A Love Most Dangerous (32 page)

'Of course,' I said. 'I didn't think otherwise. I told
you I've got money and I'm happy to pay a fair rent. I'd rather it went to you
than to some villain who might rob me blind.'

He grinned the full set of his teeth. 'That's mighty
trustworthy of you, miss. Foolish, I might add, as you don't know me from the
footpads that stalk the streets. But foolish is as foolish does and if you
lodge with me and Margery you won't go amiss.'

I reached out and squeezed his hand. He blushed a deep
red and turned his head as if to see the way ahead, downriver. When he glanced
back he gave me a sheepish smile and began to whistle tunelessly as if to say
there should be an end to all further talk.

I leaned back in the boat and closed my eyes. Perhaps
my new life would not be as awful as I feared. My eyes began to feel heavy and
I drifted into sleep.

'London Bridge, miss,' came a distant voice and then
the grating of wood upon stone.

My eyes snapped open.

'We've arrived, miss,' the waterman said. 'London Bridge, as required.'

I fought the urge to reach out and check my purse. I
had been asleep two hours or more. I rubbed my eyes awake and glanced at the
man. He could have done anything in that time, robbed me, molested me, raped
me, even slain me and thrown my corpse into the river. Instead he had kept on
rowing in careful silence, allowing me to sleep, almost watching over me.

He struggled onto the wharf, moaning and groaning all
the while, and tied up the boat. He turned and held out his hand to help me
ashore. His grasp was immensely strong and his hand was as hard and calloused
as the bark of a tree.

'It's close to dinner time,' he said. 'Come on, miss,
and I'll take you to Mistress Scrump.'

He plucked up my bundle from the boat and led me away
from the river into a maelstrom of people, all bustling, hurrying as if
desperate to get wherever they were going. The noise was horrendous, the stench
of waste and bodies truly terrible. I had trouble keeping up with the old
waterman. He's got all my possessions, I kept thinking to myself. He could
disappear with everything in a moment. He'll get as far from the river as
possible and slip into the crowd. But he stopped at every cross-roads to see
that I was following. I'd have lost him in moments if he hadn't done so.

Then another thought struck me. He had known much
about the brothels of the city, even about the harems of the Turk. Perhaps it
was his intention to take me to some secret, desperate den and sell me to a
pimp or slaver. My heart missed a beat at the thought and my stomach lurched.
What had I done? Why had I been such a fool as to allow myself to be deceived
by the old villain?

We turned into a narrow street, barely more than an
alley. Half a dozen men were walking towards us pushing carts overflowing with
offal. The stench was nauseating and I almost gagged. It did not seem to bother
the men though. A couple were happily stuffing meat pies into their mouths,
holding the pastry with hands oozing with blood and entrails. Nor did the smell
bother Mr Scrump either. He trudged along, whistling and wheezing, giving
greeting to a number of the men and getting answered by pats on his back which
left his coat smeared and filthy. I hurried after him, stepping gingerly over
the gristle, lights and entrails which dropped off the carts with every jolt
and judder. The whole alley was choked with offal.

The waterman stopped and gave me a grin. 'Here we are,
miss,' he said. 'My home, and Margery's. And yours for as long as you want it.'
He paused and his eyes narrowed. 'As long as your money lasts out.'

He pushed open the door and I followed him in. We came
straight into a small room with low and sagging roof. It was crammed with
furniture, all higgledy-piggledy and bleached pale as if by sunshine or maybe
long periods floating in the river. The smell of cooking wafted from a door in
the far wall and I could hear someone clattering about with pans.

'Who's that?' came a deep-throated voice. 'Is that
Katie?'

'It's me,' said Walter. 'Your husband.' He turned to
me and smiled, as if he had made the greatest witticism in all the world.

'What you doing home?' the voice yelled. 'You've not
gone and crashed the boat?'

A portly little figure hurried into the room, rubbing
her hands on a filthy dish-cloth. She stopped mid-step when she saw me and
turned to her husband with an accusing stare.

'What you doing bringing the likes of her here?' she
cried, swatting him with the cloth.

Then she advanced upon me, flapping the cloth as if
she were shooing away a vagrant dog.

'Get out of here,' she said. 'We don't want your sort
here.'

She flapped and flapped as she came closer so that I
was forced to retreat to the door. 'And I'll deal with you later, Walter
Scrump,' she cried, 'daring to bring your tart to my house.'

She turned and glared at me. 'I don't like whores,
never have. Go and take your trade down Eastcheap. You'll find plenty of
customers there.'

'How dare you,' I cried.

She held her cloth in front of her like a shield and
brandished her fist at me.

'I dare do anything in my own house,' she cried. 'I'll
box your ears and kick you out on your backside.'

Walter hurried over to her and caught her by the arm.

'It's not like that at all,' he said. 'Alice Petherton
is a lady, one of the ladies from court. She's fallen on hard times and I
thought that we might let her lodge here.'

His wife turned a furious face to him. 'You must think
I was born yesterday, Walter Scrump. Think you can bring your girlfriend here,
your fancy-piece, and lodge her under my roof. That's nice and convenient for
you, I must say. Expect me to bring you both breakfast in bed I shouldn't
wonder.'

'It's not like that,' I said. I counted out some money
from my purse and held it out towards her. 'I've got money. I'll pay for
lodgings. It's as your husband said. I'm in a desperate way and I need
somewhere to stay for a few days. I'll be no trouble, honestly.'

She looked from the purse to me. Her eyes went from
top to toe, appraising me with the utmost scrutiny.

'How many days?' she asked.

'As many as these coins will buy.'

She bent and peered closely at the coins. Then she
reached out and took them from my hand.

'Quite a few days, they'll buy. I'm not a cheat, but
I'm not a fool neither.'

'I didn't think you were either cheat or fool,' I said.

She nodded and bit at the coin. 'You're welcome,' she
said. 'I'll sort out your room, it's not much but it's cosy. And I've got a
stew brewing if you want a bite to eat.'

'That would be lovely,' I said. I hoped that it was
not made up of scrapings from the street outside.

She turned towards her husband. For a moment he looked
anxious but then a look of relief came over his face. His wife nodded curtly
and he looked suddenly proud.

'She's called Alice Petherton,' he said. 'She used to
be the King's mistress.'

'Heaven help us,' Margery screamed, flinging her cloth
high above her head. 'You'll have us hanged, drawn and quartered.'

 She turned to me in horror, as though I had brought
the plague into her home.

'Get her out of here, Walter,' she wailed. 'Get her
out before the soldiers come.'

She turned to me, her breathing coming fast, and
managed a semblance of a curtsy.

'I don't want to seem rude,' she said, 'but I'm an
honest woman and I don't want no trouble. I don't want my head cut off like
poor Queen Anne. Not my head.' She jerked her thumb towards her husband. 'Nor
his head, neither, though he's the biggest fool in Christendom.'

'You won't lose your head,' I promised. 'Nothing will
happen if I stay here. No one knows that I'm even here.'

'It will get out,' Margery said. 'Lizzie Dibble would
sell her soul for seven shillings so I'm sure as sixpence she'll sell me.'

'There's nothing to sell and nothing to tell,' I said
firmly. 'Trust me in this, please Mistress Scrump.'

She eyed me uncertainly for a long minute. 'You
promise the King won't send his soldiers?'

'I promise. He doesn't even know I'm here.'

She took a step closer and stared into my face.
'You're a beautiful girl,' she said. 'I can see why the King would want to take
you to his bed.' She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. 'But what I
can't rightly understand is why he'd kick you out of it.'

'That's a long story.'

'She's not expecting,' Walter said. 'If that's what
you think.'

Mrs Scrump snorted. 'And how would you know, Walter
Scrump?'

'I'm not.' I said. 'I was dismissed from the King
because I argued with him.'

Mrs Scrump's eyes widened in disbelief but Walter
laughed aloud.

'Hear that, Margery?' he said. 'Getting rid of your woman
for arguing. What's good for the King is good for his subjects, so from now on
you mind and curb your tongue.'

'You're no King, Walter Scrump,' she answered, 'and I
ain't no mistress. So you curb your tongue before I gets a knife to cut if
off.'

For a moment I felt quite alarmed but then I saw that
the pair were grinning at each other as if this were an oft repeated scene.

'Now then, miss,' said Mrs Scrump, turning back to me.
'Let's show you your room before I get you a bite to eat.'

I followed her ample bottom up a rickety old ladder
which led to the floor above. There was one small chamber with a low bed
against the window and a wooden trunk green with mildew. It was a squalid
little place but bigger than I thought I would have.

'This is a lovely room,' I lied.

'It does for the old man and me,' she said, stepping
towards a door in the corner. 'And this will be your room.'

I smiled to hide my mistake and bent under the lintel
to get into the room. It was half the size of my old room in the palace.

The ceiling was so low I had to stoop to avoid banging
my head. A slit in the wall sufficed for a window; it cast barely a glimmer
into the room which may have been a blessing. The only furnishing was a small
platform jammed between two walls. A filthy cover was thrown upon it.

'It's a small bed,' called Mrs Scrump from her own
chamber, 'but I'm told it's comfy.' She turned and made for the ladder. 'I'll
get you a bit of dinner, miss.'

I nodded in answer although even had she been in the
doorway I doubt she would have been able to see it in the gloom. I pushed the
cover into one corner of what I would have to learn to call my bed. It was a
wooden platform, nothing more. I lay upon it gingerly. It was so small I had to
bend my knees towards my chin. What have I come to, I thought and began to sob.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Taken

27th April 1538

I have no idea how I did it but I managed to get
through the first day and night in Offal Pudding Lane. The stew which Mrs
Scrump had cooked was bland and insubstantial. I found it no wonder that her
husband was so skinny and huge wonder that she was so round. The tiny bedroom I
slept in was hot and claustrophobic. For half the night the room echoed with
the wheezing snore from Walter next door. The rest of it was filled with the
furtive scurry of mice and rats.

But worst of all was the all-pervading stench from the
lane outside. How I did not retch up my stomach is a mystery I cannot fathom.
I'd noticed that the Scrumps didn't appear to notice the smell at all; they may
as well have been breathing a breeze from open meadow-land for all the impact
it made upon them. Perhaps a life-time of smelling such distasteful odours had
destroyed their sense of smell.

When I awoke the next morning I found that my own
nostrils were beginning to get accustomed to the stink. I was appalled. I'll
soon be like a gutter-snipe, I thought to myself. I may as well go and scrape
up the steaming guts from the lane and offer to make them into a stew for the
household.

I went down the ladder and found Mrs Scrump with a
pile of clothes on her lap.

'These belong to my daughters,' she said. 'You can't
go around in fine clothes like you're wearing, miss. You'd be a target for
thieves and murderers as soon as you step out the door. You'd best leave your
fancy clothes in your room and wear these things from now on.'

She held up a brown smock with no trimming and
measured it with her eye. 'I think this should fit you.'

I took the smock and held it against me. It was of
coarse material but smelled clean and fresh.

'That's a French bonnet, I warrant,' she said,
reaching up to touch it.

I nodded. 'It's the latest fashion.'

She shook her head. 'It won't do round here, won't do
at all.' She passed me a shapeless looking woollen hat. I pulled off my bonnet
and placed the hat on my head, tilting it slightly over my forehead.