B00B9BL6TI EBOK (11 page)

Edwin hefted the wooden shutter down from the window, allowing the sun’s fingers to reach into the room. He sniffed the morning air, but it was not the clean fresh air of his home; here it was somehow thicker and greasier, and it smelled wrong. A pang of homesickness pierced him. What was he doing here in this alien place? He sighed as he stood the shutter neatly against the wall.

William had hobbled over to the hearth and was poking the fire to stir some life into it. The ashes smouldered and Edwin hastened to take a handful of dry kindling from the tiny stack next to the hearth. He knelt down and blew gently on the smouldering embers until a first small flame licked up over the sticks. Soon the room was filled with a warm glow, and he stood, brushing the soot off his knees.

Thumps sounded from over his head, followed by voices, and soon Edwin heard footsteps on the stairs. He cast a rapid glance at William and stood facing the door. A woman came through it with two children behind her. She stopped with a gasp and a stifled scream when she saw him, her hand flying to her mouth, but recovered when she saw William. She looked at him without speaking, without moving any further into the room. The children sheltered behind her skirts.

William cleared his throat. ‘Daughter. This is my nephew …’ His voice petered out and Edwin suddenly realised that he hadn’t even told William his name. He leapt into the conversation, making a clumsy bow. ‘Edwin. Edwin of … Retford. I am very pleased to meet you, mistress.’

William spoke again, a little too quickly. ‘My son’s widow, Juliana. You will recall, Juliana, that I have spoken of my sister Eleanor who married a wool merchant? Edwin is her son.’

Edwin held his breath, but Juliana said nothing, merely nodding her head and drifting into the room to set vessels and plates on the table. Her movements were emotionless, and now that he looked at her properly he could see the dead look in her eyes. The two children, a boy and a girl, crept silently to sit in the corner, heads downcast.

William gestured towards them. ‘My grandchildren.’ He spoke under his breath. ‘You see now why I wish to avoid more bloodshed?’

Edwin slumped on to a stool, the weight of his duties suddenly lying heavy on his shoulders.

He felt better after some bread and ale; he hadn’t realised how much he’d been flagging after his sleepless night, but there was no time to rest. After the brief repast, William instructed his daughter-in-law to take charge of the shop, with an aside to Edwin that there would not likely be many customers anyway, since people were not buying luxuries like spices these days. Then they left the house with the intention of walking about the town.

Everything about the city was big. Edwin had thought that he was accustomed to grandeur, living as he did in the shadow of the earl’s castle in Conisbrough, but there the keep dominated a village of small single-storey dwellings, spread around the three sides of the green. Here there were streets and streets of houses all packed closely together, many of which seemed to have a second storey which jutted out above the first. And so many! How did such a large number of people live in such a confined space? How did they grow their food? The amount of space allocated to each person or household must be very small,
let me see, if each of these houses is about a perch wide
 …

Such thoughts occupied him as he followed William through the maze. One other thing which struck him almost immediately was how filthy the place was. Even though the weather had been dry for at least the past couple of days, the streets were ankle-deep in mud and rutted with the marks of cartwheels, and he kept carefully to the edge of the roadway to avoid having to wade through the worst of it. He soon discovered that it wasn’t merely mud; the place was oozing with ordure and sewage. What in the Lord’s name were these people doing? Throwing their waste out of their doors and onto the streets directly in front of them? It was disgusting. And it stank. The village of Conisbrough might seem rustic compared to the great city, but at least people had the decency to dig middens in their yards. He cursed under his breath as he planted his foot squarely in something noisome – he didn’t want to investigate it too closely for fear of finding out that it was something even worse than he imagined – and then realised with a wrench that this was something he would never have done had he been at home; if his mother had heard any kind of oath issuing from his lips she would have boxed his ears, no matter that he was nearly twenty and taller than her by a head. But as he followed the old man through the frightened streets, his mother and the life he had left behind seemed a very long way away, both in distance and in time. Was it really only a week ago he had been there? He could only visualise the peaceful village through a haze as the images faded.

He must concentrate. He looked about him at every person who passed. Which ones were helping the castle? Which ones might be traitors? Which were neither, but just hoping to come out of this alive? And how in the Lord’s name would he tell? He would have to look out for the slightest hint. He felt jumpy, with a dizziness and nausea which he tried to ignore.

At first he thought it was some kind of illusion, but as they drew nearer to the cathedral he could see that it really was that big, and he could feel his jaw sag. He knew, of course, that a cathedral was like a church only larger, but he had not been prepared for the immensity of the structure. Had he not been aware of the urgency of his mission, he would have stood in front of it all day, content simply to drink in the sight of something so unbelievable. He had never been overly religious. He went to Mass in the village church, of course, but even though he was one of the few there who could understand Latin, the priest’s dry and gabbled speech had never moved him and he felt no yearning, no vocation. But now, to think that men could build such a thing to the glory of the Lord … he wanted to drop to his knees in awe at God’s power and pray for salvation. Despite the weight on his mind he stopped and simply gaped. It was so beautiful it took his breath away, soaring into the heavens. How had they made it so tall without the walls tumbling down? How had they fitted a roof so high above the ground? How …

But William was pulling him away. ‘For God’s sake, boy, stop gawking! You will draw attention to yourself!’

Edwin’s mind returned to earth and he followed the older man towards a market which was being held in the open space to the side of the cathedral. To him it looked like a grand affair but William sniffed and muttered under his breath that things were not what they used to be.

They were hailed by two men who stood very close together at the corner of the market. William raised his hand and steered Edwin towards them.

‘Ah, good day, William, good day. We were just speaking of the latest news.’

The men were both dressed in what looked to Edwin to be very showy clothes – although who knows what might be considered normal in a city like this – and they were both staring at him. He felt uncomfortable and knew he was beginning to flush.

William cleared his throat. ‘Gentlemen, I do not think you have met my nephew, Edwin of Retford?

Each of the men nodded to Edwin, curiosity writ large on their faces, as William continued. ‘Edwin brings me news of my dear sister Eleanor. Living that far away, he had not heard of the trouble here, and once he did, he thought he was so close that he may as well carry on and get here, to see what had happened to me and to bring tidings back to my sister and goodbrother …’ Perhaps realising that he was gabbling and that everyone was staring, he tailed off and gestured at the men. ‘Edwin, this is Peter of the Bridge and Peter of the Bail, two of the most respected merchants in Lincoln.’

Edwin nodded at them, although he hadn’t quite grasped which was which. Probably better to stay silent and let William do the talking.

But the old man was interrupted by the Peter on the left. ‘Dear Eleanor. She was always so kind to me when I was a boy. I do hope she is well?’

Edwin tried to swallow the lump in his throat. ‘Yes, good sir, very well.’ Dear Lord, how typical that the first person he had run into should know William’s sister. He had better make sure he found out as much as he could about her from William, lest someone else should ask him.

But the merchant was continuing. ‘And that very handsome man she married, I can’t remember his name now …?’

Edwin opened his mouth but no words came out. The silence stretched on for what was probably no more than a moment, but it seemed an eternity. He was saved by the other Peter, who elbowed his companion. ‘Never mind that now! We have yet to tell William the news.’ He leaned closer. ‘Nicholas Holland is dead.’

William gasped. ‘When?’

‘Just last evening, or so I hear.’ Peter turned to Edwin. ‘I’m sorry to involve you in this when you’re so newly arrived, but you must know that Lincoln is not a safe place these days. Nicholas Holland was a respected merchant and he was struck down in the street some nights ago, the back of his head crushed in.’ He leaned closer into Edwin. ‘You must beware, young man.’ The merchant smelled of some kind of scent which was slightly off-putting, and Edwin tried to back away from him without looking rude.

The other Peter took up the tale. ‘And his son is still missing.’

William looked confused. ‘Thomas? But I thought …’

The merchant waved his hand, revealing soft fat fingers and a number of gold rings. ‘No, no. Thomas has been out of the town since before the trouble started – I sent him out to meet with one of my wool suppliers and he never came back. Hopefully he’s safe somewhere and waiting outside the city until the trouble is over. He’s a good apprentice and I shouldn’t like to lose him, especially when he’s so near the end of his indenture. No, it’s young Nick who has still failed to return, so Peter has also lost an apprentice.’

The second Peter looked at Edwin. ‘You look confused, young Edwin, the son of Eleanor.’ He patted Edwin on the arm, which Edwin found mildly discomfiting. ‘You will soon learn. We all live very close together here in Lincoln.’

William was muttering to himself and Edwin tried to catch it; ‘… did not say anything about Nick – but then again, she did not say much at all …’ he looked up and spoke out loud again. ‘But what of Nicholas? Where is he?’

The first Peter answered. ‘At home. He was being looked after by that charming daughter of his, who will no doubt have to arrange the funeral. She had better hope one of her brothers comes back soon, or she’ll stand no chance – a girl with all those other children to look after. The wolves will soon be sniffing around her. She’s as pretty as a butterfly, but girls like that are not made for this sort of situation.’

The other Peter sniggered. ‘Come, Peter, you sound as though you’re about to say what pretty young girls
are
for, and that’s not the sort of conversation for this time in the morning!’

His companion seemed to find this very funny and they laughed together, jowls shaking. Edwin felt sorry for this nameless girl, and tried to get straight in his head the information he had just heard. A man. His daughter. His son. No, two sons, both missing. And how had he been attacked? And by whom? Had Peter said that? He didn’t think so. But maybe …

Peter was continuing. ‘Well, if neither of those boys comes back, I suppose the shop and all the goods will go to the next lad, though he is but a child. So perhaps young Alys had better get herself married as soon as she can, in order to have a man to look after things. A shame my son is so young, but perhaps something could be arranged so that I could look after everything for her? It’s a good business that Nicholas had there …’

A thunderous crashing noise suddenly sounded from not very far away, and Edwin was startled out of his wits. He leapt in fright and almost grabbed William’s arm, before noticing that none of the others had so much as flinched. One of the Peters was still murmuring to himself about business and had taken no notice.

William looked at Edwin sadly. ‘The siege machines at the castle. We are all so used to it that we hardly hear it. I am sure the walls cannot last much longer. It will all be over in a week or two.’

Sooner than that, thought Edwin. Both of the Peters shrugged at the same time, and one of them spoke in a peevish voice. ‘Yes, yes, the walls. The garrison. But how soon will it be before we can recover proper trade again? These people simply have not considered the inconvenience to us and to our businesses. Who cares about the king and the war when there is money to be made?’

Edwin gaped, wondering if it were possible that he would ever hear such a selfish statement again, but he was saved from replying as the two Peters turned away and strolled towards the market, chattering and gesticulating.

As they walked, William whispered to him as many of the details of his supposed life as he could. Edwin tried to rehearse everything in his head. As if it wasn’t bad enough being here and meeting all these new people, but he had to try and remember to be someone else at the same time. He went over and over again the names of his supposed mother, father and family, and the few facts he had learned about their business of cloth. It might be enough to get him past a general enquiry, but he prayed that nobody would have the opportunity to question him closely. And he begged the Lord to make sure that nobody would ask him anything about wool.

It was later in the morning, and after what had turned out to be a fairly uneventful walk around the town they were back at the cathedral again. He had been conscious of its looming presence throughout the morning, for there was no escaping it, but he wasn’t sure whether he should feel protected or intimidated. Now they were on the other side of it from where they’d been earlier, and here there was some activity – masons working on large blocks of stone. William saw Edwin looking and explained that there had been a terrible accident there some twenty years ago, when the building was split from top to bottom, and that since then work had been on-going on building a new cathedral in the modern style. Edwin had no idea that cathedrals could have a modern style, or any other for that matter, but of course he’d never seen one before, so what did he know? He merely felt a huge reverence, both at the size of the building and its purpose. He was reminded that the Lord was watching and saw all.