The Exiled (8 page)

‘Mistress, there is also the other matter of your personal happiness, as we began to discuss.’

Anne was finding it hard to be polite now. ‘Master Caxton, perhaps we could meet to talk again, if you would like that, in a day or so?’ She stopped pacing and looked at her guest, smiled at him, trying hard to soften the directness of her words.

‘But, Lady Anne, allow me to repeat how concerned we’ve been, my colleagues and I, about the case you find yourself in?’ Anne could not help it, she was sharp in response.

‘Case, sir?’

He looked slightly embarrassed. He could hear the edge in her tone. ‘Mistress, as I said to you, plainly you need a husband to protect you.’

‘Sir, you are not my father.’ She was flushed, hot; the one thing she could not control, even if her voice was low and carefully steady as she spoke.

‘No, mistress, that is true. But I speak as if I were since I am so much older than you.’ He laughed slightly to lighten the mood, so did she, to be polite. They both knew that in other circumstances — if his wife were not alive — he might have considered himself her suitor. That spark between them again.

‘Unscrupulous men covert what you have. What you are.’ He was being very frank, though he kept his eyes firmly fixed on her face. ‘I am convinced that being a merchant would be most unnatural for you, that it would worry you greatly. As I said, allow a good man to take care of you and you can relax into your natural sphere of family and care of a fine house. You will be happier for it, I promise you. A good marriage is ...’

‘Yes, a good marriage, Master Caxton — and a good wife — is above the price of rubies. I know the text. It’s just that I would prefer to trade in gems, rather than become one.’

He shook his head, trying to reach her, trying to make her listen. ‘Please think on what I have said, Lady Anne. I believe, we believe, that you cannot go on living alone, or aspiring to trade. This city is plainly too dangerous for you now. Allow me to help you choose your destiny rather than have it forced upon you. There are good men within the English community here, men who are my friends and would like to be yours.’

Anne said nothing for a moment then sighed. What William Caxton said was the plain unvarnished truth in some respects; she did not want to live surrounded by drawn steel, and a young unmarried woman was not just a scandal, she
was
a prize, he was correct. She would speak of it to Mathew Cuttifer — he would give her sound advice because he always did. But for now, there was so much to think of! And dream about.

‘Thank you, sir, you are very good to me. And I thank you for your care of my person. I shall think on what you have said, and take advice.’

To his surprise, Caxton felt himself being walked to the door of her room without being aware she had taken him by the arm.

And as the door of that substantial house closed him outside in the white, still world, he shook his head.

Round one had ended, he rather thought. When would round two begin?

E
verything had changed, everything! This was the hinge point in her life and Anne recognised it. She measured the moment as if it were a solid thing — the moment when her life tipped from precarious stability into potential chaos, and she found herself detached, unmoved by the danger. The risk felt right, felt destined in some odd way.

The feeling of unruffled clarity remained with her as she hurried through the double cellar which, underground, joined Sir Mathew’s house to the warehouse next door — a clever security device, since his trading-house had no other entrance — up to the counting floor under the eaves of the warehouse. She ran up the last few stair treads, arriving slightly breathless, and found Maxim, the steward, on the counting floor with Henry Fowler and John Aigret, the two young Englishmen who were Sir Mathew’s apprentices in Brugge. All three were poring over ledgers with Hans Boter, the chief clerk, a canny Lowlander whom Sir Mathew had enticed to work for him some years before.

‘Maxim, I must speak to Meinheer Boter for a moment, but can you come to the work room soon and ask Deborah to join us, please? There is something important I must say to you both.’

The warehouse was no less well built than the gabled house next door because Mathew, careful to look to the welfare of his most valued servants, had made sure that the counting floor was warm, light and dry even in freezing weather. People worked better if they had warm hands.

It was a matter of security too. Happy staff were slightly less likely to cheat him out of the trading capital kept in small iron-bound coffers in a locked, windowless inner room.

Maxim was startled and intrigued by Anne’s passionate energy, but the pleading look in her eye convinced him.

‘Very well, mistress. I shall join you a little later. Come, lads.’

Anne could barely contain herself until the steward and the two apprentices left the counting floor, though she was careful to drop the wooden door-bolt into its keeper as the door closed behind them — to the chief clerk’s bemused amazement.

‘Meinheer, I have something urgent that needs doing and I have extraordinary news. If we move very fast, I will be able to take advantage of it.’

Quickly she told him of the wedding that would soon be announced; now was the time to gamble whether she was an accredited merchant or not. Mathew Cuttifer would approve, she was sure of it.

‘We must send to the Medici in Florence and arrange for credit letters to be honoured. The first will be for one thousand florins; the second for three thousand florins — to be cashed in Venice. I intend to mortgage all I possess — my income from England and my mother’s lands there — so that I can back the credit. I shall give you letters before Vespers tonight with orders for the goods which must be bought. And then I want what I have ordered to arrive before the Feast of Saint Michael and Saint George. I will take advice on whether we should have them sent by sea or by land.’

The careful Dutchman did not allow his expression to change, but he was stunned by this boldness — and the risk. This girl was not an accredited merchant; if she deliberately brought trade goods into this city expecting to sell, the guilds would shut her down. And also, one, let alone two, precious cargos on the sea well before the end of spring was a doubly enormous gamble. Instantly he calculated the odds. Perhaps the land route might be slightly safer, though, of course, the mountain passes at this time of the year were also very dangerous. If the snow did not close them, roaming companies of ‘wolves-heads’ — brigands, soldiers, the murderous dross of late wars — who lurked on the trade routes must be repelled.

‘Meinheer, please do as I ask. An opportunity like this is rare. And send Henry to Sluis for me also. He is to wait there until the
Lady Margaret
is docked so that we can give your master the news as soon as possible.’

Meinheer Boter mildly asked if she had any more orders for him.

‘None, my friend. But I should like your prayers. Such sober prayers on this hazardous undertaking would stand us well.’ She grinned at him and he smiled.

Hans Boter hardly ever smiled — perhaps it had something to do with the absurdity of his name. Boter meant Butter and he’d been much mocked for that as a child, especially as he was always afflicted with fatness. Now, on a day such as today, when this girl had risked all of what little money she had, it seemed strange he did not despair at her folly.

‘If my poor prayers can do some good for you, I shall be proud. As I will be when your cargoes land safely. You are right to be bold at such a time, and if there is much risk, the reward will be greater.’ It was the longest speech Anne had ever heard from him, and both he and she were amazed he’d uttered it.

Anne smiled. ‘Thank you, Meinheer. You shall have the commissioning letters as soon as I can write them — and one for your master.’

Energised, she tried not to run back to the parlour where Maxim and Deborah were waiting as she’d requested.

She took one, two, deep breaths as she sat in the chair that was proferred. It was hard, but she had to find strength and composure if she was to be effective now.

‘Maxim, I have something very important to tell you — and you, Deborah.’ For the second time today she passed on William Caxton’s remarkable information, and how she proposed to bargain with fate. If this gamble came off, she would be able to buy a home of her own, begin to build a truly independent life.

Maxim, like his colleague Anders Boter, was stunned by the boldness and risk of her plans. If the gamble failed she would be ruined and that worried him deeply, for he liked her. Also, even
if
she landed her goods, the Guild would surely stop her trading them.

‘I know what you’re thinking, Maxim, it’s on your face, but the Guild will
not
stop me — and yes, I could ruin myself, but I have the right to risk my own money. It will be Sir Mathew’s choice to co-invest, if that’s what he wants to do. Henry will give him my letter as soon as he lands.’

Anne saw Maxim’s surprise and some instinct made her say the one right thing that would bring him around to see the vision behind the risk.

‘Ah, Maxim, you are my guardian’s steward, but I think of you as my friend. I trust you. I ask for your help now. And your support.’

Deborah, still stunned to hear of the Lady Margaret’s marriage to the Duke of Burgundy — and what that would mean to Anne — said nothing, but she was warmed when she saw Maxim’s wary correctness turn to something very like a smile.

‘I want the cargoes here to Brugge before the feast of Saint Michael and Saint George.’ Little more than two and a half months, a ridiculously short time. Could it be done?

‘And yes, before you ask, it can be done, but
you
must be there to do it. I want you, personally, to carry my letters of commission — and the requests for credit to Venice and Florence. And I want you to leave as soon as the
Lady Margaret
can be turned around — naturally, only if Sir Mathew agrees; you must help him to understand. Once you are in the city states, you must assess which will be the quickest way back to Brugge with the goods I’m ordering for the wedding. And bring them back yourself — under a guard that you arrange. And, Maxim, there’s five per cent of gross after the crews are paid as a bonus for you when all the landed goods are sold.’

What could Maxim say? That he thought this girl was foolish? And over-generous? She was not the first, though she
was
the last, but that was good — generosity commanded loyalty, though she already had his. He liked her, yes, he liked her.

A certain restless urgency warmed his blood. It was a gamble but, yes, he would go!

‘Mistress, allow me to consider the best route for your goods as you write your letters of commission. I accept the terms you have offered — and will be honoured to do you this service provided my master agrees.’

He bowed himself out of the parlour. Both women could hear the soft slither of his house slippers as he hurried away, back to the counting floor, to consult Meinheer Boter about this mad undertaking ...

‘That was gracefully done, Anne.’ It was Deborah’s turn now. She only rarely called Anne by her name — most often at moments of great importance, when they were alone.

Restlessly Anne got up and strode over to the windows. The snow was falling again and the expensive leaded glass was very cold as she leaned her head against it. She smiled ruefully. No horn-lights for Mathew Cuttifer — everything of the best! To be successful one must look successful: a good lesson to absorb. But if she lost, if this gamble failed, the promise of real independence — her own home, her own future, success on her own terms, making her own money — would disappear like mist in the morning.

There was silence for a moment between the two women. Finally Deborah spoke.

‘Lady Margaret, our princess. Did William Caxton say when the wedding would be?’

‘Summer. Some time near to Lammas day, he understands. When the vernal gales are long gone.’ She couldn’t help herself — Anne grimaced at the word ‘gales’. God knew, she was committing them all to great risk.

‘And the king? Will he come here, to Brugge?’

Anne responded — her voice far away, as were her eyes. ‘Nothing is certain.’

‘I’ll pray that your venture is a safe one.’ Poor Deborah — the anguish in her voice was plain.

Safe? Anne shivered. Was anything ever really safe in this world?

Perhaps if her cargoes were safely landed, and if the king did come to Brugge, she might meet Edward again — on her own terms?

Perhaps. Only perhaps — on both counts.

T
here was discussion about the Lady Margaret’s wedding in London too, after a morning’s hunting, for Edward was now deep in the planning to transport members of the Court of Westminster to Brugge, that is, if the king was finally able to convince his sister of her duty to marry Duke Charles.

Margaret was headstrong. Hers was the power of acknowledged beauty coupled with much of the king’s own force of character. She was accustomed to being indulged. However, she was in her early twenties, old for a royal bride, and Edward was entirely determined to make her see reason before she lost the currency of youth on the international royal bridal market.

This alliance with Burgundy was most necessary if Edward was to win the ever-expanding battle for influence on the continent and head off French ambitions for European dominance. In a way his sister was making the marriage he might himself have made — to a member of the Burgundian Ducal House — if he hadn’t happened to have met Elisabeth Wydeville first, sheltering from a storm under the oak trees at Greenwich.

And too, Edward was neither stupid nor heartless. As a brother he understood his little sister might be repulsed at the thought of marrying a widower some years older than she was, especially when there were so many gallants at home literally panting to be her husband — but Margaret could have no choice if he so instructed her. To oppose his will in the matter of her marriage was, after all, treason. What did royal children exist for if not to help the future of their houses by intermarriage with allies?