26

I could eat a horse,’ Alice declares as they leave the Norrys house. The success of uncovering the conspiracy against Wat; the relief of knowing that Master Norrys was not party to it; the discovery that it was Cazanove and not Goldwoode who carried out Wat’s entrapment. Yet Wat still believes Cazanove genuinely thought him a thief, while all the time Cazanove for some unfathomed reason formed this elaborate plot. One way and another this has been a day of such fears and such feats that only now is her mind turning once more to the fact that she has not eaten. The earlier thought of the pie diminished in the anxiety of waiting for Jay to emerge from the ale house. The exchange with Turner, followed by the drafting of the manservant’s part in the intrigue, drove all thought of food out of her mind. Now that they have reached a pause, she is ravenously hungry, so hungry the world is turning around her.

‘I could do with something myself,’ Jay says.

‘We’ll go back to the inn where we wrote this paper,’ Alice says, thinking, Oh, to sit down. ‘We’ll take a parlour and have a meal. We can draft something there for Turner to sign. Then we should get back to our inn – oh!’

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Robin with quick concern reaches out a supporting hand.

‘I’ve just remembered, I promised Mistress Kemp I would collect a letter for Luella from her this morning and I completely forgot. Oh, what a fool! I must go there now.’

Robin’s hand closes round her arm. ‘First, we eat. Mistress Kemp isn’t going anywhere. If she was that anxious she could have ordered her coach yesterday and driven to Dorset.’

The food has restored her, though she ate less than she expected, replete after a few mouthfuls, and her half-finished dish is piled with the other platters at one end of the table. The ale is weak and has refreshed none of the three. The parlour is stuffy and reeks of pipe smoke from the last diners, but they cannot open the window wide because of the heat and dust from the crowded street.

She pulls the fresh sheet towards her. ‘So, are we happy with this? Shall I make a fair copy?’

‘Just read it through complete, would you?’ Robin asks. ‘To be sure we’ve got it right.’

‘“ This Information Witnesseth ”,’ Alice reads, ‘“ that I – then there’s a space – Turner, pointmaker in the city of Bristol, wish to make clear such confusion as occurred in the trial of one Wat Meredith in this city in the year 1625, to the great injury of the character and person of the said Wat Meredith. ”

‘It wasn’t confusion,’ Jay objects, ‘it was lying.’

‘I know, but I hope confusion might make Turner feel less guilty than he is, and more persuadable to signing it,’ Alice explains, and sees Jay is not convinced. ‘I don’t see what else we can do. If he refuses, we’re sunk.’

Jay shrugs and she goes on, ‘ I was approached by a gentleman. He was of large build, with greying hair and powerful mien. His name was Goldwoode. He bade me assist him in the matter of one Wat Meredith, a clerk, and provided a horse for my purposes. He described Meredith as dark-haired and of spare build, and said that Meredith would come to the sign of The Ship from a merchant called Norrys hard by, on a certain Day. I was to assume the person of a Poor Man and make talk with Meredith. He bade me induce Meredith to buy a horse that I said was mine at a very Good price, and to send him to the city gate where there would be a saddle for it. I did meet with Meredith, and he paid me three pounds for the horse and left for the city gate. I raised Hue and Cry as I was bid by Master Goldwoode. In the ferment, I did lose my purse with the money Meredith paid me, into the bag he carried. Thus was Meredith taken for horse thieving and purse stealing .

‘At his trial, I told my story as I was directed by Master Goldwoode, that Wat Meredith stole and thieved. He told me Meredith was a Bad Man and this was his just deserts. I feared for my life if I did not tell this story, for this Goldwoode is a Powerful Man and he said I would be Sorry if I did not. There. What do you think? It’s the best way I can word it to say clearly what happened but exonerate Turner as far as I can.’

‘You make him almost blameless when he’s as crooked as that alley,’ Jay says.

‘If he refuses to sign,’ she says, ‘what more can we do?’

‘You could leave him to Robin and me,’ Jay says grimly. ‘We’ll soon persuade him.’

‘Jay, I have little doubt but that Master Cazanove did indeed threaten him. You know what your master was. He put terror into people’s hearts to gain his ends. But I do not wish to follow his example.’ She taps the paper. ‘This is not much, but it’s the best I can think of.’

‘It is a good document,’ Robin says. ‘No, Jay, it’s good,’ he adds as his brother sighs. He folds and pockets it. ‘Between us we’ll get him to sign it. Now, mistress, you wish to visit the Kemp House, do you not? We should be on our way directly.’

‘We’ll hire one of those coaches again,’ Alice says. It is an unhealthy and expensive way to move around the city, but time presses. Having forgotten about her errand to Mistress Kemp, it now hangs over her, a burden of extra effort. The heat and stink of the city have once again intensified as the day progresses through the afternoon, and the convenience of the transport is a bonus she feels justified in using. She presses fingers into her eyes to relieve the headache that has sat there all day, and swallows down the nausea she cannot seem to shake off. One more effort.

‘While you see Mistress Kemp,’ Robin says to Alice as they leave the inn, ‘I would like to find a better alehouse. Jay would too, wouldn’t you, Jay?’

‘A drink? Yes, a decent drink is just what I need.’

‘We’ll tell the coach to wait and bring you back to The Hatchet,’ Robin suggests. ‘There’s plenty of time to talk with Mistress Kemp before Turner’s due at the inn. I expect she would like to hear more news of her daughter and the baby, wouldn’t she?’

‘I suppose so,’ Alice says. She has come to rely on these two being around, but of course they want a drink, she reasons, that mug with their meal was akin to ditch-water. Today is even more stifling than yesterday. Thunder clouds brood beyond the rooftops, and the cloud haze has thickened. The heat bounces off the dusty road and hangs smothering within the coach. Mistress Kemp’s closet will be restful for her; why should they wait sweltering outside? ‘I’ll be back in time for Master Turner’s arrival,’ she says.

‘He won’t be there for a good while,’ Robin says. ‘And he’ll wait anyway. I could see in his eye he wants the money. Don’t agree to see him until we’re there with you.’