The Queen's Bastard Page 17

  “Aye, and has been cunt struck ever since,” I added in all seriousness.

  Alice cackled loudly at the truth as much as the vulgarity of my words and suddenly stood, throwing off our covers and dusting herself off. “I shall die a spinster before I marry with a man like Crenwick,” she announced.

  “Or you could marry to suit Mother and take a lover too,” I suggested.

  “Tis as daft a suggestion as ever you’ve made, dear brother,” said Alice giving me a playful clout on the head. “A cuckolded husband is a dangerous man, for if he is found with his horns showing he is punished as heinously as his wife. His honor is gone, his virility questioned, his name defamed. I shall strive, if not for true love in my marriage, at least for a companionable man. Come, Mother will be wondering where we have got to.”

  ***

  By Tuesday supper John was still not arrived home and our Mother was beside her self. She grew wilder and more tearful with every hour, tore at her hair and chewed at the bottom of her lip till it was raw and swollen as a purple plum.

  Alice and I passed a signal, eye to eye, at the supper table and when after evening prayers — this in large part my Mothers loud wailing to Jesus for Johns safe return — we met in the stables, a small secret caucus to hatch some scheme for bringing John home. My intelligence, gathered as I rode back from the schoolroom that afternoon, was that our brother was not and had never been since Sunday morning at our local publick house which he was known to frequent. I wondered aloud if he had perhaps gone home with some hedge whore, drunk himself silly with ale, and now lay babbling and cupshotten in her bed. But Alice, who claimed from John the greatest share of affection in our family, said he had talked of a trip to Maidstone, a shire town of good size and industry some six hours ride from Enfield. There, he said, he had heard he would find some pastimes and pleasures unavailable in our rustic surroundings.

  So with some gnashing of teeth — for we knew my absence would further alarm our Mother — twas decided I would go and fetch John home. When we had returned to the manor house I claimed fatigue and went up to bed. Gathering a few articles of clothing for extra warmth I went into Alices room where she plied me with the few shillings she had. Added to my own, they came to very little in deed. But she had stolen some food from the larder and packed it in a cloth sack for me. With a kiss from my sister I quietly left the house as I had the day of the Queens visit — down the nursery wall trellis — and using the shadows of the yard under a near full moon as my protection, stole to the stables, dark and still. In the light of a single candle I whispered my plans to ever ready Charger and quickly saddled him. As tho he understood the need for secrecy he stepped with light and quiet hooves into the night, out the gate and onto the country road.

  Twas a sweet and solitary journey under the stars. My fears of murderous highwaymen were never met. In fact I saw for the first four hours of the ride not a soul. I was glad for the bright moon and cloudless sky, and I grew so accustomed to the dark, twas as comfortable to my eyes as the day. I had never come so far this way before, and found my self at several crossroads needing negotiation. But the town of Maidstone was so large that signs pointed the way from a great distance off.

  As the sun rose on a fine day I began to pass farmers and their carts slogging into Maidstone Market. Some had pumpkins and melons, some carrots and parsnips. Others carried great loads of squabbling chickens in wood stick cages. By far the largest transports carried hops, for the city was famous for its brewing.

  The old and stately church spire could be seen pointing up to Heaven, and by now the crowd of country folk on the road pouring into Maidstone was a great river, I and Charger a mere droplet in the flood. As we approached I felt my heartbeat quicken at the newness of it all. I had prayed that I would find John at the end of my journey, but now as the bustling city lay before me, I cared less for my original task than the great adventure awaiting me therein.

  I passed thro the heavy town gate, craning my neck to see two local constables posted high upon towers on either side of it. They watched closely all who entered, I supposed for low vagrants, unsavory characters or criminals wanted by the law.

  I must admit that in the first moments after our entry into that great town, riding high in my saddle like a fine young gentleman down the thoroughfare, my eyes bulged as if growing off stalks, at all the sights. My ears throbbed with the unaccustomed cacophony of city noises, and my nostrils were assailed by odors both foul and appetizing. Unlike our little village the road here was paved. The shops and houses, many of them stone, were in long rows, all two and three storeys high and joined by common walls. After many houses another paved street crossed the one I was on. If I looked side to side down that thorofare I saw there buildings as far as the eye could see. So many shops! They all had painted signs and glass windows in them showing their various wares. Mercers, drapers, goldsmiths, carpenters. And the people were as numerous as ants on an anthill. There were of course the farmers with whom I had entered the town but others whom I deemed residents. They stood clustered in twos and threes talking sociably in front of a bakery, a Flemish weavers shop or soap house, watching the throng pass by. I saw a dog officer hauling two mangy bitches off to an unhappy fate, and a toilworn woman with a great brick of a baby riding her hip as she pushed a small cart piled high with pasties, still steaming hot in the cool morning air.

  I passed several stately buildings, one very grand with columns and carvings and many windows which I supposed was a county government house, and some great lovely private residences, tho I was struck at how they sat just next to much poorer ones. I heard many dialects and several foreign languages too. There were old and ragged beggars, and ladies very fine, and men I took as city officials in the way they strode here and there with strong purpose. But most of all there were many young men. I supposed they were, like my self, the younger sons of families come to town to make their fortunes where none at their country homes could be found.

  Twas time, I thought, to start the search for my brother. I was riding down the High Street now, which was dedicated in full to victuallers of every kind. I saw and smelt bakeshops wafting the sweet scent of gingerbread, passed butteries, white meats shops and butchers with all manner of slain carcasses hanging in the window. At one corner I saw a line of women outside an unmarked shop door, each one waiting patiently with a basket on her arm. Tying up Charger at a post I climbed down, tested my wobbly knees — for I had been long in the saddle — and neared the line of women. They each carried in their baskets some raw joint of meat or several gutted fish, or a pile of uncooked but cut vegetables, as if for a stew. I thought this curious and so in my politest voice asked a young woman who by her dress I supposed to be a plain housewife, why she and all the others did bring food to this shop in such a state. She replied twas a “cookstore,” that all the homes in this town did not have stoves to cook their family meals, and this place was a service to many neighbors. She was friendly enough, so I asked her where I might find the nearest ale house. She looked at me with a withering eye and turned away in a great huff.

  By now feeling the pit of my stomach hollow, having long since consumed what Alice had provided, and relishing all the food stuffs round me, I decided to avail my self of something to eat, and at the same time learn the whereabouts of the towns inns and taverns. I led Charger down the street till I saw a victuallers, which seemed the most thronged with customers and so, I reasoned, having the best food. Several workmen were leaving with their midday meal in a sack as I entered, and so the way was cleared for me to see the counter, piled with meat pies, whole salted fish, slabs of cooked bacon on a plate, some half loaves of bread and a circle of hard yellow cheese with wedges already gone from it.

  Before I stepped forward I glanced round, taking in all the scene, marking the details of a man or womans clothing, the dialect they might be speaking, eavesdropping on their conversation, even smelling the odor emanating from their person. From these observations I would fashion
a small fantasy, a story of that man or womans life. In the country there was scant variety to choose from, as I knew all the manor and village people too well. But here was a feast for my imagination!

  I had just invented a rather lewd story about a well dressed gentleman and a priest when I felt myself jostled rudely from behind. Three youths, not much older than my self were making gangway through the shop door. I heard enough of their glib talk to know they would know all the ale houses in this town, and when they might open. So whilst they chose their grub I queried them of it.

  “O ho!” cried a short wiry one, his large smile showing two broken front teeth. A brawler, I thought to my self as he continued, “He wants not just one tavern but all of them!” He stuck his face close to mine and I smelt the odor of raw onions on his breath. “Will one not satisfy yer thirst? And maybe a dozen bawdy houses for yer pleasure, too!” Everyone in the shop turned to stare at me — the vicar gave me a beady look in deed — and the boys all laughed at my embarrassed flush. But I found them good natured and said I was looking for my brother.

  “Well, tis a good place for your search,” said the tall skinny one with long lank hair, “for in this town there are no less than six and twenty ale houses and nine proper inns.”

  “Truly?” I asked with what must have been such innocence that they all roared with laughter.

  “And ye need not wait to start either,” said the third youth who was about my size and sturdy built, “for they all open up at dawn.”

  “Do you want some company on your rounds?” asked the lanky boy. “Being new here, you will not know your way.”

  “Aha!” cried Broken Tooth to his companion, “What a good Samaritan. Or might ye be thinking on an early start on yer own daily swig, now?”

  “Nothing of the kind,” he replied. “This young gentleman could use a few guides to our fair town and that is a fact. Is it not a fact?” He turned and looked at me.

  “Aye, it is,” was my quick reply, for it seemed a good thing to have friends in a strange town, even if I might not trust them as far as I could throw them.

  “Let us be off then,” said Lanky Hair, slapping two pence down on the counter for his food. “We have three dozen taverns to visit and four bellies to fill.”

  Had I set out to find the perfect guides to the quaffing establishments of this handsome town, I could never have found better than these, which had come to me by chance. Putting their heads together they made a plan to cover the whole of Maidstone, section by section, street by street, so that each inn and ale house was duly visited in turn, leaving none uninvestigated. They cautioned me with great seriousness that they had no way to guess the comings and go-ings of my brother, and that we might visit a tavern where he had not been seen, then leave it for the next only to have him arrive unbe-known at the first and miss him altogether. I answered with equal seriousness, saying that we could only do our best, and that if we failed I would not hold them responsible. Besides, I would by the end of the day have the distinction of having visited every drinking establishment in Maidstone, and thought that a fine enough accomplishment. They heartily agreed. By this time I was enjoying my self completely, glad to be in the company of such affable fellows and not sitting cramped over the dusty pages of Ovid.

  And so we proceeded.

  Because I had not ruled out the possibility that John might find his comfort in the poorer sections of town, and because they believed these unsavory neighborhoods were safer before dark, my friends began our tour of the city there. Fine cobbled thorofares gave way to rutted muddy lanes where decaying two and three storey houses, each floor jutting out two feet farther over the street than the one below it, prohibited any sunlight to fall onto our heads. In deed all that came from above was garbage, offal, and excrement thrown out the windows of these humble residences. There were heaps of filth piled everywhere and squishing under our boots as well. To the general congestion of the poor citizens in the street was added a menagerie of fleabitten dogs, stray cats, pigs and even a small flock of geese which were the most dangerous to pedestrians, as they pecked viciously at the shins when crossed. The stench of it all was, in places, unbearable and amazing in its variety.

  The first several of the ale houses were so wretched I doubted John would have travelled so far to entertain himself in such low conditions. So a head poked in the door of the poorest houses sufficed. By ten in the morning each of the taverns was at least half full and by noon to the drinking was added — despite law forbidding it — all manner of gaming. Dice, card playing, shuffleboard.

  “But drinking,” Lanky Hair intoned with the voice of a great philosopher as he downed in one long swallow a cup of beer — as he and his friends had done in each of the establishments we had visited — “aye, drinking is the major sport in England.” From what I had seen I had no cause to doubt him.

  There was at all times during our tour a colorful and running commentary from my boon companions on all the sights, but particularly on the people that we observed. A sweetfaced young woman was “the queen of curds and cream,” in other words a simple country girl just in for the market. A rolypoly churchwarden with porcine nose and chubby pink cheeks, hurrying by with a big ledger tucked under his arm, was said to have violated every young boy in the congregation. A little lad not six years old was the citys most proficient cutpurse.

  I think I was shown every one of the Maidstone brothels, “houses of good fellowship” as Broken Tooth liked to call them, and I wondered if John were to be found inside. But I felt it unwise to add such places to my itinerary, knowing anyhow I would not be admitted with no money. At each bawdy house the most notorious common queen was pointed out, she generally standing in the doorway waiting for her sporting gents. Sometimes lewd commentary on her particular skills was provided by my friends, with knowing winks and nods tween them.

  Some time after midday when most folk stopped for their dinner we sat down on the town green, a pretty place lined on three sides with rich homes and on the fourth with an ancient Cathedral, the one whose spire could be seen from miles away. There was much picnicking on the grass, and all manner of manly sport — cudgel throwing, bowling, shuttle cock, wrestling. Several young ladies indulged in archery. We watched as a too rowdy game of football which had spilt into a busy street was broken up by the burly town killjoy. We contemplated this pathetic creature, wondering why a man would ever assume so hated an occupation. Sturdy proclaimed he once knew a killjoy whose misery in his job and the odium it provoked had driven him to hang himself. Then Sturdy stuffed the better part of his earlier purchased meat pie in his gob and chewed largely.

  We saw Market Street next, and though the farmers had begun packing up their wares for the trip home, the streets here were crowded still. On Carver Street was the Angel Inn, a fine place with rooms upstairs boasting canvas sheets which the proprietor, standing arms akimbo at his front door, claimed loudly were washed after every customer, tho no one in their right mind did believe him. And nearby were several well appointed publick houses, but my brother was nowhere to be found. I asked for him at all of them, but how could the keepers help me find, in such a large place as this, a stranger of unremarkable description named John? What had possessed me to think I could?

  By late in the afternoon we had visited more than half the inns and ale houses in the city, now filled with men three sheets to the wind, valiant pot knights and workingmen lately come from their labors to spend their wages making merry. My companions, having downed a cup of ale in almost every establishment we had visited, were themselves a sight more than merry. They were now steering me towards the west end of town where they promised the greatest concentration of fine inns in which we might continue our search.

  As we headed down a broad cobbled street there came a commotion. A large crowd, with more than its share of clergymen in and amongst them, preceded a horse drawing a rough cart. As they drew near we pressed our selves against the shop walls to let them pass. And tho I knew what I saw — a
scene of publick penance — I did not know the wherefore of it. The faces in the crowd were somber and some angry. Tied and forced to walk behind the cart were a man and a woman all dressed in white, tho the man was stript to the waist, and both carried white rods in their hands. A churchwarden followed them, whipping their backs, perhaps more ceremoniously than painfully, tho by the penitents faces I could see the humiliation was extreme.

  “What have they done?” I whispered to my friends.

  “Only the worst of the venereal sins,” said Sturdy, himself looking soundly chastened.

  “Incest?” I asked.

  “Naa,” came Broken Tooths reply. “This man and woman are convicted not once but twice of begetting bastards.”

  I was struck speechless, but my mind was instantly spinning the story of these two passionate souls trapt in a sin worse than buggery, worse than bestiality. For a family to have its bloodline tainted, its continuity questioned, in deed threatened the most sacred law of primogeniture.

  “Come on then,” cried Lanky Hair, yanking me away from the scene. “The night is before us, and some serious quaffing as well.”

  As the darkness gathered citizens one by one lit candle lanterns outside their doors making a pretty glow down the lanes. Ahead of us the road ended with no outlet at a huge white building, the Crown Inn, which stood alone, its great painted sign creaking in a breeze which had lately blown up. Twas a busy night at the Crown with men, women, even children streaming in its front door. None of my friends wished to stay outside minding Charger with so much excitement going on inside, so they drew straws and Broken Tooth was the loser.

  The rest of us entered to find this was a courtyard style inn. Within the courtyard a stage had been erected. Some men in exotic costumes were working on it, hammering down planks and such. I knew these to be stage players, as I had seen an itinerant troop of the same come through Enfield once, but I had never seen such an elaborate stage as this. To think that added to all the wonders of the day would be a performance by stage players in the courtyard of a fine inn! Alice would be exceeding jealous, I thought smiling to my self.