15 The Sempster's Tale Page 16

  But not from hearing the rabble-noise as it rose momentarily louder through the window. Pernell’s head jerked up and around, and Anne said, deliberately going on with her sewing, “They sound farther off, don’t they? They’re headed up Walbrook, I’d say. Toward the Stocks Market. They’ll be making for St. Paul’s. Or the Guildhall, I’d guess. It sounds like holiday-making, doesn’t it?”

  ‘Not like riot or fighting, certainly,“ Dame Frevisse said, and Pernell murmured agreement and bowed her head to the nun’s praying again.

  Done with stitching the small gown into its neckband, Anne took up Lucie’s sampler. A strip of fine-threaded linen cloth with each and fastened to a wooden rod so it could be rolled up at one end while being unrolled at the other, the sampler was Lucie’s guide to all the stitches she learned and record of patterns she might some day use. Unrolling it to the beginning, then rolling her way forward, Anne smiled at the evidence of Lucie’s growing skill these few past years, trying by that small satisfaction to turn her thoughts from her body’s need, her heart’s longing, her mind’s fear. Trying, but not much succeeding.

  Chapter 16

  Frevisse had long ago found that she was better at watching than at being part of what went on around her. She had passions, she knew, and they ran deep and strong; but their running was toward God rather than into the passing happenstances of every day, and sometimes, even now, she wondered whether, if she had chosen marriage and motherhood, her passions would have turned as fully to husband and children or whether, instead, she would have failed both husband and children, drawn as she was so fully another way. She would never know. She had followed where her heart and mind had led her and never regretted her choice. Her only—and only sometimes—regret was that, living her half-step aside from other people as she did, she sometimes saw more than she was happy to see.

  Living that little aside from the thick swirl of desires and fears by which most people let themselves be governed, she was able, even here and now while comforting Pernell and listening for any change to the street-shouting, to be thinking how steadily less happy she was with what she saw between Anne Blakhall and Daved Weir. Their awareness of each other was sharp enough to cut; beyond doubting there was more between them than should be between a virtuous widow and any man.

  But outwardly Frevisse went on comforting Pernell as best she could, leading her in the Kyrie, saying with her, “Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison.”—Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.—over and over because words said over and over until the mind was given up to them could serve to loosen the mind’s tight moorings to the world, letting it float free toward what lay beyond the body’s fears and needs, away from the Lesser and toward the Greater. If Pernell was to have any deep comfort at all, it would be there, in the Greater. So, “Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison.” Lord have mercy. On the living, and on the souls of the dead.

  But even while doing that she was listening to the shouting going more northward than westward, and judged it was not toward St. Paul’s then but still with no sounds of fighting. With no threat seeming near to hand, a quiet scratching at the stairward door frame was too slight a thing to fright even Pernell, who simply broke off praying to say, “Yes?” and Dickon sidled warily into the room, maybe afraid he would find frantic women.

  Quietingly Frevisse said to Pernell, “He’s mine.” And to Dickon, “Yes?”

  He bowed in a general way to all of them and said to her, “My father hasn’t come back. I was wondering…”

  ‘We’ll stay here until we know better what’s toward,“ Frevisse said. And added, knowing full well how tempted he must be to see for himself what was happening in the streets, ”You and I will both stay here.“

  Although his face was younger and less formed than his father’s, it matched Master Naylor’s in giving nothing away. Only the faint underlay of disgust in his voice betrayed him as he said, “Yes, my lady.”

  ‘Meantime,“ she said, ”help as you may with whatever watch and guard is being kept here.“

  He bowed again and left. Pernell, gazing after him, said, “My Hal would have grown to be much like him,” and bent her head, her tears falling into her lap; but they were quiet tears, not rending ones, and Frevisse let her cry in silence, and she was done before Mistress Hercy returned with Lucie and quick, diverting talk about having kept the cook and kitchen servants to their business of readying supper. Frevisse moved away, leaving Pernell to Mistress Hercy. Because Lucie had gone to sit beside Anne, Frevisse went to the other window, that overlooked the yard, with Mistress Hercy, behind her, asking Pernell’s help in planning coming meals. “Because it’s best to make what we have on hand last. I don’t want to pay what the market-rascals will be asking if this goes on.”

  She did not add that there had to be the worry, too, that if alarm spread too greatly into the countryside, the daily inward flow of food to London could stop, leaving bakers soon out of flour for bread, greengrocers of fresh produce, the flesh markets of meat. But while they talked and Anne occupied Lucie with some new stitch for her sampler, Frevisse was left with nothing but the waiting, hoping for Master Naylor’s return. Wherever the rebels and loud Londoners were, she could no longer hear them. Were they too far off for any harsh sounds of fighting or the thicker noise of pillaging to reach here? At least there was no black-clouded smoke from burning buildings that she could see, but the quiet now settled onto London was, in its own way, disquieting. She had grown used to the constant undersound of London busy about its business and pleasures, and she admitted to herself that, much like Dickon, she would rather find out for herself what was happening, not have to wait here to be told.

  Nor did it help that by supper’s time Master Naylor still had not come back, nor Daved nor Master Grene. The women ate the scant meal of fried eggs in a green sauce of peas and scallions in the parlor, joined by Master Bocking, who told how guard would be kept in watches through the night at the house’s foregate and rearyard; and at the meal’s end, when Pernell began to fret openly for her husband’s return, Master Bocking fell into talk about his travels. Listening to him, she was somewhat eased, with Lucie leaning against her to listen, too; and by no spoken agreement, Anne and Frevisse drifted to the windows, Anne to the south, Frevisse at the north; and watching and listening, Frevisse slowly began to hear… not shouting but… many men on the move. Anne rose in no haste and crossed the room to her, to ask low-voiced and looking out the window, “What is it? Where?”

  ‘East of us.“ Maybe a street or so away, but it was hard to tell.

  Anne leaned suddenly forward, looking down. The pale twilight sky was clear and full of light, but thickening shadows filled the yard; only barely Frevisse saw two men crossing it toward the hall. Master Grene and Daved Weir, she guessed, since there had been no challenge from the gate guard. Neither she nor Anne said anything, but something in their watching must have caught Pernell’s eye because she called out, “Are they back?”

  ‘I think so,“ Anne granted carefully.

  ‘Master Bocking, would you—“ Pernell started, but he was already going.

  And was back mercifully soon, bringing Master Grene and Daved with him, followed by a household man carrying a lighted candle. Pernell cried out, “Raulyn!”, holding out her hands to him, and while he went to her and quickly kissed her and assured her he was well and all was well, the man lighted the pricket-held candles along the walls, and Daved closed the shutters across first one window and then the other, and maybe only Frevisse noted how Anne’s eyes followed his every move in the warm, growing light.

  Master Grene was still assuring Pernell, “I’m here. I’m well. Everything’s well. Look, love, I’ve brought James to hear what I’ve to say, so he can tell the rest of the household how well it is. We’re unscathed, and so is London.” He gave a sudden, sharp laugh. “Except for Philip Malpas. He’s scathed and no mistake.”

  Ready to be alarmed out of her relief, Pernell said, “The
y’ve killed him. He’s so hated, someone has killed him.”

  Frevisse whispered to Anne beside her, “Who’s Philip Malpas?”

  ‘A very hated alderman,“ Anne whispered back while Master Grene answered Pernell with a shake of his head and half-mocking regret. ”No, he wasn’t fool enough to stay where they could get their hands on him. He couldn’t take his house with him, though. They’ve ransacked it. The rebels and a good few Londoners.“

  Pernell gasped, but Mistress Hercy asked crisply, “Only Malpas’ place? None other?”

  ‘None other,“ Master Grene said.

  ‘What would Cade have against him in particular?“ Frevisse whispered, but Anne only lifted her shoulders to show she did not know.

  ‘What else has happened?“ Master Bocking asked.

  ‘Cade has been speech-making,“ Master Grene answered. ”We heard the end of one at St. Magnus church and went with the crowd along to the Londonstone—you heard that surely—and on around to Leadenhall market where he said it all again. He’s got himself a white horse from somewhere and a couple of banners, and is making a good show of it. He had maybe a thousand of his men with him.“

  ‘Five hundred or so,“ Daved put in quietly.

  ‘Enough, anyway,“ Master Grene said. ”He’s saying what he’s said all along. That the rebels mean no harm to London. They’re not against the people. It’s the corrupt bastards around the king they want to bring down.“

  Probably understanding full well the difference there could be between the thing said, the thing meant, and the thing actually done, Mistress Hercy asked, “What else did they do besides have speeches and attack Malpas when he wasn’t there?”

  Master Grene shrugged. “Not much.”

  ‘He went out to meet with the Essex rebels,“ Daved said, ”but we don’t know what was said there. Now he’s on his way back to Southwark with his men for the night.“

  ‘So we came back to tell you all’s well.“ Master Grene kissed his wife’s hand. ”As you can see.“

  ‘This Jack Cade. What’s he like?“ Anne asked. ”To see, I mean.“

  Gravely, Daved answered, “He’s a large man. Tall, well-set, well-featured. Rough-mannered, but that may be for the sake of keeping hold over his followers. To over-awe them. Surely those with him today did nothing he did not order.”

  ‘You think then they’re not simply men looking to make trouble?“ Frevisse asked.

  Daved bent his head in grave agreement to that. “Those with him today, anyway. They looked mostly like ordinary lesser folk of otherwise honest life who’ve had too many wrongs and want them righted.”

  ‘There looked to be soldiers among them, too,“ Master Grene said. ”From Normandy would be my guess.“

  ‘From Normandy,“ Daved agreed. ”They’ll be thinking their wrongs the worse of anyone’s.“ And well they might, Frevisse thought. Many of them would be men given land there over the years when England was winning; men who had probably had French homes and families and hopes and plans—and now had nothing, not for themselves or for their families. Reason enough to set them in rebellion against the government that had betrayed them.

  ‘What about the rebels still reveling in Southwark?“ Mistress Hercy asked. ”The ones Cade didn’t bring with him. There must be several thousands of them.“

  ‘They’re Southwark’s trouble,“ Master Grene said. ”It’s the place to be if you want to revel, after all.“

  ‘They may be London’s trouble in a while,“ Daved said. ”Cade had the ropes to the drawbridge cut as he crossed it. It can’t be raised again.“

  And since Cade had given no sign yet of being an outright fool, Frevisse had to suppose his men were now the gate-guards there, too. The Thames, which had seemed London’s best safeguard, no longer made a difference.

  Master Grene loosed himself from Pernell and went to the table to see if there was any wine left in the pitcher there. “Cade has sent word he wants to meet with the mayor tomorrow, and he’s proclaimed there’ll be no pillaging by his followers, on pain of death.”

  ‘They ransacked Malpas’ place,“ Mistress Hercy pointed out.

  ‘Only on his orders and for good reason.“ Master Grene’s smile widened as he poured himself some wine. ”No will hold that against him. Malpas is hated all over London, the usurying bastard.“

  ‘Cade had thought through the business against Malpas,“ Daved said. ”He made his second speech at the Leadenhall, hardly a stone’s throw from Malpas’ door.“

  ‘When he had a door,“ Master Grene laughed.

  ‘They didn’t burn his place, did they?“ Pernell asked in alarm.

  ‘No,“ Daved quickly assured her. ”Cade wants London for him, not against him. There was no burning, only the ransacking of Malpas’ place. He’s gone back with his men to Southwark for the night to show his good intent toward the city.“

  Carrying his goblet of wine, Master Grene returned to Pernell and took her hand comfortingly again. “So, see, love, you can give over your fears. Cade has all well in hand and means no harm to folk like us. James, you can tell the household all of this and send them to bed.”

  ‘Except the guard should be kept anyway,“ Daved said lightly. ”Not against any rebels, but against Londoners who might think ’rebelling‘ suddenly looks good.“

  ‘Just see that none of our folk go out to join them,“ Master Grene added, matching his lightness.

  James bowed agreement and left, and Master Grene said, smiling on Pernell, “See, love? All is well in hand.”

  Pernell smiled back, finally ready to believe it, and Mistress Hercy took that advantage to say, “Then it’s time to persuade her to bed, Raulyn. It’s where she should be. And the rest of us, too. Lucie-love, you and Anne are to share my chamber, remember. Dame Frevisse, you said you’d sleep here, yes? I’ve ordered bedding brought. Raulyn, you’ll be with Master Bocking and Master Weir again tonight?” And Mistress Hercy would spend the night in Pernell’s chamber, Frevisse knew.

  On the lift and bustle of her words, Master Grene helped Pernell to her feet, and guided her toward the bedchamber with an arm around her to steady her. Her mother and Lucie went with her, and Frevisse, Anne, Daved, and Master Bocking were left looking at one another. Frevisse could only guess what would have been said if she had not been there, but she took the chance to ask Daved, “This Cade. Will he keep his word about no trouble in London?”

  Daved paused as if deciding how much truth was safe with her, then said, “He may mean to. Whether he will… that will depend on whether he can keep his followers as well in hand as he did today. If once they start to riot, one man’s will won’t stop them, whatever his word. The business at Malpas’ place, he kept that in his control because today he brought in men he knew would obey him.”

  Keeping watch on Daved’s face to be sure he understood she wanted truth rather than soothing, Frevisse asked, “What if he brings the rest of his followers into London? Will he be able to keep them as much in hand as he kept these?”

  ‘That,“ said Daved, steadily meeting her gaze, ”we will have to see.“

  Anne now asked him and his uncle together, “Do you mean to go back to your ship tomorrow?”

  It was Master Bocking who answered, with a glance at Daved, “It’s come to me there are very likely frighted merchants here in London who may be presently willing to sell what they have cheaply against possibly losing it to the rebels if things go badly. Coin is easier to hide than bales of goods, you see.”

  ‘And so,“ Daved said, mockingly earnest and with laughter behind the words, ”to ease their minds, my uncle would like to buy what they have to sell. To ease their worry. An act of Christian charity on his part.“

  All unexpectedly, Anne laughed.

  Daved bowed his head to her. “My lady,” he said mock-solemnly.

  ‘Good sir,“ she returned in kind and with a bow of her own head.

  For a single, unguarded moment they were looking at one another with no one and nothin
g else mattering; and in that small, unguarded moment, Frevisse saw that there was also more than only lust between them, more than simply their bodies’ craving. There was an understanding of spirit that was maybe even love; and if it was, God and St. Mary Magdalene help them, Frevisse thought, because how much did Anne truly know about him? He was more than a merchant. The Suffolk gold proved that. But how much more?

  Chapter 17

  That night passed well enough—no alarums, no outcries, no clash of weapons, no stench of burning buildings—and from the quiet in the bedchamber Frevisse supposed Mistress Hercy had given Pernell a sleeping-draught. For herself, the straw-stuffed pallet on the parlor floor made for as good sleeping as a nunnery bed ever did, though from long usage she awoke sometime in the middle of the night for the Offices of Matins and Lauds. She said their prayers and psalms silently, without rising, and then slept again, to awaken near dawn to say Prime before the day began. She was sitting at the parlor’s southward window, watching the first full sunlight spill over London’s housetops, when an indeterminate sound of many men moving told something was happening toward London bridge again; and when shortly a maidservant came to say she was wanted in the hall, she went readily, hardly holding back from outward haste, and was relieved to find Master Naylor there, in talk with Master Grene, Master Bocking, and Daved, with Dickon hovering nearby.

  She heard, “… not so mannerly as yesterday’s lot, either,” before Master Naylor saw her, turned to her and said, more his grim self than usual, “Cade’s back into London. He’s brought a good many more men with him this time. They—”

  ‘You saw him?“ she asked.

  ‘He was riding up Gracechurch Street as I was coming here, his men behind him, but some of them already breaking off down other streets. My guess is they’ve been too long in Southwark and will be hoping for like sport here. I wanted to have you back to St. Helen’s this morning, but I’m not minded to chance the streets now.“