Chapter 3
Golding stood contentedly in a corner of the yard having his mane brushed by Walt. I dropped from my saddle and hurried across.
‘When did he come back?’ I demanded. ‘Is Bart here?’
The groom shook his head. ‘Lizzie brought the horse, Master. She’s inside.’
Bart’s wife was in the kitchen, talking with Jane, my cook, who was plying Annie with tid-bits from the larder. Her baby son, Jack, well swaddled, lay on the wide kitchen table, close to where Lizzie sat. She stood as I strode in.
‘Come to the parlour,’ I said brusquely, crossing to the inner door. ‘The children will be happy here for a few minutes.’
As soon as the door was closed behind us, I turned. ‘What is he up to?’ I demanded.
‘This will tell you.’ Lizzie handed me a folded sheet of paper.
I sat to read it and motioned Lizzie to a chair across the table. The note was carefully composed and written in Bart’s surprisingly neat hand.
My duty to Your Worship remembered, I heartily thank you for speaking for me to the magistrate. Marvel not, I pray you, good Master, that I chose sudden flight above your protection. I dared not trust Constable Pett. The man is known for a double-tongued ruffian, as runs with the hare as well as the hounds. He will not seek out the murderous villains who killed Master Johannes’ man. I am the only one as can do that. I have seen them. By Mary and all the saints, I mean to find them. When I do I will come back. Until then I beg that you will not try to find me.
Your Worship’s assured servant,
Bart Miller
I threw the note down on the table and leaned back in my chair. ‘Jesu! Where was that husband of yours when the good Lord handed out brains?’
Lizzie pouted. ‘What else can he do? We’ve discussed the matter hours without end. This is the only way he can stay safe.’
‘The way he can stay safe? And what of you and the children? Do you think the villains will not come a-visiting when they learn that Bart is on their trail?’
She tossed her head in defiance, sudden colour in her cheeks. ‘We can shift for ourselves.’
‘That you cannot!’ I thumped the table. ‘Mother of God, I thought you had enough wit for both of you. Now I see you’re as addle-pated as Bart.’
‘A woman must stand by her husband,’ she said stubbornly.
‘Even at the cost of her infants’ lives? Think for a moment, Lizzie. These men Bart has got tangled with are vicious murderers. Probably well-paid experts sent to take or kill Master Johannes. God in heaven knows what that poor artist has done to warrant it but, sure as hellfire’s for sinners, someone means him harm and will do anything to lay hands on him. When word’s out that Bart is at liberty and going about asking questions, where will be the first place they come?’
Lizzie was sullenly silent for several moments. From beyond the casement there came the sound of Paul’s clock striking ten.
‘I’m trying to find Master Johannes,’ I said. ‘That must be the best way to identify his enemies. But ’twill take me some time. Meanwhile we must make sure that you and the children are safe.’
She glanced up, scowling. ‘And why should you take that on yourself?’
‘I’m sorry you ask that question. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.’ I stood abruptly. ‘Wait here. There’s someone I want you to meet.’
I hurried from the room. When I returned minutes later, Lizzie was standing at the window, looking out into West Cheap. ‘The pestilence is getting worse,’ she said. ‘Two houses in our street are shut up now, by order of the council.’
‘All the more reason not to stay. Come to Kent with us.’
She shook her head firmly. ‘I must be where Bart can find me when he needs me.’
‘But there’s no need for Annie and Jack to be exposed.’
She turned suddenly, anger and frustration in her voice. ‘Thomas, do you suppose I haven’t thought of that? What am I to do?’
There was a soft knock at the door. I opened it and ushered in Adie, accompanied by her two young charges. They were remarkably different. Carl, who I supposed to be about seven, was dark-haired, already tall and constantly looking around him with enquiring eyes. Henry, younger by some two years, was squat, with reddish hair and seemed less self-assured. He was clinging tightly to his nurse’s apron.
‘Thank you for coming down, Adie. I want you to meet someone.’ I made the introductions. ‘And now I’m going to leave you to get to know each other.’ I went out into the yard to check that Golding was no worse for his little adventure. I hoped that, in my absence, what in women passes for reason might prevail.
When I returned some half an hour later, I saw that Lizzie’s children had joined the party. Even my own eight-year-old, Raphael (known to everyone as ‘Raffy’), had come to cast an appraising eye over our visitors. The boys seemed to be playing some form of hide-and-go-seek with Annie, and Adie. was cradling the baby. ‘They’re enjoying themselves,’ I said, pointing to the older children. I hoped they were forming a bridge between the women.
Lizzie treated me to a wry smile. ‘Not as much as you enjoy organising other people’s lives.’ She turned to Adie. ‘You’ll find he’s very good at that.’
‘I simply think it makes sense for you all to come to Hemmings till the plague has passed and this other business is sorted out.’
Lizzie turned back to the window. ‘I can’t be that far away from Bart. I must be where he can find me easily.’
‘Very well, but at least let the children come. Adie is bringing the boys down. She has the sense to realise that they can’t go back to Aldgate until Master Johannes returns. She’d be happy to take care of your bearns, too. Isn’t that so, Adie?’
The girl gave a shy smile by way of acknowledgement.
Lizzie made no further argument. It was arranged that I would set off into Kent three days later with my augmented household. While the servants completed the work of closing up the house and workshop and loading on to wagons the furniture and other goods which had to be taken into the country, I tidied up my business affairs.
I also had a visit to make.
I rode out next morning, Friday 4 September, through Ludgate and over the Fleet Bridge. Turning left into narrow Bride Lane, I had only a few yards to go before dismounting in the shadow of the high walls bordering the precinct of old Bridewell Palace. A row of quite substantial houses clustered by the boundary, as though enjoying royal protection. Three of them belonged to alien goldsmiths, a little nest of foreigners who could stare out from their casements at the City wall, mere yards away, and disregard the Guild rules binding honest London craftsmen. They could take on and train their own apprentices (usually of their own ilk), attract their own customers and charge their own prices. Theoretically the Worshipful Company exercised control over the quality of the interlopers’ merchandise. All gold items had to pass through our assay office, which authenticated the purity of the precious metal. But many of the foreigners (and there were more than a hundred of them working in and around London) ignored the regulations. In practice, we were powerless to prevent them stealing our markets. We were obliged to compete with them for quality – and some of them were hellishly good. This was bad enough but at least the distinction between us and them was clear. There were, however, a few who deliberately blurred that distinction; who had cunningly worked themselves into a position of being able to enjoy the advantages of life on both sides of the wall. One such was John of Antwerp.
He had run this workshop on Bride Street longer than anyone could remember. He was a fine craftsman – of that there was no doubt. He attracted custom from the highest in the land and he had prospered – really prospered. He married an Englishwoman. He reared a family. But he remained staunchly a Netherlander. He had another home in Antwerp and spent months there every year. That, of course, was his privilege. But a few years ago he had sought to be made a freeman of the Goldsmiths’ Company. That led to fierce arguments among the members. It split us into rival factions. But John of Antwerp had friends. Rich friends. Powerful friends. He secured his election. Well, he might have won the right to sit at our board, to worship in our chapel (despite his Lutheran opinions), to vote at our assemblies, but few of us could accept him as one of us. His presence in our midst remained an irritant.