Death Comes Hot

by Michael Jecks

  After a good breakfast of a slice of steak, kidneys, black pudding and three eggs, all served on a wooden trencher with a slab of bread at the side, I felt considerably better. When I walked out, I had a feeling of great contentment. I had been in danger of my life, clearly, from both the man calling himself Hal and the man Geoffrey. Both wanted to find Moll – or Alice – and to do so were happy to see me punctured. And yet their determination had resulted in their own deaths. One day soon I would have to visit Mark, but it would not be too soon. I had an image of the hound with his jaws chomping down on Geoffrey’s … no, it wouldn’t be very soon at all. Rather than go there, I bent my steps back homeward. After all, I was safe enough there, now.

  There was a racket of hammering and sawing when I reached my door, and as I stood, considering, the door behind me opened, and the busty wife of my neighbour stood and smiled at me.

  She was entrancing. She had a smile that could light an alleyway at midnight, and some stray hairs escaped from her coif and gleamed in the dull daylight, and her pinafore was bound tightly enough to show the figure beneath the skirts, which was more than enough to tempt a bishop. I gave her my most passionate leer, and she lifted an eyebrow.

  ‘My house, I fear, is in a terrible state,’ I said, waving a hand airily towards the noise. ‘Else I would invite you inside to partake of some wine. I have a very good barrel of sack, if you would care to try some. But it is so noisy in my home. Perhaps you would like me to bring you a flagon?’

  ‘That would be most kind. It would be very improper, though. My husband is away, and I’m sure you would prefer to wait until he returns?’ she said with a reciprocal leer.

  It was all arranged. Her maids were out shopping, and she and I could perform the mattress gavotte to our hearts’ content – and possibly a lusty saltarello, too. She was oozing wanton desire, and I was full of lewd anticipation as I opened my door and hurried through to the kitchen. I found a flagon and filled it, then went to the privy quickly, and back through my house.

  ‘Master, I …’

  ‘Not now, Raphe.’

  ‘But you need …’

  ‘Not now!’

  I pushed the irritating fellow from my path. No doubt he was worried about the cost of all the works – well, that was something I could worry about later. Just now, I had a vision of my neighbour’s wife with her chemise wide, and burying my face in her bounties. I pulled the front door open, stepped out and—

  ‘Master Blackjack. Come with us.’

  You know that feeling, when something hits you over the head, and you’re momentarily bewildered and cannot think rationally? That was how I was.

  ‘Who are you?’

  Three men, all in a mixture of really not very fashionable clothing, stood about me. The man before me was wearing a faded green cloak, brown jack and brimmed hat over saturnine features.

  He glanced up and down the road, and said, ‘Come with us, Master.’

  ‘No, seriously, I have this. I have to deliver this. I’ll only be …’ I ran through various scenarios in my mind, ending up with a hopeful, ‘A couple of hours or so, and—’

  ‘Leave the jug. We’re going.’

  And I found I was. A brawny fellow with a light brown jack and cap took the flagon from my unwilling grasp and set it by my front door. Then he and another took hold of my elbows, and I was suddenly marching with them away from my house and, more to the point, away from my neighbour’s wife. They half led, half carried me all the way to the end of the street, where a carriage stood waiting. I began to explain that I was prone to vomiting in carriages, that I was urgently needed by my master, that I was quite wealthy and there could be some gold in it if they would only leave me alone, but it was all to no avail. I was taken to the carriage, the door was opened, and I was bundled inside.

  The door slammed, and the carriage began to clatter off, before I could even rise to a seat.

  ‘You survived. That is good.’

  In the darkness of the carriage, I had not made out the man sitting opposite. Now I could make out the features of Master Blount.

  ‘No thanks to you!’ I said hotly. ‘I could have been—’

  ‘Yes, but you weren’t, were you? And meanwhile, you have performed well.’

  ‘Who owns this carriage?’ I asked. I looked about me. It was quite opulent. ‘Is it Seymour?’

  ‘Seymour? No! His carriage has his coat of arms on the side.’

  ‘Then, whose is it?’

  ‘You will have to wait and learn.’

  We rattled along at a smart speed. I wondered about opening a door and leaping out, but when I pulled aside the blind, I saw that there was a man riding beside us, the man with the beige cap and jack. He looked over at me, and I let the hanging fall back. There was no point trying to escape three men on horseback. They would catch me and bring me back. I threw myself back into my seat and stared at my master.

  Blount sat with his back to the horses, leaning casually against the side, and looked quite relaxed about the carriage and our destination. Well, if he could be relaxed, so could I, I thought, and settled back, pulling my cap over my eyes.

  I don’t know how long we were in there. The passage of time, spent in the dark, is hard to measure. All I know is that before night we arrived at a yard. The door opened, and a fresh face appeared. He glanced in at us and then motioned to us to follow him. I climbed down and gazed about me. Suddenly, I recognized the tower that stood high some little distance away – they had brought us to Whitehall.

  That thought was enough to unman me. I almost lurched, but there was no escape from here. The three men and their fresh companion were too close for me to burst past them and flee along the streets. Besides, there was nothing to say that the gates to the yard would be open, and the porter there would be sure to block my path, were I to run.

  Blount was watching me with a sardonic twist to his mouth. ‘Come!’ he said.

  Whitehall. I was certain that this must be the Seymours’ doing. They had changed their mind about me and had asked for my head. That was plain. I felt a shiver in my belly, and a large rock appeared to have lodged in my breast. I felt feeble and a little mazed, for I was sure that once inside the building here, I would be slaughtered like a hog. Yet my legs were too weak to attempt a bid for freedom.

  I remember the rest of the journey as a series of flashes: massive doors, a series of corridors, in through a pair of doors, crossing a hallway, into a small parlour, out into a yard, up some stairs and along a passageway to a different parlour. And there I was pushed forward, shaking and wan. The doors closed behind me, and I was left standing with Blount and staring at the petite figure sitting on a good-sized knuckle chair.

  Blount bowed low, and I gazed at him with some surprise, before suddenly realizing where I was and who sat before me. I instantly bent so sharply that it was a miracle I didn’t butt the floor with my forehead.

  It was Lady Elizabeth.

  ‘Please, gentlemen, rise.’

  The calm voice was still familiar from the days when I had known her at Woodstock. Then she had been imprisoned following the rebellion of Wyatt and his merry Kentish friends. And now, here she was, presumably waiting to learn whether she was to be arrested again.

  ‘Master Blackjack, I am assured that you have done me a great service once more,’ she said. She had astonishing eyes, and she fixed them on me without blinking. They were very dark – I’m not even sure whether they were grey, blue or brown. In that chamber they could have been almost any colour. All I knew was that they were contemplating me, and from the approving sound of her voice, they were doing so without threatening. That in itself felt good.

  ‘I do my best to serve you, my Lady,’ I said, as smarmily as a duke.

  ‘He managed to prevent the two mercenaries from capturing either Edward Seymour’s wife and his son, or Alice and her boy,’ my master interrupted smoothly.

  ‘At great personal risk, no doubt?’

  ‘I was stabbe
d, shot at—’

  A kick at my shin almost made me collapse, and I glared at Blount, who continued unperturbed, ‘He experienced some little trouble, but he is your loyal servant. Such affairs do not matter.’

  ‘Do not—’ I began, about to declaim about the damage to my suits, my body and my house, but a second kick at my shin was enough to still my tongue. Indeed, I was forced to purse my lips to prevent myself from crying out at the pain.

  The lady stood – she only came up to a little above my shoulder – and walked to me, giving me her hand. I knew the protocol. I kissed her knuckles without making too much of a meal of it. A thought flashed into my mind of my wanton neighbour stretched over her bed, and I felt a slight shudder of frustration.

  ‘You are in pain?’ she asked solicitously.

  Blount drew in breath, but I ignored him and gave her my most manly, devoted smile. ‘I have been shot, stabbed, lashed and beaten in your service, my Lady, but that is nothing. At least you are safe.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, and returned to her seat. She arranged her skirts before looking across at us. ‘These tales, stories of my lascivious behaviour, are all entirely untrue. They are the inventions of those who wish to do me harm. As if I could have given birth to a child! The very idea is preposterous!’

  ‘Of course,’ I said.

  ‘People will imagine the very worst of those whom they wish to hurt,’ she said. She had picked up her necklace. It held a large cross with pearls dangling, and she tapped a pearl thoughtfully, sending it swinging back and forth. Looking at me, she nodded slowly. ‘They will invent many things about me. Those who wish to see me destroyed will use any rumour, create any lie. But they will not succeed.’

  I saw then a glimpse of the woman she would become. A determined woman, willing to use every stratagem and tactic to protect her realm, gracious and generous when she wished, humble when she felt it prudent, and utterly ruthless when she felt it necessary.

  ‘No, my Lady,’ we both chorused.

  She nodded and picked up a book. Blount turned to walk out, but when I made to do the same, she looked up and beckoned me. Blount was dismissed with a flick of her fingers, and she waited until the door had closed behind him before turning to me.

  ‘Tell me about the boy: Alice’s boy.’

  ‘What did she want?’ Blount asked, suspicious as ever.

  I said nothing. Her interest in the boy was surely no more than that of a woman checking on a valued servant’s child. Yes, that was all. She knew Alice well, and was keen to make sure that she was not destitute. And Alice had taken part in looking after Ben with Moll. The two adored the fellow, of course. And Edward Seymour was keen to look after the lad as well. Seymour himself was a loyal subject to Lady Elizabeth, as he proved later. And of course he was keen to protect Ben. He adopted the boy into his family with Moll, and the two had many more children, but Ben was always treated as more than an equal, so I was told, as if he was more highly regarded.

  That must be it. There was no more to it than that. And speculation on such matters is not a life-enhancing exercise. Certainly Lady Elizabeth gave no clue that she might have some other, keener interest in the pair. And there was nothing for me to say to Blount, since there was nothing there. I just shrugged, and he eyed me suspiciously before leaving me to walk to his house.

  He didn’t invite me to join him. Not that he ever did. I was a servant to him, and nothing else. He was not gracious like a princess, and Lady Elizabeth was a lady for me. She may not have the title ‘Princess’ any more, because her half-sister had taken it from her – since Queen Mary had taken the throne by right of birth, clearly the declaration that her mother’s marriage to King Henry was false and the annulment of that marriage were illegal; therefore, logically, the next marriage of Henry to Anne Boleyn was itself bigamous and illegal, which meant that Elizabeth was born out of wedlock and was herself illegitimate. Thus she could not be a princess. That was the reasoning, but to me she behaved in every way as a good princess should. Which was why I had a weighty mass in my purse. She had given me a pouch of coins, and they weighed down my belt in a most delicious manner.

  At my house I saw my flagon still on the step. But it was empty. That was no surprise. Any number of drunken fools wandering past here would have slurped wine left out. I stared at the jug with a feeling of morose fatalism. If things were to go wrong for a man, they might as well go wrong seriously, I supposed. Still, there was one good thing: the house opposite.

  The thought of the afternoon’s bed-bashing came back to me, and I felt my heart beat a little harder. I was injured, but I was alive, and just now the best way to refresh myself was to enjoy bouncing with a blowsy maid. Yes, I would see her and make up for lost time. That would be the way to calm my spirits and relax.

  Hurrying indoors, I found Raphe dozing at the fire in the parlour, an empty pot of wine by his side. It smelled like my best sack, and I was half tempted to wake him and demand to know what he was doing drinking my best, but in the end I thought it better to leave him. Better by far to go and enjoy the sweets on offer opposite my house. I refilled the flagon, poured myself a cup and drank it off, and then carried it over the road.

  I knocked. The door was opened, and not by my favourite neighbour, but one of her maids. That was a blow. The servants were returned. Still, I asked whether her mistress was in, and the girl indicated that she was. I entered the screens and was taken into the hall, where the woman sat sedately at a table with some needlework. I put on my best lascivious grin and was about to speak when her husband’s voice broke into my thoughts.

  ‘What do you want, man?’

  I felt my smile shatter like a dropped glass. I caught sight of the woman giving me a slanted glance, but that was little help. She had a little smirk fixed to her lips, I was sure, but that was only a further annoyance to a man with fire in his cods.

  And then the bitch smiled. ‘Ah, our neighbour told me of this earlier, husband. He has a new barrel of sack, and offered to bring a jug round when you were home so you could try it.’

  I could have thrown it over her. It would have been satisfying, but then I reasoned that if I were to gain favour with her husband, I would have easier access to the house and to her.

  ‘But of course,’ I said graciously. I set the flagon near his elbow, but then idly rattled the coins in my purse. ‘But I fear I cannot remain this evening. I have an appointment with a small club of friends. I hope you will enjoy the sack.’ And I took my leave.

  In the end, I made my way to the Cardinal’s Hat, where I sat with Piers and several jugs of ale. I had hoped that Peg would be there, but she had apparently been called to go and help Moll with some aspect of feminine work, and had left the brothel. It was a shame – but also a relief. After she had enticed me to the Seymours’ house, where I had been in danger of my life, I would never have been content to trust her. I know, I was tempted when she was in my home with Ben, but that was a while ago – to be precise, one attempted stabbing, one attempted shooting, a murderous rider trying to cut me down, and all the other things that had happened.

  There are times when a man craves merely peace and an ale or two.