The Serpent Garden - Judith Merkle Riley (13 page)

Nine

I
soon found that conducting somebody else’s career posthumously was not as easy as I had thought. I had imagined the hardest part would be telling all those lies to customers, but I was wrong. The biggest trouble of all was where do dead men buy their colors? That is, one could only pretend to be on an errand for one’s husband so long before the apothecary might say, “Don’t I recall your husband was buried in Saint Vedast and has a nice brass in the wall?” So I had to go farther and farther until I had tried out all the apothecaries in London and my feet hurt. And I couldn’t send anyone else in the house because they might get cheated. You have to feel and smell and touch and see the color to make sure it’s right and you aren’t getting something second rate passed off on you.

For a while I could use what I had, but that old Eden scene used up all my greens first. Then I could buy alum anywhere, without anyone suspecting I was making colors at home by mixing that alum with essence of fleur-de-lis and pansies. I could get indigo by pretending I was dyeing a bit of yarn or maybe remaking an old dress that would be better off blue. But when you get to earth of cologne and blue and green bice and verdegris, then people wonder why a painter’s widow needs them and the only answer is not very respectable, because they think you’ve taken up with another painter and are secretly living in sin so that you still get your pension. That was the worst risk of all, because with the gossip that beadle might come around looking for men and find painting instead, which would have been even worse.

After talking it over with Mistress Hull, who is a very shrewd woman, we decided we must take someone into our confidence and pay him a hefty bribe. Luckily I knew just the person. In an alley off Bladder Lane, which is near where the gold beaters are, there was an apothecary who is an alchemist and not very honest but in an honest sort of way. What I mean is that he would not cheat a person too terribly much but he believed that the law was for other people. That is why my father got on with him because Father believed that the law was for other people, too, especially guild laws which were for English painters who couldn’t get anything right so they had to shut out their betters. Master Ailwin was very good for alchemical colors such as orpiment and cedar green and white lead, and he could get anything else a person needed, even things for a little bit of sorcery on the side, like dead men’s thumbs, but I would never have wanted a thing like that. The only problem with Master Ailwin was that he had too many opinions. So you never got out of his shop in a short time but had to argue, and he did all the talking anyway. Also shady characters went in and out of his place, but that never bothered Father. Father always said life was full of shady characters and as long as they want their pictures painted, why give it any attention.

That is why on a fair morning I put on my best black gown, the one in good wool with the little tucks around the skirt and the sleeves cut in the French fashion, and also my French hood, which was very elegant and took Nan with me to pass into the City by Ludgate and find Master Ailwin. The blue sky brought everyone into Fleet Street and there was even music from the engine in the tower on the cistern, which had bells and played hymns. On top of the tower was the image of Saint Christopher and below him were angels and below that the bells. The cistern was hard by Fleet Bridge, where everyone in the world had to pass to enter the City gate. The south side of the street was lined with fair houses built of stone, which had devices on them that were a wonder to see.

Now here is what shows you how important fine dress is in this wicked world. When I wore plain things and was happy working hard, then hairy men from the Goat and Jug rolled their eyes and made sport offering to escort me to my door. But it was quite different when I was up to no good, wearing an excellent gown made with fine black worsted given as a bribe by my late husband’s murderer. Then even when everybody was crowding into the gate and there were carts and donkeys loaded with firewood and eggs and fruit, people looked impressed and made way, and important-looking men in merchants’ and lawyers’ gowns with their iron stares kept lowlier men from brushing up against me accidentally. It did help that Nan shooed away the dogs, because I think my important widow look would have gone away if people knew that animals follow me, which is strange.

Really grand people did not pass by the gate at all but went by water and came up by the steps from the river. They would not have to mix at all except they might be killed passing under London Bridge if they did not get out while the boatmen shoot the rapids beneath the bridge. Then they would get back in, but it was a hard thing to have to mingle with the commons for that little bit of time walking to rejoin the boat on the other side. So I always went by Thames Street to see if there was somebody very splendid getting out so I could admire his clothes, see the parade of his servants, and watch to see if any petitioners come because then sometimes interesting things could happen.

On Thames Street I could hear men in livery shout “Make way, make way for His Grace!” and so I knew somebody important had come up the steps and was being forced to mingle where I could get a good glimpse of him. I was hoping for a lord with gold embroidery but it turned out to be Bishop Wolsey, which the footmen kept announcing just so we wouldn’t tread on his hem and that was good, too, because churchmen of rank are allowed to speak directly with God quite often, so it is thrilling just to be near them.

With all that shouting and jostling, the crowd parted, and I could see that in front of the bishop was a crucifer with a big silver cross. Around him and behind him in a long train walked guards and gentlemen ushers and clerks in his livery, as well as several priests in plain robes. There weren’t any petitioners, but something even more amusing to see. There was the bishop in especially splendid violet damask, all deep in his holy thoughts about God, and not looking around him at all, but just straight ahead, and following just behind him were two men in livery that I could tell were secretaries by their pen cases. One of them was thin and smooth and rather oily-looking, with pale crinkled eyelids that reminded me of a lizard’s. He was carrying a big leather case and looking very puffed up with the importance of it, so I imagined that case was full of important advice and letters for the king at Greenwich.

The second secretary was altogether different, so they made a very comical, mismatched pair. The thin lizard one oozed along, and the other one, who was good-looking and sturdily built, walked straight and strong. He had a profile worth inspecting. A good chin, a nose that arched just a tiny bit where the bone leaves off, nice muscles down the side of the jaw…His brown curls were cut off below the ear, and where the sun struck them, they shone auburn. Not a bad sort of Adam. A pity…He turned his head, and I saw dark brows that were not set evenly but one just a bit higher than the other, which gave him a quizzical, humorous, sarcastic kind of look. His eyes were a very nice sort of hazelish brownish green, honest, but not subtle; they seemed to show all his thoughts just as if he’d written them on his forehead. The thoughts I saw there were very amusing. He was looking embarrassed, carrying a very tiny box that I imagined must have the bishop’s seal in it. He walked very near the bishop’s elbow, and the man with the case looked irritated every time he saw him get too close, as if he wished
he
were close at the bishop’s elbow, instead.

“Look at that man, Nan. You can see his thoughts coming right out of his eyes.”

“Which man? Oh, that one? I don’t see anything different.”

“I do. He thinks he looks silly carrying that tiny box. He wishes he had the big one.”

“They both look alike to me. Two of a kind. Noses in the air. As arrogant as their master, I’d say.”

But the one with the little box just looked to me for all the world as if he were carrying a hen’s egg that had gone bad, which he was afraid might break and stink, but still he didn’t dare to throw it away. I wonder what’s in that box, I thought. Just then the bishop wrinkled up his nose, for the crowd was pressing very close, and then made a little circular waving motion as a signal with his hand. The man with the little box opened it most deferentially, but that sarcastic eyebrow of his spoiled the humbleness of his gesture. Inside the box, it turned out not to be an important seal at all but the bishop’s pomander, which he put to his nose. I couldn’t help it; I laughed out loud. My Adam cast a sideways glance at me, and I saw his round, hazel eyes flash for just an instant with horrified embarrassment, which made me feel almost sympathetic, so I put my hand over my mouth to cover up the laughing. But that made him turn his face away very quickly, but I could see the back of his neck was turning red, and that amused me even more.

“That man was staring at you, Susanna. I swear.”

“Which one, Nan?” I asked, all innocent.

“That liveryman of the bishop’s, the one with the tiny box.”

But the crowd was closing in tighter on the bishop, who pretended not to notice as his guards moved closer together to split them apart and clear his path. I could see that man take advantage of the disorder to hunt me out in the crowd. His eyes found me measuring him up, depth of chest, width of neck, proportion of leg to torso, and he looked right through me, his face amused. But I just looked right back with a firm and disapproving stare to let him know that it is not right for men to look at respectable widows that way, and he snorted to stop a laugh from coming out.

At the sound, the bishop’s eyes darted sideways to make sure the noise wasn’t an assassin or something, and his gaze flicked between the two of us as if he saw something amusing, and then it caught mine, which was really extraordinary and something very memorable for me.

Wolsey’s face was sunken in fat warped by big worry lines from his many cares, and his eyes were very sharp and fair frightening, the right one with a lid that drooped and twitched, lending him a very sinister expression. His eyes told me he was a worldly intriguer but I could tell all those intrigues wouldn’t do him much good, because a man of God should stick to God just as a painter should stick to painting.

But then, just as clear as clear, I saw him reading my face and knew he could see my thoughts as clearly as I could see his. He pursed up his mouth with disapproval, and then looked away. And that’s how I knew the great Bishop Wolsey and I were fated to meet someday, because our gazes had locked for one instant on Thames Street and our thoughts had changed places with each other. I could feel my heart pounding and my face, which can be a big betrayer, turning hot. Then the whole parade of them passed by to rejoin their watermen and they were gone, and I put out of my mind the feeling of fatefulness.

In Guthrun’s Lane you can see the gold beaters deep inside their shops, pounding gold leaf fine and thin between sheets of parchment. I am good at applying gold leaf, which I did for Father, but I had no plans to be doing that again since I had no high custom and my lowlier Adam and Eve work did not need gold leaf. Just at the end was Master Ailwin’s shop, which was small and narrow but long in back where he had ovens and glassware with bubbly, smelly stuff and all kinds of jugs and jars and boxes of things you might have needed but mostly didn’t. His shutter was up, and I could see someone very large and rich-looking inside buying something. The rich man was in deep conversation with Master Ailwin, who had bushy white eyebrows and hair that grew out of his ears. I could only see the rich man’s back, but he was tall and heavy, in a green velvet gown cut like a foreigner’s, maybe Italian. He seemed angry because I could see him pounding on the counter with a big, square fist in a black glove. I hoped it wasn’t about short weight, because that might have put Master Ailwin out of business and then where would I have been? So I waited outside with Nan and several cats came, which she shooed away, and I didn’t go in because I wanted my business to be private since it involved being up to no good.

So I waited on the corner where Bladder Lane is, pretending I wasn’t interested in Master Ailwin’s apothecary shop at all. Two large dogs had come but Nan hadn’t had time to shoo them when that strange man came by, walking fast right out of the door and practically squashing me by almost running into me. His face made my heart stand still. His eyes were pale green and seemed to freeze me through. Above them were strange, bushy eyebrows sprinkled with long gray hairs like insects’ antennae that looked as if they belonged on a devil. Just where horns should be growing, his hair had two wide, curling streaks of white that stood up before they mixed with the rest of the dark hair almost as if they really were horns. His face, pale under his square-cut beard, looked as if he stayed up nights doing unspeakable things. His wide, almost lipless mouth gave me a stretched-out smile, but his icy eyes were insane. “I know you,” he said. “Aren’t you Rowland Dallet’s widow?” I wanted to turn and run, but I knew I must not show any weakness. I answered.

“I am, sir, but since I do not know you, our acquaintance will have to wait until we are properly introduced. Good day.” I started to pass on, but not in the direction of Master Ailwin’s because I did not want him to know where I was going. Nan followed, and also the dogs, who growled. But he moved quite fast and pushed one huge arm in front of me where it blocked my way.

“Why, Mistress Dallet, don’t run away so soon. It is so good to see you up and well,” he said, pressing his black-gloved hand against the wall so I couldn’t pass. Then he leaned so close it seemed to stop my air. I couldn’t smell anything but the heavy, rotten scent of him, like something long buried. I didn’t want his breath on me. “Did not your late husband ever mention his friend and patron, Sir Septimus Crouch? He was very dear to me; almost like a son. A delightful man, a man of wit, a terrible loss.”

“I am afraid he never mentioned your name, sir. Now please let me pass.”

“Oh, my, no. Not until I let you know that I am your true friend. For your husband’s sake, I stand prepared to look after your interests, to be your protector. Did no one tell you that I offered to make provision for your poor, unfortunate child?” The thought flashed through my mind; could he have known, could he have guessed, what it was? He looked pleased when he spied the horrified look on my face. He smiled, and moved so close that he was only an inch or two from me. I could feel his body heat, but the wall stopped me from backing away farther. “There will come a time when you deny me nothing,” he said, his mouth close to my ear and his voice almost at a whisper.