by Kate Ellis
She ran across the sand, making for the glistening edge of the River Mersey, then she waded out into the waves and flung herself on the cleansing water.
Agnes Moore needed to wash: she needed to be clean again.
CHAPTER 6
Katheryn awoke and heard the sounds of activity outside her window. She realised she had slept late and she saw that there was a bowl of hot water standing on the oak chest: Jane had been in and had not liked to wake her.
She threw back the covers and rose from her bed. Then she crossed to the window and looked out on Mill Street below. A stream of people passed in the grey morning river mist, driving carts, carrying sacks or leading animals. It was market day: Mistress Marjory had mentioned it the previous evening. And there was always entertainment to be had on market day. She would take Agnes: the market would take the girl's mind off her problems.
After a hasty visit to the guardrobe, she summoned Jane to help her wash and dress.
Jane was excited. "The whole household is going to market today, my lady. May I go too?"
"Of course. And you and Will must allow me to come with you. We will take young Agnes: it may cheer her a little and distract her mind from her troubles. Have you seen her this morning?"
"No, my lady. But she usually keeps to her chamber."
"Then go there and tell her of our plans. And tell her I shall tolerate no refusal. We will raise the child's spirits whether she wants it or no." She paused, looking at Jane. "What say you we take her home to Cheadle with us when she is stronger? She has had naught but bad fortune here. If she could forget her errors and begin anew..."
Jane nodded and agreed it was an excellent idea. It seemed as though Agnes's fortunes were about to improve. She hurried to Agnes's chamber, hoping she would find her receptive to Katheryn's plans for the day and not sunk in melancholy: Jane was not adept at dealing with such humours.
She knocked gently on Agnes's chamber door but there was no answer. Agnes must be sleeping. It was unlikely she would be up and about. Jane lifted the latch very carefully and when she opened the door, her eyes were drawn to the small truckle bed in the corner. The sheets were tossed aside as if someone had risen in a hurry. The room was empty.
Hurrying across the landing, Jane nearly collided with Mistress Marjory who shot her a killing look. Jane bobbed her deepest curtsey, fit for the King himself, in reparation. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but do you know where Agnes is? She is not in her chamber."
Marjory looked more irritated than worried. "I have not seen her. You must ask the servants." Marjory swept past, nose in the air, putting Jane firmly in her place.
But none of the servants had seen Agnes. Reluctantly, Jane reported back to her mistress . Agnes was missing.
*
The house and outhouses had been searched. Agnes was nowhere to be found. Mistress Marjory cursed the girl: she had been nothing but trouble from the moment she arrived. And she had expected her former Abbess to talk some sense into her but, if anything, Agnes had become more stubborn since Lady Katheryn's arrival. So much for the effects of a youth spent in a nunnery.
And Lady Katheryn herself was not what she had expected. She had thought to find an Abbess cold, regal and formidable; instead she was attractive, smiling and good natured...and possessed of a worldliness that belied her spiritual authority. The woman even dressed in the latest fashions. Maybe it was true that religious houses were dens of secular iniquity after all.
Now the servants were being kept from their duties while they searched for Agnes - under orders from Lady Katheryn of course. It was too much: who was to attend to the running of the house? Besides, the pest of a girl would doubtless return when it suited her.
Marjory stood, arms akimbo, in the courtyard seething inwardly at the loss of control over her domain. It was three hours now since Agnes's absence had been discovered and most of the servants were about the town making enquiries. The weekly market would make their task more difficult: Liverpool would be teeming with strangers converging on the town from the surrounding countryside. Marjory resisted the strong temptation to aim a kick at a passing hen who strolled, clucking complacently, across the cobbles. It was the last time she would show charity to a poor relation if all she got in return was trouble and worry.
At last! One of her idle servants was returning to his post. John, the gardener, rushed into the courtyard, breathless and stood before his mistress panting, hardly able to get the words out.
"Mistress....I have news." He paused for breath again. He was a big man, past his first youth, and unused to running about the streets. "I asked at the Mermaid if anyone had news of Mistress Agnes. One of the, er...ladies there..."
"You mean the whores?"
The gardener flushed. "Indeed ma'am.”
"Yes..yes, man. Get on with it."
“She said she saw a girl in a cloak like Mistress Agnes's...you know, the black one she had as a nun. She saw her hurrying by late last night, going toward the castle, she reckoned. The, er...young lady was with a, er...friend on their way back to the Mermaid.” He cast his eyes downwards and shuffled his great feet on the well swept cobbles, unsure what to do next."
"Thank you, John. Return to your duties now and I will inform Lady Katheryn of what you have said."
John lumbered away, glad to return to his vegetables, while Marjory went in search of Griselda. She would send her maid to find Lady Katheryn. There was no hurry. Let that silly creature, Agnes, stew for a while.
*
The Mermaid bubbled with chatter and activity...lively even for market day. Mine Host sailed from table to table carrying brimming tankards of ale while his buxom wife and chubby daughters hurried to and fro with dishes of steaming meat pies and thick spicy stew. The Mermaid was well known for its victuals...and for other delights.
It was market day. The place was packed with farmers and their families, come to sell their produce, and tradesmen and women, hungry and thirsty after a morning on the bustling stalls. The inn was clean and the food and ale appetising, the best in Juggler Street...the best in Liverpool. Master Turner, the landlord, considered he had much to be proud of: and as for the other side of the business, he was providing a service for the good citizens of the Borough...as did many others. And in difficult times, every little bit helps.
The sight of Father James, the parish priest, conversing with another man at a corner table below the leaded window, was not unusual. The Mermaid catered for everyone, from Mayor to the humblest freeman. Even King Henry himself would be welcome in the Mermaid...by some at any rate.
Father James looked round, checking there was nobody listening, then leaned forward to hear what his companion had to say. The two men spoke softly, not wishing to be overheard.
But Captain Wharton, his cloak covering his leather jerkin and his hood pulled down over his face, sat very still at a table behind the men, careful not to alert them to his presence, and strained to hear over the hubbub of conversation. He knew who the priest’s companion was: Francis Wells, the former cellarer of Birkenhead Priory, who was now landlord of an inn near the site of his deserted monastery.
Wharton listened, hardly drawing breath, but he could only make out the odd word or phrase. ”In the north....support for our cause....the Virgin's table.” He could hear nothing that made any sense.
Wharton drained his tankard. The inn was packed with people who chattered like magpies. There was nothing more to be discovered. The one who sent him would have to wait for his information.
He stood up and left, passing Katheryn on his way out. Katheryn, who was thirsty but too preoccupied to be hungry, sent Will to fetch ale and sat in Wharton's vacant seat, Jane settling down beside her.
"Shouldn't we ask, my lady...for the girl? What was her name?"
"Melisanda." Jane raised her eyebrows. "I doubt that's her real name, Jane. When one is in that occupation one is expected to take a few liberties with the truth. I will enquire of Mine Host, if I can find him."
/> But, having spotted a lady of quality in his establishment, Master Turner found her. He approached the table, wringing his hands obsequiously.
"Madam, if I may be of service..."
Katheryn smiled sweetly. "You may, landlord. I would speak with a Mistress Melisanda. I have been told I may find her here."
Master Turner looked wary. "What is your business with her, madam?" He feared some domestic entanglement. Was this lady a wronged wife seeking the one with whom her errant husband sought outside entertainment? He did not think so. There was no anger in her eyes.
"I would speak with her concerning a missing kinswoman of Mistress Moore's"
Turner relaxed a little. He didn't want trouble but he could see no harm in giving this lady her will. "I will fetch her for you, madam." He backed away, almost bowing. Katheryn inclined her head graciously.
It was then she noticed the two men at the next table. The priest she recognised even though he had his back to her. He had said Mass at Our Lady and St. Nicholas and Bartholomew had named him as Father James.
The other men she had not seen before: he was grizzle-haired and rotund - a man who liked his food by the look of him. She watched the incongruous pair out of the corner of her eye and noted how they spoke in whispers, huddled together as though in conspiracy. She was careful not to let them see her watching them: conspiracy meant danger. But she couldn't help being curious about their dealings.
Turner appeared again, followed by a girl who couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old. Her face was round and pretty and her hair the colour of ripe corn. The low cut of her bodice, revealing a good proportion of her ample breasts, gave a hint of how she made her living. The landlord scurried away leaving Melisanda standing, hands on hips, staring with cautious insolence.
"Master Turner said you would talk with me. If it's about that girl that's missing, I told that gardener of the Moores all I know."
"Would you be kind enough to tell your story to me?" Katheryn smiled charmingly. "Agnes, the girl we seek, was once in my care and I am most concerned about her safety."
The young whore nodded in understanding. "And so you should be, ma'am."
Katheryn sat forward. It was clear that Melisanda knew more than she had revealed to John the gardener. "What do you mean? Please sit down and take a drink with us." She nodded to Will who stopped staring at Melisanda's breasts, gave up his stool and went to fetch more ale. Melisanda sat down and began to relax.
"Be assured that I fear only for Agnes's welfare. She is missing...gone without a word to anyone. If you know anything...anything at all that may help to find her..."
"She was talking with a soldier."
"A soldier?"
"I was speaking with a...friend in a doorway of a fishmongers in Castle Street. We were, er...talking business."
Katheryn noticed Jane staring, open mouthed, and gave her a gentle nudge under the table. Jane had never encountered such things before - Cheadle was a quiet place - but Katheryn didn’t want to lose Melisanda's co-operation if she were to take offence. "Please go on," Katheryn encouraged, sweetly.
"I was bringing him back here when I saw a girl passing, going towards the castle. She did not look like... I did not know her for one of my calling," she said with studied delicacy. "I watched her over my shoulder, wondering what she was up to. Those such as me do not like our trade stolen by newcomers. We have to live."
"Of course. What happened then? What did she do?"
"She walked on towards the castle. As if she know where she was going; she didn't stop nor hesitate." Katheryn nodded, willing her to continue. "I did not think she was looking for business so I brought my gentleman back here. A girl has a living to earn," she concluded defensively.
"So you didn't see where she went?"
"Oh yes. My, er...friend...we had a disagreement about the price. He’s a juggler and he said he couldn’t afford to pay what I asked until market day on the morrow: he is paid well for his skills on market day. We stopped and I showed him how much I was worth."
"Oh yes?"
"Some men need to be...you know...aroused to desire. Once I have them in that condition, I can name my price."
Katheryn raised her eyebrows. The girl was remarkably businesslike about such matters: a born expert on the laws of supply and demand.
"I saw the girl in the distance. It was a full moon and the light was good. She was at the castle gate, talking with one of the guards."
"Was she indeed? Did you see anything more? Did she enter the castle? Return the way she had come?"
"I do not know for by then my friend was in a hurry, if you understand my meaning."
Jane covered her mouth with her hand and blushed, avoiding the eyes of Will who had just returned with the ale and was hovering behind Katheryn.
“But all I know," Melisanda continued, "is that the one who followed her did not turn and come back the way we were going."
Katheryn sat forward. "The one who followed her? Who? Who was following her?"
"He wore a long cloak and his face and form were hidden."
"But it was a man?"
"Well, I think it was a man but I do not know for sure. I caught but a glimpse."
"But you are sure he followed her?"
"Oh yes. He stopped every so often to watch her from the shadows. I thought him a father or husband. I did not think much about it." She shrugged. "Such things happen."
"And you can say no more about him?"
"It was dark." She picked up her tankard and drank thirstily as though unaccustomed talk had parched her throat. "And I had other matters to think of. But he followed her all right."
Melisanda rose and, giving Will a sensuous wink that made his cheeks redden, left the table, her tankard drained. She disappeared into the crowd of market-day drinkers, her ample hips swaying provocatively, a saucy smile on her face showed that she knew that the eyes of the men she passed on her travels were watching her appreciatively. Melisanda, at least while the bloom of her youth lasted, would never be short of customers.
"So what do we do now, my lady?" Jane asked anxiously, watching Will's eyes follow Melisanda across the crowded inn.
"I return to the Old Hall and make enquiries about the castle, Jane. That was clearly Agnes's destination last night and I would know more of the garrison and those in authority over them before I make my next move. I cannot arrive at the gates and demand entry to Liverpool castle, much as I should like to. But you and Will must not miss market day. Walk with me to the Old Hall then take your leisure for a while."
They stepped out into Juggler Street and the bustle of the market. Katheryn saw that Father James had still been deep in discussion as they left. She wondered what he had to talk about for so long and so secretively. But that was not her concern: Agnes was. Katheryn lifted her skirts and fine woollen cloak and stepped over the filthy debris of the market stalls and through the milling, odorous throng. She kept her hand tightly on her purse, knowing only too well that where there were crowds there were pickpockets and cutpurses.
Next to a stall, piled high with stinking fish, a small group of gawking citizens gathered to watch a juggler. Katheryn stopped to watch as he flung his brightly painted clubs into the air with casual grace. The things flew faster and faster above the man's tousled head. He was tall with a mop of curly yellow blond hair and a permanent grin. He smiled with his mouth but his ice blue eyes were coolly watching his audience's reaction.
With a final flourish the juggler jettisoned all the clubs into the air at once and caught them one by one, ending with a deep bow to his applauding public. Katheryn looked round at Jane and Will who were clapping ecstatically. They were impressed...as was she. The man possessed a remarkable talent and, judging from the coins tossed into his waiting cap, he made a good living from his skills.
Then Katheryn recalled that Melisanda's male companion had been a juggler? But there would be more than one entertaining the crowds on market day and, besides. Melisanda's
customer would have been too preoccupied to be observant.
When the performance was over, Katheryn resumed her slow journey through the crowd, followed by her servants. She resisted the temptation to stop at a stall piled high with richly coloured cloth and ribbons: she had more important matters to attend to that day than the adornments of the body and she regretted wasting those few precious minutes watching the juggler. If Agnes was to be found safe and well, time could be of great importance.
*
Bartholomew steered his craft gently to the Birkenhead jetty and it moored with a soft thud, wood against wood. He was glad of the stiff breeze which had set his boat racing across the Mersey. Rowing the vessel - laden with people, goods and animals on a market day - would have been a difficult task in becalmed water...even for one as well muscled at Bartholomew.
