The Goldsmith's daughter

Seventeen

I was dreaming.

As always, I knew that I was dreaming, but, at the same time, everything that happened seemed very vivid and very real.

I was in the Babcary house, walking upstairs from the shop, Toby Maybury hard on my heels.

‘He was just going into his room,’ Toby kept saying. ‘He was just going into his room.’

As we reached the top of the first flight of stairs and emerged on to the landing, Isolda came out of the parlour, and although she looked straight at us, she appeared to see neither myself nor the apprentice. She simply turned to her right and mounted the second flight of stairs to her bedchamber. I glanced over my shoulder to speak to Toby, but he had disappeared and when I pushed open the parlour door and went inside, he was already there, standing beside the table.

‘We mustn’t let Meg be blamed,’ he said — then was abruptly transformed into Mistress Perle’s maid.

The girl had on a clean nightgown and was holding a hard-boiled egg, one half in each hand. The yolk had been scooped out and replaced with salt and, as she began to walk backwards, away from me, I noticed that she was wearing Eleanor Babcary’s pendant around her neck.

I moved towards the table, which was ready laid for a meal, stretching out my hand for one of the gold-rimmed goblets that stood beside each place.

‘Don’t!’ a voice exclaimed behind me. ‘I’ve just poisoned the wine in that cup.’

I spun round with a great cry — only to find myself sitting up in bed, sweating profusely, and Adela shaking my arm.

‘Roger! What is it? Have you been having one of your dreams?’ She smoothed back the damp hair from my forehead.

I nodded mutely, then became aware that someone was tapping gently on our bedchamber door.

‘Master Chapman, is everything all right?’ whispered Reynold Makepeace. ‘Is Mistress Chapman well?’

I got out of bed and opened the door a crack. ‘I was riding the nightmare, that’s all, I’m sorry if I disturbed you.’

Reassured, the landlord crept away and I went back to Adela, slithering down beside her and, by now, shivering with cold. She held me in her arms and soothed me, but I had no sooner fallen asleep again than I was back in the Babcarys’ house, and this time Isolda was standing beside me, outside the closed parlour door.

‘Have you seen Gideon?’ she asked me, adding with a frown, ‘He wanders about the house at nights, you know. He says he’s unable to sleep.’

She vanished, and now I was inside the room, gripped by fear, convinced that someone who wished me dead was waiting outside on the landing; someone who would kill me, given half a chance. In a sudden access of bravado, I wrenched the door open, only to find myself face to face with Ginèvre Napier, who was convulsed with merriment.

‘There’s no one here except me,’ she laughed. ‘No one wants to harm you.’

‘But someone ought to want to harm me,’ I argued. ‘Someone should be trying to prevent me asking any more questions.’

She looked both knowing and amused and to the sound of her throaty chuckling, I woke to find the first grey shreds of daylight rimming the shutters of our room.

Adela was asleep beside me, her face, framed by the pillow, calm and peaceful in its repose. I sat up in bed and looked down at her, thanking God, as I did each morning, for sending her to me, and for bringing me to my senses before I let her slip through my fingers and marry another man. After a while, as though suddenly becoming conscious of my gaze, she opened her eyes and smiled.

‘You had a restless night,’ she said, wriggling into a sitting position and kissing my unshaven cheek. ‘Did your dreams bring you any enlightenment?’

‘Not yet,’ I admitted, returning her kiss, ‘But give them time and they might become clearer. What will you do today?’

‘I’ve promised to visit the Lampreys. It will be my last chance, because tomorrow, we are going to watch the tournament at Westminster, and the day after that, I, at least, must start for home.’ She tilted her head to one side and looked sidelong at me. ‘What are your plans?’

I sighed. ‘I must go back to West Cheap and talk to the Babcarys yet again. To Eleanor especially. There’s something that I haven’t yet discovered concerning her relationship with Gideon, but which I feel in my bones holds a vital key to this mystery. And tomorrow,’ I added defiantly, ‘I shall accompany you to the tourney ground. The King is hardly likely to decide Clarence’s fate on such a day, and I refuse to be parted from you during your final hours in London.’ I was suddenly racked with guilt, and took her in my arms. ‘Sweetheart, I’m afraid this visit, which you looked forward to so keenly, has been spoilt by this business of Gideon Bonifant’s death.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ she murmured consolingly. ‘As you said, if your Duke could only bring himself, like a sensible man, to appeal directly to Mistress Shore for her intervention on behalf of his brother, you need never have been involved in this murder. You mustn’t blame yourself.’

But that was just what I was determined to do. ‘I should have refused,’ I said.

‘No, no!’ On that point, Adela was adamant. ‘It never does to offend those in authority, particularly anyone so highly placed as the Duke of Gloucester. We’re poor people, Roger, of no account except unto God. And one day in the future, who knows but that we may be glad of Duke Richard’s protection? It was certainly fortunate for Isolda Bonifant that her kinswoman is leman to the King.’

But still my sense of guilt would not be assuaged.

‘I haven’t even bought you a keepsake to remind you of your visit to London,’ I moaned.

Adela clapped a hand to her mouth, the childish gesture making her look, all at once, absurdly young.

‘What is it?’ I asked, bewildered.

For answer, she freed herself from my embrace, got out of bed, shivering with the sudden cold, and padded over to our travelling chest, where it stood in a corner of the room. She opened the lid and took something from inside.

‘I forgot to tell you. I bought this from a stall in the Leadenhall market, on Monday. Jeanne Lamprey and I went there before she took me to see the animals in the Tower.’

Adela climbed back into bed and snuggled up to me, warming her now icy feet on mine and ignoring my yelp of protest. She was holding a small leather bag which, having released its drawstring, she upended on to the white linen quilt. Some sort of necklace fell out which, when my wife held it up, resolved itself into a chain and pendant.

‘The man I bought them from swore they were silver,’ Adela laughed, ‘but I don’t think they can be. They were much too cheap.’

I took them from her and was about to examine the metal from which they were made more closely, when I paused, my attention arrested by the design of the pendant: a true lover’s knot enclosed within a circle.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked my wife, studying my face. ‘Are you angry with me for buying them? As I said, they didn’t cost a lot.’

‘No, of course not,’ I answered. ‘It’s just that this is a replica of Eleanor Babcary’s pendant, only hers is fashioned in gold and studded with tiny sapphires.’

Adela was intrigued. ‘The man who sold it to me said that it’s a very old design, and one that’s imbued with magical powers. If a woman wears it in bed, she’ll see the man she’s going to marry.’

‘I thought that was only on Saint Agnes’s Eve,’ I protested. ‘And something to do with a hard-boiled egg-’ I broke off, demanding indignantly, ‘Why would you want such information? You’re already married!’

Adela burst out laughing. ‘Do you think I’ve forgotten that fact? I just think it’s pretty. The pendant, I mean. And anyway, I’m far too old and sensible to believe in such nonsense.’ She sighed wistfully, ‘I was old at sixteen. I grew up early.’

‘But that doesn’t happen to all women,’ I said reflectively. ‘Some women are protected and cosseted and retain their innocence to a much greater age.’

‘Are you speaking of Eleanor Babcary?’

‘Yes.’ I handed the pendant and chain back to Adela. ‘Wear it today and to the tournament tomorrow.’ I kissed her again. ‘And don’t dream of any man but me.’

‘I haven’t since the moment I met you.’ She must have seen the self-satisfied smirk on my face, for she gave one of her sudden laughs. ‘Don’t let that admission go to your head, my love. There’s plenty of time for me to change my mind and plenty more fish in the sea.’ But the kiss she planted on my cheek, before getting out of bed, drew the sting from her words.

Half an hour later, just as we were finishing breakfast in the taproom, I asked, ‘Are either Philip or Jeanne Lamprey coming to fetch you this morning?’

My wife shook her had. ‘No, I forbade it. It’s not far, and by now, I’m sufficiently familiar with the streets around here to be able to find my own way to their shop.’

‘Good,’ I said. And in answer to her enquiring lift of the eyebrows, went on, ‘Will you come with me first to the Leadenhall and point out the stallholder who sold you the pendant?’

She looked mystified, but asked no questions and willingly agreed. Consequently, fortified by Reynold Makepeace’s hot, spiced wine and wrapped warmly in our cloaks, the hoods pulled well up around our ears, we set out as the church bells were beginning to ring for Tierce. The street cleaners were already hard at work, shovelling yesterday’s evil-smelling refuse into their carts, their hands blue with cold beneath the grime. But, in general, they were a cheerful bunch of men, calling and waving a greeting as we passed.

The Leadenhall was a hive of activity, as always on those days when ‘foreigners’ from outside the city limits were allowed in to set up their stalls. That day, too, a load of wool had arrived from the Cotswolds to be weighed on the King’s Beam and sealed by the customs men before being carted down to the wharves. To add to the crowds and general confusion, a fine but icy rain had begun to fall as we were turning out of Bucklersbury into the Stock’s Market, and many people had pushed their way into the Leadenhall for shelter. By the time we entered, the place was packed to the doors, and Adela doubted that she would be able to locate the man we were seeking.

In the event, however, she found him with surprising speed, a tall, lanky fellow selling cheap jewellery made from base metals, which, with barefaced effrontery, he declared to be silver and gold. I pushed my way to the front of the little crowd gathered around his stall, and indicated the lover’s knot pendants, hanging by their chains from one of the horizontal poles that held up the canopy.

‘Are those of your own making, friend?’

‘They are.’ He smiled, displaying a gap between his two front teeth. ‘But the design is magical, and was shown to me by an ancient who had brought it back, at great risk to his own life, from the lands of Prester John.’

I forbore, with difficulty, from remarking that it looked like a perfectly ordinary English love knot to me, and asked what magical property the pendants possessed.

‘If a maid wears one in bed, she’ll see the face and form of the man she’s going to marry,’ was the prompt response.

‘And do you tell this tale to every woman who buys a pendant from you?’ I sneered.

‘Ay, and also to those who just come here to waste my time. Like you, I fancy,’ the man added, his expression turning sour.

‘My wife has already bought one,’ I said, urging Adela forward. She obligingly opened her cloak to show the stallholder the pendant clasped around her neck.

The man was mollified but, when asked, denied all knowledge of anyone by the name of Babcary or Bonifant.

‘I’m from Paddington village, a fair way west of here. I know no one personally hereabouts.’

‘But you set up your stall in the Leadenhall every week?’

‘I do, and have done for the past year or more.’

I thanked him and, taking Adela’s arm, moved away. My wife regarded me curiously.

‘So, what have you learned?’ she asked, as we stood in the shelter of the porch, looking out at the lancing spears of rain.

I put my arm around her. ‘I’ve learned that any member of the Babcary household could have heard our friend’s story about the magical properties of his pendants any time during the past twelve months. So which of them suggested a pendant of the same design when it came to deciding on Eleanor’s birthday gift?’

‘Is it important?’

‘I’m not sure,’ I answered slowly, ‘but I think it might well be, especially if that person was aware that Eleanor herself had visited the jeweller’s stall in Leadenhall market and believed what she had been told by the owner.’ I nodded to myself. ‘Which she probably would, being the innocent that she is.’

Adela hugged me. ‘Then you’d better be off to West Cheap immediately to find out what you can. Don’t worry about me. The Lampreys’ shop isn’t very far.’

The goldsmith’s shop was empty except for Toby Maybury, busy about the necessary but monotonous task of stoking up the furnace with the bellows. He glanced over his shoulder as I entered and scowled when he saw who it was.

‘Oh, you’re back again, are you? What do you want this time? Why don’t you leave us alone?’

I remained determinedly friendly, ignoring his hostile manner.

‘Toby, my boy, I need your help. You’ve proved yourself to have a good memory; to be a bright, observant lad. So tell me, who suggested the design of the pendant that was made for Mistress Eleanor’s birthday?’

Won over by my flattery, the apprentice put down the bellows and strolled across to talk to me, his young face puckered in a thoughtful frown.

‘I believe it was Gideon,’ he said after a moment or two’s reflection. ‘Yes, the more I think about it, the surer I am that it was Master Bonifant. Wait!’ There was a pause, then he went on triumphantly, ‘I definitely remember now! It was one afternoon towards the middle of last October. The master called the other two over to the main counter here, and asked what they thought he should make Mistress Nell for her seventeenth birthday. Master Kit didn’t have any suggestions to offer. Well, he wouldn’t, would he? He’s like all brothers. Not much interested in the likes and dislikes of a sister. But Master Bonifant, he knew at once. “She bought a cheap pendant off some stall in Leadenhall market,” he says, “that seems to have taken her fancy. Let’s refashion it for her in gold.” And then he went on about it being a simple design of a lover’s knot in a circle, easy to do. In fact, the master thought it was too simple and decided that the centre of the pendant — the knot itself — should be studded with sapphires.’

‘Master Bonifant didn’t mention anything about such a design possessing magical powers?’ I enquired.

Toby regarded me pityingly. ‘Of course not! Why should he? Lovers’ knots are as common a design in jewellery as they are in embroidery.’

I apologised profusely, admitted that I had been scatterbrained since childhood, and deferred to his superior knowledge.

‘Pray continue,’ I begged.

Toby shrugged my foolishness aside. ‘That’s nearly all there is to tell. Mistress Bonifant, urged on by her husband, went to look for the original pendant in Mistress Nell’s room, when she was absent from the house one day, but couldn’t find it. But Master Bonifant’s description was good enough for the master. The gold replica was easily made.’

‘And was Mistress Babcary pleased with her gift?’

Toby thrust out his bottom lip. ‘Funny you should ask that,’ he said after a few seconds’ musing. ‘Now that I come to think of it, she wasn’t as pleased as I should have expected her to be. But at the time, I put it down to the fact that we were all upset by Master Bonifant’s outburst against Meg for getting the goblets mixed up. No one was in very good spirits after that.’

‘But did Mistress Babcary wear the pendant very often?’ I persisted.

Toby considered the question. ‘She’s worn it a lot lately,’ he said.

‘Since Master Bonifant’s death?’

‘Well. . Yes, I suppose so. But she might have worn it just as much before. I don’t recollect.’

Miles Babcary, followed by his nephew, came into the shop. The former beamed for a moment until he realised that it was not a customer who was claiming the attention of his apprentice, but the same nosy chapman whose constant poking and prying and questioning was becoming so unwelcome. Afraid to vent his ill-humour on me — the emissary of the Duke of Gloucester and the King’s favourite leman — he shouted at Toby instead.

‘If you’ve let the fire go out, you stupid boy, I’ll have the skin off your back! Get back to that furnace and those bellows immediately.’ He turned to me. ‘And what do you want this time, Master Chapman?’

‘That’s exactly what I asked him,’ Toby proclaimed, not noticeably cowed by his master’s displeasure. But all the same, he scuttled off to the furnace and worked the bellows with renewed vigour.

‘I just want another word or two with Mistress Eleanor,’ I answered humbly, ‘if I may.’

I think that Miles Babcary, prodded in the back by Christopher, would have refused his permission had not Isolda, just at that moment, entered the shop from the back of the house. She was hot and flushed, wearing a big linen apron and holding a ladle in one hand. She was obviously in the middle of preparing dinner, the wholesome smell of cooking hanging about her, and lovelier by far to my nostrils than any exotic perfumes of the East.

‘What’s going on here?’ she demanded, and I repeated my request before either her father or her cousin could reply. ‘Oh, very well,’ she agreed. ‘You’ll find Nell upstairs in the parlour, busy at her embroidery.’ Her menfolk started to protest, but she cut them short. ‘The sooner Master Chapman finds out what he wants to know, the sooner he’ll leave us in peace,’ she said, and vanished again in the direction of the kitchen.

Her common sense prevailed and I was given grudging permission by Miles to proceed upstairs to speak to his niece.

Eleanor was seated in front of her embroidery frame, which had been set up close to the fire, two large working candles, in silver candlesticks, on the table beside her. She looked round as I opened the parlour door and remained, needle poised above the canvas, staring at me.

‘Master Chapman,’ she murmured warily, ‘why are you here?’

‘I’ve come to speak to you,’ I answered, drawing up a stool and sitting down beside her.

‘I’ve told you all I know about Gideon’s death.’ Her voice had acquired a shrill note and I noticed that her hands were trembling.

‘Not quite all,’ I demurred. ‘Sometime or another, you bought a pendant in Leadenhall market, and the man who sold it to you told you that it had magical properties. If you wore it to bed, you would see the face and form of the man you would one day marry. Isn’t that true?’ She nodded, looking at me with round, frightened eyes. ‘And you confided this secret to Gideon Bonifant?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘So let me guess,’ I went on. ‘It was after you began wearing the pendant to bed that you started seeing him in your room each time you woke up. Am I right?’

Eleanor gave a shudder. ‘I’d be asleep, and then something, a touch on my cheek or forehead, would rouse me just in time to see his likeness gliding out of my room. Of course, I realised that this was a hallucination of the Devil. How could Gideon possibly be my future husband when he was already married to Isolda? I didn’t know what to do.’

‘And you couldn’t confide in her, as you would have done about anything else that was troubling you, because she was the person most nearly concerned. Did you think of saying anything to Gideon himself?’

The colour flooded her cheeks. ‘No, I couldn’t. That would have been worse than telling Isolda. It might have looked as though. . as though. .’ Her voice tailed away into silence.

‘As though you might have been making it up as a way of offering yourself to him,’ I suggested.

Eleanor covered her face with her hands and nodded.

‘So you said nothing to anyone?’

She raised her head again. ‘No, but I didn’t wear the pendant in bed any more. And when that didn’t stop the visitations, I threw it away.’

I wondered how Gideon had found out about this, but I was convinced that somehow he had done so.

‘And then your uncle and cousins gave you a pendant made to the selfsame pattern for your birthday. But this was made of gold, studded with sapphires. You couldn’t possibly throw this one away.’

‘No.’ She was trembling so much that I put an arm about her shoulders for comfort. ‘And then, of course, I started seeing Gideon’s likeness in my room again each night.’

I asked as gently as I could, ‘And did it never occur to you that it could be Gideon himself whom you were seeing? That it was a flesh and blood man and not some hallucination, as you call it, of the Devil?’

Eleanor turned her head slowly to stare at me. ‘You mean. .? You mean that Gideon was coming to my room every night in person? That it was a trick to frighten me? But why on earth would he want to do that? No, no! He would never have been so unkind.’

‘I don’t think it was meant as unkindness,’ I answered. ‘Quite the opposite. I believe he was hoping to make you fall in love with him by planting the idea in your mind that you and he would one day be married.’