ascend to see that keystone safely installed, for the next arch will be completed once it is in place.’ He turned and strode off without another word; his cloak swirling dramatically in a manner which Edwin felt almost sure was intentional. Edwin looked around him for the other man, but he had also disappeared – presumably he was one of the masons and ha
d returned to his duties. He sighed. How in the Lord’s name could he tell whether someone was a spy or not from such a short and banal conversation? And he’d met so many others this morning who might have all sorts of motives or none – how was he to find what happened to the dead messenger, and whether the city folk had any plans to help the castle? Time was passing – half a day, almost one quarter of his allotted time – and as yet he knew nothing. And to be forthright about it, the company of William wasn’t really helping much.
He moved to a quiet corner, thinking to sit and consider things for a while, but then saw William speaking to three more people whom he hadn’t met. This time it was a woman of maybe just more than middle years and a young man who bore a strong resemblance to her, together with a slight man wearing a jaunty red hat with a feather. William saw him looking and beckoned him over.
‘Mistress, I do not think you know my nephew, Edwin of Retford? Edwin, this is Master Pinel, who imports dyes’ – he gestured to the man in the red hat – ‘and Mistress Guildersleeve, a widow who runs a haberdashery business down in the Drapery.’
This time Edwin was ready with his lines about his supposed family, but they were not needed. The woman nodded, introduced the young man as ‘My son, Gervase’ and barely stopped for breath as she chattered to William. Gervase looked sheepishly at Edwin and shrugged his shoulders, by which Edwin guessed that this was probably a regular occurrence. He occupied himself trying to work out what haberdashery might be.
From what the woman was saying, it sounded as though there would be a funeral that afternoon. Edwin caught the name ‘Nicholas’ and realised that it was probably the man that the two Peters had been talking about that morning. If that were the case then he had only been dead a few hours, which would have been a little too soon for a funeral in Edwin’s home village, where they might have waited until the morrow, but perhaps here in the city they did things differently. With so many people around they probably didn’t want to leave bodies lying around for too long, lest they spread disease.