Brewer's Tale, The (15 page)

Hope fluttered in my breast. ‘You'll help me?'

A wicked grin split his face. ‘Sweet
fräulein
, I can and I will.' Sitting back down, he propped his elbows on the desk and lowered his voice. ‘You see, Abbot Badon Hubbard has been in control of the friary for a long time; he's forgotten that he's simply a spoke in a big wheel that will turn with or without him. I think he just needs a little reminder about what his order owes the Hanse. We not only control the trade routes throughout Europe, but the pilgrim passages as well. Like most religious orders, the Benedictines need access through the Rhine in order to make their holy treks and, for that to happen, they need the cooperation of the Hanseatic League.

‘All it would take for that to become … let's say, most troublesome, for the passes to become impossible, for ships to become unavailable, rivers and oceans unnavigable, roads too dangerous, is a word from me to my colleagues in the Stilliard in London or, better still, Cologne. From there, every port between Lübeck and Harfleur, Hamburg and Venice, Danzig and Ypres, and the entire Rhine, never mind passage through the Alps, would be closed to the Benedictines. Once word gets out that the Friary of St Jude has caused this … well … you can imagine. Every Catholic between here, Rome, and even those who follow the Antipope in Avignon would be calling God's wrath upon them and, ultimately, his grace. I don't think Abbot Hubbard would want to risk that, do you?'

My eyes widened. ‘You would threaten the abbot?'

‘For you, Anneke, I would do that and more.'

‘You're not going to try and talk me out of it? Out of brewing?'

Captain Stoyan snorted. ‘What? Like your mother when she had her heart set on something? Like I tried to talk her out of marrying your father?'

Failing to notice my surprise, he shook his head, his bushy hair thrown back and forth. ‘
Nein, liebchen
. Not me. I'll not try to dissuade you. I will see you're given every chance to succeed.'

My face grew warm, my heart light until the shadow looming over me reappeared. ‘My impression is that Abbot Hubbard is someone who wouldn't take kindly to being threatened …'

Captain Stoyan laughed. It was dry, bitter. ‘I don't threaten. I'm doing him the courtesy of issuing a warning. He leaves you alone. Him and his
verdammt
ale-conners.'

I repressed a smile. ‘You think that will work?'

‘Unless the abbot is a very stupid, or very cunning man —'

‘He's a man of God.'

‘Then he is both.' Captain Stoyan pushed back his chair and stood, striding over to the map on the wall. He traced a finger along the lower part. ‘If the throne of England bows to the might of the Hanse,' he drew a huge circle that encompassed all of France, Burgundy, the kingdom of Poland, Sweden and beyond, ‘then your abbot will too — he will, or he'll be crushed.'

Smiling at Captain Stoyan though blurry vision, I blinked the tears back rapidly.

‘Don't cry,
liebchen
.' Stepping towards me, he suddenly halted and struck his forehead. ‘Of course,' he exclaimed. Swinging towards the chest, he flung the lid back with a resounding bang. ‘Since you're entering the brewing trade, I've something here that you may be interested in. Something that may give you an advantage.' Pulling out a small sack, he untied the opening. ‘Hold out your hands.'

Wiping my eyes quickly, I dried my palms on my dress and then held them up obediently. Captain Stoyan poured some herbs into them. They were a light green. I bent my head and inhaled. They smelled of a freshly ploughed field or an aromatic spice I couldn't place.

‘What's this?'

‘Something that's been used in Germany and your mother's home as long as I can remember. You will have heard of it — it's called hops.' He dragged his finger through the hops, tickling my palm. ‘We use it all the time. Few of you
Englischer
appreciate it, but that is slowly changing. When added to the ale at the right time, it makes a drink we call beer. It's what you're enjoying with me now.'

I breathed in the scent again and then, as the captain had done, rolled the herb between my fingertips. It was quite fresh, oily almost.

‘I have heard of it and, of course, Mother spoke if it. But I'd never seen it before, or used it. There're many recipes among the ones she left. If I remember correctly, she said the reason the English didn't like it was because it gave the ale a very bitter taste.'

‘It does, but it also preserves it. Hence, the Hanse can export all over Europe, not like your ale that sometimes sours in mere days. Not much beer comes to England … not yet — but once a taste has been developed … Well, why import what you can make and purchase at home?' He paused. ‘Perhaps this is something you can do?' Propping himself on the edge of his desk, he folded his arms and regarded me seriously. ‘If you learn to use this properly and make beer, you might be able not only to educate the English palate, but to look at exporting. Apart from a couple of brewers in Winchelsea, there are one or two in London who are using hops, but they haven't perfected their recipes yet. Haven't quite managed to get the taste right, and they're working on a small scale.'

I looked from the hops back to the captain. ‘Maybe I could experiment …'

‘
Ja,
' he said. ‘You should.' Returning to his seat, the captain drained the last of his drink. ‘Take that.' He waved at the sack on his desk. ‘I've more. It's only a small amount. I will give you some beer to take with you as well. You can taste it, do some tests with the hops. If you wish, I can bring more back from Germany when I return in late December. But trust me when I say, if you learn to brew with hops,' he opened his palm to reveal what was nestled in there, ‘make a beer that the English will like and which you can sell beyond your shores, you won't only be able to provide for your family, you'll become a wealthy woman.'

My heart filled with hope and my fingers closed around the herbs, the fragile pieces of green that could represent my future, my fortune. Then doubt hit me. ‘And if I can't?'

Captain Stoyan gave me a stern look. ‘Your name may be Sheldrake, but the blood of the de Winters, of your Dutch and German ancestors, flows strong in you. There is no such thing as “can't”.'

I rose to my feet. ‘You're right, Captain. If my mother was alive, she would tell me the same thing.'

‘But she is not,' said Captain Stoyan, his face downcast. ‘And it's left to me to remind you.'

I held out my hand and he came around the desk and took it. ‘And for that, Captain, I'm beyond grateful.'

Arm in arm, the captain and I left his office a short time later, he carrying the sack and two jugs of beer. The men glanced at us as he escorted me through the warehouse, along the dock and back to where Will and Shelby waited. Helping me mount the cart, he placed the sack in my lap and the jugs at my feet. If my presence at the pier was the source of gossip, I was oblivious. My mind was filled with what lay ahead, with the potential of Captain Stoyan's gift — not merely the hops, but what he would say to the abbot.

For now, I would push thoughts of the abbot to the back of my mind. I'd work to do, ale to perfect and, when I was ready, a small sack of hops with which to experiment.

HOLCROFT HOUSE

One week later

The year of Our Lord 1405 in the sixth year of the reign of Henry IV

A
week after I had been to see Captain Stoyan, he came to Holcroft House. I'd finished work in the brewery for the day and was in the office with Adam, tallying up the accounts. Though I was delighted to see him, I knew the reason for his visit. I'd been expecting to hear from him. What I hadn't anticipated was that he'd come in person, nor so late. It was as though a little pulley was tugging at my heart, causing me simultaneous pain and excitement. I welcomed him, and waited in nervous silence as Iris brought a tray. Dishevelled and thirsty from being on the road, the captain took the proffered ale and sat opposite me, looking about with interest.

‘You've made some changes,' he said as Iris, in a flurry of skirts and curtseys, scurried out, closing the door with a last glance towards us. The kitchen would be full of surmise.

I followed the direction of the captain's gaze. For certes, I'd rearranged Father's things, but since Hiske had also taken some, I'd found other objects to fill the gaps — a few books, my favourite quill and a small painting Mother had given me for my fifth birthday. In a flight of fancy, I'd placed a row of silver-banded mazers atop the mantelpiece. Saskia had seen to it the room was polished to shiny perfection now it was being used regularly. I'd also opened the shutters and lit a number of candles to admit more light. The fire in the hearth added its own special glow. It was a different space.

‘A few,' I smiled.

Pretending to fuss over the captain's cloak and hood, but really giving me respectability by acting as a chaperone, Adam first loitered then gave up all pretence and stood by the fire, arms crossed. The way the muscle in his cheek pulsed, I knew he was keen to hear the captain's news.

‘I took a ride out to St Jude's today,' said Captain Stoyan finally.

Closing the ledger slowly, I sucked in my breath. ‘And?'

‘Let us say, neither the ale-conners nor the guild will trouble you for now.'

‘
For now
. The abbot said that.'

‘In not so many words. It was more what he implied.' He ran fingers through his windswept hair, taming it into submission. ‘To be frank, Mistress Anneke, Master Barfoot,' he turned slightly to include Adam, ‘I may have underestimated him. He's not what I anticipated. Not at all. Where some men issue orders in loud voices, deliver threats of God's punishment and their own, this man ensures compliance with smiles and silence — smiles that never reach his eyes and silences more deep and deadly than the Baltic in winter.' Reaching for his drink, he swirled it a couple of times. When he'd taken a long swallow, pulling a face, he continued. ‘He offered me wine, Rhenish no less. It was poured into a goblet with so many jewels decorating the stem it would fund a voyage to Muscovy and back. It was just one of many in the room. So much wealth and all very deliberately on display. There were gold platters, silver chalices, a bejewelled cross gleaming on the wall behind his velvet and ermine clad shoulders.' He shook his head. ‘His room reeked of money.
Ja
, I answered the wrong calling when I chose the sea.' With a half-laugh, he drank again. I exchanged a glance with Adam whose frown had deepened.

The fire crackled. Outside the sounds of a cart rumbling past and the conversations of passers-by formed a faint counterpoint to our conversation.

‘Anyway, I told him in no uncertain terms what would happen should he interfere with your business.'

‘What did he say?'

‘Say? Everything and thus, nothing. He's a shrewd man, with more cunning than a hawker, and more canny than a Venetian moneylender.'

‘How can one say everything and nothing?'

‘It happens all the time,
liebchen
. Oh, he gave me the assurances I asked for, said the right things, made the right noises. When I first began, he acted as if I'd delivered some terrible blow to his pride, to the friary's. When I mentioned the ale-conners and the guild, the well-known interference with ale production in Elmham Lenn and further, he blanched, he couldn't hide that. But he quickly recovered. Where I expected wrath and denial, he quietly played the role of the injured party.'

I glanced at Adam. ‘But he didn't deny it?'

‘Deny?
Nein
. He said it was a terrible misunderstanding. He said the friary was the victim of slander no more, no less. He spoke of the sins of those who sought to denigrate and defame and how God would be their judge. He told me how the brothers prayed for the souls of these trespassers daily. It was quite a sermon. Practised, assured.'

‘Oh, the abbot is that,' I added, remembering the times I'd heard him deliver mass in town.

‘I can't help but feel he's had to say these things before, to others.' The captain shrugged. ‘I might be wrong, but the man was prepared. After a drink or two, whereby he shared with me the history of the friary and the changes that had been wrought under his watch, he told me there was no need to worry, let alone alert the Hanse. He was most insistent on that last point. For just a moment, his guard slipped and I saw that he was genuinely worried, that he'd never anticipated our interest.' Captain Stoyan grinned. ‘Other than that, he smiled, nodded, performed benevolence with ease. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear he was innocent. That in good faith, the friary makes its ale and everyone purchases it because that's what they desire to drink.'

Adam made a noise.

‘Do you believe him?' I asked.