The Harlot's Tale (The Midwife's Tale)

by Sam Thomas

  “I don’t see how,” James said, furrowing his brow in confusion. The poor boy was easily fuddled. “We had a young men’s meeting in John’s room for scripture-reading and prayer. Praise-God prayed for an hour before his mother took him. After he left, John prayed for an hour. Then two or three more of us prayed before we ended. It must have been near eleven before we went home, and John was preparing to sleep.”

  “But he could have gone out after you left him, couldn’t he?” Will asked.

  “I suppose he could. What did he do? Did he go a-whoring? The Wards would not approve of that at all!” As pathetic a figure as James cut, I could not help pitying the boy. Even under the best of circumstances, a lad such as he would never go far in our hard world. He was as eager and innocent as a puppy, but surrounded by wolves.

  “What about Monday night?” Martha asked. “The day after Mr. Ward preached in the street outside St. Michael’s?”

  James shook his head. “I don’t know where he was on Monday. We had another prayer meeting that afternoon, but it ended before night fell,” he said. “What sins do you think John has committed? I’ve not seen him act sinfully, but perhaps I can join the three of you and help discover them?”

  I glanced up at Will and Martha, who both looked aghast at the suggestion that we bring James into our circle.

  “We would not want to trouble you,” I said. “You have helped us already.”

  “So you think you’ll be able to uncover his sins?” James asked eagerly. “It would be a great service to the city. Mr. Ward says that there can be no goats living among the sheep.”

  “We shall do our best,” I assured him as I walked him to the door.

  “I will watch him closely,” James said. “If he shows his true colors, I will summon you immediately.” I bade him farewell, and rejoined Will and Martha in the parlor.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I think he’s a feather-headed fool,” Martha replied. “And the only way James would recognize Stubb’s guilt is if Stubb brought him along for the murder.”

  “But he hardly proved Stubb’s innocence,” Will said. “Stubb was alone after the prayer meeting, and he could have snuck back out and killed Betty with nobody the wiser.”

  “Well, it’s not much, but we know James will watch Stubb more closely now,” I said. “Perhaps he will see something of interest.”

  “All he sees is that girl’s shape,” Will said. “He’d have killed those women if she asked.” He paused. “You don’t think James—”

  “No, never,” I interrupted. “He’s a stupid boy, but not a cruel one. We will just have to continue our search.

  “If it is Stubb,” Will said, “how could we prove such a thing?”

  We sat quietly, considering the question. I feared—we all feared—that the murderer would kill again before we found him. “We could set Tree on him,” Will said. “It worked before—”

  “Absolutely not!” I cried. “I’ll not lose—” I started to say another child and caught myself before the words escaped me, for Tree was more Samuel’s son than mine. “Besides,” I said. “The murderer is acting at night. There is little that Tree could discover by following him during the day.”

  “What then?” Martha asked. We sat in silence. Nobody could answer her. A knock at the door pulled us from our melancholy thoughts.

  “Is James back already?” Will asked, going to the door. I heard a woman’s voice, and Will returned a moment later. “It’s Helen Wright and her man, Stephen,” Will said. “She said she’s come to talk about the murders.”

  * * *

  I told Will and Martha to escort Helen and Stephen to the parlor, and joined them there. Her dress was magnificent: deep blue silk with gold thread woven into the fabric. I could hardly keep from enquiring where she’d obtained such rich cloth, and to my dismay I felt myself growing envious. From the look on her face, I could tell she’d seen my reaction and that she enjoyed it.

  “It is a glorious color, isn’t it?” she asked. “If you’d like, I could send a few yards of the fabric to you. It cost quite a bit, but I have plenty to spare.”

  While the offer seemed generous, I knew she would enjoy seeing me wearing her colors, as if I were her liveryman. I let the insult pass.

  “What brings you into the city?” I asked. “With the godly in the saddle, it is not a hospitable place for a woman such as yourself.” She ignored my affront as I had hers.

  “Stephen says you three were at the scene of more murders, two in St. John-del-Pyke and another near Micklegate Bar,” she said. “I would like to know what you have discovered.” Helen’s man leaned against the hearth. He’d removed a piece of wood from his pocket and was carving it with a small knife.

  I gazed at Helen while I considered my response. I could not help admiring her audacity in coming to my home uninvited, and liked that she came straight to the point of her visit. Few things would have been more awkward than if she’d pretended that she had come out of friendship.

  “We think the killer is one of the troop who came to town with Hezekiah Ward,” I said.

  “Which one?” she asked. “Stephen has been looking into their affairs as well.”

  “John Stubb,” I said. “And he may have been pushed into it by Silence Ward.”

  “The minister’s daughter?” Helen asked, considering the idea. “I have heard that she’s quite the harpy when it comes to women in the trade. But why would she kill the whores? They can’t change their ways if they’re dead.”

  “It’s not about the whores,” Martha said. “It’s about the city. They are killing the whores as a warning to the rest of us. The murders are meant as signs of God’s wrath, painted in blood.”

  “That sounds like Ward’s gang,” Helen said, nodding. “Do you have evidence against Stubb or the girl?”

  “Nothing to convince a jury,” I admitted. I hesitated, not wanting to reveal the Bible verses that had connected Ward’s party and the murders. It was the only piece of evidence we had, and, as flimsy as it was, I was reluctant to share it too widely.

  “If it is Stubb, how is he choosing which women to kill?” she asked.

  “He’s killing sinners and whores,” I said without thinking.

  Helen smiled as a schoolmaster might when confronted with an unusually dim child. “Obviously. But the city is full of sinners. Why is he killing these sinners in particular? Why Jennet Porter? Why Mary Dodsworth?”

  I glanced at Martha, who seemed as taken aback by the question as I felt. We’d never even thought about it.

  “We assumed that he killed whoever was at hand,” I said.

  “Then why would he kill four people in the north of the city, and a fifth in the south?” Helen asked. “They cannot all be close at hand. No, I think there’s more to it than that. I think he’s targeting me.”

  “What?” Martha and I cried out together.

  “Why would you think that?” I asked.

  “It is quite obvious,” she said. “Jennet had come to me for help, and she died in one of my tenements, as did the two people killed in St. John-del-Pyke.”

  “And the barmaid?” I asked. “Did you ‘help’ her in the same way you ‘helped’ Jennet?”

  “I didn’t know her,” Helen admitted. “But the tavern lies not a hundred yards from my house. He could hardly have found anyone closer.”

  “But how would he know which whores are in your employ, or which buildings you own?” Martha asked. “You don’t make a show of such things, and the Wards are strangers to York.”

  “There are city officials whom I have trusted with my secrets. They provide some protection from the law, and I provide them with money and information that would not usually come their way.”

  “Whom do you mean?” I asked.

  “I have reached an agreement with your nephew Joseph,” she said. “After the city fell and the constables began to harass the women in my employ, Joseph came to Stephen with a proposal. He said that he coul
d protect me from the rigors of the law if I would pay him a few pounds each month and share with him what I know about his rivals. Soon none in the city will dare oppose him for fear of public humiliation.”

  Martha, Will, and I sat in stunned silence. From the smile that played across her lips, I could tell that Helen enjoyed delivering this news. Could this be true? Could Joseph be so corrupt as to profess godliness in the light of day, and soil his hands with a bawd’s money under cover of the night? I felt my lingering anger at Helen’s impudence mixing with my fury at Joseph’s hypocrisy. I gazed at Helen’s face, hoping for some sign that she was lying to us.

  “I cannot believe this,” I said. “Joseph would never resort to extortion, and he would never traffic with a common bawd. He has no need.”

  “Why would I lie?” she asked, still smiling. She seemed quite pleased with my reaction. I could find no answer to her question.

  “My brother has been taking money from you?” Will asked through bared teeth. I could see fury growing within him as well. “All this time he’s been pretending godliness while taking your money?” His voice rose with each word.

  I took his hand, but he shook it off without even glancing at me. Before I could speak, Will leaped to his feet and started for the door. He already held his cane like a sword, and I knew that if he found Joseph while he was in this state, bloodshed would result. I reached for his arm in the hope of stopping him, but he eluded my grasp.

  Martha was faster than I and reached the door before Will. “Will, no!” she begged. She took his arms and forced him to look into her eyes. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to thrash him within an inch of his life,” Will said. “And then I’m going to show my father who his favored son really is.”

  “You can’t,” I said. “Not now.”

  Will ignored me completely, and tried to push past Martha.

  “She is right,” Martha said, staring imploringly into Will’s eyes. “We have to figure out what this means for the murders before we do anything.”

  Will took a deep breath and worked to regain control of himself.

  “There is no profit in confronting Joseph today,” Martha said softly. “He will still be there for thrashing tomorrow.”

  Will nodded, and Martha guided him back to the parlor.

  “I seem to have found an open wound,” Helen said. “I am sorry.”

  I studied her face for some sign of insincerity, but her sentiment seemed genuine. Perhaps there was more to her than I’d realized.

  “Mrs. Wright,” Martha said, hoping to turn the discussion back to the murders. “Why would Joseph help the murderer? If he is so conniving, he’d be better off if he kept the whores alive and mined them for their secrets.”

  “He wouldn’t do it on purpose,” she explained. “But to maintain his godly façade, Joseph rails against me both in public and in private. He must have complained of my work to Ward’s people, and then this John Stubb used what he’d learned to choose his victims.”

  “And that’s why, out of all the sinners in York, Stubb has killed those closest to you,” I said. “Joseph set him on your trail.” I could see the logic in her thinking.

  Helen nodded. “It is the only explanation. And once Stubb chose me as the enemy in his mad war, he would not have found it difficult to discover which buildings I own. And from there the blood began to flow.” She stood and executed a perfect curtsey. “Thank you for your help, Lady Bridget. I am grateful.”

  “Wait!” I cried. “That is all? What do you intend to do?”

  “It is clear that Stubb intends to do me harm. I will defend myself. I have no intention of hiding in my home until he tries to kill me.”

  “If he is guilty, we will prove it and see him hanged,” I said. “You must trust us. It is your only choice.”

  Once again Helen regarded at me as she would a child. “It is not my only choice,” she replied. “I will not take the chance.”

  “Then what will you do?”

  “She means to kill Stubb,” Martha said softly.

  “What?” I cried. “You can do no such thing!”

  “I can’t, but Stephen certainly can,” Helen replied.

  I stared at Helen’s man. He did not look up from his carving, but a smile flitted across his lips.

  “And why shouldn’t he?” Helen continued. Her cold-bloodedness sent a chill through me. “If Stubb has already killed five people, and intends to add me to his tally, then no other action makes sense.”

  “If he killed them!” I cried. “If he is guilty! If he is innocent, you’ll be no different from the murderer himself. You can’t kill a man because he might be guilty.”

  “If he were killing your clients, or if he attacked Martha and threatened you, what would you do?” she asked. “Is your love of the law so strong that you would simply stand by and wait for the constables to act?”

  “You cannot,” I insisted, my voice rising to near a shout. “We have our suspicions but no proof!”

  “How long would you have me wait?” she asked, her voice rising along with mine. “How many women have to die before I have your permission? I will not wait until your conscience is satisfied. I will defend the women in my employ, and I will defend myself.”

  I could not believe what I heard. “You are the one who brought these women into harm’s way at the outset! Were it not for you, Jennet would be alive and well.”

  “There are far worse bawds than me, and were it not for my help, Jennet would be half-starved at the very best. I’ll not say that it’s good work, but for maids like Jennet it’s that or slow death. Which would you have them choose?”

  “That does not make what you do right.”

  “I do my penance,” she said. “I pay the fines that the city levies and I’ve paid the school fees for two lads from my parish. The oldest will start at Cambridge next year, and that’ll cost me a tidy sum. Have you given as much to your neighbors?”

  “Your pennies, pence, and pounds cannot make amends for your sins,” I hissed. “Or have you turned Papist and think that good works will save your soul? Perhaps you intend to re-create the stews of Rome here in York.”

  Helen stood and walked toward me until our faces were mere inches apart.

  “I’ll not explain myself any further,” she said softly. “I will stay my hand for now, but if Stubb attacks another girl, or if I come to fear for my life, he’ll not breathe another day. I will see to that.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and stalked out of the parlor.

  Stephen turned to Martha. “If you learn anything that shows Stubb’s innocence,” he said, “I suggest you send word immediately.” He then handed Martha a carved snake nearly identical to the one he’d given us when we visited Helen and followed his mistress out the door.

  Martha looked at the serpent for a moment before slipping it into her apron.

  “That … that … salt bitch!” I fumed once we were alone. “What have I given to my neighbors? What haven’t I given? Peace, comfort, children! Life itself! Who is she to challenge me in such a way?”

  Martha knew better than to reply, or even to try soothing my wrath. She slipped from the room and returned with a glass of wine, which I gulped down without tasting it. Once my heart had slowed, I sat and took a deep breath.

  Will looked at me out of the corner of his eye, as if afraid I would explode yet again and this time turn my anger in his direction.

  “It’s all right, Will,” I said. “I don’t know what it is, but there is something about her that drives me to blind fury.” To my surprise, Will laughed.

  “You don’t know why she angers you, Aunt Bridget? She is your twin and your antipode at the same time!”

  “What?” I cried. “She and I have nothing in common!”

  “Oh, come now, Aunt Bridget,” Will said. “She is wealthy and powerful, and every day she deals in the city’s secrets. She keeps them when it suits her, and reveals them when she must. How much of that is
not also true of you?”

  “It is not at all the same, Will,” I protested, but in my mind I struggled to determine just what he’d said that was wrong. “She is a low-born, scandalous woman!”

  “And thus your antipode,” he said, delighted that I’d followed him so far. “She works in the city’s shadows, and you practice in the light. She is an outlaw, and you are the law. Of course she infuriates you. The strange thing would be if she did not. If you were a bawd or if she were a midwife, you would be good gossips, I think.”

  I tried to find a suitable answer to Will’s charge, but could not. “I take it you’ll be staying for supper?” I asked. Will laughed, knowing he’d bested me in our argument.

  “Of course.”

  That evening, Martha, Will, and I drank a bit more wine than usual, and for a time we succeeded in our efforts to talk of something besides the murders. City politics, the latest news of the war between the King and Parliament, even the heat, God help us. But eventually, as we all knew that it would, our talk returned to the killings.

  “Time is short,” Will said. He gazed out my window into the gathering darkness. “Short for a whore if we do not discover the killer. Short for Stubb if we do not find out that someone else is the killer. It is hard to see how this ends without more blood being shed.”

  “Perhaps the killer does not do God’s work on the Sabbath,” Martha offered. “That would give us until Monday, at least.” I did not think even she believed it. I felt my spirits sinking as I considered the prospect of finding more and more bodies.

  Will stood and made his way unsteadily to the door.

  “Stay, Will, won’t you?” I asked. “It is late. Stay and come to the Sabbath service with us tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Will insisted. “I’ve made it home more cup-shot than this.”

  “You ought not go,” Martha said. “Not like that. The guard on Ouse Bridge will lock you up for the night, won’t he? And who knows if the killer will turn from whores to drunkards.”

  To my surprise, Will relented.

  “Perhaps you are right,” he said, shrugging off his coat and turning for the stairs. “I’ll see you in the morning, Aunt Bridget.”