"You had a house in York, as well as here?"
"On Coney Street, alongside the river. It was convenient."
"So Fryde was envious of Master Brakespeare's success?"
"Very. Especially when Fryde desperately wanted to take high office
within the Merchant Adventurers Company and on the city council,
because one needs a certain amount of wealth for that, you see. Even
the lower positions require an outlay: bridge keepers for instance,
must do their stint before they can be nominated for office. Granted,
they get to keep the rents and tolls, but they also have to maintain
both bridges out of that and their own pockets. My John never aspired
to that, but Fryde loves the power it brings. Eventually, he brought
my husband down."
"Tell me, if you please."
The lovely mature face showed soft lines for all the forlorn years.
"Henry Fryde was a councillor at the time. He authorised my husband to
buy four hundred pounds' worth of luxury goods from Flanders for him
and agreed to pay John five per cent commission. John was foolish to
trust him, but he didn't see what could go wrong. On the way home from
Flanders, crossing the North Sea, John's ship was caught by pirates.
They stole the cargo, killed my John and sent the ship empty to York
bearing his body. And young Silas. I was expecting our second son at
the time. The cost of crew, handling, and cargo had cost us dearly,
but Fryde refused to pay a penny compensation, not even as a gesture,
and I was ruined. "
"My God! So that's it!"
"Fortunately, Silas had just completed his indentures, and Fryde
offered to take him on as journeyman, but Silas refused. He's always
been sure, you see, that those pirates were hired by Fryde himself, and
that the cargo was taken on to York for Fryde to sell. These merchants
keep an ear to the ground, you know."
"There's a scar on Silas's forehead. Is that from the fight?"
"Oh, yes, he came home well-bloodied but full of remorse that he'd not
been able to save John's life. He swore to me that he'd stay with me
and the boys until I remarried and that he'd see Fryde brought down or
die in the attempt. I've told him he stands no chance, but we went to
the Duchess and borrowed money from her to repair the ship--that's the
cog you sailed on to come here--and enough to keep me going until he
could earn what he owed her. He's not stopped working, Isolde, not for
a moment. He re-bought the house in York when he was accepted into the
Merchant Adventurers and insisted I stay here in Scarborough so that
I'd be well away from Fryde's attentions."
"You mean, he's pestered you?"
"Indirectly. It was always Fryde's aim to marry me off to one of his
merchant cronies so that he could take a hand in my affairs and make it
look as if he'd done his best for a fellow-merchant's widow. Silas
thought it would be best for me and the boys to be here, where I can
run the second part of his business."
"And a house in Brugge. He's done well. Is it all legal?"
Dame Elizabeth's blink was slow to recover.
"Ah..." she said on a sigh.
"Then you know, do you?"
"I saw something in Brugge. I wasn't meant to. They're with the
books."
"So you know about the courier service, too?"
"Between the Duchess and her brothers here in England? Yes, I can see
how well he's trusted."
"And enterprising, too. He's explored every avenue to make enough
money not only to get ahead of Fryde but to keep me and the boys in
comfort. His courier service extends to several members of the royal
family here and to the Duke of Burgundy, the Medici bank, and any
merchant who can pay him, except Fryde.
What you saw in Bmgge that concerned you is Silas's attempt to prevent
Fryde getting hold of luxury goods and bringing them over here. Silas
burns to revenge himself on that man. "
"Which I suppose is why he saw me as a perfect bargaining tool. Did
you know that Fryde sent his son Martin to find me and take me back?"
The dame's large brown eyes grew rounder and not a little concerned.
"No. Did he really? So, is he still there? If so, he's probably well
primed to do whatever damage he can before he leaves."
The silence was heavy with speculation, then Isolde's hand upturned to
clasp Elizabeth's, caressing.
"So it could have been Fryde who sent the customs men up here to start
looking. He suspects?"
"Oh, he's suspected for some time, I'm sure, but he's not been able to
prove anything, especially in a place like this. You know how close
Yorkshiremen are. He's left us well alone so far, because Silas, is
seen in York regularly and appears to make no secret of his
merchandise, otherwise the Merchants Company would become suspicious.
But Fryde can't complain because, in theory, there's nothing to stop
him trading in the same goods. Only Silas himself, who has so many
exclusive contracts. Fryde doesn't have his own ship, and Silas won't
allow him to use his. Other merchants, but not him. "
"Isn't that against regulations?"
"Yes, but there's nothing he can do if Silas invents unacceptable
delays or puts the price up too high or says he has no room. And the
other merchants like
Silas, anyway. They don't care for Fryde, but he's one of them, so
they have to lump it. "
"So how could he be elected sheriff, Dame Elizabeth?"
"Elizabeth," she said, gently reproving.
"By moving up the ladder one rung at a time with just enough friends to
push him up it."
"And bribery?"
"Oh, of course bribery. That's where the money goes. You've stayed
there. You've seen what goes on and what kind of company he keeps.
That's the kind of bribery they like. "
"I've seen what he does to his wife, too."
"So have I. I never disliked her, poor woman. I feel sorry for her
because she's on the receiving end of the man's frustration against
Silas. Everything Fryde tries to obtain from Flanders--goods that have
come overland from the east or by sea from Europe--has to be done
through his agent in Brugge, who happens to know Silas rather well. He
lets Silas have most of whatever Fryde wants, and more, and Silas
brings it over here to our Scarborough warehouse and sells it to
Fryde's customers at a profit."
"So Fryde wants astrakhan fur?"
"Certainly he does. All those fur-trimmed ceremonial gowns, Isolde.
Just think of the impression, eh? " Elizabeth grinned, then became
suddenly sober.
"I've no sympathy with him. He took my husband and my sons' father."
Her voice faltered.
"There's no wealth in all the world that could replace that, but Silas
has done everything possible for us. He could have married a diamond
merchant's daughter, but that would have interfered with his travels.
He said he intends to keep going until Fryde's on his knees.
Foolish, really. "
"Did he love her, the diamond merchant's daughter?"
"No. I've never seen him smitten the way I saw him with you, Isolde.
You'd not have known it, of course, but I could tell. And you'd be
quite mistaken to think that he has any real love for the Duchess,
either. That was never love, and it was donkey's years ago. There's
still affection, I dare say, but it must have been some urgent
political business for her to have visited him at night, alone. That's
the most likely explanation, my dear. "
"But he didn't come to me," Isolde whispered.
Elizabeth squeezed Isolde's hand, unable to conceal a huff of laughter,
however inappropriate.
"There have been times," she said, 'when I've crept downstairs here to
find out why he's not in his bed and he's still been going over my
accounts, with candle wax dripping down on to the table and ice
crystals creeping up the insides of the windows. I've also seen him
asleep with his head on a pile of papers.
His energy and commitment are quite astonishing, Isolde, my dear. "
The tears and laughter spilled out together.
"I know. Too much."
"Ah, that's it, is it? You'd have preferred a lengthier wooing?"
Isolde nodded.
"No woman wants to be wooed as a weapon against someone else. He's
never once spoken of love to me, only of bargains and possessions, so I
have no way of knowing his true feelings. To say he wants me and
intends to keep me is neither here nor there: one could say as much for
a favourite hawk or a piece of merchandise. I love him, Elizabeth, but
I'm not prepared to be a pawn in a game of war against Master Fryde or
my father. Allard and I have agreed that I must go home, where I
cannot be used so, even though I fear he'll find it inconvenient."
"Who, Silas?"
"No, my father."
"Then why not simply stay here?"
"Because I may be with child, and my father's house is the only place
where it would be safe."
"I see. So you discussed it? He said he'd claim it?"
"In no uncertain terms. He believes a child would be an even better
weapon to use against my father. He'd not let either of us go then, at
any price."
Elizabeth took up the heavy iron fire-tongs and prodded the log
viciously into life.
"I can scarce believe Silas could say anything so insensitive. Really!
Was that supposed to persuade you to stay? It would have persuaded me
to go. Silas in love is not exactly Silas in tact, is he?"
"Well, I suppose he was not so much offering me a choice of going or
staying as whether to stay as a potential escapee or as his mistress,
which he said would be more comfortable. And he was very generous, and
never unkind, but he's not in love with me, Elizabeth. Revenge, not
love. Any future with him would have got off on quite the wrong
foot."
"In that, you're probably right. It would; but even so, my dear, you
could stay until you're sure, couldn't you? We can send a message to
your father to say that Allard is here and that you're quite safe.
Would that do? I don't suppose Master Caxton will be going far until
he feels stronger. And as for poor Cecily, well, she's suffered more
than any of you, I think. She's certainly very unwell."
"Of course, you're quite right. I was thinking only of myself. Cecily
must be fully recovered before any more journeys, but would you allow
me to be of some use while I'm here? I can do accounts, order a
household, garden, work in the still room the dairy, embroider, write
letters... sew...?"
She was gathered into a warm hug that rocked and patted and soothed her
with a surge of affection she had lacked over the wearisome days of the
voyage.
"Yes, of course you can help. See..." she held Isolde away 'here's
Emmie with warm possets for us both. There, now. Let's drink to that,
shall we? "
Isolde did not ask Dame Elizabeth, then or later, whether she expected
Silas to visit Scarborough again. His small ship was now in the
harbour and Caxton had said that no other ship was due to leave Sluys
for at least a week, so that gave her time enough to tend Cecily, to
gather her scattered wits and to dry their clothes, which were few, the
rest having been left behind in Brugge. The conversation with her
hostess had helped, as nothing else could have done, towards her
understanding of Silas's drive for revenge, and it took little time for
her to deliberate upon the relative importance of the two targets:
Henry Fryde or her father.
Her brother Allard's views were typically unsentimental.
"What happens when it's known that Silas abducted you, then?" he said,
leaning against the heavy oak door of the dairy.
"He'll be in a worse position than Fryde, won't he?"
Isolde skimmed the thick cream off a shallow bowl of milk and tipped it
into-a jug.
"There's a churn over there," she said, not looking.
"It needs a strong arm. Knowing Silas, he'd probably say I went
willingly and, although I didn't, he knows I'd not contradict that.
He'd say that Bard rescued me from Fryde's disgusting home and that
Fryde didn't know or care who I was seeing, nor did he even know where
to start looking. He didn't, did he?" She stopped skimming to turn to
him.
"Father's men said not, but he managed to get his stupid son to Brugge
before me, so how did he do that, I wonder?"
Isolde wiped a finger across the rim of the scoop and licked it.
"I
don't know," she said.
"Well, I think I do. That frisky young brother of Silas's."
"What, Bard?"
"Father's men were approached by Fryde's wife, who'd learned from her
maid about Bard's plans. He doesn't lose a moment, does he, our
Bard?"
"So Mistress Fryde told her husband. Surely not!"
"I don't believe she wanted to. I believe she was followed and made to
tell what she knew, and then junior Fryde was packed off that night,
before me."
"And he's still there, Allard. In Brugge."
"Yes, love. But you're not, so stop worrying. If Silas can't fix him,
then no one can."
"You like him, don't you?"
Allard came to her side and took a fingerful of cream to his mouth.
"Listen, love. I'm the eldest son, and so is Silas. If we like and
respect each other, how can an age-old feud possibly continue?
Whatever started it is long forgotten now. It's history. I don't
truly believe that Father cares any more. "
"Then why would he take Felicia?"
Infuriatingly, he smacked his lips and headed for the door.
"Perhaps you should ask Father when next you see him. Or Felicia."
She tried to take Allard's advice to stop worrying, but the image of
Martin Fryde lying in the murky waters of the Dijver, shrieking and
yelling while Silas walked calmly away, stayed uncomfortably in her
memory all afternoon. Martin would not go meekly home after such an
insult.
Fully rested and nursed back to comfort, Master Caxton found that his
captive audience now included Dame Elizabeth's aged father, who was a
scholar of astronomy, astrology, alchemy and mathematics, and whose
deafness
was a great burden to him. Closeted together for hours each
day, the gentle white-haired old man and his two guests could hardly
tear themselves apart for meals, and as each day passed the excuse was
given that just another day would give extra strength to the broken arm
which, in the privacy of the study, wielded a pen much as it had done
before, if more slowly. Old Master Abbotson and Allard did their part
to contrive at the slow progress of the healing, though Caxton himself
was far from reluctant, being on the receiving end of Dame Elizabeth's
concern. It was what he had lacked for many a day. Silas's praises of
her had come nowhere near the truth. He was entranced. Captivated.
And Dame Elizabeth lit up like a lantern whenever he came near. Even
the boys noticed.
"I thought he was supposed to be going to London, Mother," John said to
her in the counting-house. The acrobatic young man was sitting on the
window-ledge with his feet on his mother's table, leaning backwards out
of the window to clean the salt spray off the thick greenish panes of
glass.
"For heaven's sake, John, hold on!" she said, clinging to his feet.
The Maiden's Abduction Page 26
