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Authors: Karen Brooks

Brewer's Tale, The (73 page)

BOOK: Brewer's Tale, The
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Evening was upon us by the time we trotted past the darkened doors of inns, taverns, shops and the infamous bathhouses of Bankside. Apart from a cart covered with a sodden piece of canvas and two men, their faces wrapped in filthy linen, walking solemnly on either side of the poor beast dragging it, while the lamps attached to the cart spluttered their protest, it was deserted. Only as we drew level with the cart did I see the stiffened limbs jutting out of the corners, the swollen, putrid flesh gleaming ghostly in the fragmented light, and caught the overpowering stench. After that, I could smell nothing else.

Without speaking we rode, choosing not to look at each other lest we see our own trepidation confirmed. Anxious faces pressed to windows and peeling back pigskin to spy our passing meant our arrival was noted.

Knocking at The Swanne, it took Alyson's shouted threat and Tobias's demands before the gates were reluctantly opened. Snapping shut behind us, lads I'd never seen before secured the bolts then ran forward, their eyes assessing our state before helping us to dismount.

‘Who might you be?' Alyson turned upon the youths, taking in their slovenly appearance, their dirty faces and filthy hands, slapping a proffered arm out of the way and sliding off her mount unaided. Tired, afraid, she bristled with fury.

The poor boy she addressed trembled. ‘I be Hodge, mistress, Hodge le Dun, assistant to the ostler.' He jerked his chin towards the older boy waiting to help me. ‘That be me brother, Ralph le Dun.'

Alyson grunted and spun around, her eyes grazing the shuttered windows, the stable door ajar, the overturned barrel in the mud.

One of the guards helped me off the horse. Smoke was thick in the air, but it failed to disguise the sweet, ripe smell that only death conveys: the pungent miasma of sickness. Screwing up my nose, I looked at the barren spaces where less than two weeks ago, womenfolk bustled along corridors and up and down the stairs, tradespeople entered and exited, shouting for assistance or payment, deliveries arrived and customers were entertained. Banished into the halls of memory, there was only silence. Silence filled with foreboding.

Rain began to fall. Light at first, collecting in opaque pools at our feet. Still, we didn't move and no-one came. My throat burned. None of this augured well. I tried to find some courage, the strength to face what we would find, but it was in short supply. All the prayers I'd sent to the good Lord, to Mother Mary, the desperate, belated bargains I'd struck from the time we left Gloucester to this moment — anything to prevent or reverse what I feared — seemed futile. It was evident, they hadn't been answered. God was not in the mood to trade.

Alyson took a deep breath, but before she could shout or I could offer caution, we heard voices. First Harry then Betje stumbled out of the kitchen door, Harry holding a cresset lamp and a dagger.

With a wail of relief, Betje limped over, while Harry, much to my surprise, let alone Alyson's, cast aside his weapon and flung himself into her arms, rendering her speechless.

At the sight of Betje, the guards exclaimed, one crossed himself and turned away. Anger swelled, and Tobias went to admonish them, but paused. They took her scars for the pestilence and were anxious for their safety. Seeing me clasp her, they were shamefaced. Give them a battlefield, a foe with a sword, and they would fight to the death. But a disease that works in stealth and attacks with no warning, which wields an invisible and corrupt weapon? Who creeps into homes and businesses, lurks upon the streets and river? That's an enemy worth fearing, and on spying Betje, they confronted their own weakness.

‘Betje, my sweetling. Are you all right?' I showered kisses upon her head, dismayed by the greasy tangles, the filth that matted her gown and cheeks.

‘I am,' sobbed Betje. ‘Isabelle and Karel too. They're safe.'

The twins lived.
Thank you, Blessed Mary, oh my sweet Lord Jesus Christ, thank you.

‘But … but Anna …' She hiccoughed, unable to speak for her tears. I held her close, looking over her head towards Alyson who stood with her arms around Harry, her eyes glassy.

‘Hush, sweetling, all in good time.' Tobias came to my side, dropping to one knee beside Betje, stroking her hair, ignoring the knots, the dirt.

Around us, Hodge and Ralph tended the horses in the growing dark, the guards helping them. The rain was steadier now, steady and ice cold, frozen pinches to the flesh. There was no sign of Adam. The knot of wire that had sat in my stomach since we left Gloucester tightened, lancing my ribcage and finding its way into my throat.

Holding Harry tightly for a moment longer, Alyson held him at arm's length, blinking the water out of her eyes. ‘Pull yourself together, me lad. I need you to be a man and tell us what's happened.' She led him under the eaves and we followed.

Swiping the back of his hand across his nose, Harry shivered and nodded. Passing the lamp that had been doused by the rain to Alyson, he lifted the ends of his coat and wiped his eyes.

‘We learned of the pestilence the day after you left. 'Twas a foreign man brought the news, said he used to be a captain with the Hanse.'

My heart flipped. ‘Captain Stoyan? He was here?'

‘That's him. Told us to make preparations. Him and Master Adam, they did what they could but they was too late.' Harry dropped his eyes and swallowed.

‘Go on, lad.' Alyson's voice was thick, tight.

‘It was already 'ere, Goody Alyson.' Harry raised his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘Must have been a customer who was infected. He passed it to Bertha, for we found her two days later.' He held the bridge of his nose as if to restrict or contain the recollection. ‘It was awful. She had these big, black boils oozing yellow, and was coughing fit to burst. Juliana tended her first. I went and fetched Master Adam and the captain. When they saw her, they ordered us to close the doors, not to allow anyone to enter. After that, the carters came for the body …' He gave a small sob. ‘Then, others fell ill as well. It was so fast, we couldn't do nothing, though we tried …'

Betje gave a cry of remembrance, I drew her closer.

‘Where are Captain Stoyan and Adam now, lad?' asked Tobias.

Harry pointed towards the house, but before he could answer, a voice rang out in the dark.

‘I be here.' Holding a torch above his head, a familiar and welcome form approached, one I'd thought never to see again. Older, more creased but still possessed of those clear grey eyes, Captain Hatto Stoyan strode across the yard, his boots splattering the mud, plunging into the puddles.

Stopping short, he lifted the torch. ‘Now here's a sight to mend a fractured heart,' he said. ‘
Liebchen
,' his eyes softened as he regarded me. Turning, he raised the torch higher and examined Alyson, Tobias, and the guards. With a grunt, he lowered it.

I stepped forward, intending to hold him before sense found me and I lowered my arms. ‘What are you doing here? I thought the Hanse forbade you from —'

‘I resigned my commission. My God, child, you needed me here.'

‘Captain, how can I —'

‘There will be time for
danke schön
and stories later,' he said. ‘
Gott
be willing.'

I quickly introduced the captain and Alyson. The captain gave Alyson a courteous bow. She bobbed a curtsey. Tobias gave a brusque nod that the captain returned.

‘Goodwife Alyson,' said the captain gravely. ‘I've some very bad news.'

Raising her chin, Alyson pressed her lips together, her expression grim. ‘Tell me, how many of my chicks have I lost?'

Captain Stoyan hesitated. ‘Why don't we go into the house? It's warmer there and we'll be out of the rain.'

Tobias put a hand up to prevent me moving. ‘Wait.' We all stopped. ‘How do we know the pestilence won't take us if go in there?' He nodded towards the door.

‘We don't,' said Captain Stoyan, and wrenched it open.

Leaving Hodge, Ralph and the guards in the courtyard, we entered through the kitchen. There was a crackling fire in the hearth. The table was laden with bowls of eggs and ladles coated with a fine, milky slurry; a slumping sack of flour and a heel of old bread had been pushed to one side. On the benches, jugs of water and clean cloths were laid out, drying for reuse. A truckle bed and two makeshift mattresses took up the rest of the floor.

‘We've been sleeping here,' explained Betje, pointing to the truckle bed. Tansy lay, doll's limbs akimbo, upon the fur.

Unclasping our cloaks and laying them over stools near the fire, we sat on the edge of the bench.

‘Very well,' said Alyson. ‘We're out of the rain now. You can tell me.'

With a deep breath, Captain Stoyan did. ‘So far, seven have died —' Alyson bit back a sob. ‘And two are not long for this world.'

Dear Lord. Nearly all the girls.

I reached for Alyson, but she held a hand up to keep me at bay. ‘Who?'

Captain Stoyan looked at Harry. Crossing himself, mouth atremble, Harry tugged his coat and like a sentinel at a gate, stared into a dark corner and in an expressionless voice, began. ‘Bertha, Leda, Juliana —'

I quickly stifled a cry as Harry continued. If he allowed himself to think of the life contained in the names, of the memories shared, the hopes and dreams snuffed out, he wouldn't be able to go on. He was being the man Alyson required and, in doing so, was the bravest among us.

Alyson collapsed to the floor, her tunic billowing, her head sinking to her chest. Her fingers scrabbled against the stones, helpless, hopeless. When I sank down and put my arms around her, she didn't resist, but pressed her wet cheeks to my bosom and opened her mouth in a silent cry.

Dear God. Juliana, bless her sweet soul. Bless them all. The weight in my chest became unbearable. Soundless tears coursed down my cheeks. Betje leaned against me, her arms looping my shoulders. Harry ceased talking, and with the last name, the valour that had sustained him fled and he was as a marooned vessel. Captain Stoyan took over, continuing to count the toll. There was the laundress and her daughters and some men besides — customers, tradespeople who frequented the bathhouse; it wasn't only the girls who died. Neighbouring establishments had fared worse. Tobias asked questions and it became apparent that it was only Captain Stoyan's warning, his courage in ignoring Hanse orders to cut all ties with me and to never come to The Swanne, along with Adam's foresight in closing it to further business, that had kept the casualties low.
Dear God
. Low. Even one life was too many. And it wasn't over yet.

With one hand upon Alyson, I held Betje as close as I could. What had my poor sweetling suffered in my absence? How frightened she must have been with all that death and illness around her, the randomness with which people were chosen. And yet, she'd been spared, my babes and Harry too. That was something for which I must be grateful.

Pushing Betje's lank hair from her face, I tried to study it by the light of the fire. Her features were inscribed with experiences no child should have to endure and yet God in His wisdom had sought to test her further. Anger at our Lord diminished the gratitude I'd felt only moments earlier. Punish me, by all means, she who has sinned and sinned again, but Betje? Juliana? Could
she
not be spared? Was Betje's suffering and all this death my punishment? Alyson's too? But the twins, they'd been kept safe from this horror — so far.

Alyson dried her eyes and raised her face to Captain Stoyan. ‘And what about now? Is the pestilence still in the house? Still affecting my girls?'

‘Some. They … linger. We tend to their needs. Sometimes, the passing is swift. Other times, not so.'

Alyson nodded. ‘But you, you've survived.'

‘Aye. And more besides. Once we understood most of the girls were infected and some of their clients, we moved down here, away from the … from them. We left the upper rooms to the ill,' said the captain. ‘We opened the windows to rid the place of the miasma, kept other doors shut. Locked the twins,' he looked to me, ‘along with their nurses and trusted servants, in the brewery. It was the best place for them. There's plenty of food and water. We communicate through the door. They are all well.' He swung an arm towards the short passage that led to the cellar. ‘For some reason, the pestilence isn't here on the lower floors. We exit and enter the top floors from outside.'

‘Why are you not down there?' I asked Betje softly, nodding towards the cellar. ‘Why is Harry not?'

Betje chewed her mouth, the new front teeth pressing upon her lower lip making it protrude further. ‘We're s'posed to be. We were.' Captain Stoyan made a clicking sound. I could barely hear her words. ‘But we wanted to help, so one night, Harry and I snuck out the other door, into the courtyard.' I stared at her in horror. She didn't understand what she'd risked, what was at stake.

‘
Help?
'

‘I tried to talk her out of it, mistress, as God is me Lord I did,' said Harry. ‘But she wouldn't listen, would she? So, I came with her.'

I looked from one to the other, shaking my head.

‘It's what you would have done, Anna,' said Betje. ‘The captain and Adam needed us — God protected us as I knew He would.'

Searching for a response that wouldn't express only antagonism and confusion, I sat back on the bench and simply held Betje tighter. Her faith was greater than mine — in God and me. Dear sweet Lord, that she sought to render aid.

What Adam must have thought …

My thoughts froze. Adam. Where was he? Alyson appeared to arrive at the same question. Using the bench for leverage, she struggled to her feet and glanced around.

‘Where is Adam, Captain Stoyan?' I asked, afraid of the answer.

Breaking off his conversation with Tobias and the guards, Captain Stoyan turned slowly. ‘You'd better follow me.'

BOOK: Brewer's Tale, The
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