The Lady Chapel

Table of Contents

• Table of Contents
  
• Acknowledgements
  
• 1/ The Last Judgement
  
• 2/ The Offending Hand
  
• 3/ Ridley's Pride
  
• 4/ An Impertinent Lady, a Humbled Man
  
• 5/ The Ridley Women
  
• 6/ Goldbetter and Company
  
• 7/ A Bloody Treasure
  
• 8/ Down by the River
  
• 9/ Tonics and Waits
  
• 10/ Forebodings
  
• 11/ The Wool War
  
• 12/ A Gleeful Conspirator
  
• 13/ Liaisons
  
• 14/ The King's Mistress
  
• 15/ Nightmares
  
• 16/ Uncomfortable Endounters
  
• 17/ Jasper's Quest
  
• 18/ Tildy's Secret
  
• 19/ Grief
  
• 20/ Desperate Measures
  
• 21/ Martin Wirthir
  
• 22/ Complications
  
• 23/ St. John's Day
  
• 24/ Connections
  
• 25/ Wirthir's Doom
  
• 26/ Revenge
  
• 27/ The Quick and the Dead
  
• 28/ Blood Enemies
  
• Author's Note
  

For Thaddeus Wojtaszek

Acknowledgements

I thank Michael Denneny for enthusiastic feedback; Lynne Drew for a critical reading that helped clarify things; Paul Zibton for the map; Walden Barcus and Karen Wuthrich for thoughtful readings; Evan Marshall for being everything an agent should be; Keith Kahla and John Clark for all their good humored help behind the lines; and Charlie Robb for publicity.

Research for this book was conducted on location in Yorkshire and in the libraries of the University of York, the University of Washington, King County, Washington, and the city of Seattle.

And many thanks to my support group that includes The Book Club, Paula Moreschi's Physical Culture regulars, my family from coast to coast, and most of all the person who never lets me down, Charlie Robb.

1/ The Last Judgement

Corpus Christi Day dawned mild and sunny, answering the prayers of the guildsmen of York, and of all who looked forward to the Corpus Christi pageants. Many saw the dawn, for the plays began with the blessing of the players on the porch of Holy Trinity Church, Micklegate, before dawn, followed immediately by the first performance of the day as the sun rose. Twelve stations had been marked the evening before by banners displaying the arms of the city. Here the audiences would gather. The pageant wagons, over forty of them, would wind their way through the streets, stopping at each station to perform for the waiting people. It would be a long day for the guild members and other players, ending after midnight-- a glorious day in which the history of mankind's salvation by Christ's sacrifice would be brought to life, from the fall of the angels to the Last Judgment.

The Mercers' pageant wagon had just left the station beyond Ouse Bridge, heading for the stands in St. Helen's Square. It was the last wagon; on it was played out "The Last Judgment." Young Jasper de Melton trotted along beside the pageant wagon with his greasehorn, trying to take in all the sights and sounds of the day while listening for the creaking of the wagon wheels, his signal to slather on grease. It was an important job for a boy of eight. The large wooden wheels would soon come to a halt on the narrow, uneven streets without constant attention. Jasper was proud of his responsibility --and for the play of the Mercers' Guild no less, the richest guild in York. This was a step toward his acceptance as an apprentice in the guild, an honor that thrilled him and filled his mother with pride and hope for a better life for her son than she had been able to provide as a widow. Kristine de Melton had made Jasper a new leather jerkin for this important day.

Jasper should see his mother soon. She had promised to wait at the station in St. Helen's Square, in front of the York Tavern.

As the wagon trundled toward the square, Jasper saw a red-faced man step close, calling out to Master Crounce. The flaps of the performer's tent opened and tall, lanky Will Crounce jumped down off the wagon, almost knocking Jasper over, and joined the heavyset man, slapping him on the back.

"Why are you not in the pageant at Beverley, my friend?" Crounce asked.

"Me?" The heavyset man laughed. "I have no gift for yelling myself red in the face a dozen times in one day."

The two turned and walked away, heads close together. Jasper was surprised. What if Master Crounce lost track of time and missed his turn in the play? He played Jesus. His absence would be noticed. It made Jasper nervous just to think of it, for Master Crounce was the man who had sponsored him for his job today and was sponsoring him as an apprentice in a few weeks. Dishonor to him meant dishonor to Jasper.

"Boy!" an elderly actor called out. "Wheel be squealing like stuck

Pig" Jasper flushed and hurried to do his job. He must keep his mind on the wheels. He would only get in trouble worrying about other folk.

As Jasper rounded the front of the wagon, hurrying out of its way, he saw that the Mercers were next to perform. Squinting against the sun, Jasper searched the crowd outside the York Tavern. At first he did not see his mother. And then there she was, waving and calling his name. He waved back, grateful that he'd been hard at work when she spotted him. He would hate to disappoint her.

With a grinding shudder, the long, heavy wagon came to a halt. A small band of Town Waits played a flourish, and the actors came out from the tent. All but Master Crounce. Jasper bit his nails. Master Crounce must have heard the flourish. But where was he? The actors moved to their places. At last, just as his fellows had begun to murmur about his absence, Master Crounce jumped onto the wagon from behind and climbed to his perch, a rickety platform that would lower him from Heaven to Earth after his first speech. The crowd hushed as God the Father began. Always they chose an actor with a bass voice for the part.

"First when I this world had wrought --

Wood and wind and waters wan,

And all-kin thing that now is aught --

Full well, methought, that I did then . . . ,"

The player's voice rumbled like distant thunder. God would sound like this, Jasper thought.

"Angels, blow your bemes forthwith, /Ilka creature for to call!"
The angels blew their trumpets.

It gave Jasper chills to think that on this day they were given a glimpse of the Last Judgment. He vowed to live a good life so that he might not fear as did the Bad Souls on this day of reckoning--

"We mun be placed for our sins' sake

Forever from our salvation,

In Hell to dwell with fiends black,

Where never shall be redemption."

As the third Angel spoke, Jasper looked up at Jesus, who finally came into the play.

From Heaven, Jesus spoke--
'This woeful world is brought to end. ..."

Someone in the crowd giggled. Jasper looked around and saw a pretty woman standing with two men, the heavyset man who had hailed Master Crounce and another. It was the woman who had giggled. The heavyset man glared at her; the other man frowned and bent toward her to say something.

Jasper wondered at the woman's blasphemy. For even though it was Master Crounce who played the role, a mere mortal touched with sin as all men were, yet he was Jesus this day.

But Jasper soon forgot the incident as Jesus spoke the words
"All mankind there shall it see,"
and the platform began its creaky descent through smoke. It was Jasper's favorite part. When the smoke cleared, Master Crounce as Jesus was standing on the main platform, his cowl thrown back. And then Jasper could see his eyes, shining with the sanctity of his role. Master Crounce was transformed by the part.
"My apostles and my darlings dear ..."

Jasper thought his master wonderful. He loved listening to him. Unfortunately, as Jesus' last words were spoken, Jasper had to begin the circuit of the wheels, greasing them for departure. He strained to hear the last lines:

"They that would sin and ceased nought,

Of sorrows sere now shall they sing;

And they that mended them while they might,

Shall remain and dwell in my blessing."

As Jasper reached the last wheel, he looked up where his mother had sat. She was gone. Jasper was puzzled. How could she leave while Master Crounce still spoke? And then he saw her being led away, supported by two neighbors. Her feet shuffled, and her head lolled to one side. Holy Mary, Mother of God. What had happened? The sight haunted Jasper for the rest of the day. Even the sight of Master Crounce's shining eyes could not ease his fear.

Jasper did not return home until just before dawn the next morning. His mother was asleep; Mistress Fletcher, a neighbor, watched over her. The small, windowless room reeked of blood and sweat; the smell frightened Jasper.

"What happened?" he asked.

Mistress Fletcher's large eyes were sad as they gazed on Jasper. "Women's trouble. Came on her in the crowd. A woman in her condition had no business in such a crowd."

Will she live?
the boy wondered, but he could not bring himself to utter the question.

Mistress Fletcher sighed and stood. "I'll be off for a bit of sleep. Be a good boy and lie beside her so you wake if she wakes, eh?" She patted him on the head. "I'll check in after I've fed my own lot in the morning."

Jasper took off his new jerkin; he would need it clean for his interview with the Guildmaster of the Mercers. He tucked the jerkin into a small chest that held his mother's treasures, a carved wooden cup and an elaborately painted longbow that had belonged to Jasper's father. Weary to the bone, the boy climbed onto the straw-stuffed pallet next to his feverish mother and fell asleep.

Though the room had no windows, the sounds of the city wakened Jasper. The walls were thin, letting out the heat in winter, letting in the heat in summer. Bells rang, shutters banged, carts clattered by, folk yelled their greetings to one another, a dog barked as if it were being beaten. Jasper's mother slept on, the blankets pulled up to her chin. Jasper relieved himself in the bucket in the corner, then took the bucket down the outside stairs and emptied the night waste into the gutter that ran down the middle of the street. He would be fined if caught, but it was more important to return to his mother as soon as possible. He would wait to fetch water until Mistress Fletcher returned.

Shortly before midday, Kristine de Melton opened her eyes. "I saw you in your jerkin," she said, her mouth working so little that the words were more guessed than heard. She managed a sad smile. "Proud of my boy."

Jasper bit his lip, a lump in his throat. His mother was dying. He had seen enough death in his eight years that he recognized it. "I was waiting for Mistress Fletcher to come before I went for water. Are you thirsty now? Will you be all right if I go for it and leave you alone?"