"Might I?" Johanna asked in breathless excitement.
At his nod, she reached beneath the hearthstone's overhanging edge, finding the dried moss and twiglets they kept on the shelf there. As Rob tied his shoes she fed the moss to the coals with the utmost care, watching until it began to spark and smolder. Atop this, she laid her twiglets. Flames appeared.
Rob handed her an armful of small pieces of wood, all of equal size and weight. When these were stacked just so the fire that resulted owned an even temperature. Although Johanna tried to arrange them as she knew she must, they kept slipping and tumbling from their pattern.
"So, what is it you have to tell me?" he asked casually as he reached out to help her.
Johanna glanced at him, her blue eyes yet alive with the joy of doing this forbidden task. "Papa returned by himself, very late last night. Everyone else comes this morn. Even though it was so late Master Colin came to talk with him. I know because I listened at the bedchamber door, while Helewise tended to them."
Rob almost sighed as the weight of his error fell from his shoulders. It hadn't been him who'd left the door open, but Master Colin, who had forgotten to bar it upon his late return. For all his skill, Master Colin wasn't careful about remembering mundane details.
"What did they talk about?" he asked, his voice filled with his relief.
Johanna glanced up from once again restacking the wood, her lips quirking upward into a smug smile. "You."
Rob stared at her in shock. "Me?"
"You." She turned her back to him, directing her full attention on the sticks.
Rob stared at the front of her overgown in horror. What if Helewise had spoken to Master Walter about returning him to Blacklea?
He'd forgotten to ask her not to do so. Panic started through him. If Master Walter sent him home, who would see to Master Colin? The apothecary needed him. Each day Master Colin told Rob he'd never had a lad as talented. Each day, the master asked what he would do without such a lad as Rob in his shop.
Rob's eyes narrowed in refusal. He wouldn't go home; no one could force him to leave Stanrudde. Clamping a hand on Johanna's shoulder, he turned her toward him. "What did they say about me?" It was a harsh and ungracious command.
"Mayhap I'll tell and mayhap I won't," she said with a haughty lift of her chin. "You weren't nice to me."
Pulling free of his grasp, she turned her back to him once more to fuss with the sticks over the second set of coals. Once again, she knocked them into a messy knot of wood.
"Until you tell me, you'll do this no more," he snapped, shoving her to the side as he angrily reclaimed what was his own to do.
Johanna stepped back, seeming almost as relieved to return to him his chore as she was to spill her news. "Master Colin told Papa about how you already know more than any lad he's ever met. Papa talked about priests and the abbey, but Master Colin talked about the apothecary scale." The wisps of gold that were her eyebrows rose in curiosity as she looked at him. "Do you wish to use the scale, Rob?"
Rob froze. His hand clenched around the stick he held. Flamelets licked at his knuckles.
With a swift breath he snatched back his hand and sucked at his burned skin. Not even Arthur, who was his dearest friend, knew how deeply he desired to use that precious piece of equipment. How the scale balanced was more mysterious than how a juggler kept three balls aloft at the same time. Rob longed to place a bit of crushed leaf into the apparatus's attached dish, then hang a tiny lead weight off the loop in the gleaming wood of its free arm and watch as the bar evened. Longing shattered against a wall of reality, and Rob's shoulders slumped in hopelessness.
No matter how many years he stayed with Master Colin he would never use that scale. Labor in any tradesman's shop was divided into two types: the things done by masters and those apprentices learning from them, and things done by the servants. As a servant, Rob might tally and sort the supplies entering either the apothecary's shop or the spice merchant's warehouses. Most certainly, he would clean and prepare the flowers, leaves, twigs, and roots for processing into medicines or flavorings. But, because he was no apprentice and would never have the money necessary to make himself one, he would never use that scale, or take lessons as Arthur did or know the pride of being called master.
"Little mistress?" Helewise's worried call floated out of Master Walter's bedchamber window.
An answering flash of worry woke in Johanna's bright blue gaze. Rob could nigh on see her thoughts spinning as she sought some reason for not being abed as she should. Without so much as a fare-thee-well, she turned and squeezed through the gap between distillery's hearth and kitchen wall, then disappeared around the kitchen's corner. In the next moment her voice rose from the center of Master Walter's tiny courtyard. "I come. I was but in the privy!" Johanna's soul was less troubled by lies than was Rob's.
When the fires were properly set, Rob reentered the apothecary's shop. The stairs to the upper story, more ladder than stairway, were just inside the doorway. Using both hands and feet, he clambered up the narrow steps. When his head breached the hole cut in the ceiling, he set his elbows on the floor and hoisted himself into the shop's upper chamber.
This house had once belonged to Master Griggo, father to Master Walter and teacher of Master Colin. When Master Walter had inherited both the apothecary trade and this house, Master Colin had stayed on, lacking the funds to set himself up into trade. The spice merchant needed someone to work his father's apothecary shop, which both used and sold locally many of the spices he purchased as it allowed Master Walter to concentrate on nurturing his own growing trade. When Master Walter moved to his new house, Master Colin had remained here, giving him his own household for the first time.
Judged against Master Walter's new home, this dwelling was hopelessly old and impoverished. Unlike Johanna's mother, whose dowry had included household goods, Master Colin wed a woman who brought with her apothecary jars, simmering pots, and what she'd learned of herbs at her own father's knee. Thus, their tiny hall held but a wee trestle table, a single chest, a bench, and two stools. But then their household dined with Master Walter, so they had no need for hearth, cooking equipment, or service goods.
Rob turned to the woolen sheet that made two rooms of this one wee chamber. "Master, I have your shoe," he called.
"Enter," Master Colin replied, and Rob ducked around the blanket's edge.
His master's bed was the only one Rob had ever seen. Poles like smooth tree trunks stood at all four corners of the piece. Spanning them near their tops were smaller branches, polished and straight, which held aloft the woolen bedcurtains. Thick boards made a frame within which the mattress nestled. Even after more than two months of familiarity, Rob loved to look upon it. Each time he did, the certainty that he'd one day own one just like it firmed in his heart.
Master Colin sat upright on the mattress, his nightcap yet on his head and a long, round bolster between his back and the headboard. Warm blankets were gathered around his waist so only his chest and arms were bare. Dark hollows clung beneath his eyes, but his gaze was alert and filled with quiet pleasure. "My thanks, lad," he said, his voice warm as always. "Once again you do me a boon when I do not deserve it."
His master's words set a glow in a place deep within Rob. "It was a pleasure to be able to aid you, Master," he replied, leaning down to place the shoe he’d saved next to its mate.
As he straightened he glanced at plump Mistress Katherine, who sat between her husband and the wall. Only a little more than half her husband's six and thirty years, she clutched the bed linens to her chest. Her bare shoulders were cloaked in her free-flowing honey-colored hair. Although her eyes were brown, they sparked green, as Mama's had. But, unlike Mama or Helewise there was always too much laughter in her gaze, and this made Rob uncomfortable.
To escape her silent amusement, he turned his attention back on Master Colin. Why had his employer spoken to Johanna's father over him last even? It wasn't until Master Colin crossed his arms and cocked his head to the s
ide that Rob realized he was staring.
"My, but you've got questions in your eyes this morn, lad," his employer said. "What is it that has you pondering so?"
Rob instantly swallowed his need to know. Johanna had spied to learn what she had. To speak of it was to betray her. Afraid to open his mouth against a wayward tongue, he but shook his head in a tiny, negative motion.
Master Colin's expression tautened in consideration, and he raised a hand to scratch at his bearded chin. "Rob, a man who lacks the courage to ask after what is his heart's desire is a man doomed to a lifetime of disappointment and missed opportunities." Here, he paused as if waiting for Rob to ask for the thing his heart most desired.
Rob's breath came faster. The plea to be apprenticed to Master Walter as Arthur was pounded at his teeth in its need to be uttered. Common sense warned him against daring to release it. Master Colin was speaking of attainable dreams, when what Rob wanted was beyond impossible. Everyone knew it took coins to be apprenticed, even in the humblest of trades. Besides, it was better to silently cherish the hope of someday in his heart than to ask, be refused, and live the rest of his life knowing that the day he longed for would never arrive. Rob buried his hopeless wish, just as he knew he must.
"I shall take your words to heart, master," he replied, his voice sounding forlorn to his own ears.
"See that you do so this very day," his master chided, strange emphasis in his voice. "Moreover, know you that second chances are rare things in this world. Should one appear, never, never refuse it."
As Rob nodded to show he'd heard and understood, the bells of Stanrudde began to ring. Master Colin glanced toward the open window. When he again looked at Rob, his face had relaxed back into its normal, amiable expression.
"I'll not be attending mass this morn," he said. "You and Arthur hie yourselves next door to go with Helewise. See to it you do not make her late for the service."
"Aye, Master," Rob said, turning to push past the curtain once again. The woolen sheet fell back into place, and he started for the stairs.
"And, Rob," Master Colin called after him, his voice rumbling down into tones of pained irritation, "stop sleeping in your clothing. Heed me in this, or I may be forced to reconsider keeping you as my servant."
Rob grimaced. "Aye, master," he replied in defeat, knowing he could no longer ignore the edict. Indeed, it was a morning for disappointment. As he turned to clamber down the stairs, Mistress Katherine took up where her husband left off.
"Wash before you leave," she called, "scrubbing not just your face, but your teeth, as well. And, I do mean scrub, not simply spewing a few droplets at your skin. Arthur, too. I swear you two are the filthiest lads in all of Stanrudde. Do you hear me, Arthur?"
"Aye, Mistress," Arthur called morosely from the lower level workshop.
Disappointment grew and grew as Rob climbed backward down into the workshop until he had to stop and lean his head against a riser. Mayhap, he should have risked all and asked. Miracles happened. Hadn't it been a miracle that Master Walter found him in Blacklea? What if, just what if, he'd dared to ask and the answer had been yes? What if the opportunity would now be withdrawn, never to be offered again? As Master Colin said, second chances were few and far between. But, how was he to know which choice was the right one? Rob sighed, his worries weighing like lead on his shoulders. In the workshop, Arthur was pouring water into their basin. Rob leapt from the stairs and went to join him in his ablutions, finding no pleasure at all in this day's start.
Stanrudde
Mid-September, 1173
Rob's questions and worries hadn't lightened any by the time mass ended. Nonetheless, he and Arthur departed the church at a trot, just as they'd done every morn for the past months. Although Arthur was nigh on two years Rob's senior they were of a height and matched each other, stride for stride. The apprentice looked at him, his golden hair gleaming in the early morning sun, his clear-cut features and green eyes alive in excitement. Arthur loved to run. Despite his weight he could keep a steady pace, one of the few things at which he was consistent.
Cutting around blue-gowned, white-veiled housewives and scarlet-robed, bearded tradesmen, they dashed onto Market Lane toward Master Walter's house, which sat on the corner of that lane and the ropemakers' street. A line of pack animals now stood along one side of the woven willow wall that enclosed Master Walter's home. The sturdy beasts were yet burdened with baskets and sacks as they snorted in impatience, wanting either their pasture or their stable.
"They're back!" Arthur crowed, then grabbed Rob and stopped so suddenly that Master Herebert nigh on stumbled over them.
Touching a finger to his lips, the apprentice leapt to the gate and pressed his back to the flimsy wall. He leaned into the gateway, taking care to expose no more of his face than the distance from the crown of his head to his eyes. Wondering what he was about Rob joined him, rising on his toes to peer over Arthur's shoulder into the compound.
More pack animals filled the courtyard's tiny space. Men Rob did not know laughed and talked as they emptied the beasts' baskets and backs. Some of these goods made their way toward the house, while others were set aside to be later carted to the river warehouse. Rob let his gaze linger for a moment on Master Walter's dwelling. The house towered over the courtyard, taller than any of the buildings around it. Caught between the outlining blocks of white, the black hearts of the split grayish stones gleamed like polished metal in the morning sun. The slate roof shone like pewter, the silvery glow reflecting naught but importance back to Rob.
Pride glowed in his heart. To be attached to Master Walter's household was a grand thing, indeed. Theirs was the richest establishment in all of Stanrudde.
"Look at him." There was an impatient sneer in Arthur's voice as he pointed to the slender young man standing before the house's small square forebuilding.
Rob studied the object of Arthur's scorn. Dressed in the green tunic and brown chausses of Master Walter's house, the youth was short of stature and almost girlishly fair, his hair as pale as Papa's. The young man was toying with a short dagger, the jewels in the slim knife's hilt catching the light. Rob stared in appreciation. To own such a piece meant this was a person of consequence.
"Who is he?" he whispered.
"That's Master Walter's other apprentice." Dislike lay heavily in Arthur's tone. "Last year, the master made Katel his heir by betrothing Johanna to him. Even though all the town knows Master Walter did this only because Katel's sire is one of the richest merchants in London, Katel now thinks he can lord over everyone when he's yet just an apprentice, like me."
A flash of memory came to Rob with the name, waking a nubbin of dislike in him. This was the one who'd urged Master Walter not to take him from Blacklea. Katel had called him offal.
"What are you doing?" Johanna asked, her soprano voice slicing through the air behind them.
Arthur gasped and Rob yelped, both boys leaping back from the gate and their spying. "Nothing," they replied as one.
Helewise strolled past them and into the compound. "Enough dallying, my lads," she said. "There's work to be done. Rob, hie yourself back to the shop. You'll not be eating for another hour."
"But, why?" he cried in hurt and hungry surprise as he entered the courtyard on her heels. For all of the summer he'd eaten with Arthur, the two of them using the same bench, trencher, and cup.
She glanced back at him, offering him that special smile she saved just for him. "This is not punishment, manikin. Now that the household is full once more, we cannot all eat at once. The masters, along with their apprentices and the higher servants dine first, the rest eating after."
Arthur dodged around Rob to plod alongside Helewise. "Please, might Rob still eat with me? He's but one small lad," he offered, although it wasn't exactly true.
"How now, Arthur," Katel cried out with all the flare of a mummer. As he sheathed his dagger, he shot Rob a frigid glance. "I'm struck to the core that you no longer wish to share your meal with
me."
"Katel!" Johanna shouted in happy greeting as she threw herself against the young man. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she looked up at him. "Puss and I missed you. Come with me and I'll show you the bed I made for him " As always, Johanna did not ask, she demanded.
Master Walter's elder apprentice smiled as he leaned down to give his betrothed a brief embrace. "In a moment, my little wife. Why do you not go within and find Puss so you may show him to me? I'd see how much he's grown in my absence."
"Aye, Katel." As Johanna whirled away from him, eager to do as he bid, Katel straightened and stared at Arthur.
"Now, as for you, lad," he said, his voice cold, "I can only pray my eyes deceive me. Tut, but if you've been keeping company with him"—a jerk of his head indicated Rob—"you'll need to bathe every day for the next month just to rinse a bastard's stench from your skin."
Even though Arthur sidled closer to Rob at Katel's insult, Rob's fists clenched. Anger roiled in his belly. How could he have forgotten Master Walter's promise to Papa? It wasn't fair that folk would call him bastard when he was not. "I am no bastard," he retorted. "My father and mother were well and truly wed."
"Stop Katel," Johanna shouted at the youth then leapt to the housekeeper's side. "Make him stop, Helewise. Rob is my friend, and I don't want Katel to call him a bastard."
"Enough, little mistress," the housekeeper said, her voice tight.
"What is this?" Katel's voice cracked in outrage as he whirled on the housekeeper and his betrothed. "By God, but you know she's mine. Tell me you haven't allowed her to form affections with that bit of garbage!"
Rob drew a startled breath at this and stared at Helewise. So did Arthur and Johanna. By tradition it was the housekeeper's right to punish apprentices for wayward or rude behavior, even those as old as Katel. Instead of rebuke, Helewise bowed her head until she disappeared into the meek folds of her headdress.
"I've done only what the master commanded," she said in humble reply.
A Love For All Seasons Page 10
