The Sempster's Tale (28 page)

That succeeded in getting Pernell to bed, though as she let her mother take her toward the bedchamber she asked Anne, “You’ll send Raulyn in when he comes, won’t you?”

‘I will,“ Anne promised, smiling. She held the smile until the bedchamber door was shut. Then all her forced brightness vanished and she sank into Pernell’s chair.

‘Can you keep up the pretense if this goes on?“ Frevisse asked.

Wearily, Anne answered, “I’ve hidden more than this from more people than Pernell.”

‘You mean what’s between you and Daved Weir,“ Frevisse said; and when Anne did not answer that, asked, ”Does anyone else know of it?“

‘My servant. And Raulyn. Others may know. Or suspect. I don’t know.“ Anne covered her face with both hands and said, in pain, ”Oh, God, they can’t kill him. What am I going to do? Oh, my God, what?“

‘There’s nothing you can do,“ Frevisse said, unable to give comfort where none was to be had. ”Not now he’s been found out.“

Anne dropped her hands into fists in her lap and said fiercely, “It’s the friar. Without him there’d be no trouble. No one would have known. Daved should have let those men kill him. They were probably Lollards.” Fear wrenched into her voice again. “And he’s accused Daved of killing Hal!”

Frevisse make a shushing gesture at her, warning against going any louder because besides Pernell in the bedchamber, someone was coming up the stairs. Anne, hearing that, too, sprang to her feet and went quickly, saying at Master Grene as he came in, “Where’s Daved? What’s he done with him?”

‘He’s still in the solar. He’s bound now…“

Anne moaned and covered her face again. Master Grene put an arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the chair, much as she had done with Pernell. “No, listen,” he said. “It was the solar or the cellar. I refused the cellar. And I refused to have Father Tomas held prisoner. He—”

‘The solar,“ Anne said with sudden hope. ”He could escape from there. You can help him, Raulyn.“

Master Grene took her by both arms, bringing her around to face him while he said carefully, to be sure she understood, “Anne, he’s tied hands and
feet
and to a chair, and brother Michael means to stay the night there for better measure.”

With the Naylors keeping guard, too,“ Frevisse said, to discourage whatever foolishness Anne might desperately think to try.

‘No, not the Naylors,“ Master Grene said. ”They have to rest, to be ready for their turn on watch.“

Anne took hold on his doublet and pulled demandingly. “It has to be tonight you help him. Before he’s taken to the bishop.”

Master Grene loosened her hands from him but kept hold on them. “Anne, there’s nothing I can do. Brother Michael isn’t going to drop his guard, and I’m near to being in trouble right along with Daved. If Daved escapes, by any means whatsoever, I’ll be the one to answer for it, no matter what my innocence
else.
Anne, I have Pernell and the children to remember. I don’t dare do more than I have.”

Anne gave a sob dry with a grief and hopelessness past tears and leaned her forehead against him. He put his arms around her and pleaded, “Forgive me.”

Anne straightened and said wearily, “There’s nothing to forgive. I know how it is. But, please, isn’t there some way I can see Daved again, talk with him for a moment? Half a moment.” Her need was giving her strength again. “I
have
to see him.”

Master Grene took her by both shoulders and said steadily, as if willing her to understand, “Anne, for now Brother Michael has no reason to look at you. For everyone’s sake, keep it that way. Give no sign Daved is anything to you. It will only go the worse for him, let alone you, if you’re found out. There’s nothing you can do. Father Tomas is already lost. Don’t you be, too.”

‘Father Tomas is a priest,“ Anne said wearily. ”Nothing will happen to him.“

‘Anne,“ Master Grene said very gently, ”there’s Hal’s death.“

Anne wrenched free of his hold and stepped back, staring at him. Half-strangled on sudden anger, she said furiously, “That’s not something even to be thought! Father Tomas had nothing to do with that!”

‘Somebody did,“ Master Grene said, sounding too weighed under his own weariness and grief to meet her anger. ”Anne, somebody did, and it’s Father Tomas’ word against the friar’s that those aren’t Jewish marks cut into Hal’s body.“

He looked to Frevisse for help, and she went to lay hands on Anne’s shoulders and draw her away, saying, “Master Grene should go in to Pernell now. Best you come sit and recover yourself.”

Anne let Frevisse seat her while Master Grene went into the bedchamber. A goblet and a pitcher stood on the table, and Frevisse poured wine and gave it to Anne, who was drinking it as Mistress Hercy came from the bedchamber. In the unguarded moment when she turned from closing the door, deep-worn lines of weariness showed in her face before she gathered herself, shoved away her weariness, and bustled toward Frevisse and Anne with, “Bed for the rest of us, too, I should think. Anne-dear, why don’t I see you to yours before I settle down with Lucie on the truckle beside Pernell?”

Anne emptied the goblet in a long gulp, set it down un-gently on the table, and came abruptly to her feet. “Yes,” she said. “Bed. Thank you. Yes.” And left. All so suddenly that Frevisse and Mistress Hercy were left staring after her, wordless, until Mistress Hercy shook her head, said, “Well. I was going to say you could share the bed with her tonight, since Lucie won’t be, but…”

‘Here still suits me very well,“ Frevisse said.

Master Grene came from the bedchamber, shutting the door with silent carefulness before he looked around to ask, “Where’s Anne?”

‘Gone to bed,“ Mistress Hercy answered. ”And Dame Frevisse is about to, I think. Is Pernell asleep?“

‘She and Lucie both,“ Master Grene said, going to the southward window to look out. ”No sign of anything burning,“ he said after a moment and began to close the shutters across the window. ”I’ve shuttered the window in the bedchamber and am going to close these, so if trouble does break out in the night, maybe Pernell won’t hear it.“

‘Well thought,“ agreed Mistress Hercy, and she went to close the shutters across the window overlooking the yard. ”Now, Raulyn, what’s this with that friar and Jews? There’s nothing in it, is there?“

While Raulyn told her there was something in it but tonight wasn’t the time to talk about it, Frevisse drew her last night’s bedding from the corner where it had been left all day. Mistress Hercy insisted on more from Raulyn and when she had it, tersely though he told it, she veered between dismay that it could be true and declaration that she did not believe such treacherous pretense of either Master Bocking or Master Weir.

‘It’s what Brother Michael believes that calls the dance,“ Master Grene answered. ”I’m going to see to the watch now. Father Tomas and I will be where we were last night if you need me—or us—later.“

Mistress Hercy let him go, stood silent in apparent thought for a moment after he was gone, then asked Frevisse, who now had the mattress unrolled and blankets spread, “Will you do well enough tonight, my lady? Do you need aught?”

‘I need nothing,“ Frevisse assured her. ”See to yourself for a while.“

Mistress Hercy’s smile was small, all her weariness openly upon her. “If everyone will just stay asleep until dawn, I’ll do well enough. By your leave, I’ll bid you goodnight, then.” And she went into the bedchamber, silently closing the door behind her.

Frevisse, at last blessedly alone, blew out the lamp and knelt to Compline’s prayers, but they did not come, only an ongoing churn of worries and, she realized, anger. At what-she wondered; and the answer came easily. At Brother Michael and his eagerness to bring Daved Weir and Father Tomas to destruction.

Knowing that lying down to sleep would be no use, she rose and went to partly open one of the shutters at the southward window and sat down on the seat there, looking out. She had never seen London so dark. The law might be that householders were supposed to have a lantern lighted outside their door through the night, but very few folk tonight were willing to chance drawing unwanted notice their way. Such glows as she could see looked to be torches on the move in the darkened streets; but she still heard no screams of fear or anger, only what sounded like loud tavern-reveling. Out-of-the-ordinary loud and from too many places, though, and she doubted the likelihood of Brother Michael getting Daved Weir to the bishop tomorrow through streets full of roving rebels.

That, in its way, was to the bad, because the sooner Daved Weir was away the better, before Anne Blakhall betrayed herself too openly. For her to confess to her own priest and be given deep penance for her sin was one thing and necessary. It was another matter altogether to think of her put to Brother Michael’s mercy. Heresy was a treachery of the mind, not a sin of the body. Whatever Anne’s wrong in taking Daved Weir for her lover, Frevisse had no doubt she was misled by her body’s passion, not by any thought of heresy.

Frevisse also had no doubt that the Inquisition would see it otherwise.

She understood the guard that had to be kept against the corrupting danger of heretics. It was the charge of heresy against the Jews that she didn’t accept. As Daved had said, scholars considering, explaining, amplifying the Bible’s teachings had been part of Christianity from the beginning and many of them had been saints. No one charged that their studies had corrupted or changed Christianity, nor had Brother Michael in his furious exchange with Daved explained why it should be otherwise for Jewish scholars, why their learned men discussing and interpreting God’s word turned their faith to heresy. Until someone brought her to understand that, she would not accept it. Or that Daved Weir was a heretic.

Besides that, she fiercely liked the way he had held his own against the friar. One of the things that made the friars of the Inquisition so terrible was their skillful use of their great learning as a weapon against all foes; but watching Brother Michael and Daved Weir had been like watching two equally armed men. Learning for learning, certainty for certainty, Daved had wielded words and knowledge as readily as Brother Michael had. There had been nothing of the merchant in his dealing with Brother Michael. No bargaining. No seeking to make things better. That was probably because he knew there was no “better” for him now. Even should he turn Christian and so save his life, he would be expected to betray a great many people. She did not doubt it would take torture to bring him to that betrayal, and tortured he would be, because although torture was against civil law in England, it was not against the Church’s.

And if he broke to the torturer, Anne Blakhall was among those he would betray.

Frevisse closed the shutter and readied for bed in the darkness, taking off only her veil and wimple. Like last night, she would otherwise sleep clothed, not only for seemliness’ sake but because there was nowhere to put the gold hanging heavy from her neck except where it was. She lay down and took the first prayer that came to mind—
Noctem quietam, et finem perfectum concedat nobis Dominus omnipotens.-
— A quiet night and a perfect end grant to us, almighty Lord.—steadily repeating it until it carried her into sleep. A sleep from which she was jerked by fast-thudding footsteps up the stairs. With effort so sudden it hurt, she sat up as a maidservant burst into the parlor, hand up to shield the flame of the candle she carried from the haste of her going as she crossed the room, ignoring Frevisse and calling as she went, “Mistress Hercy! Master Grene says come quickly! The friar’s been killed, he says!”

Chapter 20

As the maidservant obeyed Mistress Hercy’s call to come in, Frevisse struggled to her feet, groping for her wimple and veil in the uneven candle-shadows, putting them on by feel, used to that in the nunnery dorter’s darkness, while the maid’s voice and Pernell’s shrilled together in the bedchamber. By the time Mistress Hercy had commanded and soothed both maid and Pernell to quiet, Frevisse had her veil pinned into place; and when Mistress Hercy came from the bedchamber, bedrobe wrapped around her and saying over her shoulder, “No, Pernell, just keep in bed. I’ll see what this is about. Stay with her, Lucie,” Frevisse followed in her and the maidservant’s wake out of the parlor and down the stairs.

Jumping candle-shadows and lamp-flare ragged with people moving in the screens passage made the stairs treacherous in the dark and only the worse for having skirts to handle. Mistress Hercy stumbled once. The maid caught her arm to steady her off the bottom step and into the passage, and here Mistress Hercy shoved into a clutter of servants, men and women together, demanding, “Where is he? The friar and Master Grene. Where are they? What is this, Wyett? James, aren’t you supposed to be at the rear gate?”