15 The Sempster's Tale Read online

  Pernell’s eyes were red and swollen, too, as she turned from the window and held out her hands, saying, “Anne,” and Mistress Blakhall went to her as Mistress Hercy came from the bedchamber carrying a goblet. The marks of grief were less on her, probably from the necessity to be strong for her daughter, granddaughter, and unborn grandchild, Frevisse guessed; and she likewise said, “Anne,” but briskly; and to Frevisse, “My lady. Lucie, bring wine for our guests, please.” Continuing to Pernell while Lucie uncurled and went into the bedchamber, “You promised you’d drink this if I made it, and it’s made. Borage and valerian in pale wine,” she added to Mistress Blakhall and Frevisse. “To quiet the mind and ease the heart.”

  Mistress Grene took the goblet but said while she did, “Nothing will ease my heart. There’s only grief from now onward.”

  ‘There isn’t,“ her mother said, guiding her toward the nearest chair. ”I’ve lost two children in my time, and my husband, too, and despite it all have found pleasure in life again afterward. You did, too, after your Henry died, remember. Not the same pleasure, no, and the sorrow never truly goes away.“ She made Pernell sit. ”But it lessens, because you still have the living. Raulyn and Lucie and little Robert and the baby to come. So you drink your drink. For the baby’s sake if not yours. That you’ve lost much doesn’t mean you should set yourself to lose more. The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.“ She paused pointedly.

  Dully her daughter finished, “Blessed be the Lord’s name.”

  Mistress Hercy patted her shoulder approvingly. “You remember that. Give thanks for what you have and let the rest be as it has to be. Anne is here. You talk with her awhile. Let her tell you what foolishness people are up to in London today.”

  Mistress Blakhall drew two stools to Pernell, lifted Pernell’s feet onto one, sat on the other, and with Pernell’s free hand clasped in hers, began to talk quietly. Mistress Hercy, released from her daughter’s need for maybe the first time that day, turned away. For just a moment her unguarded face showed all her own grief and weariness, and Frevisse said, “Will you sit, too?”, moving away to the window seat on the room’s other side.

  Mistress Hercy went with her and sank onto the cushioned bench with a slow stiffness as Lucie returned with three silver goblets instead of only two clutched together in her hands. Sensible child, she brought them first to her grandmother and Frevisse before going to Mistress Blakhall, who took the offered goblet in one hand and put her other arm around Lucie’s waist, drawing the girl to her side affectionately. Pernell began to sip absentmindedly at her own wine, and Mistress Hercy, watching her, eased a little, saying softly, “That’s better.” She smiled wanly at Frevisse. “She’s ordered all her bearing-gowns dyed black. My worry is she’ll bring more grief on us all by a bad birthing.”

  ‘How long has it been since her last?“

  ‘Little Robert is nearly three. He’s at nurse in Sheen.“ Mistress Hercy took a long drink of wine. ”She’s trying, for the baby’s sake, to hold back from worse grieving, but it’s hard enough to have lost Hal without it was this way. And it’s only made harder because she can’t even choose his burial place in the churchyard or go to his funeral. All she’s been able to do is send good linen for his shroud.“

  And all Mistress Hercy had been able to do was smother her own grief while tending to her daughter’s; and because letting her talk was the only help Frevisse could presently give, she asked quietly, “When will the funeral be?”

  ‘Tomorrow. Rebels and all allowing.“ Mistress Hercy shook her head, drank some more, recovered a little, and looked at Frevisse. ”What are you going to say if Pernell asks you about Hal?“

  ‘That he didn’t die in fear or pain, only suddenly.“

  It was surprising how harsh with anger a face as soft and round as Mistress Hercy’s could go. “If I knew who’d done it to him, I swear I’d kill the bastard cur if ever I had the chance. Do you swear what was done to him was all done after he was dead?”

  Steadily, for what small comfort it might be, Frevisse said, “I swear it.”

  Mistress Hercy regarded her for a long, unmoving moment, then nodded, dropped her eyes, and drank again. In her turn, Frevisse said quietly, “Master Grene says naught’s been learned toward who did this thing.”

  ‘Nothing that helps anyway. Master Crane was here today and I made Raulyn tell me afterward what he said, but the sum of it was nothing. Hal went out that night, and that was the last that was seen of him.“

  Keeping her voice carefully level, Frevisse asked, “Who stands to gain by Hal’s death?”

  Mistress Hercy had begun to take another drink of her wine but stopped, lowered the goblet, and gave Frevisse a sharp, fixed, dry-eyed look before answering, “You’re the first to say that aloud, but I’ve wondered it.”

  ‘He had inheritance?“

  ‘A goodly one. So does Lucie. She’ll have it all now.“

  But she surely had not arranged her brother’s murder, so, “Who else gains?”

  ‘No one. Raulyn was granted wardship of the children and their property when he married Pernell.“ A London citizen’s orphans coming by law into the London council’s care, their wardships were kept or granted as seemed best and usually to their mother’s new husband if she married again. ”That’s unlikely to change, so no one gains there, though Raulyn has lost what he would have made from Hal’s marriage.“ Since money tended to change hands between the buyer and seller of an heir’s marriage.

  ‘And if Lucie dies?“

  ‘Then all goes to a cousin of their father. He lives off in Leicester, hasn’t been to London in years, and so far as I’ve heard lately he’s prospering in his own right.“

  Frevisse knew she had no true business asking these questions, took a deep drink of her wine to stop herself, and was saved from discovering whether she would have succeeded by voices sudden and loud in the yard below the window and Pernell immediately crying out in alarm, “What is it?”

  Mistress Hercy was already on her feet, making haste across the room to the other window, saying soothingly as she went, “It’s just…” She reached the window and leaned out the better to see and hear, and her voice sharpened. “It’s Master Bocking and Master Weir. They’re…”

  Mistress Blakhall left Lucie and Pernell in a rush, to join her at the window, asking, “What’s happened? Are they hurt? Is there fighting?”

  ‘No. They’re saying…“ Mistress Hercy leaned farther out. ”No. It’s our folk are shouting. They’re saying—“ She broke off, pulled back from the window, and turned to say with open dismay, ”They’re saying the rebels are crossing London Bridge. Someone opened the gates. They rebels are crossing into London.“

  Chapter 15

  Anne had barely time for her relief at seeing Daved was safe, never mind the news he had brought, before she had to turn back to Pernell struggling up from her chair, crying that she needed to see for herself what was happening. Mistress Hercy was already away toward the stairs, but Anne and Dame Frevisse, with Lucie hovering close, helped her to her feet and to the window. There was little to be seen by then, only two of Raulyn’s men heaving the last bale of cloth up the outer stairs, and Pernell had sunk down on the window bench, a hand pressed between her breasts as she tried to catch breath into her cramped lungs, when footfall too quick for Mistress Hercy came up the stairs.

  Knowing it was Daved even before he was through the doorway, Anne’s heart leaped, and she knew her face must betray her, but everyone’s heed was on him as he went to Pernell and down on one knee before her, catching her free hand in his own while saying quickly, his own breath short from his hurry, “Raulyn said I should tell you he’s set watch at both the front gate and in the rearyard. Has ordered all the lower windows shuttered and barred. Has clubs for all the men. There’s no need for you to be afraid. Everything here is safe.”

  Pernell gripped his hands tightly and said desperately, “But if they burn everything, if they burn London…”

  �
�There’ll be no burning. They want London on their side, not destroyed.“ Daved had his breath now, and his face lightened almost to laughter as he added, ”But if need be, I shall sweep you into my arms and carry you to safety, fair lady.“

  Pernell was surprised into a half-tearful laugh at thought of anyone sweeping her ungainly body into their arms.

  From where she stood, a few paces aside, Dame Frevisse asked, “Master Weir, what’s truly happening? What have you seen?”

  Standing up, still smiling, Daved answered lightly, “Not much. My uncle and I were readying to row out to our ship from Botoph Wharf just below the bridge. With the bridge so full of houses, we couldn’t see much of what was toward there but heard the roar of shouting from its far end well enough. While we stood trying to guess what was happening, the shouting started to cross the bridge. If there was fighting, it was done almost before it started, but there were surely a great many men on the move, and by the sound of it they were being welcomed. That told us someone must have lowered the drawbridge and opened the gates.”

  ‘St. Paul bless us,“ Pernell breathed. ”St. Paul bless you for coming to warn us.“

  Dame Frevisse asked, “Then they’re fully into London by now?”

  ‘As we crossed Fish Street past St. Magnus church, Cade’s banner-bearer was just riding off the bridge. If we hadn’t been running, we’d never have been ahead of them.“

  ‘But what will they do now?“ Pernell asked, all her fright naked in her face and voice and rigid back.

  ‘That we’ll have to wait for,“ Daved said easily. ”But we’re safely tucked in here.“

  Raulyn hurried in then and Pernell held out her hands to him with a sharp, glad cry. Daved moved aside and Raulyn in his turn clasped one of her hands and, sitting down beside her, asked, “He’s told you? That there’s no need for worry?” while holding out his other hand to Lucie, who took it quickly. Sagging gratefully against him, Pernell half-sobbed something into his shoulder that only he could hear.

  While he quietly answered her, Dame Frevisse moved away to the other window, leaving them private together; and for seemingly the same reason Daved came the few steps aside to Anne, as if to assure her, too, that all was well. That was as alone as they were likely to be here, and Anne snatched the chance to say, low-voiced, “You should have gone to your ship. You’d be safe if you’d gone on.”

  ‘Safe is so tedious,“ Daved said, his voice low but still light. ”Besides, Raulyn said he meant to bring you to Pernell today. On the chance he had, here I am.“ As if that had made his choice simple; but he added letting go a little of his lightness, ”Now promise me you’ll stay here until we’re more certain what’s happening.“

  ‘Bette is alone at home.“

  ‘You could do naught to make her safer by being with her. You can be of better use here with Mistress Grene in her need.“

  ‘Will you be staying?“

  Daved searched her face, maybe reading how half-ready she was to forego his warning. “If you do, yes. For tonight at least. Until we know more how things will be.”

  She ached to touch him, to have him touch her in return, but they must not. It had to be enough that he was there, and she said, “I’ll stay at least tonight.”

  Dame Frevisse turned from the window and made a small beckon at Daved and her. They joined her, and she asked, “Is that what you heard?” toward the window.

  Daved listened for a moment, then said quietly, “Yes.”

  ‘What is it?“ Raulyn asked sharply.

  ‘We can hear them,“ Anne answered. ”Not fighting,“ she added quickly. ”Just shouting, just as Master Weir said.“

  From apprentices’ sometime holiday-brawls in Cheap-side, she knew the scruff-sounds of fighting in the streets. This high-hearted shouting was nothing like that. Was more like what there had been three weeks ago, when King Henry had ridden toward Black Heath to deal with these same rebels now being shouted for.

  Raulyn gave Pernell a quick kiss on the cheek and left her, asking as he crossed to join them at the window, “Can you tell where they are?”

  Daved leaned out the window. “By the sound of it…” He paused, listening. “They’re coming along Candlewick.” The street that St. Swithin’s Lane met beside the church.

  ‘This way?“ Pernell cried. ”They’re coming this way?“

  Daved moved away from the window. “I’m going out to see what’s happening.”

  ‘I’ll come with you,“ said Raulyn. Pernell began to protest, and he went to her, took hold on her hands so she could not grasp at his clothing and kissed her quickly but drew back almost as he did, saying as he let her go, ”By the sound of it, it’s safe enough. We have to find out what’s happening, that’s all.“

  Pernell cried out, “Raulyn!” But he and Daved were both gone, and for one bitter moment Anne flared in anger at them—that they could come and go so easily, so readily, while she had to stay. And Pernell, even trapped by her body as she was, at least could cry out to Raulyn and hold to him when he was here and be held by him, while Anne could hold and cry out to no one. And her anger faded into a sadder, darker humour. All she had was her love for Daved, without right to cry out to him or dare to have him hold her. And her love could keep him with her no more than Pernell’s love had held back Raulyn.

  But Pernell was struggling to her feet again, Lucie trying to help her, and Anne went to steady her just as Mistress Hercy returned, bringing a pitcher of probably more wine. Pernell cried out to her, “Raulyn is going out! He mustn’t!” But Mistress Hercy said briskly, setting the pitcher on the table, “He must. It’s what men do. Don’t fear. Master Weir will see to him. Come away to your chair again.”

  Pernell let herself be guided back to the chair and sat down heavily, saying on a half-sob, “And there’s Hal lying there in the church alone, with no one praying over him.”

  ‘We’ve paid Father Tomas good coin to pray beside him,“ her mother said.

  ‘Paid prayers!“ Pernell snapped, suddenly angry. She lurched to her feet again and away from both her mother and Anne, awkward with the straddled walk of a bearing woman, her hands clasped under the weight of her belly and angry tears running down her cheeks. ”He needs more than paid prayers! He’s lying there alone. He’s…“

  Out of the way and silent until then, Dame Frevisse said, “He isn’t there.”

  Pernell paused her pacing. “What?”

  ‘Your son has long since gone free. It’s not your Hal there, only his body.“ She went to Pernell, took her by the arm, started her walking again but slowly now, saying with steadying calm, ”Grieve for him being gone, but let go worry for his body. Whether it’s buried or lying in the church, he’s done with it. Until the Last Judgment and the Resurrection, it matters not at all. Whatever comes to it, Hal is gone from it. Only your love for him still matters, and nothing can hurt or touch that, can it?“

  ‘No.“ However much bewildered she might be by all the rest Dame Frevisse had said, Pernell was sure of that.

  But shouting more near than before jerked everyone’s head around to the window, and on a sob of fear, Pernell said, “Oh, please,” though for what was unclear. God’s help? Strength? Safety? Dame Frevisse turned her in a gentle curve toward the southward window, saying, still quietly, “Listen. Those are glad shouts, not angry ones.”

  Anne, Lucie, and Mistress Hercy joined them at the window. The nun was right, and Mistress Hercy added firmly, “They’re going past, staying on Candlewick. ‘Strike your sword on Londonstone. Claim the city for your own.’ That’s what Cade’s doing.”

  The large, rough stone sat in the middle of Candlewick Street, no one certain from when or why, but yes, there was a rhyme that went that way, and as a greater shouting burst up beyond the houses hiding view of Candlewick, Dame Frevisse said, “He’s done it, I’d guess. Struck Londonstone and claimed the city for his own.”

  ‘Seems he’s welcome to it so far the king cares,“ Mistress Hercy said bitterly. ”Now you
’d best sit again, Pernell. Remember you’ve a babe that needs you careful of him.“

  Dame Frevisse began to ease Pernell toward the chair again, and Pernell let her, seeming calmer, as if finally willing to be comforted. Mistress Hercy—with a wary eye on her daughter—put an arm around Lucie still standing beside her straight-backed and wide-eyed, maybe afraid to move or cry for fear of making something worse, and said, “Come, Lucie-dear. Whatever else is afoot, everyone is going to want their supper. Let’s go be sure the servants are seeing to their work, not thinking to go out to see the sport.”

  Even as she lightly said it, a look of understanding and agreement passed between her and Dame Frevisse. She would see to Lucie and the servants. Dame Frevisse would see to Pernell; and while Mistress Hercy bustled out with Lucie, Dame Frevisse sat Pernell down, sat down beside her, and Anne copied them, sitting on the window bench with wary care, half-fearing a sudden movement would unsettle the little peace. In that moment she envied Mistress Hercy and Dame Frevisse, both of them so ready and certain at decisions not only for themselves but for others, both of them— being widow and nun and much of an age—free of the burdens of childbearing and the body’s passions. Just now Anne would have given much to be free of her body’s passions—fear, for one, but also her ache to be in Daved’s arms and alone with him again.

  Mistress Hercy’s round sewing basket sat in the bench’s corner, its lid shoved aside, a baby’s unfinished yellow gown partly hanging over the edge. Anne took up the gown, found the needle and thread where Mistress Hercy had left off gathering the cloth into a narrow neckband, and began to sew. Dame Frevisse seemed to be praying with Pernell, and Anne, making even in-and-out stitches, thought how sewing was for her much what prayer must be for the nun— giving her mind comfort and sanctuary, somewhere to be besides in worry.