‘Crowmer wasn’t in the Tower today when Cade went after him. He was in Newgate prison.“
‘Newgate? How did he come to be there?“ Mistress Hercy demanded.
‘No one seems to know. Or how Cade knew he was. No, let me start at the beginning, with what went on at Guildhall with the mayor and Cade and all.“
He told it well. It seemed that by the time Cade came back into London, the mayor and aldermen had already been in session at the Guildhall with some of the few justices who’d not gone scarce with the king. “Daved and I were well out on the edges of the crowd, but we heard enough. They set to indicting everyone on the rebels’ list of men they want removed from around the king.”
‘Most of whom are gone with the king,“ Frevisse said.
‘And fortunate for them they are,“ Master Grene said. ”But there was Crowmer right to hand and easily got. Cade had him and some clerk dragged out and through the city to the Essex rebels at Mile End, then had them beheaded.“
“What?”
‘Merciful Christ!“
‘He didn’t!“
The women’s cries burst out together in alarm and disbelief, but Master Grene only said, “He did. That much Daved and I saw on our way back here. Their heads on tall poles being carried through the streets, being—”
‘Oh, don’t!“ protested Pernell, and from Mistress Hercy, ”That’s enough, Raulyn.“
He looked immediately ashamed. “I’m sorry, yes, enough and too much. I’m sorry, my heart.”
‘Where’s Cade now?“ Frevisse asked.
‘Come back in to London. He looks something, let me tell you. He’s wearing some nobleman’s blue velvet coat with sable trim and is carrying a drawn sword in his hand but has a straw hat on his head.“
‘What else is happening?“ Anne asked. ”Are his men still in hand?“
‘Tolerably well. A few spots of trouble. Nothing much.“ He gave his wife’s hands an affectionate shake. ”Nothing enough to be a worry anyway.“
Except to the people suffering it, Frevisse thought. Thankfully that was a thought Pernell did not have. As Master Grene surely intended, she smiled and eased and was willingly distracted by Daved coming in, to add his assurances to Master Grene’s that all was reasonably well through London.
‘Your Master Naylor is not a trusting man, though,“ Daved said to Frevisse. ”He’s still not willing to risk a return to St. Helen’s.“
Frevisse bent her head in silent acceptance of that and kept her thoughts to herself. The men stayed only a while before leaving the women to each other again, and then Pernell, holding Lucie to her, wanted the comfort of Frevisse praying with them for Hal’s soul. Frevisse did what she could, but what little peace came with the prayers was again and again broken by noise from the streets, some distant, some too near, thankfully none in St. Swithin’s Lane itself.
At last, probably more from the weariness than because she was truly comforted, Pernell slept where she sat, and Frevisse took the chance to escape from the parlor. Downstairs, by asking a servant, she learned Master Naylor was taking a turn at watching the rearyard gate and was told the way—by one of two doors at the far end of the screens passage and down stairs that split to go either into the kitchen or to a heavy, wooden, ironbound door. She found the way easily enough and went outside into a small and cobbled yard, enclosed by the hall on one side and by a head-high wooden wall on the other three. This late in the afternoon, sunlight from the westering sun filled it pleasantly, but other than a large, open-sided shed full of firewood at one end, there were only a midden pile of household waste and rubbish beside the gate and a wooden bench beside the door where Master Naylor, Dickon and, surprisingly, Master Bocking were sitting together, each of them with a thick, two-foot-long, wooden club laid across their laps.
They rose and bowed to her, and she asked, looking around, “This is all there is? No garden?”
Master Naylor bent his head toward the gate. “Out there’s a common garden shared by most of the houses along here and the next street over.”
‘With no direct way into it from any street?“
‘There are alleyways,“ Master Naylor said. ”Two of them. The one that runs along here, just the fence’s other side, opens out by the church, whatever that street is there.“
‘So watch is needed here.“
‘It is. Though I’m the only one properly on guard. These two are only keeping me company.“
‘With these,“ Dickon said, hefting his club. ”Master Grene said most houses keep some of these to hand on chance there’s trouble in the streets and they’re needed. Apprentices rioting or lords fighting or suchlike.“ He was openly finding this much better than quiet country life.
‘Master Grene says there’s not much trouble in the streets today,“ Frevisse said, with a hard look at Master Naylor to tell him she wanted true answers.
‘That’s what he says for his wife to hear,“ Master Naylor answered tersely. ”Master Weir tells it differently for the rest of us to know. There are outbreaks of trouble all over the city. Whether it’s Londoners as well as rebels is hard to sort out, but what’s certain is that there’s hundreds of troublemakers spread out through London.“
‘My nephew thinks Cade still has some governing of his men,“ Master Bocking said gravely, ”but doubts it will last long when they’ve seen more how rich London is.“
‘Between that and Londoners joining in, either for the ’sport‘ or with scores to settle, it’s likely going to get worse instead of better,“ Master Naylor said. ”The only question is when.“
‘My nephew says things are such that all could turn to ugly on an instant and with no warning,“ added Master Bocking.
‘With you all too easily in the wrong place at the wrong time when it comes, my lady,“ Master Naylor said. ”Given that, you’ll do best to stay here.“
The words were respectful but with a stubbornness behind them that said she was staying here. More mildly than she felt, Frevisse said, “As you think best.” But only because he was probably right and she should not chance the streets.
Taking her thoughts with her, she went inside. Over her years as a nun she had become patient with many things but not with being kept ignorant where knowledge would serve her better, so she was grateful to Master Naylor and Master Bocking for telling her so much, however unhappy she was to know it. Was thinking, too, as she made no haste along the screens passage toward the parlor stairs, how the already slight chance that Hal’s murderer would ever be found was now lessened to nearly nothing, the boy’s “small” death lost under all this greater trouble.
Though given the trouble Brother Michael had wanted to make of it, that might be for the best.
Her foot was on the first step when Daved came in the outer door in haste and demanded at her, “Is Raulyn here? Has he come back?”
‘Come back? He didn’t go out again?“
‘We both did, but I lost him in the press of people after Lord Saye was killed. Could you—“
‘Lord Saye? How could—“ But that question could wait. ”Doesn’t the foregate guard know if Master Grene is here or not?“
‘They’ve just changed men, and the man there now doesn’t know anything before the past handful of minutes. Could you call Mistress Blakhall down to you here?“
‘Of course.“ Going partway up the stairs and pitching her voice to careful lightness, she called to Anne, who came with finger to her lips, saying, ”Pernell is still sleeping.“
‘Master Weir wants to see you,“ Frevisse said, and Anne went quickly past her and down the stairs. With no hesitation whatsoever, Frevisse followed her.
‘Raulyn isn’t here, no,“ she answered Daved’s question. ”What’s happened? How did you come to lose him?“
‘It happened in the crowds this morning, too, but he found me then. But this time we were separated in the shove and push of people while Saye was being killed, and things are ugly in the—“
Anne gasped. “Killed? H
e was in the Tower in Lord Scales’ keeping. How…”
‘Lord Scales handed him over.“
‘To Cade?“ Frevisse demanded. That was beyond belief.
‘He might as well have. That inquest at Guildhall this morning, with the mayor and all, that found Lord Saye guilty along with the rest? Lord Scales gave him over this afternoon to be arraigned.“
‘But he had to know that once Lord Saye was out of the Tower…“ Frevisse began.
‘Of course he knew,“ Daved said darkly. ”The wonder is that Lord Saye made it as far as the Guildhall. He was standing before the judges demanding trial by his peers when Cade’s men seized him, took him away to the Standard in Cheapside, and on Cade’s order cut off his head while a priest was trying to shrive him.“
Frevisse and Anne both crossed themselves in horror.
‘The last I saw, the rebels had his head on a pole and were carrying it with Crowmer’s through the streets, with his stripped body being dragged away behind a horse to do God knows what with it.“
‘But why?“ Anne cried.
‘Because he could,“ Daved answered. ”Cade is finding out just how much he can do, and he’s doing it.“ Daved shook his head and turned away, settling his belt-hung dagger closer to his hip. ”I’d best see if I can find Raulyn.“
‘Daved, no,“ Anne said, taking a step after him, reaching toward him. ”Don’t go out again.“
He stopped, turned, took her hands, said, “I have to.”
Frevisse wondered if they knew how much they both betrayed in that moment.
Then Daved went without looking back. Anne made a single, protesting step after him, but Frevisse took her by the arm, not certain whether Anne was simply past shame or too fearful for her lover to think of anything else. Whichever way it was, she was not fit to return to Pernell yet, and Frevisse drew her into the hall and sat her down on one of the benches there with no word between them, because what was there to say?
Through the hall’s two tall windows Frevisse could see the afternoon was slipping away. Westward the sky would soon be full of sunset colors. Here, with the windows facing east, it would soon be lamp-lighting time, and the gathering shadows were maybe a kind of hiding for Anne. Though her hands clenched her lap finally eased and lay open, she made no move to leave and did not speak. Nor did Frevisse, and the quiet drew out between them until a sudden, savage yelling somewhere in the lane beyond the foregate brought them both to their feet.
Anne cried out “Daved!”, and started away. Frevisse might have stopped her but didn’t, instead went with her into the screens passage and toward the outer door, only to be pushed aside by Master Naylor, probably just come off guard, and Master Bocking in a rush to be ahead of them, with Dickon only slightly behind. By the time Frevisse and Anne were at the head of the stairs to the yard, the men were down them and running toward the gate, joined by Master Grene’s men Wyett and James running from another doorway in the yard, carrying clubs, too.
At the gate the man Pers was standing on a barrel to look over the fence and shouted from there, “It’s Master Grene! They’re attacking him!”
Frevisse tried to catch Anne’s arm but failed. Anne went down the steps behind Dickon, and Frevisse followed her.
Ahead, one of the men yelled, “Open the gate!” and Pers leaped from the barrel and grabbed for the bar. James, reaching him, shoved him aside, exclaiming, “We’re ordered not to open!”
Wyett, catching up to him, shoved him aside in turn, yelling back, “If he’s out there, we—”
‘What if they get in?“
‘—can’t leave him!“
‘They—“
Master Naylor broke their beginning struggle for the bar, pushing them both away, ordering at them, “Be ready,” as he threw the bar aside one-handed, his club ready in the other. Pers sprang forward to pull one side of the double gate open while Master Bocking, with club in one hand and drawn dagger in the other, ordered the others, “Follow us!” sharply enough that they left off quarreling and obeyed as he and Master Naylor charged out the gate toward the wide scuffle of men in the street.
Frevisse saw, before Master Naylor and the others piled into it, that the fight looked to be eight men at the most, with Master Grene and Daved Weir against six others, so that it might have been going worse than it was except Daved Weir had a dagger in either hand and the look of someone who knew how to use them. It was his foot, though, that he planted hard into a man’s groin, sending the fellow reeling back into one of the others, and only then did Frevisse see that Father Tomas was there, too, stooped over and dragging someone out from among the fighters’ feet that Frevisse did not clearly see as she caught Anne by the arm at last, stopping her in the gateway passage, saying at her, “Leave them to it! We’ll be in the way!” as two more servants from the house raced past them and out the gate, clubs in their hands.
Anne understood well enough that she held where she was. And with Master Naylor and the rest into the fight, everything was breaking apart into a wilder flurry until suddenly some of the men were breaking clear, starting to run up the lane, one of them bent over, more shuffling than running, another clutching his upper leg and limping. Master Naylor’s barked order stopped the several household men ready to pursue them, while all along the street other men with clubs and daggers were bursting from doors and other gateways, too late for the fight but one of them calling, “Grene, are you all right?” and another, “Raulyn?”
Master Grene, short of breath and disheveled, waved a hand at them all. “Done,” he called between panted breaths. “All over. They’re gone.”
‘Though I doubt I want to be out here if they come back with more of their kind!“ Daved called, backing away through the gateway with Master Grene and the others.
Enough people agreed with that, that there was a general withdrawing behind all the other doors and gates while Master Grene ordered, “Close it,” at Pers, who readily slammed the gate shut, with Wyett swinging the bar into place across it at the same moment Master Grene turned on Daved and raged, “What in hell’s teeth were you thinking of, throwing yourself into that fight like that? You near as damn-all got us killed!”
Of the two of them, Daved Weir looked the worse. Though he was without apparent wound save for a red mark on his jaw that would probably be a bruise before it was done, his doublet was torn open and his shirt ripped to almost his waist as if he had grappled close with someone; but still high-blooded with the joy of battle, he laughed and said, “There are worse ways to die than suddenly, Raulyn.”
‘Maybe for you!“ Master Grene stormed back at him. ”But I’d rather not!“
Somewhat aside, Dickon and Father Tomas were helping Brother Michael to his feet from the cobbles. The friar was the worst battered of anyone—with no blood on him but short of breath and partly bent over in pain, one hand pressed to his ribs as if he hurt there. Past Master Grene, Daved asked, “How is he?”
Brother Michael answered for himself, leaning on the priest but straightening a little as he said, “Beaten. But otherwise unmarred. They were using feet and fists, not weapons.”
‘I was coming from the church,“ Father Tomas said. ”To see Mistress Grene. I saw him ahead of me. They came from the other way, those men, and attacked him. Went for him for no reason.“
‘They didn’t say anything?“ Master Naylor asked.
Brother Michael straightened a little more, still holding his ribs but his breathing more steady. “Asked if I was the friar that was preaching at St. Paul’s, I said I was, and they—” He stopped—not from a stab of pain, as Frevisse first thought, but staring at Daved before then jerking fully straight and snatching at the front of Daved’s doublet, crying out, “You! This!” in both oath and accusation; and Frevisse saw he had hold not on Daved’s doublet or shirt but the end of a narrow length of pale cloth showing through the shirt’s tear. In the yard’s shadows Frevisse thought there was a fringed knot at one corner but that was all she clearly saw before Daved cl
amped a hand around the friar’s wrist and ordered, cold and low-voiced, “Let it go.”
Brother Michael pulled, both at the cloth and to be free, and Daved must have done something because the next moment the friar let go the cloth with a gasp of pain and snatched back his hand. But with unabated fierceness, glaring at Daved, he started again, “You—”
Master Grene stepped between them, saying in loud interruption as he gripped the friar by the arm and turned him toward the hall, “Better we take this inside, Brother Michael. Wyett, keep guard here with Pers for a time. Nicol, shouldn’t you be gone to the kitchen? The rest of you go on, too. You did well, all of you. My thanks. Anne, Dame, go tell Pernell all’s well.”
He was drawing the friar hallward with more force than courtesy while scattering his household men with orders; but Brother Michael broke free, spun around to point fiercely at Master Naylor and Dickon, nearest to Daved, and ordered, “You two! Take hold on him.” He swung his pointing finger to Master Bocking. “On both of them. On your souls’ peril, seize them both!”
The Sempster's Tale Page 18
