"And your response?"
"You ask me to uncover a secret between a man and his daughter?"
"Nay… but I would know your heart. Do I have grounds for hope, or do I squander my time and affection?"
We had reached Caxton's shop, and stopped before the open door whence the stationer had entered a moment before.
"Your hope is pleasing to me, Master Hugh. Do not think otherwise."
"Then I am Hugh, not Master Hugh."
"Very well, you shall be Hugh, 'til God and Holy Church make you my master."
"God and Holy Church? You have also a choice in the matter, Kate."
"My choice is made," she whispered, and held my arm close.
"Shall I then speak to your father?"
"It would please me."
And so my happiness was sealed while Kate and I walked the Holywell Street to her father's shop. In but half a day I had gone from fear for my life to success in love. I was much pleased with the turn in my fortune.
We entered the shop as Caxton raised his shutters and prepared to tardily open his shop for the day. Kate looked up to me with expectation, then announced that she would prepare a meal. She disappeared through the open door to the workroom and left me standing before her father. We exchanged stares. It was my obligation to begin this conversation. I sorted through remarks I might make to open the parley. None seemed to suit. Generations of young men have faced the same trial. Caxton guessed at my distress and eased it.
"We are relieved, Kate and I, that Lord Gilbert arrived in Oxford in time." In time for what he did not say, nor did he need to.
"As am I," I smiled.
"We slept little last night. Kate shed many tears when she learned you were arrested."
No man wishes to be the cause of his beloved's tears, and I was about to say so when Caxton added, "She sobbed that she was to be made a widow before she might be a bride."
Caxton had pushed open a door. I was not so addled that I could not see and walk through it.
"It is of this I would speak. You agreed I might pay court to Kate. I have done so, and she approves my suit." I swallowed the frog in my throat and pressed on. "I wish to make her my wife."
Caxton peered somberly at me. "She approves?"
"She does."
"Will you continue to seek Master Wyclif's books and be wed also?"
"I have thought on that," I admitted. "I have no home in Oxford for a bride, and cannot seek stolen books from Bampton. Does Kate agree, we may have betrothal and read the banns so soon as she may wish, and be wed when I conclude the business of Master John's books."
"You believe this will be soon?"
"Kate will be incentive to make it so," I smiled.
"There must be time to discuss dowry and like matters," Caxton replied. "No need for haste."
That was his opinion, but not necessarily my own.
The stationer turned toward the workroom door and called for his daughter. Kate appeared immediately in the door. I think she had been pressed against the doorframe, listening while we spoke of her future.
"Kate, Master Hugh asks for your hand. Will you have him for your husband?"
"Aye, father, I will." She did not hesitate.
"Then I consent and offer my blessing." Caxton smiled, then turned quickly and busied himself at a shelf stacked with parchment gatherings.
Another awkward silence followed. How does a man know what to say at such a time? He has no experience nor practice for the moment. Voices from the street intruded upon the stillness, and I entertained the odd thought that, given twenty years or so, God willing, I might be in Caxton's place.
Kate broke the hush. "A pottage is warming on the hearth, and there is a loaf and cheese for our dinner."
A man might turn from warmed pottage, but not after eating molding bread and drinking foul water for two days. Kate ladled the pottage into three bowls, broke the maslin loaf, and directed me to take a place at the workroom table. Caxton spoke a prayer over the simple meal, asking the Lord Christ to bless the food and our marriage, and thanking him for intercession and my freedom from Oxford Castle. The pottage was liberally flavored with pork, and was delicious. Or was it Kate, gazing at me from across the table, that was tasty? Perhaps my senses were confused.
I remained at the shop after dinner to discuss betrothal with my future father-in-law. Upon Sunday the priest at St Peter-in-the-East Church would announce to the parish the forthcoming marriage of Kate Caxton and Hugh de Singleton. Before this priest we would pledge to marry. There would be ample witnesses, and the banns might be first read then as well.
The banns must be read in Bampton, also, as the Church of St Beornwald was my parish. And when wed, in Bampton we would live. I wished for the marriage to take place in Bampton, and thought the stationer might object, but he was amenable.
I did not expect a great dowry to accompany Kate. The lass was gift enough. But Caxton offered a house in Oxford, also on the Holywell Street. This house was one of three he had purchased when he came from Cambridge to set up his business here. One house was his shop and home, the others he rented. It was one of these he offered as Kate's dowry. I was much pleased. The income from such a house, twenty shillings each year, would be a welcome addition to the stipend Lord Gilbert provided.
For Kate's dower I offered twelve shillings. When we made Galen House our home Kate would have a toff, so I also offered to buy for her a rooster and a dozen hens.
I have heard that there is often much vigorous bargaining before dowry and dower are agreed upon and a wedding may proceed. Perhaps such is the case when each party brings great wealth to the marriage. Kate and I could not do so. Robert Caxton and I came to agreement in little more time than it has taken me to write of the covenant.
I would have enjoyed speaking more to Kate that day, but she might not have thought the same. I reeked of the cell and its filth, and was unshaven. I requested of Caxton that he tell his daughter of the terms of her betrothal, and that I would join her on Sunday at St Peter's Church whence we would make pledge to each other. Tomorrow I would be about seeking Master Wyclif's stolen books. For this work I had new ardor. When the thieves were found I would be free to take a bride and return to Bampton.
The kitchen at Canterbury Hall provided two buckets of hot water. In one I soaked my filthy clothes and in the other I scrubbed the Oxford Castle gaol from my flesh. I had thought to scrape the stubble from my chin, but decided to leave it. Perhaps I would grow a beard. I was soon to be wed, no longer to be thought a lad. And a beard might remind me of lessons learned in the dungeon of Oxford Castle. It was not clear what these lessons might be, but when I discovered them the beard might serve to remind me of them.
Master Wyclif provided a scholar's robe for the afternoon while my kirtle, chauces, and cotehardie dried in the pale autumn sun. Arthur had watched my purification wordlessly. When I was done with the work and adjusting the robe, he spoke.
"Near forgot, with all that's happened since, but I learned a thing in castle forecourt the day you was took to gaol. Don't know as it has to do with Master Wyclif's books… but you said to tell you of aught I heard."
"I did. What news?"
"Where the forecourt verges on Great Bailey Street a pieman has a stall. Mostly pie, little meat."
"You purchased one?"
"Aye. Wanted to stand close an' hear 'im gossip with regular customers."
"He has regular customers for meatless pies?"
"Aye. Some as bought from 'im got pies from one pile; others, like me, got from another."
"Ah… so you ate a pie and listened for gossip and scandal?"
"As you wished," Arthur protested, as if, unbidden, he would do no such thing.
"So I did. And you must have overheard some tale or I would not be hearing of these pies."