‘Yes,’ van der Goes said, ‘that is our only chance. Pray God you find him there or hear news of him.’ His head fell back against the pillow.
I stood up. ‘I must let you rest. Take care of yourself. You have been a good friend to Holbein. I would not want to see you suffer more for him than you already have.’
‘Thank you,’ van der Goes muttered weakly. ‘You, too, have tried to help him, Brother Treviot. Perhaps if I had trusted you more at the beginning.’
‘Please, do not think like that. We have both made mistakes. I pray God grants us wit and time to put them right.’ I crossed to the door. ‘I promise to send you any news I have.’
As I was rowed back downriver I tried to make sense of the latest turn of events. Holbein must have had enough warning of the gang’s approach to slip into the neighbouring room and make his escape. But where to? I went straight to the Hanse wharf. I climbed the stair in the shadow of the great crane which was busily hoisting bales of wool on to the quay. I asked the guard for Andreas Meyer and he sent a boy in search of the Steelyard’s pastor. A chill autumnal wind was now blowing across the river and I began to get cold waiting on the open wharf. It was some minutes before the rotund figure appeared but when he did come bustling through the archway from the residential area, he was all affability.
‘Master Treviot, how good to see you again, though I imagine your errand is not of the happiest.’
He led me through the complex of buildings to All Saints Church, the Hanse community’s chapel. We passed through the building with its austere interior of white walls bereft of statues and pictures. A door close by the large pulpit led to Meyer’s house and we were soon seated in his small study overlooking Thames Street. He called for beer and the taste of this beverage, still frowned on by many of my own countrymen, brought back memories of my visit to Antwerp some years before.
‘Once again I come to you in search of Johannes Holbein,’ I said.
‘And once again I have to tell you that he is not here,’ the pastor replied.
‘But he has been here since I called.’
‘Oh, yes. In fact, you have only missed him by a few hours.’ ‘He is still alive, then.’
Meyer nodded gravely. ‘Alive, yes, but deeply troubled. I have spent much time counselling him. As you know too well, his two boys have been abducted by the desperate men who have been pursuing him.’
‘Yes, I’m anxious to find him to tell him that his sons have been found and are safe.’
Meyer’s face lit up in a broad smile. ‘Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. I’ve been praying constantly for them. Oh, that is good news.’
‘So where can I find Holbein to tell him?’
‘I do not know, Master Treviot. I genuinely do not know. Perhaps it would be best if I explain to you from the beginning how I came to be involved in Johannes’ complicated and troubled life.’ He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes in an effort of memory. ‘It is very difficult because he has only ever told me what he thinks it necessary for me to know. Whenever I press him for detail he replies that my safety lies in ignorance. I have no idea what he is involved in. I’ve only pieced together his story from scraps of things that he has said.’
‘Perhaps you could tell me – briefly – what you do know, so that I may continue my search.’
‘Of course. Well, it all began almost a month ago. I recall it was the first day of September. That was when the plague really began to affect us. We always have a feast on St Augustine’s Day – that’s the twenty-eighth – but we had decided to cancel it-’
‘Yes, yes, Pastor Meyer,’ I interrupted. ‘If you could just give me the facts. Every minute might be vital.’
He nodded, but continued with his leisurely narrative. ‘Indeed, indeed. Well, Johannes arrived all hot and begrimed. He looked terrible. He said he’d been waylaid on the road back to London from the royal court, somewhere east of the City. I assumed he had been attacked by highway robbers but from other things he let slip I realised there was more to it than that. He wanted asylum for a few days and, of course, we were happy to help. He was very agitated. He believed enemies were close on his trail.’
‘Yes, yes. I know all this. Did he name his pursuers?’
‘No. He was more concerned for the safety of his children and their nurse. He begged me to give them shelter also. Of course, I went immediately to his house – in person …’
‘You were presumably too late.’
‘Indeed, the neighbours told me about the horrible crime and …’
‘So you told Holbein,’ I prompted.
‘Poor Johannes. He was distraught at the news. He was convinced evil men must have taken his boys. He shut himself away here and would see no one. I had no chance till later to tell him that people had come here looking for him.’
‘People ? I was not the only one, then?’
‘No, another came that very afternoon.’
‘A tall man with black hair?’
‘Oh, no. This man was of average build, a gentleman … very well dressed … some might say overdressed.’
‘Did he give his name?’
Meyer frowned. ‘He did not. He was a haughty fellow … thought I should be impressed by his talk of coming from the royal court. Popinjay! I made certain to tell him no more than he told me.’
‘So when I called on 2 September, Holbein was here?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid I was a little less than wholly honest with you. But he did leave again that very night. He said to stay here would put his friends’ lives in danger.’
I sat back with a sigh of exasperation. ‘If only you had let me see him so much tragedy might have been avoided.’
Meyer was crestfallen. ‘I’m sorry. I really am but you can see why I was cautious, can you not? I didn’t know who was looking for poor Johannes; only that he was very afraid of them. The only thing I could do was feign complete ignorance. However, I did, as you will recall, direct you to Master van der Goes, who is Johannes’ closest friend. Was he not able to help you?’
‘So you’ve really no idea where Holbein went after leaving here?’
‘No. Later I worked out from odd things he said that he had two or three secret refuges but he would not tell me where they were. He had a powerful obsession about being hunted. If he was here in this room now, he would be repeatedly going to the window and peering down into the street. Once he snatched the door open in the middle of our conversation, convinced there was an eavesdropper outside. I tell you, Master Treviot, our friend lives in a very strange world; a world of secrecy, subterfuge and violence.’
‘Master van der Goes told me that Holbein has been here again more recently.’
The pastor smiled. ‘Simple people in my country believe in the wichtel, a fairy creature who comes and goes, appears and disappears at will. Johannes has something of the wichtel about him. We never know when to expect him. He was here … it must have been two weeks ago. He said he’d found his boys and was looking for a shipmaster to carry the three of them secretly across the German Sea. That was not easy to arrange. Hanse merchants are very wary of getting into trouble with your government. If they are caught carrying the king’s enemies out of England, they have their vessels and cargoes confiscated. However, a deal was struck. But then, last Wednesday, he was back again to say that he would not need a passage after all.’
‘And that was not the last time you saw him?’
‘No, he was here, just for a few minutes this morning. He was in a terrible state; almost out of his wits. He came to make his confession. You will understand I cannot go into detail about our discussion. Let me, instead, pose a theological question – hypothetical, of course. If a man surrenders himself to an enemy in the certain knowledge that that enemy will kill him, is he, thereby, guilty of the sin of suicide?’
‘Hmm, I see.’
‘I’m sure you do. I pray for him and I beg that you will do so too.’