Brewer's Tale, The (42 page)

I quickly unfurled and reread the parchment, glancing at my signature, thinking how foolish I'd been not to bargain harder, insist on more time. But then, I'd been in no position to ask for anything.
Just as I wasn't now …

Leaning over the desk, Sir Symond brought his face to within inches of mine. I could smell the ale on his breath, the sweat of his body, see the fine weave of his amber coat. ‘This states it's all or nothing,' he jabbed the parchment. ‘It's clear. As is your signature.' He ground my name into the vellum.

The terms were unambiguous. My heart sank until something caught my eye.

‘You're right, my lord.' I straightened, taking my hands away from the parchment and watching it twirl into a cylinder again. ‘We must abide by that upon which we sign our name. A contract is binding, is it not?'

‘It is …' His words propelled him to the other side of the desk. Too late, I was trapped between the wall and Sir Symond. The only way to escape was to go over or under the desk. I was a fox cornered by a large, unpredictable hound. I determined not to show fear.

He put his thick, hot hand over mine where it rested on the desk and ran it up my arm, spreading his fingers so his thumb brushed against my breast. ‘You agreed to serve my father should you fail to make lease, serve him and his family at Scales Hall, the Rainford home that, in the very near future, will be mine …' Every part of me rebelled. I wanted to push him away, swipe his fingers from my body, leave his presence and never return. But I had one last card left to play.

I stopped his hand at my shoulder, lifting it away. ‘Aye, I did. And, should it come to that, I will honour my agreement. After all, as you say, we cannot change a contract to suit ourselves, not once it's signed.' Pushing past him, I twisted his arm so he could not grab me, shoving him away, bumping the desk hard in my eagerness to be free.

Panting, one hand on the door, I faced him. He leaned against the wall, rubbing his wrist, unconcerned by my actions.

‘Just as I cannot change the terms, neither can you. Lord Rainford and I agreed that rent would be due at Hocktide. That, my lord, means Tuesday next week. By my reckoning, and by the terms of the contract, I have just over a week in which to pay.' I grasped the door handle, staring at him defiantly.

‘Listen, you slattern, you don't dictate terms to me. I'm the lord here, I'm the one who gives orders.'

‘Ah, my lord, you misunderstand. I'm not dictating terms. I'm merely following the ones that you've been at great pains to point out to me your father insisted you reinforce and I follow. If anything, I'm being your most humble and obedient servant.'

Pure fury swept over his face. ‘Why, you little bitch,' he began, raising his hand.

Wrenching open the door as fast as I could, I all but fell into the hall, heart pounding.

‘Mistress Anneke,' Adam ran towards me. Following him at a more leisurely pace was Michael de Montefort, boredom personified. Relief swept over me. ‘Adam. Please escort Sir Symond to the door. Our business is concluded.'

‘For today,' said a slow, deep voice behind me. ‘But understand this, Mistress Sheldrake. I'll be back in a week and, if you want to keep this place, I will take what's due. In one form,' his eyes slid over me, ‘or another.'

Along with his squire, he left through the shop.

I followed cautiously, remaining out of sight. As he mounted his large destrier, all I could think was that I had one week, one week before Holcroft House and what remained of my independence and my dignity were lost to me for good.

HOLCROFT HOUSE

The week following Eastertide

The year of Our Lord 1406 in the seventh year of the reign of Henry IV

O
ver the next week, we worked relentlessly even, God forgive me, eschewing mass in an effort to claw back time. But it didn't seem to matter how much ale or beer we made or how low I dropped the prices in the alehouse, except for our stalwart regulars, a few pilgrims, sailors, and a couple of passing merchants, trade barely resumed. Adam went to the Saturday market to spread the word that our ale was half its usual price and the beer even less. Prepared to be inundated, nothing changed.

Determined not to let the others see how desperate the situation had become, I decided that on the morrow, taking Adam with me, I would load up the cart and head into Bishop's Lynn. The bigger alehouses and taverns would open their doors on Sunday, the most sacred of days; folk still drank and would be searching for a cheap supply. As an unknown huckster, if I avoided the authorities, I could trade. It was a madcap scheme, but choices were diminishing.

With the bells marking the closing of the city gates about to ring, Simon Attenoke and the Millers dragged themselves off their stools and out into the setting sun. Once they left, there was no-one remaining in the alehouse for whom I had to stay cheerful. It was all I could do not to sink into despair and wallow. Turning to mundane tasks to keep my mind busy, I insisted on sweeping the hearth and collecting the few used mazers, one eye on the door in the hope that custom might still come our way before curfew. Adam and Iris attended to the tables and floor. Taking the vessels from me, Iris followed Adam back to the kitchen. About to open the door and check the streets for signs of passers-by, I was startled when Captain Stoyan entered.

‘Good evening, Mistress Anneke,' he said, crossing the threshold and whipping off his cap. ‘Forgive me for coming so late, but I was trying to hire a cart until it occurred to me that you have one.'

‘Good evening, captain.' I closed the door behind him and, accepting no-one else would follow, secured the latch. ‘I don't mind how late you arrive, you're always welcome.'

The captain smiled and, taking my hands, kissed my cheek. His brow furrowed. ‘You're looking pale,
liebchen
.' He looked me up and down. ‘You're fading away before my eyes.'

‘I doubt that,' I released his fingers, but not before giving them a squeeze and went to pour him a drink. ‘Beer or ale?'

He rubbed his chin. ‘What have you ready?'

A sigh escaped before I could prevent it. ‘Both. And lots of it. Which would you prefer?'

The captain slid onto one of the stools. ‘To drink now, ale. But, to take with me to Flanders, I'd like beer — not even your ale keeps for as long as I'd wish. I want as much beer as you can spare.'

Attending to his drink, I didn't comprehend his meaning immediately, but continued to pour. ‘Excuse me?' I ceased what I was doing and turned as calmly as I was able, taking in his grin, the twinkle in those grey eyes. Placing a beaker of foaming ale before him, I sat down opposite, my eyes never leaving his face. ‘Did I hear you aright? You wish to take beer to Flanders?
My
beer?'

‘
Ja
. To Flanders, Ypres, and in the months to come, further afield again — wherever the ships of my Kontor sail. Four barrels for the time being, if you have that. The sailors in the fleet gain a mighty thirst at sea and it seems they've developed a preference for your beer.'

Unable to believe my ears, my mouth opened and shut so often I could have been sold for a fish.

‘Why else did you think I needed a cart?' added the captain, raising his beaker towards me.

I did what any woman in my situation would at that point. I launched myself over the table, into his arms and promptly burst into tears.

Insisting Captain Stoyan sup with us, my intended venture to Bishop's Lynn was cancelled and Adam, the captain and I organised the barrels to be delivered to the Kontor as soon as the town gates opened Monday morn. Leaving for Flanders with the dawn tides Tuesday gave the captain plenty of time to load them on his ship. When the captain decided to head back to his rooms, Adam insisted on escorting him, taking a lamp.

‘The nightwatch know me,' said Adam, silencing Captain Stoyan's protests. ‘Anyway, it's the least I can do. It's the first time in weeks I've seen Mistress Anneke relax, let alone smile.'

‘I
do
smile.' I forced one to my face as proof.

‘Aye, with your mouth,' said Adam. ‘But it hasn't reached here,' he touched a place below his eye. ‘Or here,' he rested a hand over his heart, ‘for weeks.'

He was right.

Bidding Captain Stoyan farewell, I first checked on the twins and then fell into bed, exhausted in the way someone who uses excessive labour and seeks aching limbs to hasten forgetfulness would, something we'd all done these last weeks since Will died. But it was only as I pondered Adam's words that I finally understood that while I'd kept my body occupied, my spirit had been neglected. Something Sir Leander had prayed wouldn't happen …

Lying back on the pillow, my arms folded behind my head, I listened to the evening trill of crickets and frogs in full song, watched the play of changing light upon my walls as darkness descended and wondered at my sudden good fortune, daring for the first time to imagine what it would be like to hand over the full amount of rent, knowing we were secure for another six months.

Gratitude towards the captain filled my veins. Though I'd believed his act to be prompted by charity, he'd reassured me it wasn't.

‘I cannot afford to be charitable,' he said. When I reminded him about the barley he regularly supplied and his other gestures of kindness, he demurred. ‘Have you so swiftly forgotten? This is a business arrangement, Mistress Anneke. I'll be as demanding as Sir Symond and Lord Rainford if required.' He grinned to soften his threat. ‘I expect a percentage — held over until such time as you can afford it,' he added quickly. ‘I'd be failing as a captain if I didn't provide my men with the best on offer and I'd be useless as a merchant trader if I didn't take this opportunity to introduce the fine beer you've made to the continent. I once told you there were opportunities there for a good English supplier. Well, I've finally found her.'

For some reason, Will's words from months ago echoed in my mind.

‘
As God is my witness
,' he'd said, ‘
Mistress Sheldrake will be the finest brewer in all of England.
'

Around me, the house settled, its regular conversation between timber and thatch comforting. Karel coughed once or twice and I heard Louisa rise to him. The door to the barn squeaked. Adam had returned and was ascending to his bed in the loft. The great oak brushed the sides of the house, its leaves rustling in the gentle winds.

Daring to hope, I curled under my furs and shut my eyes. Before I knew it, a dreamless sleep claimed me.