As if the exchange with Diot had never taken place, Catlin turned to Beata, with a kindly smile, her tone gentle and patient. ‘Your confusion is understandable, Beata. It must have been a terrible shock finding the bed slashed. Perhaps the feathers from the pillows drifting about made you think of birds. In your distress you might easily have mistaken a shadow or a twist of the bedcover, for something more sinister.’
Beata began to protest again, but Robert held up a hand to silence her. ‘My wife is quite upset enough as it is by someone breaking in, without you making it worse with wild stories. And I forbid you to frighten little Leonia.’
Leonia looked anything but fearful, rather as if she was hugging the dark image to herself in excitement.
‘Beata, would you be so good as to fetch some pickles for your master?’ Catlin said.
Robert was on the point of saying he didn’t want any, then realised that this was Catlin’s way of getting Beata out of the room. Beata knew it too and banged the door unnecessarily hard as she left.
Catlin lowered her voice. ‘Robert, I am concerned about Beata. The way the bed was slashed was horrible . . . as if whoever had done it was mad or possessed by a fit of uncontrollable jealousy.’ She hesitated, glancing towards the closed door and tugging her lip with her sharp white teeth. ‘Beata was alone in the house at the time and you’ve observed her hostility towards me, how possessive she is towards you and Adam. I confess I wondered if she might have . . .’
‘No!’ Robert flapped his hand in irritation. ‘All women are given to strange fancies from time to time, Edith certainly was, but Beata’s been with us since she was a girl and I’ve never known her to attack anything or anyone. I can’t believe she’d do such a thing.’
Catlin gave an anxious smile, fingering her bloodstone necklace. ‘Poor Edith was so afraid of her and begged me not to let Beata near her when she was sick. It made me think . . . But, of course, you know your own servants. If you trust her, Robert, then it must have been someone from outside the household who broke in. But, in any case, you will understand that I was greatly alarmed, especially for our children’s safety. I pleaded with Edward to move in with us. I knew you’d never want us to remain unprotected and defenceless.’
Robert nodded curtly at Edward. ‘You have my thanks. I’ll speak to Sheriff Thomas in the morning, insist his watch patrol this street day and night. You may rest assured, Catlin, my dear, I’ll not allow anyone to get inside again.’
Catlin dressed her face with one of her most winning smiles. ‘It’s such a comfort for me to have my son close. I would fret so if he was in another city and I didn’t know if he was sick or well. We foolish women worry so about our children, don’t we?’ She reached out and squeezed Robert’s hand. ‘And I was telling Edward I was sure you could find him a good position in your employ.’
Robert could understand Catlin trying to advance the cause of her son. He supposed Edith would have done the same, but Edward was hardly an orphan child to be found an apprenticeship. Besides, even though he was Catlin’s son, Robert could not bring himself to like the fellow, or see why he should. He wanted Edward gone. Robert’d had the pleasure of his new bride for just a few weeks, and the last thing he wanted was her attention diverted from him to fussing over her son.
‘I’ve no work to offer Edward, my dear. As I’ve explained to you many times, our profits are falling and will continue to do so as long as the Flemish weavers remain in rebellion. With that and the huge sums those Florentine swindlers stole from us, I shall be hard put to pay the wages of those men I already employ, never mind take on another. Besides, I need experienced men who know about wool and cloth, selling and shipping. I can’t let a squab loose in my warehouse. He’d ruin me in a week.’
‘I’m no squab!’ An angry flush spread over Edward’s face and his hands clenched into fists.
‘Edward,’ Catlin said warningly, ‘Robert meant that you know little about the wool trade, which you must own is true. You will have to learn that people in Lincoln are plainly spoken.’
It was Robert’s turn to take umbrage. Was she accusing him of being uncouth in his speech? He prided himself on his manners.
Catlin turned the full light of her smile once more upon her husband. ‘My son knows he’s much to learn and he’s eager to do so. He’s willing to start in a humble position until he’s proved his worth. For my sake, my sweeting,’ she wheedled. ‘He is my only son.’
But Robert had caught the sulky expression that flashed across Edward’s face, when Catlin had mentioned a humble position. He’d been in business long enough to know that giving a man a job he considers beneath him is like putting a rotten oyster into a barrel of good herring: it will corrupt the whole mess of them. So, for the first time since he’d known her, Robert refused to surrender to Catlin’s coaxing.
‘I’ve nothing to offer him.’
He heaved himself to his feet and turned towards the stairs, but not before he’d caught the furious glare Edward directed towards Catlin. Far from being dismayed, Robert found himself positively gloating as he laboured up the steps. He prided himself on being able to appraise the quality of a man as well as he could read that of a fleece. And the moment he’d clapped eyes on Edward he had concluded he was third-quality wool, taken from the legs of the beast, kempy and fouled with dung. Such wool will never take the master’s dye, no matter how long it is immersed: better to waste no time on it.
Robert was confident that as soon as Edward realised there were no fat purses to be wheedled out of his mother’s new husband, all they’d see of him was the cloud of dust at his heels as he marched out of Lincoln.
Chapter 35
A man who desires to know which of his family and neighbours will not live another year must stand in the church porch at midnight on Midsummer’s Eve. Then he shall see the spirits of those who are about to die come in solemn procession to the church.
Lincoln
The wool-walker hung back until he saw the women leave the house. Diot, clutching a basket, waddled out of the yard, dragging Leonia by the hand. The wool-walker, thin as a weasel, slid into the shadow of the doorway as they passed. Diot, chattering to the girl, wouldn’t have noticed if half of the King’s army had been concealed in the archway, but Leonia turned and stared straight at him. The child’s face was expressionless, but there was a flash of recognition in those gold-flecked eyes. The wool-walker thought she might draw the maid’s attention to him, but she said nothing, only frowned a little, then twisted round to look behind her, as if she were listening to someone. So intense was her gaze that the wool-walker, too, turned his head, expecting to see someone behind him, but the street was empty.
As soon as Diot and Leonia were out of sight, the wool-walker turned his attention back to the heavy gate in the wall that led into the courtyard. He’d lingered outside Robert’s house for days, waiting for the right moment to approach. But so far, whenever Diot and the girl were out, Catlin was at home, or if she was out riding, the children were playing in the stables. He didn’t want to approach the house when any of the women were there.
He’d watched and listened for so many hours that he knew the names of each person who lived in that house as they were shouted from open windows and called across the yard. Several times, he’d followed Robert, hoping to speak to him at the warehouse, but it had been impossible. None of Robert’s men would let him near the warehouse, thinking he was a beggar or a thief, and when he’d tried to waylay Robert in the street, the merchant had reacted as if he was an assassin intending to cut his throat. Robert had bellowed for the watchmen and attracted so much attention that the wool-walker was forced to take to his heels for fear of being arrested.
He heard the courtyard gate open again and, to his relief, saw the mistress of the house come riding out on her palfrey. This was the moment he had been waiting for. She turned her mount away from him and trotted towards the river.
Tenney stood in the open doorway, staring after Mistress Catli
n. He was beginning to smell a bad odour around that woman. Master Robert was seldom at home during the day and was therefore unaware of just how often she went off on these jaunts. But it was a mystery to Tenney that he’d failed to sense something was afoot.
He shook his head impatiently. Maybe he was imagining it. Mistress Edith had been a homebody and couldn’t abide riding, but not all women were like her. He was probably looking for trouble where was none. That was what came of listening to Beata, mithering on morning, noon and night about her distrust of Catlin. He was catching her strange fancies and all the saints in heaven knew she was full of those. When one woman took against another, there was no reasoning with them. But Tenney had repeatedly warned Beata to say not a word about Catlin to Master Robert, if she valued her job. ‘Like my old mam used to say, see nowt, hear nowt and say nowt. Then they can hold nowt against you.’
But even though he tried to convince himself it was all in Beata’s head, he couldn’t entirely shake off his growing unease about Mistress Catlin. As for that son of hers, he was not a man you’d ever want to walk alone with, or not without keeping a good grip on your purse and your knife.
Sighing, Tenney began pushing the heavy gate shut, but felt someone pushing against him on the other side. If he’d not been so distracted he would have reacted more swiftly and rammed the gate closed but, like a shadow, the dark figure had slipped through before he fully realised what was happening.
The wool-walker stood in the courtyard, panting a little, having come within a whisker of being squashed between door and frame. But the last few years spent living by his wits had given him a nimbleness that usually only street-urchins possessed.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Tenney demanded. ‘You can’t come barging in here. You want alms, beg in the marketplace with the rest.’
The man’s ill-matched clothes looked as if they had once belonged to men both bigger and smaller than himself, which indeed they had, for they had mostly been stolen from bushes where they’d been left to dry. A shirt here, a pair of breeches there, in the hope that the goodwives would think them blown away or snatched by dogs. But the sleeve of the right arm of his over-large jerkin hung down at an odd angle and Tenney guessed the hand beneath was either missing or wizened and useless.
‘I’m not here to beg for alms,’ the wool-walker said. ‘I must speak with your master. I seek work . . . as a fuller.’
Tenney involuntarily took a step back. Fullers or wool-walkers spent all the day up to their knees in vats of rancid piss, treading the woollen cloth to thicken it. It was foul work and they carried the stink of it with them, even when the day’s labour was over. In summer they carried their own cloud of flies, too, drawn by the lingering smell, although Tenney had to admit this man seemed somewhat fresher than most in his trade. He’d obviously not worked for some time. ‘If it’s work you’re after, you’ll have to see the steward . . .’
Tenney checked himself. He kept forgetting there was no steward now, not since Jan’s drowning. He missed the lad, kept expecting him to stroll back in, ready with the latest joke from the quayside, and pretty bawdy most of them had been. He smiled ruefully, remembering. ‘They’ve no steward at present. You’ll need to speak to the overseer. Fulk, they call him. You’ll find him at the warehouse on the quayside – leastways, that’s where he’s supposed to be, but if he’s not there, try any of the taverns by the Braytheforde. Between you and me, I’d start with the taverns, save yourself a bit of time and shoe-leather.’
‘It’s Master Robert I must speak with. Please, I beg you, tell him—’
‘Tell me what?’ Robert came out of the open back door and strode towards them. ‘What is he doing in here, Tenney? I thought you’d have more sense than to let strangers in after that business of the bed being slashed.’
Tenney shuffled uneasily. If he said the man had forced his way in, Master Robert would think he was getting too old for the job, that he needed to employ someone younger and fitter. Better to let the master think he’d freely admitted the man.
‘He’s looking for work, Master Robert. Says he’s a fuller by trade. Not many wanting that kind of work, these days. I thought you might be needing a skilled man. He’s certainly keen enough anyway,’ Tenney added, trying to put in a good word for the wool-walker who, judging by the sharp bones of his face and the dark hollows around his eyes, was surely in desperate need of some means to put food in that shrunken belly.
Robert’s eyes narrowed as he studied the stranger. Then he took a hasty step backwards. ‘He’s no fuller! Look at his feet.’
Tenney stared down. The man was wearing leather sandals with thick wooden soles. His feet were filthy and the toenails long and black-rimmed, but they were no worse than those of any man who wore sandals in the dirty streets.
‘His feet would be bleached white and the nails eaten away from standing in piss all day.’
The man shuffled, as if he was trying to bury his toes in the stone of the courtyard. ‘I’ve not had work these many months.’
‘You’ve not had work as a fuller at all. If the nails do grow back, they’re misshapen for life. And your eyes. If you were a fuller, they would be raw from the fumes. Why are you really here? Are you working for Matthew Johan? Do you think to do to me what those Florentines did to my son?’
‘I’m no Florentine. You must hear me, Master Robert.’ The man took a step towards Robert. ‘I came to warn you.’
Robert’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘Get him out! Get him out and bar the gate. Tenney!’ he yelled, backing towards the door of the house. ‘I told you to throw him out.’
‘You’re in grave danger,’ the man said desperately. ‘You must—’
But Tenney had seized him by the back of the neck and was bundling him towards the street. The man twisted round, thrusting out his foot and jamming the wooden sole of his sandal in the gate. ‘If you care anything for your master, make him listen to reason before it’s too late. That woman he married is not what she pretends to be. Beg your master to come and find me. I’ll tell him everything.’
Tenney glanced behind him. But Master Robert had retreated into the house and secured the door. He turned back to the wool-walker and lowered his voice. ‘I’m making no promises, mind, but supposing he does want to talk to you, where will he find you?’
‘Look for me at the church of St John the Poor,’ the man said. ‘But urge him to come soon or, before the summer is out, he’ll be lying alongside his wife and son in that graveyard.’
Chapter 36
Witches are unable to shed tears in the presence of judges.
Beata
‘What are you two whispering about?’ I said, coming up behind Adam and Leonia in the yard.
Adam jerked away from the girl as if I’d caught them out in some mischief, but Leonia glanced up, a look of annoyance in her face, which plainly said, how dare I, a mere servant, interrupt her? She was as arrogant as her mother, not that Master Robert could see that. As far as he was concerned the girl pissed rosewater. It cut me to the quick to see the way he spoiled her, yet rarely spared so much as a kind word for his son, who’d lost mother and brother.
‘What’s that you got?’ I’d seen Adam push something hastily into Leonia’s hand. I’d not watched Jan grow up without learning that if a lad were concealing something, it was bound to be something he shouldn’t have. Adam glanced at Leonia, but neither child answered. I didn’t like it. Adam had always been such an open, honest boy, but in the past few weeks he’d become sly and secretive. I tried not to think badly of him. What could you expect after all that poor boy had been through? But the less time he spent in that girl’s company, the easier my mind would rest.
‘If school’s finished, your father’ll be expecting you at the warehouse. He’ll not be pleased if you’re late. He gave orders you were to go straight there.’
Adam immediately looked stricken and made towards the gate, but Leonia held him back.
‘Adam won’t be late
.’ She gave me one of her knowing smiles, so cold it fair froze the breath in me. ‘Everyone was sent home early from his school today, weren’t they, Adam? So he won’t be expected at the warehouse yet.’
‘Master Warner must be in a good humour to let you out early. He usually keeps you late. Courting again, is he?’
The schoolmaster was well known for being as peevish as a bear except when a young woman took his fancy. Then you’d think he was a lovelorn youth of fifteen, instead of the five-and-fifty he was. For a few brief weeks when he was chasing her and showering her with gifts, he was as sunny and jovial as a beggar who’d found a gold piece. But it always ended the same way, for the girls he pursued were young, beautiful and far too wealthy for their fathers ever to consent to them wedding a schoolmaster. Before long Master Warner’s face would be as sour as a pickled herring again.
Now Adam looked at Leonia, as if he were asking her permission to speak. Again, she answered for him: ‘Master Warner had a pain, didn’t he, Adam?’
‘You were there, were you, Leonia?’ I said tartly. ‘I didn’t know they’d started to admit girls to school. Who will they take as pupils next? Beggars and stray cats, I shouldn’t wonder.’
The look she gave me was so venomous it would have brought a bull to its knees, but I wasn’t going to take any nonsense from Widow Catlin’s brat. ‘You’d best run along, Adam, because if your father hears the school was closed early, and he will, the way news spreads in this town, he’ll still want to know why you didn’t go to the warehouse at once.’
Adam turned towards the gate and Leonia followed as if she had every intention of walking with him.
‘Adam can find his way without your help, Leonia. You stay here. Your mother may have let you go wandering about town on your own, like a tanner’s urchin, but you live in a respectable household now. Master Robert has a position in this city and he’ll not be best pleased if you disgrace him.’