I nodded. ‘But don’t ask me why because I couldn’t tell you.’ I could, of course, but I didn’t want to bring my personal relationship with God into the discussion. I felt it might be misunderstood by outsiders. ‘I just have this. . this hunch that I’m dealing with human wickedness and not with demons and devils.’
Julian looked unconvinced, but didn’t try to persuade me otherwise. He merely shrugged and murmured, ‘It’s a puzzle.’
I sighed and got to my feet. ‘But one I have to try to solve,’ I said glumly. ‘And I shan’t do that by sitting here and drinking your excellent ale.’ I held out my hand. ‘I’m glad to have fallen in with you again, Julian. Since Philip Lamprey left London after his wife died, I’ve had no real friend in the city. It’s reassuring to think that I may have found one in you.’
The apothecary clasped my hand warmly in both of his. ‘You have indeed found one,’ he affirmed. ‘Your warm regard for my poor brother would always be a recommendation to me, even if I didn’t like you for yourself. But I do. Like you, I mean. Whenever you are forced to come to London, think of my home as your own. If you ever need a bed for the night, there is an attic — extremely small, it’s true, but you wouldn’t mind that I feel certain — where a makeshift cot can be made up for you. Or if you simply need to come and talk, you are welcome to do that also. If I’m busy with customers, you won’t, I’m sure, object to waiting until I’ve finished.’
I returned my heartfelt thanks for this generous invitation, took a last swig of ale in order to empty my beaker, and went out into the afternoon sunshine.
On leaving the shop, I turned to my right, heading towards Wallbrook, and was just passing the ramshackle tenement on the corner, known as the Old Barge, when I heard the patter of feet behind me, and my name being called. I turned to see Mistress Naomi running after me, her cheeks pink with exertion and strands of hair escaping from beneath her cap. She came to a breathless standstill in front of me.
‘Master says will you please come back,’ she gasped. ‘He’s remembered something.’
‘Remembered something?’ I repeated stupidly.
She nodded vigorously. ‘He says it’s important, and. . and that he’s vexed with himself for not thinking of it just now.’ She took another deep breath, flaunting two well-rounded breasts and giving me a sly, sidelong glance as she did so. I tried valiantly to keep my eyes fixed on her face, but failed. And it was then that I noticed the little sprig of birch leaves pinned to her gown, just above her heart.
As I began walking back with her, retracing my steps to Julian’s shop, I commented on it and asked if it had any particular significance.
She smiled proudly. ‘It means that next Monday, Midsummer Eve, I’m to be crowned Midsummer Queen of the Dowgate Ward. Every ward has its own queen, you know, and this year Dowgate’s chosen me. It’s a great honour, so the master says.’ She grimaced. ‘Well, I knew that without him telling me.’ She gave a little giggle. ‘He thinks I’m stupid, you know.’
I considered that she might be right about Julian’s assessment of her, and thought to myself that the apothecary was probably mistaken. Mistress Naomi appeared on the surface to be nothing much more than a cuddly, silly young girl, but I got the impression that there was an altogether shrewder, sharper side to her nature than was immediately apparent.
Julian was waiting for us at the shop door, obviously in a state of suppressed excitement. He grasped my arm and fairly pulled me inside, saying, ‘I’m sorry to bring you back, Roger, but it’s too important to leave for another time. What an idiot I am! Why on earth didn’t I remember it sooner?’
‘What? What is it you’ve remembered?’ I asked urgently as he led me once again towards the parlour.
We were interrupted by a customer who pointedly waited to be served until Naomi and I had closed the door into the shop. My companion giggled.
‘Poor man! He comes in every week for a supply of powdered mandrake root. It’s for. . well. . you know.’ She broke off, blushing a little.
I nodded. Mandrake root was thought to be beneficial in cases of impotence, although in this case, if the gentleman came in every week, it didn’t seem to be having the desired effect. While we waited for Julian, and to curb my own impatience, I quizzed her some more about the Midsummer’s Eve festival.
She was nothing loath to talk about it. It appeared that each London ward crowned its own Midsummer Queen with a wreath of young birch leaves, and the selected maiden was then carried, shoulder-high, in a chair also decked with branches of birch, around her domain-for-a-night to accept the greetings and adulation of her ‘subjects’. Her path was strewn with the herbs that people had been out in the surrounding fields to gather, usually before dawn: St John’s wort, mugwort, plantain, corn marigold, elder, yarrow, vervain and any other herb that was thought to ward off the possible evil of ‘Witches’ Night’ as Midsummer Eve was also known.
‘And after that,’ she went on, her eyes glowing with anticipation, ‘everyone goes to St Paul’s churchyard to see the mustering of the great Marching Watch. Do you have a Marching Watch in Bristol, Master Chapman?’
I denied any knowledge of such an event and learned that in London all the main guilds, preceded by the twelve great livery companies, processed down Lud Gate Hill and along Cheapside, accompanied by musicians on trumpet, pipe and drum, everywhere illumined by torches and cressets and fire baskets, and the houses decorated with garlands of flowers and tapestries hung from balconies and windows.
‘Oh, it’s lovely,’ my informant breathed ecstatically. ‘And all the Midsummer Queens are given pride of place to watch the procession and to walk alongside it in front of the crowds.’
At that moment, the door into the shop opened and Julian rejoined us, raising exasperated eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry, Roger. I couldn’t get away sooner. That man regards me as his father confessor and unburdens himself of all his troubles.’
I grinned. ‘And I gather from Mistress Naomi here that he has one in particular. Not,’ I added hastily, ‘that it’s anything to make fun of. It could afflict us all one day. In any case, don’t worry. I’ve been very well entertained. I’ve been hearing about Midsummer’s Eve and the Marching Watch. It sounds to be an event worth the seeing. Moreover, you’ll have the privilege of accompanying a queen this year.’
Somewhat to my surprise, Julian pulled down the corners of his mouth. ‘Naomi will certainly try to persuade me,’ he said, ‘but Midsummer Eve festivities are something I normally avoid. I don’t like the idea of celebrating what was originally, and in some respects still is, a pagan rite. Centuries ago, it was a time of bloodshed and sacrifice, with great fires lit on hilltops to appease the gods.’
I saw that Mistress Naomi was looking surly. She plainly had no patience with such antiquated notions and was about to fly into one of her tantrums, so I asked quickly (and also because I was impatient to know), ‘What is it you have to tell me, Master Makepeace?’
He motioned me to sit down again at the table, saying, ‘For pity’s sake, call me by my given name. We’ve agreed we’re friends.’ He pulled up the other stool, suddenly all eagerness, his previous excitement returning in full force. And for once, he didn’t bother to send Naomi away. It was almost, for the moment, as if he had forgotten she was there.
‘Listen, Roger!’ He clasped his hands together on the tabletop, the knuckles of his thin fingers showing white against the polished wood. ‘You know the Old Barge at the end of the street?’ I nodded. ‘You know what it’s like. It was once a gentleman’s house, but now it’s let out by the room to all the scaff and raff of London. The shrieks and screams that issue from that place at night are enough to make your blood run cold.’