The Sempster's Tale (41 page)

Mistress Hercy gasped, “The baby. And Robert. They’re his. Raulyn’s. Blessed St. Anne, what if she hates them for that? For being his. What if…”

Daved gently shook her hands. “Heed me in this,” he said. “Don’t look so far ahead or think her such a fool. Look only at these next days. They’re the ones we must get through, until London is itself again.”

‘What if it’s never itself again?“ Mistress Hercy demanded on a rising tone of fear and misery. ”What if…“

‘Your merchants and men of power won’t hold tolerant of Cade’s ways and robberies for long. They’re likely already turning against him. We have only to wait it out. But we have to wait it out without Raulyn knowing what we know. You
must
seem as if nothing is changed.“

Mistress Hercy lifted her head, straightened her back. Her mouth firmed and her eyes narrowed and she said from far inside her strength, “He’ll know nothing from me.”

Daved smiled on her, gave her hands a firm, approving shake, and stood up, picking up the bundled hosen as he did. “Good, then. This I’ll put somewhere for safekeeping.” He looked aside to Anne. “And you, Mistress Blakhall, can you keep countenance through this?”

Anne met his gaze and said evenly, “I can feign whatever I need to.” Why not, when so much else of her life, like his, was feigned? Right now she was feigning against a desperate, despairing longing to beg him to go with her anywhere away from here, to go somewhere there would only be each other and no one else and nothing but their love. But all she very quietly said was, “For as long as need be.”

Her reward was Daved’s smile and a warmth deep in his eyes that told her he understood everything she had not said.

Chapter 27

The afternoon passed in dread-filled waiting. Anne sat at the southward window for the sake of the light and went on mending Daved’s doublet. Dame Frevisse kept to the other window, looking outward. There seemed nothing to say between them nor with Mistress Hercy, who came and went, busy with Pernell and the household, her first sharp, open anguish and dismay gone behind an outward seeming that nothing had changed. But once, coming from Pernell in the bedchamber on her way to somewhere else in the house, she said as she passed through the parlor “I wish she’d begin her birthing. It would take her mind from things.”

And Mistress Hercy’s mind, too, Anne thought. Where Daved was and what he was doing, she didn’t know. She only hoped he was not gone out, because through the afternoon there was a constant churn of broken noise coming and going along close-by streets, large gatherings of men passing with shouts and loud laughter. None of it came along St. Swithin’s, and though several times she thought she heard shouting at the barriers, no fighting ever seemed to break out.

She had finished mending the doublet and was moving its bottom button to replace the one that was gone when Lucie joined her from wherever her grandmother had been keeping her busy. Anne welcomed her company and settled her to sewing on her sampler beside her, but soon Pernell came from the bedchamber, a bedgown wrapped around her, saying as she went awkwardly to her chair, “I can’t bear it in there anymore. Lucie, come show me your work. Anne, talk to me about anything at all. My lady,” she added to Dame Frevisse with a small nod of greeting, probably having forgotten her name. Dame Frevisse nodded back.

Anne and Lucie gave Pernell what distraction they could, but she startled at every outburst of noise, until finally to cover outside sounds Anne began a chanting, clapping game with Lucie, insisting Pernell take her turn, and when Mistress Hercy returned from whatever she had been seeing to elsewhere in the house, they drew her into it, too. Their cold suppers brought on trays ended it, startling Pernell with how late the day was gone, but as she began a worry over Raulyn, Emme came in, exclaiming, “The master’s back! He’s in talk with the men but said I should come tell you!”

‘He’s unhurt?“ Pernell cried.

‘Unhurt as ever can be,“ Emme said as if it were by her own doing he was here and unscathed.

Anne’s unbidden thought was how much better it would have been if he had fallen in some wayward violence in the streets and never come home again. But Pernell gasped, “Praise to all the saints.” And when Raulyn bounded up the stairs and into the parlor, exclaiming as he crossed to Pernell, “Here! I’m back! Safe, sound, not a hair on my head harmed,” Anne’s mind faltered away from the certainty Daved and the nun had built in her. Raulyn couldn’t be what they said he was.

He kissed Pernell and swung around to the rest of them, saying grandly, “My ladies.”

Daved appeared quietly through the doorway. Raulyn gestured to him with a laugh. “He’s come to see I don’t alarm you with wild tales but all I have is the truth. The tide is turning against Cade in London!”

‘Has turned,“ said Daved far more calmly, ”But isn’t near to full flood yet.“

‘It’s Cade’s own doing,“ Raulyn said with unabated eagerness. ”John Geste—you know, he has the house by Tower Street—had him to dinner today, trying to keep to Cade’s good side, the fool. After his goodly dinner, Cade had his men strip the place to the walls!“

‘Merciful Mary!“ Mistress Hercy cried, and Anne and Pernell, ”He didn’t!“ and ”Oh, no!“

Carried by his own excitement, Raulyn went on eagerly, “There’s only the beginning. He has his men searching the city for men he’s named, taking their goods and them, and holding them to ransom. Though how they’re to buy themselves free when he’s taken everything of theirs he can lay his hands on…” Raulyn laughed. He seemed not to note that no one else did. “He’s had another man beheaded, too. Not a Londoner. Someone the Essex rebels handed over to
him.
But he had Lord Saye’s body cut into pieces and—”

‘Enough,“ said Mistress Hercy.

With immediate contrition, Raulyn quickly kissed Pernell. “No more of that, my love, no. The thing is, though, that such of his men as Cade still controls are doing as much hurt as the ones he doesn’t, and London isn’t half-liking it.” Pernell began a small whimper, but Raulyn snatched hold of her hands and said, “Not to fear. He’s so far only interested in the richest of the rich, not middling sorts like us. Besides, we’re safe as in a castle here. With the lane guarded and our own gates… Daved, tell her,” he said as Pernell went on shaking her head from side to side, wide-eyed with her fears.

Daved, smiling, came to kneel beside her, took one of her hands from Raulyn and kissed it like a knight to his fair lady before he said, “Good mistress, I promise you there is no lady in London more safely kept than you are here.”

Too frightened to be readily comforted, Pernell started to ask, “But what if they—”

‘There was a man hanged himself for fear of all the ’what ifs’ he thought of,“ Daved said, kind and solemn together. ”We’ve done better than merely worry over ‘what ifs.’ We are barred and guarded and armed and ready for anything. No one will come near you or yours, we promise you. Nor will you have to endure much longer. A day maybe, but no more. London’s lords will endure much but not being robbed of their earthly goods. There’s where Cade has lost them. London will be making common cause with Lord Scales in the Tower before we know it.“

‘And this will all be done, and we’ll be rid of Cade and his rebels,“ Raulyn said. ”In the meantime we’re well-guarded here, I promise you with all my heart.“

‘And with that promise,“ Mistress Hercy said to Pernell, ”let you go back to bed and have your supper there. Raulyn will come with you. You, too, Lucie. Keep your mother company.“

Daved stood up and aside, and Raulyn and Mistress Hercy helped Pernell to her feet and away into the bedchamber, Lucie drifting in their wake. From the window seat Dame Frevisse asked quietly, “Master Weir, do you believe what you’ve said about London and Lord Scales?

‘I do indeed. I was out for a time, and matters are much as Raulyn said. Jack Cade will likely be unpleasantly surprised and soon.“

‘How bad will it be, do you think? When it comes to fighting.“

‘There’s no way to truly say. We’ll have to take it as it comes. Hopefully it will not come here. Now by your leave…“ He bowed to her and Anne together and began to move toward the stairs.

Anne took a step after him, saying a little desperately, “Daved.”

He turned again and she held out his doublet to him. “Mended,” she said.

He returned and took it from her with thanks and nothing more, except everything she wanted to see was in his eyes, and she hid nothing in her look at him. Then he was gone, leaving her to yet more waiting. To waiting and fear and longing. Nor could she escape into the bedchamber to cope with Pernell’s fears instead of her own, not while Raulyn was there. Daved, Mistress Hercy, and Dame Frevisse were so certain of his guilt, and their reasoning and proofs had brought her to believe it, too; but it was still so hard. Raulyn. And what if their proofs were not enough and there were no way, after all, to make Raulyn’s guilt sure to jury and judges? What would they all do then, if Raulyn was accused and then acquitted?

Raulyn came from the bed chamber, passing through the parlor with a word and a smile that Anne returned before going to join Mistress Hercy and Lucie in keeping Pernell company. Twilight was well along. Night would be soon. Pernell wanted them all to stay with her tonight, and Mistress Hercy said firmly they would, promising for Anne without asking her, so that Pernell finally drank the wine her mother had mixed with valerian and a little poppy powder, Mistress Hercy saying, “There’s nothing there will hurt the baby. Not so much as his mother grieving and worrying herself to death would do.”

She even gave a little to Lucie, and soon both she and Pernell were sleeping. Anne wished she had a like escape, but Mistress Hercy did not offer it, only soon went away to her other business, leaving Anne to the night and her thoughts. It was plain weariness after last night that brought her, undressed to her undergown, to lie down beside Lucie on the truckle bed. She even slept awhile, but where two nights ago the darkness had been taut with silence and uncertainties, and last night been now and again broken with noises, tonight London seethed and stirred, and she was awakened time and again to listen as loud groups of shouting, laughing, or quarreling men passed on one street or another. Twice, shouted exchanges with the men keeping St. Swithins’ barriers roused her sharply out of sleep, and although no fighting followed, the effort to sleep finally became too much and she gave it up and went to sit at the chamber’s window, opening the shutter a little to the night. There was nothing to see but the black line of London rooftops against the blue-black sky and sometimes the trailing glow of torches carried along nearby streets.

She was still sitting there when Mistress Hercy came in, still fully clothed in her gown and wimple and veil, going silently by the small light of a carried candle to see how Pernell and Lucie did. She said nothing and neither did Anne, and she went away again, leaving the door a little ajar and Anne envying her that she had something to do besides wait. Unable to sit longer Anne stood up and moved silently to the door. Not wanting to waken Dame Frevisse if she were sleeping, Anne opened the door wider with great care but saw the nun sitting at the southward window, straight-backed and unmoving, looking outward. Like Mistress Hercy she was still fully clothed, a black shape in the shadows in her black Benedictine gown and veil, with only the strong line of her profile pale against the lesser darkness of the night sky. Anne stood still, watching her, wondering about her. What had brought her to be a nun? Had it been her choice or someone else’s? Had there been a lost love? Or never a love? Or was love of God all and enough for her, the way it was supposed to be for a nun?

If the latter, then love of God hadn’t been enough to keep her from prying where she had not needed to, Anne thought with an unexpected flare of anger at her. It was her questions and well-wittedness more than anything that had pulled apart the strands of seeming from the strands of truth, to find an ugliness so deep that Anne had a sharp half-wish it had never been found out. She accepted Raulyn’s guilt because Daved did, but it was still only words to her, not something in which she fully believed, so that setting the cost of never having known it against the cost in deeper heartbreak and loss there would be now, where was the gain in having the truth?

Or would not knowing have cost more in the longer run?

There was no way to know, and wanting away from that unwanted wondering, Anne altogether opened the door and went into the parlor. Dame Frevisse turned toward her, became only a faceless shape in the darkness. Anne, hoping she was as faceless, sat down beside her. They neither of them spoke. The night was still just then, nothing to be heard but a distant scruff of sound that might have been almost anything. Dame Frevisse seemed willing to stay silent, went back to looking out the window again, but Anne, without knowing she was going to, asked in an anguished whisper, “These murders. How could Raulyn bring himself to them? If he did.”