by Anne Stevens
“He gave the order,” the young Jew returns. “It was you who carried it out. All those innocent men, hanged, just to keep a woman’s shame secret.”
“The Duchess of Norfolk was tricked into her part,” Cromwell says, trying to justify why she continues to live.
“She connived to help Queen Katherine to escape, and arranged for her cousin to rob the Royal Mint. Will also found her in an adulterous act with a servant. She was on her knees to the fellow, and as naked as Eve, then cried ‘rape’ when discovered.”
“Henry and Tom Howard will have none of that,” Richard says. “Spread the story of her licentiousness, and you imperil your own life.”
“Oh, would you come and strangle me too, Master Richard?” Mush asks, pointedly touching the handle of the well balanced throwing knife he keeps concealed up his left sleeve.
“Enough!” Cromwell is appalled at the dissention amongst his young men, and wonders if Mush’s return was such a good thing after all. “You have your orders, gentlemen.”
“Am I to send for Will?” Richard asks, still stinging from his friend’s words of reproach.
“No, leave him be. He will come back in time … or not.”
“He should not treat you so badly,” Rafe mutters. “Let him behave so, and others might think they can too.”
“Pray give me strength,” Cromwell curses. “Captain Draper is not like the rest of you, Rafe. He struggles to marry up his conscience with his duty to me, and holds his honour to be important.” The Privy Councillor shakes his head, sadly. “Well, it is not … to those he must serve. Does the king think of his honour when he throws over his wife, or condemns a wayward lord? Where is La Boleyn’s honour? And what about us, Rafe? Can we afford honour, when we must deal with scoundrels, and great men alike?”
“Then he is a fool, sir.”
“Yes, he is. A man of honour, in a world of dark deceit,” Cromwell says. “Miriam is making his fortune for him, and he can afford luxuries, such as scruples. We must let him stew for a while, and he will come around.”
“I hope so, uncle,” Richard Cromwell says.
“As do I,” Mush snipes. “For he is worth more than any ten men in Austin Friars, and his leadership will be sorely missed.”
“You are not compelled to stay,” Richard tells his friend. “Why did you return? You gave up at the first sign of … oh, forgive me. My mouth forgets my brain, Mush. You know I loved Gwen like my own sister. Your loss was also ours.”
Mush does not know what to say. He thinks about her every moment of his waking life, and wonders how he can go on alone. He can only shrug, and hold out his arms to the giant, bear like man.
“Come and hug me, you great ox,” he says. “Though I draw the line at kissing so ugly a brute as you.”
“I’d just as soon kiss a horses arse,” Richard throws back, and the tension begins to ease. Cromwell’s young men use rough banter to smooth over any cracks in their working relationships with one another. Austin Friars’ house rules are strict on the matter.
Any cause for ill will is to be discussed openly around the breakfast table, and solutions found before the day’s business commences. Each of Cromwell’s young men is responsible for his brethren, and must do all he can to aid a comrade. In return, no man goes short, and each is rewarded from a central fund controlled by Rafe Sadler.
Rafe takes a portion of every deal, bribe, or monetary gift, and shares it out, following his master’s directions. As Cromwell takes only enough to support the big house, the balance usually amounts to a good monthly wage for everyone, from those who are fit only for menial tasks, up to the chosen few who run the master’s complex legal practice, or help operate his more secret doings.
It is known that Cromwell stands by his people, and is a generous master, often feeding half of London’s poor. He will pay well, demand much, and care for your family, if you fall whilst in his service. So, despite the ill feelings, the air is cleared, and everything ends with a reaffirming hug.
Thomas Cromwell sees that his carefully constructed society is holding firm, and he slips out of the room, content that they will not kill one another -for the time being, at least.
His heart is heavy at Will Draper’s absence, but he resolves to carry on as if nothing was awry. For a reason he cannot quite understand, he knows that, at the last, Will Draper will be by his side, ready to do his duty, whatever that might be.
Once in his library, he takes down the ledger wherein he keeps the names of enemies. He turns to the next clean page, and writes in the name Martell. The man is dangerous, because the king fears him, and that makes him Cromwell’s enemy.
The man has a secret, and come what may, Thomas Cromwell will uncover it, and do his duty. Without duty, there is nothing, but chaos, and the blacksmith’s lad will not stand for that. Not in his England.
2 Invitations
“Please, mistress, leave this to me,” the boatman says as he hoists a great round of mild Cheshire made cheese onto the flat deck area to the middle of the craft. “They need careful placing, else the boat might yawl over too far.”
Miriam Draper smiles, and lets the young man get about loading this, her newest acquisition, a broad beamed, barge like boat, built for the waters of the Thames estuary. It crosses her mind that, at almost eight months pregnant, she might also be classed as a heavy load.
On the bow, Miriam has had painted the name ‘Maid of Wales’ to honour her sister-in-law, whose recent tragic death has laid her brother so low. She misses the eager, ever helpful girl, and feels as though she has lost the best of friends. Her absence, at the forthcoming birth, will be sorely missed.
“It looks like a squall of rain is coming down river, Adam,” she advises. “Keep all the perishables tarpaulined over, and keep your boy ready with the bailing bucket. I want this lot delivered before cock crow.”
“As you wish, mistress,” Adam Gubbett calls from the scuppers. “What then… do I tack about and run for home, or go across river to the Southwark warehouse? That consignment of boots might have arrived.”
Miriam hides a knowing smile. When there is little work for her boatman he is apt to cross the river in search of penny fares from one bank to the other. He can take a dozen at a time, allowing weary travellers the chance of cutting several miles from their journeys.
“Yes, do that,” Miriam replies, and makes a mental note not to raise his pay any time soon. The young man is enterprising, and will soon earn enough to buy his own boat. When that happens, she will find a new boatman, and hire Adam’s as she needs extra cartage space. It will save her buying another boat in the short term, and increase her own profits. “If the cobblers are behind, perhaps you might find another cargo to shift?”
Adam Gubbett blushes scarlet, and wonders if his mistress really has the ability to read minds. His father says that it is a special power of the Jewish race, and that is why they always do so well at business. That Miriam and her brother Mush are Jews is an open secret about Austin Friars and Will Drapers grand house on the river bank, but it is never spoken of openly, for fear of attracting the wrong sort of attention from the authorities.
“Either way, I will be back before noon, Mistress Miriam, and at your service. Perhaps I might help out in the kitchen?”
Ah, Miriam thinks, that is his secret. Adam is almost sixteen, and begins to feel the blood rushing. There is a girl he has an eye on, and she must work in the kitchen at Draper House. Miriam has extended the house to incorporate a large cooking area, where a half dozen young girls spend their time baking pies and pasties for sale on one of her many market stalls along the Thames.
She tries to imagine which of the pretty little waifs has caught Adam’s eye, but gives it up as a waste of time. There is no telling with men, where they might find love. The thought makes her think of Gwen again, and her brother’s awful loss, and she wonders if he will ever return to being the young man they all knew and loved but a few months before.
Adam poles the
boat out into midstream, hoists the single, small square mast, and settles down at the tiller. Miriam watches him move up river, and is so lost in thought that she fails to notice the approach of Nell, one of the house maids.
“Beggin’ pardon, mistress, but Master Draper wants to see you, at once.”
“What, my husband is out of bed?” Miriam is surprised, as Will usually rises later in the morning.
“Not him,” the girl says. “That pretty brother of yours. He is in the kitchen, getting under everyone’s feet, and saying as how he must speak with you, now.”
Miriam retraces her steps down the short wooden jetty, and cuts through the vegetable patch to the back of the house. Sure enough, Mush is in the kitchen, waiting for the last batch of pies to come out of the big earthen oven. Ada is scolding him, and telling him that all are spoken for, but he is giving her such a look as would melt a girl’s heart. In another moment, she will relent, and feed him to his hearts content.
“You want me, brother?” Miriam asks, from the kitchen door. Mush jumps to his feet, and ushers her out into the garden.
“Good morning, sister,” he says, taking her hands in his. “Are you both well?” Miriam smiles, for he means her, and the unborn child.
“He kicks like a mule,” Miriam replies. “Is that why you are here… to ask after my health?”
“Amongst other things,” Mush says. “I was wondering how Will is doing. Is he happy at home?”
“He is miserable,” Miriam tells her brother truthfully. “Poor Will is a man of action, and cannot abide all my chatter about markets and money making. I fear he will never make a good Hebrew.”
“Unlike the child within.” Mush pats his sister’s ever growing bump. “Does he know that our blood is passed down through the female side, and that his children will all be Jewish?”
“I care not, as long as they take after Miriam in looks, rather than their uncle Mush,” Will announces as he strolls into the kitchen. “Can you find us some breakfast, my love?”
Miriam gestures to one of the girls, and a large pan of spitting fat has a half dozen eggs broken into it with accomplished ease.
“Sit, husband. Mush, stop loitering at the door, and join us for fresh eggs. There is bread and cold mutton slices too. Or would you prefer something sweet, my love?”
“I have that,” Will says, winking at her. “Come, Mush. This is not a social visit, or you would have been louder in your coming. Is it a secret for Miriam, or might I hear it too?”
“It was not my intent to deceive you, Will.” Mush sits, and seems in a sullen mood. “I simply thought it best to speak to my sister first, in the hope that she might plead my case.”
“This sounds very dark,” Will says, tearing off a hunk of hard, grey bread. “Have you been out stabbing folk again? I always knew your temper would get the better of you. Who is it this time, Mush … a lawyer, or someone even less reputable?”
“Your jesting almost makes me cry with laughter, brother-in-law,” Mush replies, sarcastically. “I come on an errand that I would rather not have been given. He wants to see you, Will.”
“Cromwell?”
“Who else but he?” Mush says. “You have not been to Austin Friars for months, and never send him news of how Miriam is faring. He thinks of her almost as a daughter, and wishes to know if she is doing well, or not.”
“I am sure his spies will keep him well enough informed of things. I dare say he has a few within my wife’s business.” Will is still angry with his erstwhile master, and is not willing to give an inch. “As for me, he has enough loyal men, like Richard, to do his dirty work. I cannot have other men think I condone his recent murders.”
“You have killed for him before.” Mush says the words, but knows his heart is not in them. Cromwell has had men killed to whom Will had given quarter. They lay down their arms, and were hanged in an orchard, like common thieves. “Master Cromwell knows he has wronged you, and begs me to tell you that it was not meant as a slight against you, and that he considers your honour intact.”
“That is very kind of him,” Will says. “He forgives me for being honourable. Only a lawyer can twist the truth like that. I am surprised that he has not already found a way to exonerate his own conscience.”
“He seems comfortable with his actions.” Mush spoons one of the eggs into his mouth, and chews. Cromwell has primed him with many fine phrases to use, in order that he might have Will return to the fold, but the young Jew cannot speak them. Instead, he wipes grease from his lips, and says what he believes. “When I lost Gwen, I thought my world had ended. I almost threw myself from a high tower with grief.”
“Don’t, Mush,” Will says. “Her death also broke our hearts. I thought you had found your perfect partner, and Miriam loved her like a sister.”
“I know.” Mush will not be deflected from what he has to say. “The only thing that stopped me from following Gwen, was the belief that I still had a home waiting for me. Master Cromwell took us in, and made us part of his family. True, he can be a stern father sometimes, and do things we cannot understand, but his love wraps around us like a blanket. I know that, no matter what, I will always be a part of Austin Friars.”
“Nothing lasts for ever,” says Will.
“Forever?” Mush grins. “Who wants forever, without fun? My life is only worthwhile if I am doing something useful, and Thomas Cromwell recognises that in me. He recognises it in you too, Will. We need each other. Richard, Rafe, you, me, and Miriam are bound to him like children to a father, and without him we are nothing. Then again, without us, what is he, but a sad old man trying to hold England together?”
“You think I should forgive him?”
“No. I think you should return to Austin Friars, and resume your duties,” Mush replies, attacking another egg. “Cromwell knows you will serve him, even through your dislike. He thinks that you can still work with him, even though he has damaged the trust between you.”
“I do not know.” Will looks to Miriam, who sighs, and places a jug of fresh milk down, next to the cheese and watered beer.
“If you want my opinion,” she says, “then I say go back to him, Will. This bad blood will only poison you both. Besides, I am being driven mad by you being under my feet every day. If you do not make it up with Cromwell, I fear I will make you spend your days in low taverns.”
“Now, that is an idea,” Will says, but he is ready to be convinced. Not working for Cromwell has been the dullest time of his life, and he does not know what else an ex soldier can do with himself, other than drink and dice all day.
“God curse you, Will Draper,” Miriam snaps. “Go and get your sword, and I will fetch your best cloak. If you are still here in a few minutes, I will sweep you out with the rest of the rubbish.”
“A pretty choice,” Will says. “Might I have a pie to see me on my way?”
“You will have a basket of them,” Miriam tells him. “It will save the legs of the usual delivery boy.”
“What, you send food to Austin Friars? Will shakes his head in disbelief. “Even though Cromwell and I are not friends?”
“Of course,” Miriam says. “I have no quarrel with Tom Cromwell, and he is partial to my veal pies. Now, both of you, get out of my kitchen!”
“My sister is becoming a shrew,” Mush says, once they are on the way. The walk to Austin Friars is about a half mile, and the road is good.
“It is because of her condition,” Will replies. “She must be strong for the sake of her business, and when running the house, but she is as sweet natured as any when we are at our ease.”
“Miriam, sweet natured?” Mush Draper grins. “Only you and Cromwell think so.”
“Why does he need me now?”
“He just misses you, I suppose.” Mush considers for a moment. “I cannot think of any matter where our special talents are needed. There is the usual intrigue, of course. Boleyn wants what she wants, and Henry needs constant reassuring. Then there was the trouble in York.�
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“Was Cromwell involved in that?” Will asks. The good people of York were upset about some abbey or other being closed, and a few of them had started rioting about the shire.
“York falls under poor Harry Fitzroy’s dominion,” Mush explains. “The lad is sickening still with a lingering cough, and was unable to settle the unrest by himself. Cromwell did not want the king to think his son incapable, and sent a few of us north to look into the matter.”
“Was there a lot of disorder?” Will asks.
“The trouble over the abbey was all talk, and the people of York soon settled down, but a few bad apples decided to use the disturbance for their own ends. The steward of an estate near Knaresborough was waylaid, and stabbed to death, and a couple of merchants were robbed. Then an inn was set on fire, but with little damage done.”
“Hardly an armed insurrection,” Will says. “How did you resolve it?”
“Richard and I posed as a couple of rogues, new to the area, and let it be known that we were outlawed in the south.” Mush smiles at the simplicity of the trick. “The three who had killed the steward approached us, and offered to let us join their band. We took them, and under questioning, they confessed, and named their confederates. Most were lazy peasants hoping for enrichment, but their leader was the unemployed abbot of the place Cromwell shut down.”
“Did they hang?”
“Of course, except for the abbot, who pleaded benefit of clergy. I did not know what that meant, but Richard said we must send him south, rather than allow his execution.”
“Benefit of clergy,” Will shakes his head. “How many men have escaped the hangman because of that. Prove you know the bible, and have your sentence mitigated. I am surprised Cromwell let someone use that on him.”
“He didn’t,” Mush confirms. “He pointed out that as the abbey was defunct, the abbot should have applied to the king for a post in the new English church. As he failed to do so, he was a layman, and must face a common court. He was tried, flogged for his impudence, and then hanged.”
