When he saw the guard get to his feet he whispered hurriedly, ‘Something’s going on in the Salt Tower and we can only speculate. You’ve seen the visitors for yourself. I don’t know what they’re doing. And neither does our mutual friend. This is why he is standing out there even now.’
He leant forward and spoke into her ear as if merely pouring more wine as the guard began to stroll towards them. ‘The King is said to be paying us a visit—’ He broke off and looked up with a cheerful smile. ‘Now then, master, come and supplement your winnings with a stoup of this good wine our friends have brought us.’
They had to leave without any opportunity for further conversation. The guard was probably aware of messages being passed and had gone as far as he dare in allowing his prisoner this small freedom. Only when they were safely outside again and walking anonymously through the crowded streets did either of them make any comment. Hildegard feared for the prisoner, whoever he was, and
believed his bleak assessment of his prospects was not far from the truth.
She told Edwin everything that had been said.
He shrugged off the warning about the spy, Rivera, but grimaced. ‘Can we trust that prisoner?’
‘I think we have to.’
‘So, now for an audience with Mr Medford. He’ll be interested in a coven of city aldermen visiting Frenchmen in the Tower.’
Returning to York Place Hildegard went in search of her new page. The Yeoman of the Wardrobe had fussed and fretted with the boy’s hand-me-downs until he was pleased with the effect. He beamed at Hildegard and called the boy forth. ‘Quite one of us now, isn’t he?’
It was true. Young Master Turnbull was transformed and nobody, hopefully least of all Thomas Swynford, would have recognised him. He was all skin and bones, however, and, despite the empty platter on the table, looked as if he hadn’t had a square meal in an age. It was decided he would do quite well helping the Yeoman of the Wardrobe with his chores until something more permanent could be found for him.
Archbishop Neville was still out on secret business for the King. His absence absolved Hildegard from having to confess to her changed status. To her relief it would have to wait for now.
After leaving Edwin she took a ferry back to Westminster and made her way alone along the public footpath towards the river postern. It was still daylight and there were several wherries disembarking passengers,
the oarsmen shouting for more custom. They were doing brisk business.
Their shouts faded as she walked on and she was deep in thought, staring at the ground, when someone stepped abruptly into her path. Her head jerked up. It was Hugh de Ravenscar. So Ulf had failed to run him to earth. She spoke first.
‘What do you want?’
‘Greetings to you too, wife.’ He smiled humourlessly. ‘I’ve already told you what I want.’
‘You’ll get nothing from—’
‘Not even that little you were willing to concede earlier …’ He stepped closer, lowering his voice. ‘ … before we were interrupted by that bloody mendicant?’ He gave a leer that left her in no doubt what he meant.
A reply seemed unnecessary. She tried to push past him.
‘There is something else.’ He gripped her by the shoulder to prevent her leaving. ‘It’s Guy. He’s at Westminster.’
‘Guy?’
He let his hand fall when he saw that his news had surprised her. ‘Didn’t you know?’ He eyed her suspiciously.
‘How would I know? I haven’t heard from your brother in years. Have you spoken to him?’
‘I have not. I made the mistake of appearing to you without warning. I won’t make the same mistake a second time. If you’d had chance to get used to the fact that I’m still very much alive I believe you would have reacted less obstinately—’
‘You’re deluding yourself—’ she began but before she could set him right he continued.
‘I thought if you could have a word with my beloved brother – prepare the ground somewhat – he will be more open to reason after prior warning from you. I’ve sent a message to let him know where he can find you.’
‘You’ve done
what
?’
‘The abbey fathers can’t object to a visit from your kith and kin.’
‘That’s not my point. It’s this: you cannot seriously imagine anything you say will make him view with favour your wish to take away his lands?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Knowing Guy he’ll hang on to everything fortune throws his way. You’ll never prise his inheritance from him now he’s got used to it.’
‘But it’s my right! He’s got to see the justice of my claim. He’s only been called to Westminster because of me.’ He brought his face down to hers. It was twisted with rage in an all too familiar way that repelled her. ‘It should be
me
sitting in Parliament!
Me
called to advise the King!
Me
to be feted all over town instead of having to slink around like a felon. Not my upstart brother! Where’s the fairness in that?’
‘Whether it’s fair or not, it was you who gave up any claim on your marcher lands when you pretended to be dead.’
‘I’m not wasting my time arguing with you, Hildegard. In all these years you haven’t changed. You still argue every damned point.’
‘Only because you’re so preposterous. Would you give up what you believed was yours by right of inheritance? Only if the very heavens fell in!’
‘There’s no discussing anything with you. You’re as
irrational as you always were. A nun? That’s a laugh!’ He gave her a look of undisguised hatred which was all the more shocking because he usually managed to hide his true feelings until his actions revealed them. He stepped right up to her and gripped her by the front of her garments. ‘Is that your last word? You refuse me this one small service?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re a bitch.’ He crowded her off the path into the long grass. ‘I hope you rot in hell!’ He gave her a push.
She stumbled but managed to duck past him and this time he let her go, shouting only a warning. ‘You haven’t heard the last of this, you bloody woman. I want what’s mine and I’ll get it. You’ll rue the day you ever crossed me.’
The injustice of his remarks ignited an ember from the past when their relationship had been all fire and pain. Before she could stop herself she swung round again. ‘I rue the day I ever
came
across you. That much is true! Better you were still dead, Ravenscar! Better for everybody!’
By now she was at the wicket gate and the porter lifted his head in astonishment when he heard Hildegard shouting threats. It was a new man and he gaped as she hurried past. She heard Hugh utter some obscenity behind her back. But she did not care what he said about her, she was too angry and too shamed by her anger to give a damn.
Thomas was limping as he entered the cloister yard next morning. Hildegard went down to meet him, drawing him under a portico where they would not be overheard.
‘My dear Thomas, how badly are you hurt?’
‘Not so much that I have to lie in a bed in the infirmary,’ he replied with a jaunty air.
‘They told me you had a broken leg.’
‘Exaggeration. I might have broken a few legs myself, though, as well as some heads.’ He winced as he stepped forward and she took him by the arm.
‘Let’s sit.’ She gave him an anxious glance. He had a black eye. ‘What will the abbot think to you? Has he arrived yet?’
She had mixed feelings when he shook his head.
‘Listen to me, Hildegard. Ulf sent me a message at St Mary Graces. That’s why I’m here. I came as soon as I could. He told me what happened after we were parted by the constables. I’m at fault. I should have managed to stay by your side to protect you.’ He gave her a searching glance. ‘He told me the fellow must have roughed you up. Then he said I should come over and attend you – as if I needed to be told after hearing something like that!’
‘He had no need to say anything. I only told Roger de Hutton about Ravenscar coming back from the dead because Ravenscar was his sworn knight. Ulf was present. He’s been in the picture from the beginning. He knew him in the old days. I haven’t told anyone else yet.’ She gazed at him with a troubled expression. ‘You know what it means? I shall be excommunicated.’
‘Surely not?’ His tone was serious, his eyes as clear as river water. ‘Hildegard, I cannot advise you. This is far beyond my learning but I can assure you of one thing – Abbot de Courcy will not hold you responsible for
somebody else’s deception. In fact he’s more likely to see you as the victim.’
‘I don’t want compassion from him – to be seen as a helpless fool.’
‘I’m sure that’s the last thing he would say about you.’
‘Oh Thomas …’ She gripped his arm. ‘On top of everything else I was worried about what had happened to you after I deserted you on Tower Hill. I thought my son might have been caught up in the fighting as well and went to find him. Now I realise he wasn’t at All Hallows and never could have been there. The message was written by Ravenscar. It was a forgery. It took me in completely. Maybe I am a fool, after all.’
‘So am I, then, because the note took me in as well. And anyway, it was a nasty trick to play. Who on earth would have expected a trick like that? I’m so sorry,’ he added. ‘I know how much you were looking forward to seeing young Bertrand again. But tell me something – was Ulf right when he said Ravenscar treated you roughly?’
‘It’s his usual way. He hasn’t changed.’
‘Ulf says they won’t stop until they’ve tracked him down. I expect he’s already in custody.’
‘He was still free yesterday evening. He was lying in wait on the path by the river gate.’
Thomas’s look of alarm was superseded by one of concern.
Hildegard laughed, enough to reassure him. ‘I’m all right. I shouted at him. I haven’t shouted at anybody for years.’
Thomas got up. ‘Let’s take a beaker of wine in Abbot
Lyttlington’s kitchens. His servants will delight in offering us hospitality.’
The wind was getting up again and it was far too uncomfortable to sit in the cloisters much longer, so she accompanied him on the short walk towards the abbey’s main buildings. He moved with a limp which he was vainly trying to conceal and she felt compelled to ask, ‘Tell me the truth, Thomas, are you very much injured? No broken bones, are there?’
‘I’ll heal. The constables didn’t get off lightly either.’ He gave a rueful grin. ‘It was madness. No one will listen to reason when their blood’s up.’
As they went inside to find the refectory he explained what the fighting was about. ‘It’s over Mayor Brembre’s desire to protect the city traders.’
At the mention of Brembre she pricked up her ears.
‘One group of guildsmen want to open trade to everybody – but you can imagine what happens with no regulation. They undercut the locals and put them out of business as well as indulging in all sorts of sharp practice. Standards slip. They give false measures. Then refuse to appear before the courts. They ignore fines. It arouses a lot of resentment. Brembre’s faction want to restrict trade to London guild members so it can be properly regulated.’
‘It sounds like a minor squall.’
‘On the contrary, it’s a brewing storm. If it breaks it’ll be with a terrible fury. You saw how enraged the apprentice boys are? Ordinary people are losing their livelihoods. Deaths have occurred. A man was executed not long ago. They see it as a battle between anarchy and
order, or liberty and oppression according to your point of view. The city’s going to destroy itself unless they can find a compromise.’ He had evidently been listening to someone who knew all about it.
She brought him back to Brembre. ‘Who are the mayor’s opponents?’
‘The ones who want a free-for-all? I don’t know names yet. Their leader used to be the ex-mayor, John of Nottingham, but he’s been put away in Tintagel Castle for extortion, and so far nobody else has risked sticking their heads over the battlements. Brembre makes sure of that.’
‘How?’
‘Don’t ask. There’s talk of men being rounded up and sent to the gallows without trial.’
‘Can’t anybody stop it?’
‘The city has its own laws. Parliament and the King’s writ have no power within the walls.’ He looked bemused. ‘Would you believe what started it?’
‘What?’
‘The price of fish!’
They were standing in line outside the refectory by now and when they went inside they were welcomed in as warmly as Thomas had predicted. ‘I’ll tell you more later,’ he told her. ‘Let’s find somewhere to drink our wine in privacy.’ He guided her to one of the long trestles and she noticed that he rested his wounded leg on a stool as soon as they were seated.
He filled their beakers and pushed the empty flagon to one side.
‘Those who oppose regulation have the support of the
Duke of Lancaster. He loathes Brembre. He’ll do anything to thwart him.’
‘Do you know why?’