[Roger the Chapman 05] - Eve of Saint Hyacinth (7 page)

From Cornhill, we passed into Aid Gate Street, where stood the church of Saint Andrew Undershaft, the great maypole towering above it, and so into the shadow of Holy Trinity Priory, the largest and most imposing monastery in the city. South of it, just inside the gate, was the Saracen's Head. This was teeming with visitors, as the landlord's wife had warned me, and as we crossed the courtyard I could see that the stables were equally full, every stall occupied.

'Wait here,' the woman said, ushering me inside the aleroom, 'while I seek out my husband. I must make sure he hasn't let the space while I've been gone.'

I stood obediently just inside the door, watching the drinkers who crowded the tables. The great majority of them wore livery and it was easy to recognize the tavern's regular customers in their drab, everyday tunics and hose, huddled together round two of the benches, muttering resentfully to one another and eyeing the intruders with sullen looks.

The goodwife reappeared at my elbow and instructed me to accompany her to the kitchens. 'Bring your pack. You'll need it to stake your place. I'm afraid you won't have much room, a big fellow like you, but you'll have to make the best of it. And my husband insists on payment in advance for however long you think you'll be stopping.'

The heat in the kitchen was intense and I had to dodge the pot-boys and scullions, the maids and the cooks who, sweating profusely, were chopping and basting, boiling and roasting as they strove to prepare the evening supper. For the most part they ignored my presence, merely cursing me liberally when I got in their way. Around all four walls, in between the barrels of food and water, I saw items of personal apparel, which marked the sleeping territory of the night's lodgers.

My hostess pointed to a space flanked on one side by a barrel of what smelled suspiciously like salted herring and a table where one of the cooks was busy rolling out pastry.

'There,' she said. 'And you can fetch clean straw from the stables before you bed down. Now, note your place and then be off with you, out from under my people's feet. I don't want to see you in here again until just before curfew.'

I was loath to leave anything of value, like my pack or my jerkin, so I removed my hood and dropped it on the flagstones. Then I paid my shot for a couple of nights, determined to have found something better by the end of forty-eight hours, and took myself back to the ale-room.

Someone on the other side of the kitchen was snoring so loudly that the whole room seemed to shake with the noise.

Added to this, there was an overpowering smell of stale breath and sweating feet, plus the stench of brine and herring. The straw on which I lay had quickly proved to be flea-ridden and all my twitching and scratching failed to deter the little wretches from finding me to be a tasty supper. After two hours I had not managed to sleep a wink, tossing and turning to the great irritation of my nearest neighbour, an itinerant pieman, who had been lured to the capital in the hope of making money before returning to his native Norfolk.

'But there's too many other folk as've had the same idea,' he had grumbled as we settled ourselves down for the night. 'I haven't made above half what I'd've made if I'd stayed at home. Well, good-night, chapman. Pleasant dreams.'

Now, however, close on midnight and woken more than once by my restlessness, his tone was not so conciliatory.

'For God's sake, can't you stop shifting about so?' he demanded in a sibilant whisper. 'If you can't sleep, go outside awhile and walk around.'

'I shall disturb others if I pace up and down the courtyard,' I whispered back.

'I mean right outside. It'll be cool under the Priory walls.

I know, because I was forced to it myself the night before last. I admit that that fellow's snoring takes some getting used to.'

'But the courtyard door will be locked,' I objected.

He raised a hand, ghostly in the darkness, and pointed to the wall. 'The key's up there. That big one hanging on a nail beside the bread oven.' He snuggled down again amongst iris straw. 'And don't come back until you're feeling sleepy.'

I rose softly to my feet, pulled on my hose, boots, tunic and jerkin with as little disturbance to my neighbours as possible, reached down the key and let myself out through the kitchen door into the deserted courtyard. A horse shifted and snorted somewhere within the stables and a faint light burned in one of the upstairs rooms, but otherwise all was dark and quiet. Clouds rode high and thin above the huddled roof-tops and there was a hint of rain in the air. The dampness clung about my face.

The outer door was in the north wall and the wards of the lock slid back silently as I turned the key. Once in the street, I was facing the southern boundary of the Priory on the opposite side of the highway. There was no sign of movement from the gatehouse to my right. The guards were no doubt wiling away a long and tedious watch with a game of dice or firestones. I relocked the courtyard gate from the outside and crossed the road to a patch of grass and bushes, hemmed in on two sides by the Priory outbuildings and on the third by the stretch of city wall running north of Ald Gate. Here I settled myself down, keeping the Saracen's Head within my line of vision in case, by some highly improbable chance, entrance might be demanded to its courtyard in the middle of the night.

The air was cool and fragrant after the fetid atmosphere of the overcrowded kitchen and the heady scent of Honeysuckle wafted from the Priory gardens, teasing my nostrils. i drew back into the deep shadow of a hawthorn bush, clasping my arms about my knees and relishing the blessed silence. An owl hooted suddenly, close at hand, making me jump, but then everything was quiet once more.

The owl hooted again, louder and more insistently.

This time something about the cry made me freeze into stillness, every muscle tense with expectation. I was not disappointed. After a few seconds a man padded stealthily into view, coming towards the Aid Gate from the direction of Leadenhall and the city. He paused, glancing around, plainly in the expectation of meeting someone. There was a familiarity about the stocky figure, although I could only see his outline, but it took me a moment or two before I realized what it was. His right arm was visible only to the elbow and lay close in against his side. So would a man appear if he had his forearm in a sling.

Chapter Five

The owl's call was repeated a third time, and on this occasion evoked a response. A second man moved cautiously out of the shadows surrounding the gatehouse and raised a hand in salutation. I wondered if he had seen me, minutes earlier, crossing the road; but as he neither attempted to push me out nor made any reference that I could hear to my existence, I presumed that he must have been waiting some way down the lane which ran behind the Saracen's Head and its neighbouring houses.

'You took long enough,' the first man hissed accusingly. ‘Didn't you hear me?'

'I heard an owl screech twice,' his companion muttered, ‘but I've told you before, you need to be careful in this game. It wasn't until the third call that I thought it safe to reveal myself. I had no certainty that the friar would have been able to pass on my message.'

They were standing on a level with the hawthorn bush and every word spoken, though whispered, was plainly audible. Then they moved on to the grass and into the lee of tile Priory outbuildings, where the darkness was almost impenetrable. But they were now just a few feet away from my hiding place and for a moment or so my whole attention was focused on remaining motionless. By the time I was able to listen again with any degree of concentration I had missed several sentences.

'You mean you have no positive news for us?' the man with the sling was asking. I knew it to be him, for he spoke much faster than the other, who was inclined to be slow and ponderous of speech. 'For God's sake, Thaddeus, we must have a name, and soon! Time is running out.'
 

Thaddeus grunted. 'I can't do the impossible, Master Arrowsmith, and my informant is himself having difficulties in finding out what you want to know. His source of information is proving mute until another payment is made to him.'

The imprecation which greeted this remark was delivered with such savagery that it made me start, deflecting my mind from trying to remember where, and by whom, I had recently heard the name of Arrowsmith mentioned.

'Money! Money!' the duke's officer continued. 'A great man's life is at risk and all you can do is talk about money! I've a good mind to have you arrested. A taste of the rack and thumbscrew would soon persuade you to reveal the identity of your informer.'

There was a snort of derision. 'So it might, but the news that I'd been taken would drive the others into hiding and you'd never track them down. It would be no use asking me to put a name to any but my own men, for no one knows more than that. You'd have first to discover, then arrest, then put each one in turn to the question before you came to the end of the chain.'

There was a moment's silence while Master Arrowsmith swallowed his ire. A guard came to the door of the gatehouse and looked casually about him, before stretching his arms and returning inside. Plainly he saw nothing amiss, both the men and myself remaining perfectly still throughout his brief appearance.

'So, when will you have a name?' Master Arrowsmith demanded as soon as he judged it safe to resume the conversation.

'Tomorrow night, if you've brought the money with you.' A faint chinking of coins reached my ears as a purse or pouch was handed over. 'I promise that by then I'll have the information you require.'

'Very well. Where do we meet? Here again?'
 

'I've told you my rule, never the same place twice running. Do you know Three Cranes Quay, west of the Steelyard? It's the vintners' wharf, where the ships from Bordeaux tie up.'

'Timothy Plummer'll know it. He was born and bred in London.'

'Very well. That's where you'll find me, but it must be earlier in the evening. I have need to be elsewhere by curfew.'

'You have other business?' The hissing voice was ragged with suspicion.

'Aye. I've a woman in London who's deserving of my attention now and then. It's precious little I see of her in the normal way of things, but tomorrow night I've given my word to visit her. She means enough to me to take a chance or two.'

'Chance?' Once again the man Arrowsmith's tone had an edge of panic to it.

'It stands to reason there's more risk when it's light than when it's dark, but the meeting will be brief. One name, that's all you want and, once given, we can go our separate ways. All the same, it might be better to send a two-armed man in case of any trouble. A right-handed man who can only use his left is at a severe disadvantage in a dangerous situation.'

'Fine talking!' the other snarled angrily. 'Whom am I to trust? Tell me that! There's Timothy Plummet, but he's too valuable to imperil his hide.'

I heard the second man's impatient shifting of feet. 'You can't suspect every member of the duke's household, surely! It doesn't make sense!'

'Until I get a name I do, and so does Master Plummer.

All right. Perhaps there is just one other I'd trust, but he's too young and too green. No, no! You'll have to put up with me. I'll be with you again tomorrow evening. What o'clock?'

'Just after Compline. There's a warehouse lying empty near the right-hand corner of the quay as you face the river. Left if you're looking inland towards the Vintry. I'll force the side door and leave it unlatched. Now I must be off. It makes me nervous standing out in the open for too long.'

'You're sure you'll have the name for me tomorrow?'
 

'This should smooth out all difficulties.' Once more I heard the chink of coins. 'God be with you, Master Arrowsmith.'

'And with you, Thaddeus Morgan.'

The whispering stopped. A shadow detached itself from the deeper blackness by the Priory wall, crossed the grass with a light, cat-like tread and melted into one of the alleyways on the opposite side of the road. Moments later, a second shadow, moving with equal stealth, took the road to the Leadenhall granary and the heart of the city, presumably returning by devious ways to Baynard's Castle.

Although beginning to suffer cramp in legs and feet from crouching behind the brake of hawthorn for so long, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to wait for several minutes before making any attempt to rise. I wanted to give both conspirators time to get clear away.

I was just about to stretch my left leg, which had borne the brunt of my weight, when I was arrested in mid-movement by the cautious emergence of a third shadow from the shelter of a buttress supporting the orchard wall.

The figure advanced to the edge of the grass and glanced furtively in both directions, before also taking the Leadenhall road, in the wake of Master Arrowsmith. Who was this man? And what was he doing there? Was he an innocent eavesdropper like myself? Someone else who could not sleep and had braved the night air? Or had he followed Master Arrowsmith from Baynard's Castle with the fixed intention of spying on him and overhearing his conversation with the man named Thaddeus Morgan? If the latter, why had I not noticed his arrival? But on reflection, the answer to that question was simple. My whole attention had been focused upon the two central characters in the drama unfolding before me. If this third man had kept close in to the orchard wall, deep within its shadow, I would not have observed him. If the former, however, he might have witnessed my emergence from the Saracen's Head and have been aware of my presence. Yet, once Lionel Arrowsmith and Thaddeus Morgan had departed, he had given no indication of knowing that I was here, not by so much as a turn of the head in my direction.