Brewer's Tale, The (74 page)

With one arm around Alyson, I took Betje's hand and once more we followed the captain.

‘Tell the men they can come and sit in here,' said Tobias to Harry who, with a glance at Alyson — who gave her consent — raced back outside. Captain Stoyan led us down the main corridor, towards the hall. ‘We locked the front door and, during the day, when Adam and I weren't tending to the sick, we kept guard. The lads you met, they manned the gates.'

‘Stop people getting in?' asked Alyson.

‘
Nein
. Stop the infected getting out.' Captain Stoyan's brow furrowed. ‘There were some of your clients who were most unhappy they were being forced to remain. In my experience, nobles and monks are very good at giving orders but not so at following them.' He touched the top of his scabbard. ‘We found ways of making them obey. Five died within days. Their bodies, along with the girls, were given to the cart, may God assoil them. We'd no choice, you understand.' Captain Stoyan put a comforting hand on Alyson's shoulder. She didn't shrug it off but dabbed her eyes. ‘Of those who may yet survive, there'll be trouble for our pains.'

Alyson's brows shot up and she snapped her kerchief like a whip. ‘Ungrateful bastards. Don't they know you likely saved their lives?'

‘And that of their families.'

Stopping before the door that led to the front chamber, Captain Stoyan appeared about to say something, and then changed his mind. With a long, tired sigh, he pushed against it.

The door swung open and, in the light of the fireplace and burning candles, another truckle bed could be seen; erected down one end of the room, chairs and stools had been pushed against walls, the rushes forming hillocks around the legs. Facing the fire were three chairs and a small table upon which sat two thick candles, a book, a mazer and a jug. Cloths hung near the hearth, as did a clean shirt. Extra blankets were folded at the end of the bed. Adam lay beneath the covers, his eyes shut, his breathing hoarse. Approaching cautiously, there were no black buboes, no open sores or yellow fluid upon his flesh. Aye, he was pale and shrunken, but he didn't have the pestilence. Stuffy, the room didn't carry the pungent odour of sickness, just the stale smell of unwashed flesh and sweat.

I looked over my shoulder at first Alyson, then Captain Stoyan. ‘What's wrong with him?'

Indicating I should sit, Captain Stoyan squatted beside my chair and in a low voice explained. ‘I don't know; only that, one morning, I awoke in the kitchen and found him thus. He has all but lost the power of speech. The right-hand side of his body is limp, useless. He cannot walk, feed himself or anything else.' He stared at me meaningfully. ‘When I understood it was not the pox, I carried him here, mainly so he wouldn't disturb the children.' He flashed Betje the warmest of smiles. ‘Your sister has taken it upon herself to care for him. She feeds him, reads to him, washes his face and hands, rubs them. Harry and I, between us, attend to his other needs.'

Turning to examine Adam, I wondered when had he grown so old. Somehow, I'd thought of him as ageless, almost immortal, and yet here he was, a withered man of many years. His eyelids were so fine, I could see the network of veins upon them and the movement of his eyes behind them. What was he seeing as he slumbered? Lines crisscrossed his cheeks, from the corner of his eyes, fanning towards his temples. They ran in lines from his nose to edges of his mouth. Even his neck, once so firm and upright, had collapsed into a concertina of flesh, as if his spine had melted. His right arm lay upon the bed, the hand curled into a claw.

‘I've been rubbing the ointment Mother Joanna taught us to make into it,' said Betje, her small fingers twining through Adam's, demonstrating.

My voice caught in my throat. Sitting opposite, Alyson's face crumpled.

Captain Stoyan stood, his knees creaking, his hand upon the back of my chair. ‘I've seen this before, men who, after surviving a storm at sea, pitting themselves against great odds, find their body betrays them when they need it most. Some recover. Most are never the same again.'

‘Has the doctor been? The apothecary?'

‘
Ja
, the apothecary, but there was naught he could do and there were others to tend. He gave us valerian, said to keep him warm, allow him to sleep. When he wakes, to encourage movement. Read to him. All is being done.'

A small amount of spittle had collected in the corner of Adam's mouth. I leaned over to dab it away. As my kerchief touched his lips, his eyelids flew open. Blinking back the tears, I gave a watery smile. ‘God give you good day, Adam Barfoot.'

The spark behind the eyes was still the same, but the noise that came from his mouth was not. Lips and tongue refused to cooperate, the sounds issuing being more animal than human. Nodding and taking his other hand into mine, I kissed the back of it. When I drew away, a salty wetness coated the skin, I brushed it away gently.

‘Dear Adam. I'm back, Alyson too —'

Alyson rose slightly so her face was in his line of vision. His eyes took a little while longer to slide to her face but, when they did, the sounds increased.

‘And Tobias. He's here.' I beckoned him forward, moving aside so Adam could see him.

Tobias's mouth twisted awkwardly and, backing away from the bed, he shook his head, his eyes glassy.

I took pity on him and, turning to Adam, spoke softly. ‘We've come to relieve you of the burden of care. You have looked after Betty and Harry so well. You saved the twins — you and the captain. I do not know how to thank you. We want you to rest, Adam.' I choked and had to pause and contain myself before continuing. ‘We will take over now. It's our turn.' I wanted to say everything will be all right, that he would be fine, nothing further would happen. But who was I to offer such platitudes? Predict what God would see fit to throw at us next? I could not give Adam false hope; I knew he would expect nothing but the truth from me.

Understanding more than he was able to convey, Adam ceased trying to speak and relaxed into the bed. Betje continued to massage his hands and, after a while, Captain Stoyan disappeared, returning with mazers of ale and some bread for us to eat. I'd had nothing since before Ludgate and, much to my surprise, was famished. I watched as Betje patiently broke the bread and fed it to Adam, dipping it in the ale to soften it before squeezing it between his teeth. Harry, who'd rejoined us at some point, stoked the fire. Captain Stoyan and Harry absented themselves, the captain telling Betje to remain with us. I only discovered later that they went to tend the sick upstairs.

Alyson, Tobias and I spoke for a long time, discussing what had happened here in Southwark and at Gloucester, and what we were to do, pausing occasionally as our emotions and the enormity of what we faced almost overwhelmed us. When the candles finally burned out and Adam, with the help of some valerian, slept once more, we left him in peace, Harry by his side.

We retreated to the kitchen where the guards sat down one side of the table, Hodge and Ralph with them, ale in their hands, the remnants of bread before them.

‘What are you going to do?' I asked Tobias.

With his back to the hearth, Tobias's face was cast in shadows and only the outline of his body was distinct. It could have been Leander standing there, only it wasn't. ‘I was to see you safe and then return to Ashlar Place and look to the Lady Cecilia. It's too late to leave now. I'll have to go first thing in the morning — only … Anna …'

‘Only what?'

‘Are you
safe
? I mean, there are people dying above us,' his eyes flicked to the ceiling, ‘around —' His arm swung out to take in all of Bankside.

I gave a dry laugh. ‘As safe as anywhere else here. Or there,' I said, jerking my head towards London. ‘I could ask you the same question. Has the pestilence reached Ashlar Place?'

‘Not that I'm aware. What I do know, however, is it's here and so are you.'

I went to his side. ‘Your duty is to your master and his wife, Tobias. I will be all right. Betty has survived thus far. The twins too. Sir Leander entrusted you with a task — you have completed a portion, now you must see it through. Whether you remain here or not will make no difference to God's plans.'

‘I know. It's just …'

His dark eyes met mine.

‘Aye.' I whispered and rested my forehead against his. We stood like that for some time.

One of the guards belched, and another slapped him on the back. Alyson said something caustic and ordered them outside to the mews, shoving some bedding in their arms. Grumbling, they rose. It was getting late or, rather, early. A new day was due to dawn.

Fumbling for my hand, Tobias held it tight then released it. ‘It's time for you to go now, too. Knowing you will be in the cellar goes some way to easing our parting.'

While sitting around Adam's bed, we'd reached some hard decisions. Desperate to see my babes, certain I was not infected, my only choice was to remain in the cellar until such time as it was safe to re-emerge. Alyson would stay in The Swanne.

‘As you must see to your babes, I must see to my mine,' she said. ‘What's left of them, may God assoil them.'

Captain Stoyan and Harry would continue what they'd been doing. With a sigh, I first wrote to Leander, a note I entrusted to Tobias, and then followed the small, narrow hallway that led to the cellar stairs. Assuming Betje would accompany me, I was soon disabused of that notion.

‘Not me, Anna,' she said in her soft, throaty voice as we reached the door. ‘I must be here for Adam. You go to my niece and nephew. I will be here when this is over.'

When had my little sister grown the head and heart of her elders? Struck dumb, I simply nodded.

And so, before the cock crowed and the sad bells of St Mary's chimed daybreak, Captain Stoyan lifted the heavy bar off the cellar door, undid the latch and, with a farewell that refused to acknowledge how dire the circumstances, clutching first the captain, then Alyson, Tobias and Betje to my breast, trying not to think about the possible consequences of our decisions, I descended into the cellar.

The bar slid into place behind me with a dull thud and the clang of the latch echoed. I paused on the dark steps. Sorrow, regret and a terrible, aching fear anchored me to the spot.

It was sometime before I was able to move again. And, though my babes awaited me below, the devil's dark humour afflicted my every step, making my descent one from which all light and hope had fled.

THE SWANNE

Late October to Christmastide

The year of Our Lord 1407 in the ninth year of the reign of Henry IV

O
ne person's calamity is another's fortune, I'd heard say, and that was certainly the case with the pestilence. The day we emerged from the cellar after it had passed, having ravaged the population like a fire through a field, we were fearful of what we'd find. Clinging to faith and the power of our prayers, despite evidence to the contrary, we entered the world with fresh eyes and renewed hope and vigour. For though we'd lost a great many to its deadly grip, we'd not suffered the losses of our neighbours who'd lacked Adam and Captain Stoyan's foresight and had instead seen The Swanne's closing as an opportunity to take custom. All the women of the Cardinal's Hatte had perished along with their master, as had the folk who owned and worked at the Boar's Head. Seven alehouses in the area would never reopen their doors, nor would two large taverns.

One of the first things we did was go to church, braving the snow and gusts of ice-driven wind. Father Kenton, who had also survived, said it was the freezing conditions that had driven the pestilence from our shores and, while it would produce its own kind of hardship, God was benevolent. In the candles we lit for the souls of the dead and the prayers whispered heavenwards, we gave our shivering thanks.

It was only once that initial wondrous rush of relief passed that we understood what the loss of so many signified. Of the women of The Swanne, only three girls survived: Rose, Golda and Mary, and that was due to the tireless ministrations of Alyson, Captain Stoyan, Harry and Betje. The only customers to endure were a brother from St Thomas (who sang the praises of Alyson and Captain Stoyan), and the son of Lord Chester: the latter, very badly scarred, swore that his father would seek vengeance upon Adam and the captain for forcing him to remain.

Ever with an eye to business, Alyson chose to cease trading as a bathhouse for the time being and turn everyone to helping in the brewery. After all, she reasoned, we had the king's order to fulfil. Captain Stoyan was sent to buy another mash tun and a trough, as well as barrels, butts, measures, bungs and any other equipment I needed from premises whose owners would never again craft a brew. Guilt-ridden that we could purchase the extra equipment we needed so cheaply and swiftly, I was also grateful that we could offer coin and even work to some of those who were left with nothing.