by Toni Mount
‘I’ve told you enough. I’m not doing the bailiff’s job for him.’
‘But you do know who?’
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’ The rascal rose, drank his ale and banged the cup down upon the board, causing Adam and Ralf to start from their conversation. ‘I’ll leave you to pay my reckoning,’ he said, ‘Seeing you owe me.’
‘What was that about? What did John want with you, Seb?’ Adam asked, seeming surprised that I was yet there in the tavern with them.
‘Naught. Naught at all. I want no dealings with his kind. Be you coming? I shall want to bar the doors at home.’
‘No. We’ll stay awhile,’ Adam said. ‘We can go up to our chamber through the yard. We’ll not disturb the house and I’ll fasten the side gate after.’
‘Then I shall bid you good night, cousin. Ralf.’ I nodded my farewell and left them to their ale. My thoughts, I confess, were not of the most charitable towards the denizens of the Sun in Splendour Tavern – any of them. Hopefully, a fair night’s sleep would improve my mood.
Chapter 10
Saturday, the nineteenth day of June
The Foxley House
The day was young. When there was yet a little moisture in the air, the early morn was a perfect time to apply gold leaf. I showed Kate how to smooth the gesso with a penknife, gently paring away any high points which inevitably appear as the centre tends to sink a little as it dries. Once the surface was even, I explained how to use the flat, brush-like gilder’s tip to pick up the thin gold leaf then, having breathed a damp breath upon the gesso, how to lay the leaf thereon.
‘It sticks as if by magick, master,’ Kate said, delighted.
‘It does indeed. Now cover the leaf with the square of silk and press it into place all over the gesso.’
‘Why do we use silk?’
‘Forwhy we do not want to mar the gold with the sweat from our fingers. That would spoil the gleam of it. If you would please to pass me the burnishing tool…’
‘It looks like a fang with a handle.’
‘And so it is, lass: a dog’s tooth, although Master Honeywell insisted it was a wolf’s tooth when I purchased it, I suspect otherwise. See how the excess leaf comes away at the edges, wherever there be no gesso beneath? You must have a care not to push into the vellum around it, else as the pigments be applied after, there will be a danger of too much gathering in the grooves or dents you have made by accident. There. See how the gold shines bright as the sun in the heavens? And it will ne’er tarnish but look the same a hundred years hence.’
‘Truly, master? What a wonder. Is it finished now? Must we leave it to dry?’
‘Nay, ’tis ready for painting but first, fetch a clean pigment brush and that small pot on the shelf there… the one with the stopper. Aye, that one. Now see here, Kate, upon the desk, the tiny crumbs and flakes of gold. Brush them all into the pot. Do not lose them to the floor.’
‘But they’re too small to use.’
‘Gold be too valuable to waste. When we have collected more, we may sell them back to the goldsmith to be re-hammered into leaves again, or use them ourselves, pound them into powder, add egg glair and make shell-gold. It is then used just like any other pigment for the details of illuminated initials and the like.
‘I think you have learned much this morn, Kate. Why not take some respite from work? Gawain would appreciate some exercise, if you would oblige him? But keep away from Smithfield. There be many strangers there for the horse sales next week. You may visit Dame Ellen or Mistress Hutchinson, if you wish, but do not make a nuisance of yourself. I do not want Dame Ellen complaining to me that you ate all her almond wafers, as last time. Return within the hour.’
Kate laughed at my litany of instructions and danced out of the workshop, calling to Gawain. How the lass did cheer me.
I settled once more at my desk, uncovered a shell of vermilion pigment and dipped my brush.
I was deeply engrossed in my work until someone rapped upon the door jamb loudly enough to attract my attention. I glanced up and was so shocked to see the figure standing in the workshop doorway that I could not find words at first.
‘Jude!’ I managed to say at last, rising from my stool.
‘Well met, little brother!’ He held his arms wide, grinning. ‘Well, don’t just stand there, gaping like a stranded salmon; come greet me as you should. Your prodigal brother has returned!’
I dropped my brush and flew to him. He clasped me to his breast, tighter than any lover.
‘Have you missed me, Seb?’ He pushed me back but gripped my shoulders, looking me over.
‘Missed you? You nigh ripped my heart in twain when you left that day, of a sudden.’ I choked back tears. ‘Of course I have missed you, you errant knave.’
‘I see you’re skinny as ever. The Moody Mare refusing to feed you, eh? And where is she? Spending all your hard-won coin at market, no doubt.’
I knew he spoke in jest, but…
‘I suppose my letter ne’er caught up with you. I wrote, telling you: my beloved Em has lain in St Michael’s churchyard since Eastertide.’
‘Oh.’ He released his hold upon my shoulders and stepped away, taking time to look about the workshop where all attempts at worthwhile labour had ceased. ‘And everyone else? They’re all well?’
‘You will recall our kinsman Adam, though your acquaintance was but brief.’
The men exchanged greetings, but there was a coolness betwixt them. Jude had taken no liking to Adam upon their meeting in August last. I believed then that Adam’s coming to dwell with us was one cause of Jude’s departure, among others.
‘And Kate Verney…’
‘How could I ever forget our merry lass? How d’you fare, Kate?’
She left her stool to make her courtesy.
‘Very well, Master Jude, thanking you.’
‘And this be our new journeyman, Ralf Reepham.’
‘My replacement?’Jude quirked an eyebrow.
‘Nay. Tom Bowen’s more like and a worthy one.’
‘You kicked Tom’s arse finally. Well done, little brother. We’re well rid of one idle jackanapes. What of the other?’
‘Jack be learning joinery and turning with Stephen Appleyard and showing more skill there than he did here. He bides at Stephen’s place also.’
‘I suppose that foolish wench, Nessie, is still here?’
‘Aye.’
At that moment, Rose came in, carrying a dish of strawberries in one hand and holding little Dickon by the other.
‘We were in the garden, picking strawberries. We heard voices. Did we not, Dickon? Thought your guests might enjoy…’ Her eyes fell upon Jude and all colour fled her cheeks. They regarded one another in awkward silence for an uncomfortably long moment, then she said: ‘I’ll leave the strawberries and have Nessie serve you ale. I have dinner to prepare.’ With that, Rose returned to the kitchen, taking my son with her.
‘Whoo!’ Jude blew out a breath. ‘I never thought she’d still be here after…’
‘After you abandoned her on your bridal day? Where else would she go? Dear Rose has been a Godsend to us, keeping this household from falling into chaos and ruin since… since Em’s passing. I know not how we might manage without her hard work and gentle care. She loves little Dickon as if he were her own child, organises meals and laundry, the garden plot, the larder and all manner else of womanly chores.’
‘And warms your bed?’
‘How could you dare say that, Jude? I be widowed but two months since and would ne’er treat Rose so, e’en had Emily been gone a twelvemonth and more.’
‘Still of a monkish disposition then, Seb. It’s a wonder you managed to beget a son at all.’
‘I have a daughter also.’
Jude laughed heartily.
‘Well, that’s a surprise, indeed. When did you f
it that in? Two babes within less than a year. Remarkable. My congratulations, little brother. You must have some fire in your blood after all.’
I was about to give answer but another shock occurred. A raven-haired lass walked into the workshop without a by-your-leave and grabbed my brother’s arm.
‘Jood. Will you leave me all day waiting? I tire of a parlour. I have admired the hangings too well.’
‘Oh, aye.’ For once in his life, it seemed Jude was at somewhat of a loss. ‘Seb, this is Francesca-Antonia. Chesca, this is my little brother, Sebastian.’
‘I be honoured…’ I hesitated, not knowing how to address her but I made my bow anyway. ‘Welcome to Paternoster Row.’
She made her courtesy to me then caught me all unguarded, embracing me and kissing both my cheeks.
‘Brother Sebastian,’ she said. ‘I have hearing of you greatly.’
‘You have?’ Did she think I was a monk or friar?
‘Jood told me all of you. I am much in happiness now and properly Mistress Jood Fossley. Did I say that right, Jood?’
‘Leave off, Chesca. Adam, for Christ’s sake, take her… show her Paul’s spire or some such.’ Jude shoved the lass at Adam, who had good grace and manners to do as he was bidden, however discourteously. ‘A word, Seb, in the yard.’ Jude took me by the sleeve and dragged me along the passage, nigh knocking Nessie aside with her tray of ale cups.
‘I fear a word will not suffice,’ I said as we hastened through the kitchen, where Rose stood intent upon the sage she was chopping, and went out to the yard. ‘Who is that lass, Jude? You best explain.’
‘Aye. It’s a long and complicated story…’
‘’Tis rarely otherwise with you.’ I braced myself against the trunk of the apple tree, prepared to listen to his tale. Whether I would believe it or no, was another matter.
‘Did you not get the letter I sent you from Venezia at Christmastide last? I’m sure I mentioned Chesca in it, about how she was destined to wed some ancient step-uncle or other. It was horrible to watch, Seb, all during the festivities, the old lecher was pawing at her; couldn’t keep his hands off her even as we ate at the board. I could see how Chesca did all she could to avoid him, pleading a headache every eve, so she could escape to her chamber.
‘Of course, they couldn’t wed without a dispensation from the pope, being related. And before the documents arrived, it was Lent, so the marriage was put off until Easter. Then the dispensation came, and Chesca was in tears, knowing there was no way to avoid it, dreading the end of Lent.
‘Well, by that time, I’d had my fill of Venezia…’
‘Had your fill? Or wore out your welcome?’
‘You know how it is, Seb. I tire of the same sights, the same bed.’
‘And your hosts tired of you?’
He shrugged.
‘Maybe I had over-stepped the mark once or twice.’
‘With the daughter of the house? Oh, Jude, do you not know better than that? She cannot be any older than Kate.’
‘You make it sound… sordid. It wasn’t like that. And she’ll be sixteen years come next spring. Old enough. Anyhow, to return to my story… I’d already booked passage on the first ship of the season, sailing from Venezia, bound for the Isle of Cyprus. I told Chesca she could come with me, avoid this hateful marriage. She was that eager, it was all I could do to make her keep our leaving a secret. We escaped the house at dead of night, upon a Sunday, as it became Monday, the day the ship sailed. Thanks to my skills at subterfuge, we made our escape without any trouble.’
‘Oh, what have you done, my foolish brother?’ I sighed and shifted my position against the tree. This was taking longer than I feared.
‘I paid for our passage but then I realised a difficulty. There were other travellers bound for the Holy Land, calling themselves pilgrims. Huh. The way they ogled Chesca, there was nothing holy about their thoughts or intentions, so… What else could I do to protect her? I let it be understood that we were man and wife. There. I’ve told you now.’
‘But you are not truly wed.’
‘That’s not the worst of it. Our ship was damaged in a storm and the winds blew us off course. We landed in a place called Cecily, I think it was. Something like that. From there – I’d had enough of stormy seas – we took a shorter passage to Marsay. We still had to sail because Cecily is an island, I discovered. Marsay is in France, if you don’t know. I was determined to travel the rest of the way on dry land as far as possible. Chesca kept pestering me, saying we must marry but I could put her off until the end of Lent.
‘Now, I must admit, Seb, the little French I know served me ill. The accursed Frogs don’t even speak their own tongue decently, such that an educated Englishman can understand it. But Chesca managed to make them understand most of the time and she wanted us to celebrate Easter in proper fashion with a feast. As the end of Lent was fast approaching, she made all the arrangements with the oaf who ran the inn where we were staying – a flea-pit of a place not far inland from Marsay. Those wretched Frogs know how to overcharge, I can tell you. Never go to bloody France, Seb, the place is full of thieves, vagabonds and rogues and the stink! Makes a London privy smell like a rose garden. Now where was I?’
‘Not far from Marsay with Chesca arranging the Easter celebrations…’
‘Oh, aye. So Chesca invited the whole damned village, so it seemed. Everyone from the baker to the bee-keeper, the miller to the blacksmith. And, of course, the bloody priest. I swear it wasn’t my fault, Seb. I couldn’t make out what they were jibber-jabbering about. Their Latin was as bad as my French. Wine flowed freely… I had no idea what was going on. The first I knew, they were hustling Chesca and me up to our chamber in the inn and there it was, all decked out and garlanded with flowers: the bloody marriage bed and the damned priest dousing it with holy water. I don’t know how it happened.’
‘You must have given your word of consent, else it would not be a valid union. Did you do that? Did you give consent?’
‘I suppose so. The priest asked me a question or two that I couldn’t understand. I just answered “aye” or “nay”; “si” or “oui” or “non” to help the conversation along. It was all a terrible mistake, Seb, and you’ve got to help me undo this bloody marriage.’
‘But why? Chesca is a beautiful lass and if you love her…’
‘Of course I don’t bloody love her. And her family will give me such grief when they learn of it. They’ll hang me by the balls and shred me, bit by bit. The Italians have a terrible way of avenging any dishonour done to their family. They have a special word for it: vendetta. Makes me go cold just thinking of it.’
‘Do not concern yourself, Jude. Her family is far away.’
‘No, they’re not. They’re right here in the city. They’re the Baldesis – the fucking bankers in Lombard Street. I should never have come home. You’ve got to help me.’
‘I do not see any way.’
‘You’ve got to persuade Rose to help. If she stands with me before the Church Court of Arches and we swear we were wed before I left England – as we intended if things hadn’t gone awry for me – then my marriage to Chesca will be annulled, won’t it? It’ll be as if it never happened. Talk to Rose for me.’
‘Nay. You distressed her so; abandoned her once, leaving her humiliated. Why should she want to be your wife now? And what if the Court of Arches did find in your favour? You would then be regarded as wed to Rose – a married man in either case. Besides, what then of Chesca? Will you abandon her in a strange land? Having taken her maidenhead, do you cast her away like a broken pot?’
‘Taken her maidenhead! You jest. Alessandro – did I tell you of him? – a couple of lusty lads and a servant or two had all been there before me. Chesca was no virgin bride, I can tell you.’ Jude shuffled his feet, frowning at his dusty boots. It was as if I could see his mind working behind his f
rowning brow, thinking upon some new strategy. Then he said, ‘Think how badly you’ll feel, Seb, when they find me dead, cut to ribbons in a dark alley. And they surely will, if you don’t help me.’
‘Do not try to wring my conscience as you have wrung my heart. You dug this deep pit for yourself; ’tis up to you to climb out of it, Jude. Do not involve Rose nor me, entangling us in your coils of deceit and untruths. I know not whether to believe half of what you tell me.’
‘Then hide me, at least. I’m your brother, for Christ’s sake. You owe me that.’
‘I owe you naught, Jude. I cannot help you. I have but lately saved this workshop – my workshop – from ruin, restoring the reputation you destroyed.’ Even so, I felt such unease at his words, I began to wrestle my thoughts – aye, and my conscience, just as he had foreseen – as to ways that I might aid him.
Rose had prepared a good dinner but the air was fraught with tension. Few words were exchanged among our company at the board, bar a request for bread or to pass the ale jug. Jude poured ale for Chesca. She sipped it and pulled such a face.
‘This dog’s dung – I will not drink any more. You!’ She pointed at Rose. ‘Go fetch wine. Never serve this at me again. And you English: why you have servants eat with you? This not happen in Italy. Servants eat with their kind.’
I was upon my feet in an instant as Rose made to leave her stool.
‘Rose! Pay no heed to her.’ I turned to my brother’s wife. ‘Speak not to Rose in such wise. You may be a guest, but do not think to order Rose as you would one of your servants at home. Jude. You best instruct your goodwife as to the ways of conduct in this house.’
I sat down, shocked by my own words and lack of courtesy. All the same, I meant what I said.
‘Jood. I will stay here not two instants more. Take me from these bad people. I not like your family. They pigs, barbarians.’ Chesca flounced out of the kitchen and along the passageway. ‘Jood!!’
‘Now see what you’ve done,’ Jude roared, taking up his platter and throwing it across the board, food and sauce and all. He stormed off and I could hear him repeating his wife’s name in a quite different tone, pleading almost, as he followed her out, slamming the street door behind them.