Brewer's Tale, The (93 page)

I would not end this way. I would not. Ale was my life. Not my death.

There was a loosening, the hands upon me were gone. My head flew up and I gasped for air, my hair arcing like a whip to slap my back, before I was thrown to one side.

‘I said, get off her, you dirty bastard.'

Alyson stood, broken jugs in her hands, ale dripping from the shards.

I scrambled to my feet, panting, wiping my face, my heart pounding.

Looking up at us from the floor, Roland grinned through bloodied teeth. His temples streamed blood, his nose was bent at an odd angle, his upper lip engorged. ‘You'll not escape justice this time,' said Alyson and before Roland could move, broke the remainder of the jugs over his head.

Roland slumped to one side.

‘Quick, Anna, help,' she said, grabbing him under the arms, nodding for me to take his feet.

God forgive me, I hesitated only a second before lifting him by the ankles. He was heavy, but so was the burden he'd forced me to carry, the fear he'd instilled since I first set eyes upon him.

‘Into the barrel with him,' barked Alyson and heaved him to the edge.

With a roar, I lifted him higher, rolling him into the amber liquid head first.

At first, Roland didn't react, he didn't move and I thought perhaps he was already dead. Then, like a fish fighting its hook, he thrashed and kicked, dislodging one of my hands, his foot striking the floor before trying to connect with my hips, chest, head. He pulled himself up, took a huge lungful of air before Alyson struck him with the lamp and he fell forwards once more. I grabbed his legs, my fingers digging into his flesh forcing him down, down.

One of his hands managed to grab the edges of the barrel, trying to raise himself back to the surface. Another hand appeared, the fingers curling around the lip. He freed his hips and began to drag the barrel towards him. He was going to tip it over. I let go of his legs and, leaning heavily on the barrel to prevent it inclining further, began to prise his fingers loose.

I managed to get one hand free. Alyson worked upon the other. ‘Get his feet,' she roared. ‘Push him back in.'

Sinking her teeth into his fingers, Alyson held one arm above her head, an ankle clutched in her hand. Finally, with a last violent jerk of his leg, his hand let go. We held him fast, pushing him deeper into the ale.

God forgive me, I didn't let go of his feet; Alyson, her hands submerged, pushed down on his back.

Whether it was the struggle he'd already put up or he just resigned himself to fate, it didn't take long for Roland le Bold to die.

Feeling his body go flaccid, I released him slowly, carefully. In silence, we watched him sink, face first, his legs twisted above the water. The ale gurgled and belched. Bubbles exploded on the surface before it grew still.

‘Wait. Not good enough,' said Alyson. Lifting the lid off the ground, she poked and shoved Roland's legs, bending them, forcing them into the ale. I helped.

When the barrel contained him, Alyson tried to put the lid in place. It didn't matter what she did, it wouldn't seal and slid off, clattering to the floor. Breathless, we stared at the lid then each other, unable to believe what we'd just done, what we'd survived.

Another noise alerted us. There was the stamp of booted feet above, cries and shouts. The door opened and we spun towards the stairs. Coming down them was Leander.

Holding a torch aloft, he took in my wet hair, bloody forehead and torn tunic, Alyson's wild countenance, and called over his shoulder: ‘She is safe. They both are. Check upstairs.' There was a reply and a stampede of feet.

Turning back to us, Leander approached as fast as he was able. Holding out his arms, I fell into them, placing my ear against the reassuring beat of his heart. ‘God be praised, you are safe — but not by my hand,' he said with such sadness and guilt that I held him as tightly as I was able.

‘Alyson saved me,' I whispered.

‘We saved each other,' said Alyson.

Kissing the top of my wet head, he held out his other arm and invited her to share the embrace. She did most gratefully.

‘This lifetime isn't enough to repay you, Alyson, or to make up for not being here when you needed me, Anneke. Where is the bastard? What's happened to him?'

Withdrawing slightly from his arms, Alyson and I faced what we'd done.

Lifting the torch higher, Leander gazed at the barrel and let out a long whistle. He squeezed us tighter. After a moment, he began talking softly.

‘He never left Southwark. Under cover of darkness, the guards loaded him onto a boat to transport him across the river, when they were attacked — from the water. It was a clever ruse. Assuming he'd been transferred to the other barge, they scoured the banks of London and found it moored near Dowgate. A search began in earnest from there. But he never boarded. When I discovered the truth, I came straight back. There were sightings, by the millponds, by Smith's rents. It was then I understood what he intended and came to warn you. I was too late.'

‘Not too late.' I bent and picked up the lid and, with a straight face, passed it to him. ‘We can't get this to stay in place.'

Passing the torch to Alyson, Leander regarded me wryly. ‘I'm happy to be of service, my lady.'

Ramming the lid into position, he grabbed one of the wrapped tools from the table and hammered it shut. Ale leaked out the barrel, staining the outside of the wood, forming tears, runnels of blood, wet scars. Trapped inside was the man who had caused all these things and more.

‘Tomorrow,' Leander began softly when he'd finished, leaning upon the top, ‘I will ask Captain Stoyan to arrange to have this barrel taken out to sea.'

‘Aye,' said Alyson, one hand upon Leander's chest, the other on my arm. ‘Far out.'

‘Will God forgive us for what we did?' I asked.

‘I believe God may not forgive,' said Leander cautiously, ‘but He will understand. Le Bold abused his power, the trust others bestowed. He committed terrible crimes and all the while professed to be doing our Lord's work.'

‘I think that's one worker God won't miss,' said Alyson.

‘All the same,' said Leander, ‘I'm glad he wasn't wearing the cassock when you killed him. For you may console yourselves that you killed an evil man, not a monk.'

‘Makes no difference to me,' said Alyson. ‘Either way, as man or monk, he was wickedness itself.'

I didn't want to say it, but I felt the same.

We stared at the barrel, the torch crackling. Footsteps resounded above. Leander glanced up. ‘I'll tell my men the search is over. Get a message to Tobias.' He glanced at me. ‘He swore he would not rest till le Bold was found. Unless we tell him the truth, he'll never know peace again.'

‘Can we afford to tell the truth to anyone?' I asked, worrying my lower lip.

‘Come,' said Alyson, ‘let's discuss this over a drink, shall we? Not in the solar, not yet. I want to celebrate and if that makes me a sinful woman, then give me a badge and I'll wear it with pride.'

‘Shouldn't we also pray for his soul? Pray that he finds the peace in the hereafter he never found on earth.'

‘Peace?' said Alyson. ‘Get away with you, I hope he rots in hell and never knows anything but torment.' She gave the wood a sharp kick. ‘It's no more than the prick deserves. That's what I'm drinking to.'

I couldn't help it, I laughed. My body was humming as the song of ale stirred within me, as relief replaced the fear.

Following Alyson, Leander and I walked back to the stairs. ‘Are you all right, my love? Did he … did he hurt you greatly?'

‘Not greatly. Alyson prevented that and I am so very thankful.'

‘He'll never hurt you again.'

‘Aye, he won't. And I know I should feel guilty, that I should seek penance for what we did, pray for
our
souls and suffer remorse, but I don't want to do any of those things. He killed my brother, he killed Saskia, Will and Louisa and others besides. Alyson's right. He deserved what happened. Only, I don't feel like celebrating either. It's wrong to seek vengeance, I know, but if the opportunity is offered and we take it upon such a deserving villain, is that a mortal sin?'

‘Mayhap.' Alyson paused on the steps, and turned to look down upon us. ‘But answer me this. Is it a sin if anyone other than God — and we three here — knows? Is it a sin if your conscience is clear? That's what we need to talk about.'

With a wink and a laugh, she continued. I could not.

‘Is your conscience clear, my love?' asked Leander.

‘For now, but I will still confess.'

‘Who would absolve you of such a sin?' asked Leander. ‘Better to hold your peace.'

‘I was thinking of confessing to Father Clement.'

‘You are intending to return to Elmham Lenn sometime soon?'

‘Nay,' I said, and walked up the remaining stairs, Leander's chuckles in my ears.

As Leander went upstairs to notify his men and send them home, Alyson and I latched the brewery door and locked it, Alyson pocketing the key. Voices in the courtyard followed by the jingle of tack and whinny of horses drifted in not long after. By the time we'd stoked the fire, Leander rejoined us. ‘I told the others that you were refilling the jugs and would be up soon. They're relieved to find le Bold is not here and are continuing their search. We'll have to come up with a story or it could go on for days. Only,' his eyes rested on the brewery door, ‘I'm not sure what to tell them.'

‘Easy. Nothing. When Captain Stoyan takes the barrel, tell him not to go out to sea, but to open it and pour the contents in the river. The body will wash ashore as night follows day or the moon chases the sun. When it's discovered, everyone will have their answers, they'll assume God saw fit to punish the bishop. Tobias will know peace and so will we.'

‘That means we'll have to tell the captain what happened,' said Leander.

‘Aye,' said Alyson.

‘A version, mayhap?' I said.

Leander gave me a small smile. ‘Mayhap.'

‘Hatto can be trusted,' said Alyson, misinterpreting the look that passed between Leander and me.

I agreed.

‘Before we drink,' said Leander, ‘can we agree never to speak a word of what happened in there again?'

‘Not a word,' said Alyson, hand atop the stopper on the skin.

‘Not a word,' I agreed.

Leander leaned in. ‘Alyson I believe, but as for you, Mistress Anneke, any time you give your word you're apt to break it.'

Pretending an affront I didn't feel, I put distance between us. ‘It's not always of my choosing.'

‘Nonetheless, I think I've a solution.'

‘Well, that can wait till after we down something, for Godsakes!' said Alyson, placing mazers before Leander and indicating he should pour. While he did that, she sat me closer to the fire, throwing me a sheet so I might dry my hair and tunic. Lifting my hand, I gently touched the tender flesh of my forehead. There would be bruising — le Bold's final mark.

‘To life,' said Alyson, and lifted her drink.

‘To new beginnings,' I said.

We looked at Leander. ‘There's only one thing I want to toast. Rather, one person.'

I tilted my head. ‘Oh?'

His smile broadened and those eyes did twinkle. ‘To the Brewer of London.'

‘To the Brewer of London,' said Alyson, standing, raising her mazer and downing it one gulp.

‘But, I'm not — not yet.'

‘You soon will be, my chick. The finest in the land. I know it. I feel it here.' Alyson slapped her midriff. Walking around the table, she gave me a resounding kiss on the mouth. ‘Now, let's return to the festivities upstairs before we arouse more suspicion.' She lifted the heavy damp curtain of my head and winced when she saw my forehead. ‘We'll have to think of something to explain these as well. Oh, the stories we'll be telling,' and her eyes gleamed at the notion.

Turning our backs on the kitchen and brewery, taking fresh jugs of beer and some wine with us, we returned to the solar and the friends and family who awaited us there.

THE SWANNE, CORNHILL STREET, LONDON

Late July

The year of Our Lord 1408 in the ninth year of the reign of Henry IV

T
wo weeks later, as I observed Leander standing by the window, enjoying the warm London breeze, I thought of all we'd achieved.

The move had gone smoothly, with the brewery fittings and our furniture and household goods transported across the river by Captain Stoyan. While the servants and additional help we'd hired arranged everything upstairs under Alyson's watchful eye, I supervised the placement of equipment downstairs.

The copper pipes fascinated Betje, Harry and Yolande, while Thomas and Master atte Place could not cease examining the slotted tuns that came with the premises. Reminding them that there was work to do, I had to prevent them exploring until everything was in place.