Petals in the Ashes (16 page)

‘Do you think that Mother knows about the fire?' Anne asked.

‘She's sure to,' I said. ‘They say that the smoke from London can be seen rising fifty miles away.'

‘They'll be worried …'

I nodded, but we had no possible hope of getting word to them that we were safe, for we knew that the post office had been consumed by fire in the night.

I was alerted by some disturbance outside. ‘Listen!' I took Anne's hand. ‘What can you hear?'

She shrugged.

‘The fire!' I said. ‘I'll swear that's what it is.'

She put her head on one side and closed her eyes. ‘Yes!' she said. ‘It's roaring away like Father's furnace – and there are noises like walls crashing.'

I swallowed hard. ‘And timber cracking and people screaming.' I began to pick up our things. ‘It's coming on apace and we must go,' I said, trying to sound calm, even though my heart was beating mightily. ‘There may be a last-minute dash to get out of the City and we must get to the gates.'

‘What about the other things left in the shop?' Anne asked. ‘What of our bed?'

‘Never mind!'

A sudden shouting came from outside and a man, sweating heavily, his face burned and blistered, ran into the church.

‘Cheapside has fallen to the fire!' he shouted to those few of us still there. ‘'Tis fallen!'

There was a general wail of despair at this and Anne looked at me questioningly. ‘'Tis the road which
comes into the city from Newgate,' I said to her. ‘The great highway where the kings make their progress and where all the rich goldsmiths' and silversmiths' shops are.'

‘But did they not try to save it?' someone asked the man.

‘Damn you for a fat gutted dog!' he exploded. ‘We've been working all night making a break, but the south side caught fire and all the houses collapsed together sending firebrands across the gap so that the north caught as well!' His voice broke into something like a sob. ‘The painted signs collapsed, the windows shattered, the stones cracked and then the great timbered roofs fell and lit up the sky. London's greatest street has been razed to the ground and will never be again!'

We waited no longer after this, but took up our boxes, baskets and bundles and left the church in some haste. Outside hung a thick blanket of smoke and, the lanes being full of abandoned furniture and bundles, it was difficult to walk without falling over something. Every moment we would be jostled by those bearing furniture on their backs or pushed out of the way to allow a cart through. As we dodged through showers of falling sparks, we found it difficult to breathe, for each full breath in made us cough or choke.

At first we just followed where the crowds were going, but then I stopped to think which might be the best gate to head for. We knew the fire had jumped the walls near Ludgate, and was now heading down Cornhill towards Newgate, so it seemed best to me to head towards Moorgate and thence to the safety of
Moore Fields. Accordingly, we turned at the corner in this direction, but had only gone a short distance when we realised (as all those others had before us) that the things we carried hampered us greatly. We would not abandon the basket containing Kitty, of course, and I was most reluctant to leave my green taffeta gown and my canvas bag, but we decided that the two boxes of kitchen things could be left, for they were easy enough to replace and had no great value. Seeing at this moment a woman running along the street screaming, her long hair alight from a falling brand, I made sure to tie my curls back and got Anne to cover them tight with a cloth for, although I did not like red hair, I would rather have it than be bald.

By leaving these kitchen stuffs inside another church we found it a little easier to get along. Still, though, there was the constant roar of the fire at our heels, a blizzard of sparks and firebrands falling over us, and shouted reports that ‘There is no water left in the City!', ‘Guildhall is a sea of flame!' and ‘The water in the Fleet ditch is boiling!', each new cry serving to send us into more of a panic.

Nearing Moorgate and seeing the press of people converging on it from the surrounding streets, I began to despair of getting through.

‘A carriage is in the gateway and stuck fast against a cart coming in!' a woman told us. ‘We've been here near an hour without moving.'

I sighed mightily at this, for I felt responsible for Anne. ‘I fear we've come to the wrong gate,' I said to her. ‘I wish I had decided on Cripplegate.'

‘There's a crowd fighting at Cripplegate,' said the woman. ‘I heard two people have been stabbed over a
tin of gold coins.'

‘At Bishopsgate there are more people trying to get in and rescue goods than—' another began, but we never heard more, for of a sudden there was a huge roar and something must have given way at the gate, for the crowd in front of us surged forward and Anne's hand was wrenched from mine.

‘Keep hold of Kitty's basket!' I shouted to her. ‘Never mind about anything else. Make for Moore Fields, stay close to the walls and I'll find you!'

I believed that Anne got through for, as the great swell of people split, some surging one way, some the other, I glanced back and saw her being carried out of the gate by sheer force of numbers. I prayed that she would be safe, but did not know whether or not God still listened.

Now came my darkest time, for I was picked off my feet by the incoming mob and, after having all the breath squeezed out of me so I could neither scream nor hardly breathe, was shoved and manhandled, then knocked to the floor and somewhat trampled on. Several other people were used so, yet I did not feel that anyone meant this, rather that panic overtook the mass of people and the less robust among the crowd suffered the consequences.

Once the dense crowd had receded somewhat, I lay where I had been washed up, testing my limbs one by one and feeling where I had been hurt, and eventually I came to understand that I had no broken bones and was merely bruised and grazed. My green taffeta gown had disappeared, however, and also my canvas bag. A shawl that had been around my shoulders was
also missing, and one shoe, but – my hand sprang to my neck and I gave a gasp of relief – my silver locket was still around my neck and my pocket containing our money was still under my petticoats.

As I struggled to lift my weary body from the cobbles, a young woman came along, her hair knotted and her face covered in smuts, and, sitting down beside me, began to cry.

‘I've lost everything!' she said. ‘My little house … my husband … all gone in fire so fierce it was as if the jaws of Hell had opened!'

I could not reply to her, for a stupor had come over me and I felt as tired as a dog.

‘We thought we were safe, and then the fire dropped on us like a flaming sword from heaven! My husband stayed to fight it and I saw him consumed in the flames.'

‘I … I'm sorry,' I said, struggling to get myself upright.

‘His clothes, his hair, his face – all alight!' Her face came nearer to mine and she smiled sweetly. ‘God chose him for an angel and then lit the cleansing fire around him!'

And now I struggled even harder to get on my feet, for I knew the woman to be mad and did not wish to get involved with her. My one thought was to get out of the City and find Anne. Getting to my feet unsteadily I left the woman crying at the side of the roadway and went on, luckily finding my shoe some distance away.

Discovering myself some little distance from Moorgate, I thought it best to try and make my way to a gate to the east of the City, which – as far as I
knew – the fire had not yet reached. If I could go out of the City by Bishopsgate, then I could make my way into Moore Fields from there.

It was not that easy, however, for due to the heavy pall of smoke which hung over everything, I could hardly see in front of me and, not being able to recognise the lanes (for I was not often in this area) or see the sun, I could not work out the right direction to take. Some streets that I sought to go down had been closed off by the bands of men who had come together to earn the king's shilling, or they were impassable because of dumped goods or rubble. I turned my ankle and cut it on some sharp stones, was once made sick with coughing, and then was grazed badly by a runaway horse and cart which passed too close to me and then overturned. As well as this my eyes stung constantly and I often had to stop to shake out my skirts when a shower of sparks threatened to catch me alight.

Looking for landmarks, I found that many of these had disappeared and, thinking to find the tavern at the start of the great Lothbury highway which would lead me to Bishopsgate, found instead just a great heap of rubble where buildings had been pulled down with grappling irons. I asked directions, and if this was indeed Lothbury, but people were too frantic with their own matters to pay attention to me, and twice I was directed wrongly and came up against a wall of flame.

Feeling dizzy and by now desperate for water, I stopped a woman with a flask to beg a mouthful from it. She would not allow me any, however, and called me a careless hussy to come out without, saying she
needed every drop for herself.

The day grew darker still and the wind began to rage like a beast, the smoke overhead growing thicker and more dense by every minute. Having no idea of where I was or what time it was, I began to be mighty scared, but stepping near to some ruined shops and crunching across lukewarm ashes, suddenly found myself near to St Paul's and felt a sense of relief. While much around this great church had already been laid to waste, and while other buildings still had flames licking up their stonework, St Paul's was built on a hill and looked to be invincible, standing aloft like a mighty castle.

Stumbling through its open doors I found that scores of people had also thought to find shelter there, and many had brought their animals and goods along, too, for I saw a pig, some dogs and a monkey along the wooden pews. Sinking on to a bench, weak with relief, I was given a cup of rough wine and a hard biscuit by a woman, both of which I would have scorned in normal times but now was very glad to accept. I slid into a quiet corner, closed my eyes and tried to quell my beating heart, for I had been traipsing the streets a very long while and felt as exhausted as a hunted deer.

In spite of the clamour within and without, I fell asleep for some minutes, and only awoke when the same woman shook me hard and told me that I must stir myself and flee.

‘Surely not!' I said, my eyelids dropping once more. ‘We are safe here.'

‘If you do not stir you will be burned to death where you lie!' the woman chastised me. ‘A flaming
brand has fallen on this roof and even His house cannot protect you now.'

This, of course, roused me up and I ventured with a group of others towards a set of doors. Looking out I could see that a flaming circle surrounded us, for even those buildings which had seemed to be gutted now burned with a new lust. So many were the buildings which had been destroyed between my standpoint and the river that when the wind blew and the smoke and flames shifted a little I could see all the way through to the banks of Southwarke, which was very shocking and strange indeed.

Many of those who had been sheltering with me had already fled, taking their chance and looking for a break in the flames to run to safety, and I knew that I had to do the same if I wanted to survive.

Frightened, shivering in spite of the vindictive heat, I looked about me. The dark shroud of smoke above had grown more dense and oily as the fires raged all around, and was now churning like hot black oil. Suddenly, out of its depths, forked lightning began to stab all around, its following thunder almost lost in the terrible roar of the flames and howling wind. Instead of rain, however, the showers that fell were of golden sparks.

Whatever it was that had fallen on the roof of St Paul's must have suddenly flared, for a screaming came from a group of people some distance off and, with one accord, they turned to look back at the vast edifice which sheltered me, pointing at the roof and shouting in awe.

I knew I must run for my life, but the flames scorched all around and I was mighty scared, for such
was the glare from these that I could not see what I was running to, and moreover was feared that a lightning fork might come down and strike me dead. I took three steps forward and two back, then started off in a different direction, only to run back again and again, too much affrighted to make a decision.

Four further steps forward … then again back, and I screamed aloud in frustration and despair, not knowing what to do for the best. Tears coursed down my cheeks, for I felt now that I was doomed to perish in this church and never to see Tom or my family again.

It was then, at my lowest moment, that I heard the voice that was to save me.

‘Mistress!' someone shouted. ‘Hannah!'

Dashing my tears aside, I saw by the light of the encroaching flames the silhouette of a lad standing with a small, laden handcart before him. ‘Who is that?' I called.

‘'Tis I, Hannah. Bill!'

But this meant nothing to me and I still could not see him, for the flames were as bright as sun in my eyes.

‘Bill! Don't you remember me? Lord Cartmel's bootboy!' the figure shouted. ‘Jump on my cart, Mistress!'

My befuddled brain could still not understand who it was who addressed me, and I wavered and swayed and would have fallen on to the smouldering grass, but the lad dropped the handles of the cart and ran to me. Catching me under the arms, he dragged me towards the cart, then kicked a deal of books from it and dropped me on to it without further ceremony.
With me clinging on as best I could, he then began trundling me over the stones and rubble away from St Paul's, faster and faster, until I cried aloud for him to stop to enable me to catch my breath. Even this did not halt him, however, and he did not pause until we had reached a safe place away from the flames.