The Midwife's Tale (11 page)

Martha raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How did she manage that?”

“By pleading the belly. They cannot execute her if a midwife confirms that she is with child. She requested that I come to the Castle and examine her.”

“Nicely done,” Martha said with an admiring smile. “I wouldn’t have thought a wealthy woman like her would think to play that card.”

“When we get to the Castle the two of you can discuss criminal strategies,” I joked. “If we prove her innocent, you can become brigands together.” Martha smiled thinly. “For now, fetch my valise. I’ll need it for my examination.”

While Martha gathered my tools, I told Hannah to pack a meal of pork, bread, and cheese for us to take to the gaol. I could not imagine her jailor made a point of feeding her well, so she would rely on her friends for necessities. We also brought a pot of ale and a small ham as “gifts” in case her jailor proved uncooperative.

As Martha and I left the house, a group of soldiers marched along Petergate on their way from Bootham Bar back to their quarters. They looked exhausted and a few appeared to have suffered minor wounds in the fighting. I wondered how many of their company had died to save the city and how many more would have to do so. And what if the next assault succeeded? Or the one after that? The longer the siege lasted, the more brutal the treatment the city’s residents could expect once it fell. As we walked, I looked at Martha, wondering what would become of her if the rebels sacked the city. As a member of my household, she would be safer than most people, but that was hardly a guarantee that she would survive unscathed. The lot of young women, especially poor ones, in wartime was a hard one. I swore to myself that I would protect Martha from whatever danger the future might bring.

From my house we went down Stonegate before turning toward the Castle. I don’t think either one of us relished another walk through the Shambles. As we neared the Ouse Bridge, Clifford’s Tower came into view. It sat on a hill overlooking the city and the rest of York Castle. The keep was as old as any building in the city—some said it had been built by William of Normandy. Before the civil war, the Castle had fallen into disrepair, but after the King’s men entered the city it became a hive of activity as they strengthened the walls and dug ditches to fortify the defenses.

“Is that where they are keeping her?” Martha asked, gazing up at the keep.

“No,” I said. “That’s Clifford’s Tower. It’s the part of the Castle closest to the city, and the one everyone sees first, but there is much more to the Castle on the other side of the hill. You’ll see the rest presently.”

We crossed the drawbridge and the smell of the moat assaulted us. The river always had a stink about it, but the moat was truly noxious, for the soldiers used it to dispose of their waste. I made the mistake of looking down and saw the corpse of a large dog, half-submerged in the water. On the far end of the bridge, two posterns loomed above us, guards peering down as if we were the vanguard of another assault. Another group of soldiers stood outside the gate. They wore heavy breastplates and helmets and kept their weapons at the ready. The contingent was on edge after the day’s attack and did not know what to make of me and Martha. The sergeant approached us, clearly hoping that there was some sort of mistake and we would go away.

“My lady,” he said. “What brings you to the Castle at such a troubled time?” If I had not been a gentlewoman, I’m quite sure he would have chased us off with a few choice words; but he knew his place.

“I am a midwife of the city, and we are here to see a prisoner,” I announced, handing him the letter with the Lord Mayor’s seal. He looked dumbly at the letter, and I realized that he could not read. “It is from the Lord Mayor,” I explained. “It instructs you to take me to see the prisoner in question.” He continued to stare at the letter as if the writing would suddenly become clear and tell him what to do. I sighed. “Call the officer who is in charge of the guard. I am quite sure that he can help us.” The sergeant seemed almost grateful that I’d given him some direction. If the hopes of the King rested on men such as this, England’s future looked dark indeed. The sergeant retreated to the gate and spoke through a small window. A few minutes later he returned.

“I’ll take you to the tower where the prisoner is being kept,” he said as if it were his idea. He handed me the Lord Mayor’s letter. “From there you can talk to the jailor.”

He barked a command, and the gate slowly opened. Martha and I followed the sergeant into the Castle just as a cannon at the far end of the compound roared. Instinctively I ducked, then waited as smoke washed over us. As we passed the emplacement, artillerymen worked to reload the piece. Tents were scattered throughout, and I could see soldiers scurrying about, preparing for battle. We reached a tower built into the Castle’s wall, and the sergeant pounded on the heavy door. A window opened and a small, heavily lined face appeared.

“What do you want?” the jailor barked.

“We are here by order of the Lord Mayor to see a prisoner,” I announced. There was no sense in letting the sergeant mumble through his mission, and I wanted to make clear that I was in charge.

The jailor looked at me, cannily assessing my appearance and no doubt calculating how much of a bribe he could extract. Once he’d arrived at a figure, he nodded curtly and snapped the window shut. A few moments later, the bolt drew back and the door swung slowly inward. We entered a small room and discovered that the gatekeeper stood only as high as my waist. Briefly confused, I turned and saw that a small ladder had been fastened to the inside of the door, allowing the dwarf to use the window. He wore a short leather coat appropriate for a child, and his heavy belt held an ugly club and a set of iron keys.

“Let me see your letter,” he demanded. Unlike the sergeant, the dwarf could read, and he quickly took in the contents.

“The Lord Mayor’s writ doesn’t run to the Castle,” he said with a sly smile. “You’ll need a letter from the Marquess of Newcastle himself. He commands the garrison and the Castle.” He knew, of course, that Newcastle had more on his mind than a local murderess and it would take days or even weeks to obtain such a letter. On the other hand, I also knew that he wanted a bribe, not a nobleman’s signature.

“How are the rations they give you these days?” I asked, knowing full well that a dwarf-jailor might receive only bread and gruel for his daily meal.

“I’ve done better,” he said. “What concern is it of yours? You need to worry about getting a letter from the Marquess.”

“I ask because I’ve got a lovely ham that you might like.” He looked eagerly at Martha’s basket. I reached in and removed the ham. It was as large as the dwarf’s head. He eyed it lovingly. “As it happens, I also have a pot of ale that would accompany it quite nicely. But only if you honor the letter and take us to the prisoner.”

He nodded, took the food, and scurried into a nearby room to put it up. When he returned he led us down a set of steps to a cell that was partially underground. It was said that when the Ouse flooded, prisoners would sometimes drown in their cells, and I wondered how many men had died in Esther’s cell. The dwarf opened the door and allowed us to enter.

“I’ll be at the top of the stairs. Knock when you’re done.” We entered Esther’s cell and he locked the door behind us.

Esther Cooper wore a gray skirt and bodice, an outfit appropriate for a woman of much lower rank and one that even Martha would hesitate to wear. She turned when we entered and a wan smile crossed her face. “I was worried the Lord Mayor would send some old crone to do his bidding,” she said as she walked over to embrace me.

I looked around the cell. A thin sunbeam came through a narrow window high on one wall. The moat was out of sight, but the smell wafted through the window, giving everything the odor of death and decay. The only piece of furniture was a rough wooden bed with a straw mattress and moth-eaten wool blanket on it. Dirty rushes covered the floor. The comfort of a murderess was of little concern to the warden, no matter her rank.

“I’m here for the city,” I said. “I’ve been sent to examine you.”

A look of puzzlement crossed her face at my deliberate formality. “Lady Bridget—,” she started.

“If you are going to avoid execution in the morning, I have to certify to the Lord Mayor that you are with child.” She nodded, still confused by my tone. I inclined my head to the door and raised an eyebrow. The dwarf said he would wait upstairs, but I worried that he could eavesdrop on our meeting.

She gazed at the door for a moment before realizing what I meant. “Yes, of course.”

“How long has it been since your monthly courses?” I asked.

“Ten weeks,” Esther said. “And as you well know, I did lie with my husband before they stopped.”

“I need to examine your breasts,” I said. She nodded and without a trace of embarrassment unlaced her bodice. I looked closely at her nipples before cupping her breasts and squeezing them gently. As she retied her bodice, I reached into my valise for a small glass, which I handed to Esther.

“Make water in this if you can,” I told her. She slipped the glass under her skirts. After, she handed it back, and I dropped a needle in the glass and held it up to the window. The light could have been better, but it was good enough. After I poured the glass into her chamber pot, I saw that Martha had removed a small mirror from my valise and gone to the cell door. She put the mirror through the window, gazing into it as she moved it back and forth. She nodded to herself and turned back to me.

“He’s gone,” she said. I looked at her a bit longer, wondering where she had learned such a trick. Before I could ask, Esther spoke.

“Thank God you came,” she said. “You
do
believe that I am innocent, don’t you?”

“Tell me what happened.”

Esther looked sad, but not surprised. “I suppose even you must have your suspicions.”

“The evidence against you seems thin,” I said. “But I do not want to judge your case too hastily. I want to hear from you.”

“Yes, I suppose I owe you that,” she said. “Since coming to the Castle, I have had a lot of time to think about my husband’s murder. Does it strike you as odd that whoever poisoned my husband nearly escaped undetected?”

“Martha and I discussed it, yes. That’s part of the reason I came.”

“If the cat hadn’t drunk the milk, we would have buried him and nobody would have been the wiser.”

“And you would not be here,” I said.

She smiled and shook her head in disbelief. “Don’t think that hasn’t crossed my mind—damned cat. With many hours and no books, the mind has time to wander.”

“If you did not kill your husband, who did?”

“I wish I could tell you. My husband had many dealings he kept from me. And with these came enemies.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I don’t know much. He spoke of his enemies, but never by name. Ever since the siege began strangers called on him without warning. They always met in his study, so I do not know what they discussed, but they had a hard look about them, and were not from the city. I fear they were with the rebels.”

I knew that Stephen had favored Parliament in the wars but had not realized he’d been actively helping their armies. “Do you think he was conspiring to help the rebels to take the city?”

Esther shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to know. But there is more. I know he was involved in a suit at law with a great deal of money at stake. That took up much of his time.”

“Was the suit with someone in the city?”

“I don’t know that either. Stephen loved me, but did not think it appropriate to include me in his business.”

I shook my head in wonder. My first husband was a gentleman rather than a merchant, but we talked of his affairs regularly. When he went from Hereford to London, the management of his lands fell to me. If he’d not taught me well, he would have been much the poorer for it. Even Phineas told me of his plans—his fault was not that he didn’t talk to me, it was that he didn’t take my counsel.

“What happened the night Stephen died? When did you last see him?”

“I spoke to him before I went to bed at eight. He told me he would come to bed late because he expected a visitor.”

“He met with someone the night he was murdered?” I exclaimed. “Surely you told the constable this.”

“Of course,” she said. “But by then the Lord Mayor had made his wishes known, and nobody was going to listen to me.”

“Whom did he meet with?”

“I don’t know.” Esther sighed. “I asked him. He said it was business that didn’t concern me, and would say no more. So I retired to my chamber and he went to his study to work. I was asleep when I heard Ellen scream. She found Stephen’s body.”

“Who is Ellen?”

“One of our maidservants. I went downstairs and found him on the floor. I summoned the vicar and our neighbors. We were going to lay him out when the cat started to howl. I think you know the rest.”

“Is there anyone he talked to about his business? Someone who might know about these late night visits, or might even have been the visitor the night he died?”

“My uncle Charles Yeoman might know,” she said. “Stephen and Charles dined together constantly. Stephen confided in him on many matters. Tell him I sent you, and he might be willing to help.”

“Your uncle is Charles Yeoman, the Member of Parliament?” I asked.

Esther nodded. “When the war started he retired to York to avoid the conflict. He said he just didn’t have the stomach for it.”

“He was a powerful man in his time.”

“In truth, he frightens me a little. He has ever since I was a girl. We are not close, but he is family.”

“I will speak to him as soon as I can. Is there anything else?” I asked. “You say you are innocent, but how can I prove it to the Lord Mayor?”

She nodded. “Look in Stephen’s study, on the top story of our house. He kept a diary, and made notes of all his important dealings. The diary and his letters are in a large chest chained to a pillar in the center of the room. It is secured with iron bands and a heavy lock. It’s where Stephen keeps … kept … his most important papers, as well as ready money. When a siege seemed likely, he gathered as much money as he could. I saw it a few weeks ago. It was more than I’ve ever seen in my life. That chest is where Stephen kept the things that mattered to him.”