The Straw Men(75)

‘As was Boaz?’

‘I know nothing of that. Judith was his friend. Father, I am certain that we are all in danger from both the Upright Men as well as My Lord of Gaunt.’

‘What!’ Athelstan turned in the chair. ‘Your own patron?’

‘We not only work for him,’ she whispered, ‘but also for the Upright Men. Father, think – we are nothing but strolling players. We need licences to wander the roads, to enter towns and villages or seek the help of the local parson.’

‘I understand,’ Athelstan murmured, ‘that without those licences you could be driven from any village, harassed by any sheriff’s man or bailiff. Indeed, you’d be nothing but vagrants to be whipped from pillar to post. Gaunt’s protection may open many doors,’ he didn’t wait for an answer, ‘but of course you are frightened . . .’

‘Not me, not Samson.’

‘Very well. Master Samuel,’ Athelstan drew in a deep breath, ‘like everybody else fears the Great Day of Retribution. Samuel is worried that Gaunt might be toppled so he sits and secretly sups with the Upright Men?’

‘More than that, Father,’ Rachael murmured, pushing her face closer, ‘the Great Community of the Realm is very powerful especially in the shires around London. If the Upright Men want, they can make our life very difficult out on some lonely trackway.’

‘And so Master Samuel has reached an accommodation with them. What proof do you have?’

‘Father, we know that Samuel was on Gaunt’s business in Flanders. I do wonder if he told the Upright Men about this. I have no real proof, Father, just a feeling. Isn’t it true that, if you betray one cause, you will betray another? Isn’t that why the Crown executes those guilty of treason?’ She shifted the Ave beads around her fingers. ‘But what does it matter, Father? Perhaps we should be called the “Judas Men” not the Straw Men. There again, we are aptly named, bending to any breeze which blows. Betrayal and treachery are our stage; we mouth words we don’t mean. Father, I know Gideon is growing tired, while I’m with Samson on this. Once the Tower gates are open, we shall be gone.’ Her voice lightened. ‘Father, Samson and I are close. When this business is over we shall become betrothed. I just want to confess the deep resentment I feel. We are mummers, nothing more and nothing less. The games of princes should not concern us. Now, Father, please, your absolution.’

Athelstan replied with the same penance he had given Samson. Both mummers then left the chapel.

Athelstan sat staring at the slender wax taper burning merrily in front of the Virgin’s statue. He reflected on the confessions he had heard. He sensed both penitents felt they had become squalid, dirty, polluted by the treachery swirling about them, the brutal deaths of their comrades, their confinement here. Athelstan moved uncomfortably on his chair. Yet something was very wrong here. Undoubtedly traitors flourished in both camps – that was a hard fact of city life. Cranston constantly talked of how the great lords of London were in secret negotiation with this faction or that. When the great revolt did occur, many merchants didn’t want to see their beautiful Cheapside mansions pillaged and burnt or, even worse, be hustled out into the street for summary execution. Many of those who fawned upon Gaunt bowed and kissed his ring but kept one hand on their dagger and an eye on the main chance. So, if that was true of the powerful, why not the Straw Men?

‘“This is London and everything is up for sale”.’ Athelstan quoted the famous proverb. ‘“Even souls. Yet what doth it profit a man if he gain the whole world but suffer the loss of his immortal soul?”’ Athelstan gazed at the shadow-wrapped statue of the Virgin. ‘Sweet Lady,’ he prayed, ‘please help me because it is not just as simple as that, is it? There is something else, another play here, something I’ve missed, something I’ve glimpsed out of the corner of my eye but cannot recall.’

‘Father! Are you well? Is there someone else here?’

Athelstan turned swiftly in his chair. Judith had quietly slipped through the door of St Peter’s and was standing cloaked in the shadow of one of the pillars.

‘I’m sorry.’ Athelstan half laughed. ‘I was praying. I forget how nimble and soft-footed you are. I admired you performing. Come.’ He gestured. ‘Come into the light. Do you also want to be shriven?’

Judith picked up a stool and sat down next to him. ‘Father, I don’t want to be shriven. Rachael and Samson have spoken to you?’

Athelstan nodded.

‘She, Rachael, should lead our troupe, not Samuel.’