THE SWANNE
High summer to early autumn
The year of Our Lord 1407 in the eighth year of the reign of Henry IV
Lying in bed late that night, sleep was elusive as the events of the day preoccupied me. For certes, Alyson was brave. I marvelled at her audacity, her bold defiance, and thanked the good Lord that Leander arrived when he did. If that hadn’t been enough to deal with, Tobias and our awkward reunion also kept my thoughts whirling.
Older, taller, possessing the bronzed skin that marked him a sea-merchant, he wore a sword at his hip and fine clothes on his back. My throat caught at the sight of him and my heart began to beat fast, as if it wasn’t my own flesh and blood upon The Swanne’s steps, but a stranger. Betje stood next to him, a bemused expression on her face and I noted that, unlike Leander, Tobias hadn’t taken Betje’s hand. In fact, the way he fixed his eyes upon me suggested he couldn’t bear to look upon her.
In the fleeting time it took for me to leap to that conclusion, anger flooded my body and my steps faltered. Alyson, who I was still supporting, unaware of who waited on the threshold, raised her head.
‘God give you good day,’ she hailed Tobias. ‘I’ll be with you momentarily fine sir. Please, make yourself comfortable,’ she waved him back into the bathhouse. ‘This be a mere setback.’ Tobias followed the direction of her hand and frowned. ‘Leda!’ she cried, a finger pointing to the heavens. ‘Leda,’ she repeated in a quieter tone. ‘She will do for this handsome one.’ Pulling me forwards, she increased the pace.
Resisting, I dug my heels in, forcing us to pause. ‘That handsome one is my brother,’ I murmured.
Alyson, who’d freed herself from my grasp, looked from me to Tobias. ‘That’s Tobias? The sanctimonious son of a —’
‘Tobias,’ I said loudly, releasing Alyson and striding past before she could make the situation worse. Leda replaced me by Alyson’s side and, scrutinising Tobias as she passed, helped her mistress into The Swanne. Alyson’s voice carried as she demanded wine, a footstool, drying sheets and a blanket. The other women slowly returned to work, all of them casting curious glances at Tobias as they came through the door.
There’d be much to explain … if I chose, that was. With his face averted, I couldn’t read what Tobias was thinking, but I could imagine. Here was his sister, not only living in a bathhouse and conducting her business on its premises, but she called the owner friend.
Waiting till the last of the women entered, and Betje tactfully closed the door, sealing the women and the few men who’d bounded after them inside, I mounted the steps.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked Betje, taking her hand.
She squeezed mine back and regarded me steadily. ‘Aye. Are you?’
I was not. But I summoned a smile. ‘Of course.’
‘Tobias is here, Anna,’ she said, gesturing to him with her disfigured hand, her tone cautious.
What did my little sister sense? What did she know?
Without flinching, I swung to Tobias. ‘God give you good day, brother. I confess I didn’t expect to see you, but it does my heart good to see you so well.’
Formal, but no less sincere.
Tobias didn’t answer immediately and I saw his mouth working strangely. I began to prepare myself for the tirade I assumed must follow, for the accusations, the self-righteous appraisal of my lowly circumstances.
I was about to suggest we retire to the solar so words could be exchanged in private, when Tobias, with a peculiar noise, flung himself in my arms.
‘Oh, Anneke, how I’ve missed you,’ he said and began to sob.
Only much later, after we were comfortable in the solar, and Tobias and I were able to secrete ourselves in a corner as Leander, Alyson and Adam made plans, did he explain what had happened since our last correspondence.
Shocked by what he’d seen at Elmham Lenn and by the brutality of Karel’s death, and of Louisa’s and Saskia’s, Tobias’s first reaction was to blame me. After all, he reasoned, if I hadn’t started the brewery, it wouldn’t have attracted the ire of the monks or what followed in Westel Calkin’s wake. As he confessed this to me, Tobias had the grace to look shamefaced. But his thoughts were no worse than my own; nothing could punish me more than one glance at Betje or the memory of Karel. It was only once they were back in London that Leander told Tobias the rest of the sorry tale, what Westel Calkin had done to me. When Leander discovered my whereabouts he learned about my children.
‘Anneke … I mean, Anna.’ He gave a tremulous smile and went to reach for my hand but pulled back, uncertain. I took his and held it fast. He nodded and smiled more broadly. ‘I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing I can say, is there?’
‘Only one thing, Tobias.’
His chin flew up, a puzzled expression on his face. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Aye, I’m sorry, Anneke. You cannot begin to know how sorry I am.’
‘That might be true, but you can start by telling me.’
And so, over the course of the next hour, Tobias and I were reconciled. Trying to take the blame for what happened, reasoning that if he’d been present, the monks, let alone Westel wouldn’t have dared act, I rid him of that foolish notion.
‘Nay, Tobias, Westel was not in his right mind. Your presence at Holcroft House would have made no difference. He believed he had God on his side and therefore nothing he did was sinful or wrong. The monks did not condone his actions. He was set on a course and nothing and no-one was going to steer him from what he believed was a righteous path.’
Tobias shook his head in sorrow. ‘If only he’d never darkened your door, you would —’
‘Still be brewing in Elmham Lenn, Karel would be alive, Betje,’ I glanced in her direction where she sat playing with Tansy, ‘would not be so disfigured and Saskia, Louisa and Will would still be with us. If you only knew how many times I’ve thought that, said it, dreamed it. It achieves nothing except to sharpen the wound, colour the memories of those I love in malevolent hues. I owe them better than that — we all do. The facts are that Betje is scarred for life and the others are dead. Nothing I do or say, no-one I blame, can change that.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I’m here now, in Southwark, and a brewer once more. Aye, I’ve played this game a thousand times and still lose. The only way I can make good of the evil that occurred is to succeed, Tobias, to make my brewing work and ensure a good life for my children. For Betje.’
Tobias stared at me. ‘You’ll make it work, Anneke. You always do.’
We held each other a long time after that.
Our relationship would never have the warmth and easiness it once possessed; he couldn’t reconcile my brewing, or the bathhouse, with his sense of what his sister should be doing, who I should be, but he understood my choices were limited. Unhappy, he nonetheless didn’t fault-find as he once would. This was a lesson I believe Leander taught him. What he did to encourage such a transformation, I know not. But it did make the situation easier and meant I could drop my guard.
‘Would you like to meet your niece and nephew?’ I asked.
Tobias frowned then his face cleared. ‘I’d not thought of them in that way, but I would like to, very much.’
Betje accompanied us up the stairs and, once again, I noticed the difficulty Tobias had looking at her face, how he didn’t take her hand or, once beside the crib, encourage her into his lap the way he used to. Betje’s shoulders slumped and I saw the hopeful looks she cast in her brother’s direction even if he didn’t.
Admiring the slumbering babes for a while, we bid Betje goodnight and left her with Juliana. As we descended back to the solar, I asked about his manner around Betje.
Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he sighed, locking his eyes onto the torch that burned on the far wall. ‘I could not credit what I saw when she first emerged from the bathhouse. I thought, who is this little monster, leering at me so? Once I understood it was Betje, that my little sister was so transformed, I … I didn’t know what to do, what to say …’ He swallowed and it was a moment before he found his voice again. ‘She is unrecognisable. Her skin, her eye, her beautiful hair …’ He gripped the railing like a drowning man. In the light of the sconces, his face was pained. ‘I cannot look at her lest she sees what I do. What future does she have? She cannot hope for a husband, friends or an ordinary life looking like that. She will endure constant mockery and cruelty. Dear Lord, forgive me, but it would have been kinder if she died.’
I drew in a sharp breath and waited till the anger abated. ‘She’s God’s creature, Tobias. Her life or death is for Him only to decide, not you.’
‘Aye, but —’
‘You do not know what her life is like. Betje has real friends here — those who love and protect her — apart from me.’
He lifted his eyes from the floor.
‘Aye, she does. Here, in this bathhouse, this place I know you only tolerate because your master bids you must. Your discomfort is apparent, but hear this — everyone beneath this roof, from servants to owner, has shown her nothing but kindness and do you know how? By treating her as if she were no different to any other eight year old. She works, plays, eats, sleeps and dreams. Here, she found hope again — so did I.’ I let that sink in for a moment.
Below us, a young woman scurried out of one of the rooms, laughing, her hair falling down her back, her tunic falling off one shoulder. A portly old monk followed, lifting his robes and skipping along the corridor, giggling.
Tobias pulled a disapproving face.
‘Don’t be so quick to judge what you think you see, Tobias. Learn to look below the surface, and understand the truth of those you would be so ready to reject, to despise.’
‘You’re not just talking about Betje, are you?’
‘That’s for you to decide.’
Tobias turned to me. ‘Leander told me much the same thing.’
‘Then he is wise.’
Tobias’s eyebrows arched. ‘Which is the same as saying you are.’
‘Is it?’ I smiled, and we walked back to join the others.
Once I returned to the comfort of the solar I learned the real reason for Leander’s timely presence. Oh, I’d caught snatches of conversation, of the excitement in his tone when he spoke to Alyson, and it was evident something had changed Tobias’s opinion of my circumstances.
Leander and Alyson were discussing Master Fynk who, after his mortification at her hands and Leander’s intervention, found his pride could only be salved through coin. Leander, after some resistance, harsh words and warnings, relented, paying him a sum that made my eyes widen.
‘But that wasn’t what convinced him to capitulate and allow you to brew again,’ added Leander, shooting me a look that made my heart flip. He parted the rushes with his cane.
‘Tell her,’ said Alyson, rising and pouring another round of ale into everyone’s vessels. She was much recovered from her ordeal and earlier that evening had enjoyed keeping clients and the girls spellbound as she recounted her tale over and over. Each new customer insisted on hearing it and Alyson obliged. Thanks to Master Fynk, The Swanne had little to offer except beer (to our good fortune, in his eagerness Master Fynk had overlooked the barrels stored behind the mews). Whereas before the men would have turned up their noses at such a drink, God’s grace (and, I liked to believe, sense of irony) smiled upon us, and those who’d once been reluctant to try our beer were keener than ever thanks to Alyson’s performance — and Master Fynk.
‘I’ll have me some of that Son of Ale,’ was a constant request, according to Adam. ‘Lords, monks, commoners, didn’t matter,’ he said.
Aware of Alyson hovering over my empty mazer, I snapped back to the present.
‘Sir Leander has brought some exciting news.’
‘My lord.’ I lifted my brimming mazer. ‘I would very much like to hear it.’ My tone was formal. Unspoken between Leander and myself was that our relationship would remain a secret from Tobias. As far as my brother was concerned, it was pure luck that led Leander to The Swanne and my ale some weeks ago — a product his master already knew from drinking it in Elmham Lenn.
‘When I heard about a brew of surpassing quality, I had to go to the source. Much to my surprise, it also led me to your sisters,’ he’d explained. Tobias appeared happy with that.
Leander put down his drink now and drew himself forward in his chair. ‘I’m very pleased to be the bearer of excellent tidings. The king has sent me here to place an order on his behalf for your ale and beer.’
My mouth dropped open. I stared at Leander. Did he jest? ‘I’m to trade with the Crown? Is this true?’
Leander gave a laugh. ‘Aye, mistress, it’s true. His Grace wishes to purchase supplies to help quench the thirst of the king’s household during the next sitting of parliament. In Gloucester. Tobias has the order in his safe-keeping.’ Tobias promptly patted a pocket in his surcoat. ‘Three dozen barrels of ale and beer are to be delivered to Gloucester Abbey before the twenty-fourth of October.’ At the expression on my face, he gave a snort of amusement. ‘Did you doubt my assurance that the king himself would drink from my supplies? That he would taste your ale and beer?’
‘I did.’ I clasped my hands. ‘But not now. To think he enjoyed it so much His Grace would like more.’
‘A great deal more. I should warn you, royal favour is a fickle thing. Once bestowed it can also be swiftly retracted. Despite today’s setback, you must reap what you’ve sown.’
My mind reeled. Three dozen barrels.
Leander rose and stood with his back to the open shutters. Strains of music from the street below wafted in on the warm evening air. There were some shouts followed by raucous laughter and a resounding splash.
‘Someone’s either in the trough or river,’ sighed Alyson, sitting back down and, despite the heat, pulling a blanket around her legs. She was entitled to play the invalid. For certes, she rejected the role of heroine.
‘I’ve been giving the matter of your induction into royal trade some consideration, mistress,’ began Leander, glancing into his mazer, swirling the liquid around. ‘In light of what happened today, I think it would be a good idea if you, Goodwife Alyson, and you, Mistress Anna, accompanied the delivery.’
‘To Lancashire?’ I asked.
‘Nay. To Gloucester. I’ll arrange a driver, accommodation and guards to accompany you west. Unfortunately, I have to return to the king’s side before you’ll be ready to leave.’ Placing an elbow on the sill, he leaned back, his cane dangling from his forearm. ‘I don’t trust Fynk not to act against you as soon as my back is turned or, worse, when I’m out of the city. If you absent yourself for a while and leave the running of the brewery and the bathhouse to others for a few weeks, it will give him time to recover his injured pride and for the people here to forget what happened. It might also force him to focus his attentions elsewhere.’
I flashed a look at Alyson. She was seriously considering the proposition.
‘There’s another reason. I think the king would very much like to meet the woman who, of his own admission, brews the finest drop he’s tasted.’
‘His Grace said that?’
‘He did.’
Tobias nodded. ‘He did, Anneke, he really did.’
I couldn’t help it. I began to laugh. From having my brew tipped into the Thames and all over Alyson, being shamed and discredited before the folk of Bankside, Southwark this morning, here I was, hours later, being told that the greatest man in the land rated my brew the best.
Sometimes, more happened in a day than in a lifetime.
Hence, my thoughts refused to settle as I lay down to sleep. Through the open window, clouds glided across the moon, stealing its silvery light and plunging the room into darkness before, like a curtain before a performing troupe, parting and spreading a lunar glow across the bed.
Understanding the sense in Leander’s proposal, my only concerns were leaving Betje, the babes and the brewery — in that order. A few weeks was not long, but as I knew all too well, so much could happen even in a short time. Fate oft possessed a peculiar sense of humour that meant you could not place too much trust in well-laid plans, or reassurances that things would run smoothly — destiny would likely intervene to prick such conceit.
Presenting my worries to the group, I was reassured that Betje would be cared for by Adam, Harry and Juliana. The twins had Emma and Constance and, as for the brewery, had I not been training apprentices these last months?
Alyson looked at me wryly. ‘Do you doubt those you taught yourself?’
‘Nay,’ I said slowly. How could I explain that there was more to my brewing than malt, water and hops?
It was only as Leander departed (much to my disappointment, but he could hardly send Tobias back to Ashlar Place while he remained), his hands lingering daringly on mine, sending shafts of pleasure along my arms to congregate in my centre, that he added a caveat. ‘I’ll be heading north in two weeks,’ he said. ‘The Lady Cecilia will remain in London. I should warn you, until I leave, I will be a regular presence.’ A smile drifted across his mouth. ‘The king has asked I report on your progress.’
From the look Tobias flashed him, it was evident that wasn’t quite true. But I understood the private message behind his words. He would ensure we had time together, even if it was to be brief.
It would have to be — a month was not much time to make the quantities the king required, especially since Master Fynk, and the thirsty patrons that evening, so kindly depleted our stores. But if we worked hard and employed some extra staff, it was enough. Concern about funds for purchasing the extra barley, water, wood and coal, never mind the additional barrels that would be needed, was allayed when Leander gave Alyson a heavy purse. Only later did I learn the coins were Leander’s own. This didn’t detract from my excitement at the opportunity being offered, nor did it still the strange sense of foreboding that accompanied such good news.
Tossing and turning, running over everything I had to do, the moon waned and the sky transformed to an ashen cupola before sleep finally claimed me. Dreams crammed one on top of the other, populated by crowds of Master Fynks leering, jeering and pulling my hair until it came out in long, ruby clumps. There were numerous Alysons, tossing back their heads and opening wide, gap-toothed mouths to drink fountains of golden ale. They disappeared to be replaced by Tobias, solitary, atop a branded barrel, weeping, burying his face in his elbow before, with a look of sheer horror, he pushed away Betje, who reached for him with scarred arms. They were replaced by a faceless king, regal, tall, dispensing justice and coin with a long, sparkling sceptre that spat the latter out one end and had a cruel, shining blade fixed upon the other. The sceptre twirled above me as I knelt before his majesty. I didn’t know which end I was to receive.
Leander appeared and approached the king. As he did so, the sceptre stopped turning and the king pushed Leander aside and stepped down from his dais to stand over me, the sceptre hovering above my head. His bejewelled hand disguised which fate was to be mine — coin or blade.
As I raised my head, Leander cried out, his voice far away, beyond reach. ‘Nay!’ he screamed, as a bright piece of metal arced above me and descended.
I woke with a sickening lurch.