Authors: Avi
T
HE FAMILY HAD arrived shortly before I did and had yet to find the house where the wedding was to occur. Though Elena decided it was time to find Master Talbot’s home, they did something I found curious. Rather than dip into Rauf’s money sack, they used the pennies they had just earned with their playing to buy some bread. I took it that was meant to show how very little they had.
We left the market area and, with instruments in hand, returned to the narrow streets, where Elena asked directions. It fell out that Master Talbot was a major merchant in the wool trade and was well-known. We were soon directed to a Purfleet Street.
As we went along, Gerard made a point of staying close to me, insisting I hear how
they
came to the city. It was of such little account, I grew suspicious of his chatter. Stealing a glance back, I saw Elena and Rauf in intense conversation. The moment they saw me looking at them, they broke off. I had little doubt they were talking about me and that my returning to them had upset their plans.
It was not long before we stood outside Master Talbot’s
house. It proved to be a large timbered structure of three levels. Its sheer size proclaimed it the home of a wealthy man. Bright-colored flags flew from poles. Banners draped from many windows, windows that even had some glass.
On one side was an entryway, which appeared to lead to some place of business where merchants were coming and going. On the other side was a door to the house itself, guarded by two men in bright yellow and red capes. One of the men was older than the other. He was a portly, sallow-faced fellow with a girdle of keys about his ample waist that suggested he was the steward. He smelled of some sweet perfume. Elena approached him.
“Worthy master,” she addressed him after making a deep bow. “We’ve come far to bring music to Master Talbot’s daughter’s wedding.”
“You’ve arrived in good time,” the steward returned. He was eyeing the monkey suspiciously. “What’s that beast?”
“A performing monkey.” Elena beckoned to Owen, who set Schim on the ground and bid him jump. He did a somersault.
Despite the steward’s gravity, he grinned. “That will amuse the bride. Let’s hear your music skill.”
“Quickly, now,” said Elena to us, “do your best!”
We lined up and began to play, but after a few moments,
the steward waved his hand. “Enough! Well done. My master will be pleased. Enter. Just make sure you keep that beast on his tether.”
It was the other, younger servant who led us into an enclosed courtyard, where there were many people milling about. Most appeared to be cooks, bakers, and vintners bringing food, preparing for the wedding feasts. In one corner were other musicians with their instruments, practicing. They gave us a nod, which Elena returned, even as we were led on.
The servant took us to the back of the building, into a large hall with an arched ceiling. The hall was lighted by many candles, the air perfumed. A central fireplace glowed with warmth.
There were tapestries on some walls, white plaster on others. In the middle of the room, long trestle tables had been set up, though I saw no benches. The floor was strewn with sweet green rushes.
“You’ll perform up there,” the servant said, pointing to a balcony, which overlooked the hall. It was opposite a raised table at the other end of the room. “Master Throckmorton, the steward—with whom you just spoke—will inform you of your time.”
We were led behind the building, passing through a
crowded, bustling kitchen, to a place where a series of sheds and stables stood.
“You’ll stay here,” the servant informed us.
Our shelter was a horse stable, each stall having three sides of rough wood wall, large enough for two horses. Overhead was a solid roof and deep, fresh straw on the ground where we could sleep in some comfort.
“The cesspit is around the back,” the servant told us. “When supper is available, you’ll be called. Be advised: there is much work to be done, so my master may require your assistance.”
Rauf frowned and exchanged a knowing look with Elena. He gestured to me. “You may call on that boy.”
The servant marked me with a look, nodded, and left.
“These rich people think they buy us whole,” said Gerard with disgust.
“We’ll do well enough,” Elena assured him.
Woodeth looked the stall over. “We’ve slept in worse,” she pronounced.
To which Rauf, in a low voice, added, “It will be made up in payment. There are great riches here.”
They laughed.
After setting their belongings down, Rauf announced that he and Gerard would seek a tavern. For her part, Elena
said she would return to the kitchen to find some food. She told Woodeth to remain with Owen and me.
“They can take care of themselves,” Woodeth protested.
“Do as you’re told!” Rauf commanded as he left.
The three went off. Woodeth, clearly peeved, glared at me. “Well, Master Crispin,” she said, “your return has upset their plans.”
“Why?” I said, truly confused. “How do you mean?”
She shook her head. “Do you think they would tell me? If you want my advice, be on your watch. Especially with Rauf.”
She would—or could—say no more, but sat herself down against the stable wall, all the while keeping one arm protectively around Rauf’s sack. As if to withdraw from the world, she closed her eyes.
For a brief time, I considered grabbing Owen and bolting away. I doubted, however, that Woodeth was truly asleep. Even more, I feared Elena’s sudden return.
Beckoning, I got Owen to retreat into the far back of the stable, where we sat side by side. Schim stayed in the boy’s lap.
“You see,” I whispered to him, “I didn’t forget you.”
His grubby fingers clutched my hand, as if wanting to
be sure I was there and that I would not leave him. “They were sure the French would catch you,” he said, his low, shaky voice revealing his emotions. “That we wouldn’t see you again. You heard what Woodeth said. That’s what they wanted.”
“But why?”
“They don’t trust you.”
He looked over to Woodeth to see if she was listening. Satisfied she wasn’t, he drew closer.
“Because I don’t speak much,” he said in a small, breathy voice, “they don’t think I listen. As soon as you left, they talked as if I weren’t there.”
“What did they say?”
“That it would be good if the French took you.”
Upset, I just looked at him.
“They feared you wouldn’t obey them,” he explained. “Elena called you a pious priest.”
I nodded toward Woodeth. “What was she warning me about?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think she knows. They don’t tell her things.”
“Can you guess?”
He glanced up at me. “Some other way to use and get rid of you.”
“Why don’t they just tell me to go?”
“They fear what you know of them. Is it true Rauf showed you their money?”
I nodded.
“They spoke of it. Elena berated him.” The boy fingered my new cloak. “Did you really find your clothing on a dead man?”
I nodded. “I was cold and wet. Then you know nothing of their plans?” I pressed.
“Just that they intend to steal from this house.”
“We’ll get away first,” I assured him—and myself.
“Will you…will you really take me with you?” He stroked the monkey’s back. “And Schim?”
I nodded. “To Iceland.”
“Is that far from England?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “We’ll need a ship. But there are many here. And—God grant it—we’ll find one bound the proper way.”
“Will…that be hard?”
“I’ll find a way,” I said, wishing I truly knew.
“I…I don’t care where I go,” he confided. “I’d rather die than stay. But—”
Elena returned.
As Woodeth bestirred herself, I wondered if she had
heard anything of my talk with Owen. I reminded myself that I must be careful. In truth, I could have little doubt Owen was right: these people would find some way to use me for ill. That gave me but one task: we must get ourselves away as soon as possible.
E
LENA BROUGHT BACK barley bread and new cheese, which, quite famished, I ate readily enough. Owen ate too, sharing some of his food with Schim.
“It’s all that Rauf had hoped,” Elena announced gleefully. “There’s fine goods and money here. And the food: you should see how much! Boar’s head, venison, swan. Lark pies and tarts. Spiced wines. Eggs aplenty. No end to it! A great wedding feast.
“And Crispin,” Elena went on, but in a lower voice, “you’ll be pleased to know that someone in the kitchen whispered to me that Master Talbot is not just a merchant, but a smuggler. You see, we’re no different than the rest of the world.”
Not wishing to talk about that, I said, “When will the wedding happen?”
“In two days’ time,” Elena replied with real excitement. “With festivities to last three days. The master’s daughter is to marry a rich merchant from Bruges. The musicians come from many places: England, Hainault, and Flanders.”
“With all the ships here,” said Woodeth, “we should have no trouble getting to England.” The way she looked at me made me wonder if she had heard my words with Owen.
Elena said, “Crispin, are you coming with us or going to that Iceland you spoke of?”
“To England,” I lied, “surely.”
“Then you can come with us,” said Elena.
The truth was, I had no reason to believe any of them. Not after what they had done. Not after what Owen said. But now that I had returned, they seemed to want to make sure I remained with them. I suspected they already had made a plan what to do with me and did not wish me to slip from their grasp. But I could only guess at what they intended.
For a while no one spoke. I sat there, frustrated, trying to consider what I should do. My best notion was going to the market. My hope was that in such a busy, crowded
place—with so many seafaring travelers—someone might tell me how to find Iceland.
As I sat there, keeping my hand warm in my inner pocket, I fingered the coin Rauf had given me. I glanced at Owen, who was shivering in his ragged tunic. It gave me an idea. “If this wedding feast is so fine,” I said to Elena, “I’d like to get some better clothing for Owen.” I held up the coin.
A startled Owen turned around even as Elena and Woodeth exchanged looks of indecision.
After a moment Elena said, “It’s always better to appear well at these feasts. And you’re almost elegant in your dead man’s clothes,” she added with some mockery. “If you wish to waste your money, I suppose Owen could look better.”
Woodeth, clearly eager to get away from the stable, said, “There are many shops. I’ll go with them.”
Though that disappointed me, I said nothing.
“But let the monkey stay with me,” said Elena with a smile I took to be false. “Then I’ll know you’ll come back.”
After a moment’s pause, Owen gave up the beast. Elena wrapped the leash about her wrist and gave a harsh tug. Schim had to stay.
The three of us set off.
We did not go through the house but along the narrow
alley that lay behind, then on to a regular street. The church bells had already struck sext, but when we reached the market, it was as crowded as the morning.
What I needed was a ship for Iceland. Of course, I would not find one in the markets, but my hope was to find someone who could offer some help. I kept trying to think what Bear would advise. Beyond being patient, I could think of nothing and had to be content to walk a step behind Owen and Woodeth, who meandered along in no great haste.
At length we came upon a shop over whose door hung a sign that bore an image of a sheep. A woman was standing by the door, trying to draw in buyers. She wore a headband, with two long braids hanging down over her chest. The plain brown kirtle she wore was ankle-length, with long sleeves. It looked newly made.
Woodeth pushed Owen forward. “Mistress,” she announced to the shopkeeper, “this boy needs a simple garment.”
The woman swept disdainful eyes over the excited Owen. “Be so good as to enter.”
We stepped into a small room crowded with two low tables. Such light as there was came from three tallow candles on sticks. On one table lay folded cloth. Behind the
other a man sat sewing. In a corner another man sat at a loom, weaving. When the woman began to show off her goods, I decided to take a chance.
“It’s too crowded here for me,” I announced, giving my coin to Owen and retreating before Woodeth could object.
Once outside the shop, I leaned against the doorframe and observed the crowd going by. There were plenty of peddlers and hawkers, offering all kinds of wares. “Pins!” cried one. “Pieces of horn!” cried another. And then I heard it: “Stockfish from Iceland!”
I
T TOOK A MOMENT for me to grasp what I had heard. By then the seller—a boy—had already passed by. I bolted after him and caught him by an arm.
“What do you want?” he cried, twisting away with much annoyance.
“Are your fish truly from Iceland?” I asked, breathless.
“Of course they are. Dried to perfection,” he said. “Six
for a penny.” He held one up. It was twice as large as my hand, dull gray in color with dry, sunken eyes.
“But…where do they come from?”
“Are you deaf?
Iceland!
”
“In faith,” I said with growing excitement. “Do you know where that is?”
“Not I.”
“Then how do you come by these fish?”
“A man in the market”—he pointed—“offered me a penny if I would walk about and sell.”
“What kind of man?”
“You are a dunce! A fisherman. With a white beard. Do you wish to buy or not?”
I could barely contain myself. “Did he come from Iceland?”
“How should I know? Leave me be,” said the boy, and he went on, crying, “Stockfish from Iceland! Stockfish from Iceland!”
I looked back, prepared to follow, only to see Owen step out from the shop wearing a new kirtle. It was woolen, plain gray in color, and reached his bare feet. Long sleeves were folded back at his thin wrists. It was far too big. But his face, showing great—and unusual—pleasure, offered me a look of gratitude as he returned the few coins that remained.
Woodeth also emerged. “We’d best go back,” she told us. “Rauf will be annoyed.”
Owen and I walked side by side. He kept fingering the cloth of his new garment. “Thank you for your gift,” he whispered. “I’ve…I’ve never had so fine.”
“I’ve a better gift,” I said under my breath.
He looked up at me.
In a small voice, I said, “I may have found a ship from Iceland.”
First his eyes grew wide, but the next moment he slapped a hand over his mouth to hide a grin.
As we approached the stable in which we had been quartered, I heard Gerard say, “…Rauf will arrange. With as little pay as these soldiers receive, they’ll be happy to gain more. All we need do—”
The moment we appeared, he stopped talking.
He and Elena were sitting side by side on the straw, against a side wall. Rauf was sprawled out, asleep, the stink of ale about him.
As soon as Schim saw Owen, the monkey started to chatter, broke from Elena, and leaped on the boy’s shoulder. When Owen gave him a stroke, the beast quieted down.
Elena considered Owen’s new clothing.
“Well done,” she said. “A true improvement!” She stood
up. “Crispin, come! I need to introduce you,” she said to me, glancing back toward Gerard as if he understood what she was doing. Though mystified, I went with her.
By then all the stable stalls were filled with musicians, some of whom spoke English, others not. Elena introduced me to many. Though these people did not seem to be very interested in meeting me, she made sure I was noted.
These musicians had many instruments, some I’d never seen before. Elena gave them names: a metal trumpet, a psaltery with strings, a bowed fiddle, a lute, even something she called a hurdy-gurdy with a turning wheel.
Elena was still making her introductions when the steward, Master Throckmorton, appeared. He called for all the musicians to stand before him—and that included Rauf, Gerard, Woodeth, and Owen. When they had gathered in front of him, he said, “Worthy musicians! If you will proceed to the kitchen, you shall be fed. Once you are there, I shall inform you of Master Talbot’s wishes regarding your several performances during the next few days.”
He repeated himself in French.
The kitchen was hot and smoky with the clattering commotion of food preparation. As many as five cooks and their assistants were at work. As for the musicians, seventeen of us—plus one reciter of tales—sat around a long
trestle table. For the most part, people separated themselves into groups according to language.
Seated among the English musicians, I heard much talk about travels, where each had played, as well as the news from London. There was gossip, too, about Richard, the new boy king of England, and his court.
“It’s said,” asserted one of the musicians, “that he loves food, books, and fine fashion. Quite French. As for his taste in music, I fear I have no knowledge yet.”
Elena and Woodeth were quite chatty, but Rauf and Gerard said little. As for the food we ate, it was wonderful fare, better than I had ever eaten: barley bread, bacon, onion, garlic, leeks, even something called a jannock: an oat bread. Watered wine and ale were also offered. My hunger was well appeased.
As we concluded our feast, the steward reappeared and, reading from a long scroll, delivered his orders, telling each group in what sequence they would ascend to the balcony during the feast days. There would be many performances.
Our group retreated to the alleyway before our sleeping stall. There Elena led us in practice sessions of the songs and melodies she wished us to play.
All this took us into the early evening. Betimes, I became
more than ready to sleep. I asked for and received permission to go into the stall. Owen came with me. But as before, Woodeth was sent to stand sentry over us. When we entered the stall, she placed herself as great a distance from us as possible. “Do not give me any trouble,” she scolded.
Owen and I settled into a far corner, burying ourselves in straw. Once there, and with Woodeth keeping her distance, I was finally able to tell Owen of my encounter with the boy who was selling the Icelandic fish.
“Do you think you can find the Icelanders?” he asked.
“I’ll go to the market in the early morning,” I told him cautiously. “God willing, I’ll find them.”
Owen was silent for a while. Then he said, “Will you tell them about me?”
“Of course.”
He moved closer. “Crispin,” he warned, “they’re keeping close watch on us. They won’t be happy to find you gone.”
He was right, of course. “I have a few coins,” I said after some thought. “I’ll find something to purchase to soothe their tempers. Now best get to sleep.”
Owen settled down. Taking my own advice, but with my mind set on the morrow and what it might bring, I too closed my eyes. Sleep came quickly. But I was not to
slumber for long. Perhaps it was because I fell asleep so early. Maybe I was already thinking of rising in the morning. But—at some time—as I lay half buried in the straw, Rauf’s voice woke me.
“It was as I thought,” I heard him say, though he was trying to keep his voice low. It was, however, slurred with drink, and just loud enough for me to hear.
“The soldiers were an easy purchase,” he continued rather brashly. “God’s blood, the captain to whom I spoke earns but eight shillings a day. The devil take them all! I promised him five pounds’ value if he’d let us through the gates without a search. He could hardly contain his glee. And when I told him I’d offer up a thief to satisfy the magistrates, he was even more willing.”
“To everything?” It was Elena’s voice.
“Everything!”
“Shh! And you trust them?”
Rauf laughed. “Money binds trust. Have no fear; I’ll work my way with some of the other soldiers with as much ease.” He laughed. “God’s blood—
they
earn but eight pence a day.”
“Fine,” said Elena. “I’ll seek a trader and bargain a passage.
“Now, then,” she went on, “the wedding will take place
in two days. Starting tomorrow night, these people will spend most of the time at tables. But they must sleep sometimes.” Her voice became lower. “Right after we play will be the best time for you to go about the house and—” She cut herself short.
“Don’t worry,” Rauf scoffed. “I’ve already sifted about. It’s a rich house.”
“The morning following the wedding,” Elena went on, “there will be more festivities. That will be the best time for us to slip away.”
“Agreed.”
“Now get some sleep,” Elena urged. “We’ll need our full wits on the morrow. I don’t wish to stumble and lose all.”
“Amen to that.”
There the talk ended, though I heard Elena murmur a prayer. Then they too burrowed into the straw and soon were asleep.
I lay there pondering what I had heard. That they were planning to plunder the house was not news. It was the thief Rauf intended to use to satisfy the magistrates that worried me. I didn’t think it would be his brother or his wife. In truth, I could think of no one else that he might mean but me.
Though hardly a surprise, the notion was enough to bring a tightness of breath, as if my throat was being
clutched. It was not difficult to grasp what it meant: Owen and I had but one day to make good our escape.