Brewer's Tale, The (56 page)

With one last look at Betje, who disappeared around the side of the bathhouse, I drew the shutters closed and remained by the window, my eyes adjusting to the dimness. I longed to run downstairs and hold Betje in my arms and celebrate her life and soul. I remained mute. I wanted Master Fynk gone before I said something I'd regret.

Alyson was right:
how dare he.

‘Despite what you may believe, Master Fynk,' said Alyson, her intonation conciliatory, as if she understood a flag of truce must be raised, ‘I genuinely follow the laws, unlike some who rely on friends in high places and the exchange of coin to replace obedience.' With that last sally, she strolled to the door and called for Juliana. ‘It's time to leave, gentlemen, Master Fynk. You'll not find whores or devil spawn in
this
room. Even I may wear the apron.' She gestured to the one tied over her tunic. Whores were forbidden from donning a garment that denoted domesticity and family. ‘So can my cousin. Here be only a woman of good birth who calls none other than those at the Stilliard friends.'

A fleeting glimmer crossed Master Fynk's face. Assessing me anew while his companions murmured and moved towards the door, he frowned. ‘Hmm … de Winter. It's not a name I'm likely to forget.'

Promising he'd be watching The Swanne, and me in particular, Master Fynk and his men finally left. I sank back onto the bed and stared at Alyson and Adam in disbelief.

‘I cannot credit that just happened. That they would enter without a by-your-leave, and not only strike you, dear Alyson, but deliver such … such insults, say so many terrible things.'

Touching her cheek, which still bore the impress of Master Fynk's hand, Alyson sat down. ‘That's because you're a lady and unaccustomed to such abuse.' She wiped her hand across her brow. ‘For the likes of me and the girls, most men — and especially ones like Fynk — have no such compunction. You heard him — we're whores, we beggar God's will. We deserve no courtesies, only affront, fists and cock.'

‘But … but … the king allows your business, you pay taxes to the bishop, no less —' said Adam.

‘Allows? Turns a blind eye more like. But taxes, aye. We pay and more than our fair share.' Alyson shrugged. ‘But I am a woman on my own running a business. You know what that's like, Anna, better than most.'

I nodded gravely.

Alyson continued. ‘The owners of the other bathhouses resent the favour the girls and their customers show me and will use any chance, including a comely and pregnant stranger, to draw the law to our threshold.' She gave a dry laugh. ‘Mainly because it keeps it away from them.' Looking every one of her years, she gave a smile that didn't quite make her eyes. ‘I knew what I be getting into when I came here. What the authorities don't like is that they can't make me something I'm not.'

‘What's that?' I asked.

‘Pliable.'

I didn't say anything for a moment. Adam threw some more wood on the fire. Sparks flew into the room and up the chimney, bright stars that dazzled briefly and expired. Rising, I held my cold hands out to the flames. ‘How did they know I was here? Why should it matter to them?'

Alyson's eyes grew dark. Joining me, she stared at the fire. ‘Apart from extra money, it don't. Master Fynk likes to remind us every now and again of who and what he is.'

‘What's that?' asked Adam drily.

‘Someone who must be obeyed.'

I lifted my face to Adam. Just like the monks of St Jude's; just like Abbot Hubbard.

Alyson squeezed my shoulder. ‘Don't you worry any more about none of that. I've been meaning to say, when you're ready, I want to talk to you 'bout something, and I don't mean what I'm going to charge you for board.' At the look on my face, she burst out laughing. ‘I'm having a jest, my dear. You're my guest. Indeed, you're my cousin, aren't you? It wouldn't be very charitable of me to be taking coin from family now would it?'

Before I could answer, she left the room.

‘Adam,' I said once the door shut. ‘How did they know? About me? About the babes?'

Squatting by the fire, Adam lowered his voice. ‘It was one of the girls, I think. She wasn't happy we were here, or with the attention you were getting. Saw you as competition; someone who could lure away custom.'

I gave him a look of disbelief. ‘In my state?'

‘Ah, Mistress Anneke, in any state, you be a picture worth framing.'

I smiled. ‘What would I do without you, Adam Barfoot?'

‘Why, you'd be like a one-legged man, mistress, hopping in a great circle,' he said and, using the poker to haul himself upright, proceeded to demonstrate.

He stopped. ‘And what would I do without you? If you hadn't called us all to sense and Goody Alyson hadn't discouraged those men, I'd be on my way to the stocks or worse.' He sat on a stool. ‘I would have hit him, you know.'

‘I know. Me too.'

Though we both laughed, I couldn't help but feel a dart of concern lodge beneath my breastbone. There'd almost been blows. A tussle that could have resulted in Adam's imprisonment or death. Master Fynk was spoiling for a fight. Confined to the Lily Room, my bedroom, with only my well-being and that of the children to consider, even Betje and Adam hadn't occupied my thoughts the way they once had. Nor had the future, not really. I'd been dwelling in a madman's garden, believing the flowers all lush and fragrant when in reality, weeds grew here too. If one woman complained about my presence to the authorities, when I felt so welcome, what was to stop the others doing the same or worse? And what would happen if my real identity was ever discovered, never mind the accusations from Elmham Lenn that I was positive dogged my every step?

Once Adam closed the door behind him, I clambered back onto the bed. Sleep eluded me. Instead, in the shadows that crept across the walls and over the rushes, every vague shape transformed into a threat. A threat that would, if I wasn't very careful, soon engulf us all.

THE SWANNE

Lent to Hocktide

The year of Our Lord 1407 in the eighth year of the reign of Henry IV

T
hough still cool, the days grew longer and the sun's warmth caressed the walls and shutters, even through the thick cloud that hovered till at least midday. My health returned with each passing day and the longing to stand upon my own skills and forge a life for myself was becoming more urgent. Alyson encouraged me to stay, to treat this time as a hiatus and find my feet. Apart from Master Fynk's visit, life was good at The Swanne. The babes were thriving; Emma and Constance, whose wages were covered by Alyson until such time as I could repay her, were reliable and kind. But it was Harry who proved as good as his word and became the friend Betje so desperately needed. Reticent at first, Harry was patient and soon Betje spent her days between the stables and my chamber, grooming the customers' horses, aiding Juliana and the wet nurses as they cared for the twins or sitting by my side for lessons — something I encouraged Harry to do as well.

Adam also found a purpose at The Swanne. Overcoming his initial aversion for the situation in which we found ourselves, he discovered that many of the girls who lived beneath The Swanne's sprawling roof were not the evil temptresses and slatterns he'd assumed. Many were simple country lasses, or city widows and orphans who, having no way of providing for themselves and nowhere to go, were left with no choice but to either sell their bodies or seek work among those who did. Many had children they'd left with relatives. Ashamed, yet aware that their families must know, it was a dark secret that bound them all.

Only in confession and prayer would they admit to selling their flesh and pay the penance their constant sinning required. Just as she insisted on daily washing of faces and hands, Alyson made sure that every Sunday and many other mornings besides, the girls would stroll to Father Kenton's church and hear the mass —ensuring their souls were as pristine as their bodies.

All those who worked in the bathhouse felt a great deal of loyalty to Alyson.

‘We be blessed with Goody Alyson,' was a statement Adam heard over and over and which he repeated to me. Whether it was the freckled maid with the crooked nose and huge blue eyes called Yolande, who cleaned the grate each morning and stacked fresh kindling, or the tall, rather morose woman named Oriel, who would take away my chamber pot and ensure there was clean water in my basin, or the lovely Leda with her long, straw-coloured hair, all those who dwelled within the bathhouse were steadfast towards the goodwife who gave them shelter, food and ale and didn't try and cheat them. The same could not be said for others who ran similar businesses in the area.

‘I admit, mistress, I had my reservations when we first met,' Adam said one night, speaking quietly over an ale in the light of the crackling hearth, ‘but she be a good woman, Alyson.'

From below us came the sounds of music and chatter that were a constant accompaniment to our conversations, to the many plans we assembled for the future. Sometimes there'd be low groans, chuckles, or squeals of delight. I would grow uncomfortably warm and found I was unable to look at Adam. He would simply talk louder. Once, there was an ear-splitting shout followed by a slamming door, running feet and shrill cries. Adam leapt up and raced from the room, returning shortly to explain that one of the clients tried to leave without paying but was quickly prevented not only by the looming presence of Master atte Place, a general servant and sometime guard, but Alyson herself.

‘As God is my witness, Mistress Anna, she stood before this young gentleman, who was still struggling to tie his breeches, her face dark as a storm upon the bay, and insisted he pay. When he swore he couldn't, said his purse had been stolen and accused the young woman he'd been with of taking it, Alyson first scolded him then reached over and grabbed his arm. Before he could snatch it away, she hailed Harry to her side and bid him remove the gentleman's ring.' Adam sat on the stool, leaning against the wall, chuckling. ‘I've never seen the like. Daring as a demon's strut.'

‘What did he do?'

‘What could he do with Master atte Place glowering, Harry and Alyson holding him firm and those women not … er … um … occupied, blocking his escape. He conceded; apologised as well. Promised he'd be back on the morrow with what he owed, providing his ring is returned.'

‘You think he'll honour that?'

‘Oh, aye. I think his father would be most upset his son lost a ring bearing the Tiptoft seal, don't you?'

‘The man was a
Tiptoft
? The royal treasurer's son?'

‘More a boy, really. Still had spots.' Adam jabbed his chin and forehead a few times. ‘And a remarkable inability to tie his purse strings properly.'

‘And those of his breeches from what you say.' We both laughed heartily.

After that, Adam suggested to Alyson that the gentlemen callers to The Swanne be made to pay before they enjoyed the ladies. At first Alyson was resistant, concerned it would drive custom to the other bathhouses, but when Adam explained if the girls asked for the coin once they were alone with the men, then it would be very difficult for the customers to refuse.

Alyson inclined her head and regarded Adam seriously. ‘Are you sure you've never done this sort of work before?'

Adam grinned. ‘Nay. But a household is a household and a business,' he shrugged, ‘is a business and I understand how best to work both.'

After that, Alyson sought Adam's advice on many issues, including one that concerned me. Though I only learned that later.

My family had found a place and purpose here, except for me. I would have to unhouse them once more and take them across the river, to London.

Standing by the window, I gazed across the busy Thames and towards the city. Smoke billowed from crooked chimneys; men pushed carts, loaded and unloaded the punts full of goods while wherries disgorged people, as they moved in and out of the fog. Cogs lay at anchor on the jetties not far to the east, and I could just see pennants flapping atop the Tower. Voices carried across the water, coarse and deep, and I knew without doubt that my purpose lay somewhere in that muddle of misty streets. The time for us to leave was approaching; two evenings ago I'd broached the subject with Alyson and she greeted my announcement with just a resigned look that gave away little. Reassuring her of constant friendship, of the bond created between us when I made her, Harry and Juliana godparents to my twins, she regarded me with ambivalence. Discussing what we'd do and where we'd go with Adam and Alyson over supper again last night, I was assured of their support and knew the small amount of coin I still carried, plus what Captain Stoyan held in safekeeping for me from sales of my beer in Flanders, would help us to secure a place from which to commence our business.

All I'd brought from Elmham Lenn and Dover, apart from a few clothes that Mother Joanna had given me, Betje and Adam, were a few remaining barrels of beer, the ale-stick and some of the instruments that I couldn't bear to leave behind. God knows, it wasn't much, but it was a start. Mother's recipe book may have been no more, but I felt confident I could recreate every single one from memory.