The Trip to Jerusalem

Westfield's Men got their first glimpse of York and paused to take in its full magnificence. Seen from that distance and that elevation, it looked like a fairytale city that was set against a painted backdrop and even those who had seen it before now marvelled afresh. Eleanor Budden summed it all up in one word. 'Jerusalem!'

They stopped to take refreshment and gather their strength for the last few miles of a journey that had become increasingly strenuous since they crossed the county boundary. Horses were watered and refreshment taken. Nicholas Bracewell chose the moment to have word alone with Christopher Millfield. Having disliked the actor so much at first, he now found himself warming all the more to him.

'How did you fare in my absence, Christopher?'

'We never lost faith in you.'

'I am glad the business turned out so well.'

'You brought home great bounty,' said Millfield. 'Master Quilley was delighted to get his horse back.'

'A happy accident.' Nicholas glanced across at the artist. 'What do you make of our limner?'

'Painters are always slightly mad.'

'Have you noticed nothing odd about him?'

'Several things but I put them down to his calling.'

'Look at his apparel,' said Nicholas. 'It is a very expensive suit for a man who claims that he has no money. Then there is the quality of his horse, not to mention those saddlebags of the finest leather with their gold monogram. Master Quilley is not the pauper he pretends.'

'Then where does his wealth come from?'

'I wish I knew.'

'Haply, he has some rich patron.'

'One name suggests itself.'

'Who is that?'

'Sir Francis Walsingham.'

'Indeed?' said Millfield with astonishment. 'I find that hard to credit. Could Master Quilley really be in his service as an informer?'

'Who is better placed, Christopher? He visits the homes of the great on a privileged footing and sees things that no other visitor could observe. His calling is the ideal cover for a spy.'

'Do you have any proof of this?'

'None beyond my own suspicion. Except an item that I found in his saddlebag. See it for yourself

Christopher Millfield took the document that was handed to him and scanned through the names. He nodded in agreement as he returned it to Nicholas.

'You have just cause for that suspicion.

'Do I?'

'Two of those names have already been ticked off by Walsingham. Three of the others are known to me from my time with the Admiral's Men. I dare swear that they were all prosecuted for recusancy.'

'What of Sir Clarence Marmion and the others?'

'We can but guess.'

'Birds of a feather flock together.'

'Your conclusion?'

'All of Master Quilley's employers are Catholics.'

'Could he be a servant of Rome himself?'

It was another possibility and they discussed it briefly before turning to other matters. Nicholas was glad that he had confided in his new friend. Millfield was now eyeing him with concern.

How do you feel, Nick?'

'Much better.'

'Are you fully recovered from your ordeal?' said the other with anxiety. 'It heartened us greatly when you and Dick Honeydew returned but the pair of you did look more than a little bedraggled.'

'You should have seen us when we set out. We were caked in blood and filth with a stink on us you could have smelled a hundred yards off.' He wrinkled his nose at the memory. 'Dick and I stopped at a stream to clean ourselves up before coming back.'

'Both of you must be aching all over.'

'I will have to make some more of that ointment.'

'It has certainly helped me.'

'We will sleep well tonight, I think.'

Millfield smiled his agreement then looked across at Richard Honeydew. The boy still showed the effects of his incarceration but he was patently delighted to be back with the company and his face was animated.

'He is hopelessly in your debt, Nick.'

'I could not let them steal our best apprentice.'

'It goes deeper than that.'

'We are good friends.'

'You are like a father to the lad and risked your life for him. Have you ever had a child of your own?'

'I was never married, Christopher.'

'The two things do not always go together.'

Nicholas laughed evasively and changed the subject. He was enjoying his chat with the actor and finding new things to like about him all the time. When Millfield moved away, however, it became clear that not everyone shared the book holder's good opinion of him.

A worried Eleanor Budden bustled over.

'Do not listen to him, sir,' she begged.

'Master Millfield?'

'He is a very dangerous young man."

'Why, Mistress?'

'Because he does not believe in God.'

'Did he attest as much?'

'More or less, Master Bracewell.'

'I find that hard to accept.'

'Beware, sir!'

'Of what?'

'Atheism in our midst!'

Nicholas did not take the claim at all seriously and she did not pursue it since she wanted to enjoy their rare moment alone. Love made her eyes sparkle like gems.

'It was wonderful to see you back with us!'

'I share your delight, Mistress.' I knew that God would not take you away from me.'

'My place is here with the company.'

And mine is beside you.'

'We will get you to York with all due speed.'

'I have found the true path in you!'

Her ardour was quite unnerving and Nicholas glanced around for help. Being attacked by robbers or captured by rivals were nowhere near as frightening as being cornered by Eleanor Budden. If he was not circumspect, she would rob him of something he did not want to lose and hold him captive in a way that did not appeal. He fended her off with questions.

'How do you like the fellowship of actors?'

'Yours is the only company I seek, Master Bracewell.'

'Does nobody else interest you. Mistress?

'They pale beside you, sir.'

'What of Master Quilley. He is a famous artist. Have you and he had discourse yet?'

'Only when I interrupted him,' she said. 'He was angry when I came upon him playing with his cards.'

'Cards?'

'I have never seen the like before. They had strange pictures on them and he studied each one with great care. It was almost as if he looked for some kind of message.'

Nicholas Bracewell smiled in gratitude. Unwelcome as her attentions had been, he sensed that Eleanor Budden had unwittingly given him some valuable information.

His suspicion of Oliver Quilley deepened.

Days without his wife and nights without her precious bounty had wrought changes in Humphrey Budden. The house seemed empty, the children were fractious and his whole life was now hopelessly barren. Long discussions with Miles Melhuish were followed by even longer ones with the Dean. It was the latter who counselled action.

You have sinned against your wife.'

'The memory of it is grievous unto me.'

'You must seek her forgiveness.'

How may I do that?'

'Not here in Nottingham, that is certain.'

'Then where?'

'In York,' said the Dean sonorously. 'There is no better place for you to be cleansed and reconciled. Go to York, sir. Seek your estranged wife in that monument to Christian dedication. That is where your hope lies.'

'Will she take me back?'

'If you deserve it, Master Budden.'

'Should I travel with the children?'

'Alone, sir. This is a matter between two souls.' He lowered ecclesiastical lids. 'And two bodies.'

Humphrey Budden left for York the next day.

A bell had signalled the beginning of the Whitsuntide fair and pandemonium followed. Streets that were usually crowded were now overflowing. Shops and stalls that were usually busy were now completely besieged. York was aflame with life. Tinkers, travellers, pilgrims, country folk, merchants, knights and many more streamed in through the four gates. Minstrels, mummers, acrobats and jugglers competed for attention. The shrieking of children and the yapping of dogs swelled a cacophony that was taken to deafening pitch by the constant peal of church bells. The city ran riot for three holy days.