The Apothecary’s Apprentice 33
The Apothecary's Apprentice
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- 1. The Apothecary’s Apprentice 33
“These men approached you in the Crown and Sceptre, Thomas?” Ned enquired, with a puff of his pipe that emitted a swirl of strong-smelling smoke from the twist of tobacco Thomas had brought him.
It was the Sabbath, when Thomas had a few precious hours to call his own.
After sluicing himself down at the pump in the hostelry yard, he had made for the flight of stone steps that took him to what was now the Parrys’ front door.
This was the third successive Sunday, and each time it had been Jennet who had let him in, as if she had been waiting for him.
“Yes,” Thomas said to Ned’s query. “Jed Bates, Matt Carew and Daniel Crossgates. All claimed to be under your management at the salt mine.”
“Good fellows, all three. What did they want?”
“Leave to come and speak with you.
“It would not have been a problem at Queen Street, but here there is caution.”
“I knew as much.” Ned took another puff of his pipe.
“This place isn’t ours to call our own. Go on with what you were saying.”
“The men want to get up a petition objecting about the working conditions in the salt mines,” Thomas explained.
“Not just the Venables pit, but all those known to them.
“They’ve asked me to draw it up and want you to chair any meetings. It could mean a full house.”
“There are others interested?” Ned queried.
“Indeed. All those who suffered in the disaster, and quite a few able men.”
Alice, listening as she prepared a meal, made a troubled sound in her throat.
“Ah, Ned, the landlord will never hold with that.”
“We must name a time when the master is out,” Jennet suggested.
“There is Tuesday night when he attends the apothecary meetings at the Black Lion; Thursday when he meets his friends at the Swan. And he’s never in on a Sunday afternoon.”
“It seems furtive,” Alice protested.
Ned waved his pipe in her direction.
“Happen so, wife, but necessary. Let us make it Tuesday eve, Thomas.
“Gryce would never miss a jawing with his cronies in the trade.”
“Tuesday, then. It might be wise for them to give notice that they are here. A blackbird’s call?” Thomas pursed his lips and made the sound.
Alice looked pained.
“I do not like it, Ned. If we were to get on the wrong side of . . .”
“Pay no heed, Thomas,” Ned told him. “Tell them Tuesday. Shall you be able to come yourself?”
“Likely so.” Thomas nodded. “There is an ostler I have befriended. He might swap duties with me.”
“Do your best, lad. Jennet, will you have writing materials to hand?”
“Surely. If Thomas cannot get here I shall write up the minutes myself.”
Alice frowned at her daughter.
“Jennet, you are as bad as the rest of them. It is clear who you take after!”
“Peace, mistress,” Thomas said gently. “It is no bad thing to have a mind of one’s own.”
Jennet smiled and a warm look passed between them.
Thomas tried to rid his mind of impossible dreams and glanced around.
“No goodwife today?”
“She is on her rounds,” Alice replied.
“Sunday is her one chance to rest, but there is another one who will not be told.”
Jennet sighed.
“If anything should happen while she is out it could be disastrous.”
“We must pray that it does not,” Thomas said quickly.
A sense of unease descended and the feeling stayed with Thomas as he made tracks for the inn that was now home.
It was not only the goodwife that gave cause for concern. There was Jennet, too.
She had not been her usual self for a while, and he suspected that something troubled her.
At one time they had shared all their joys and worries. Not any more, it seemed.
He came to the entrance to the yard of the Crown and Sceptre, and was about to turn in when he saw a familiar figure crossing the square.
She walked slowly, as if the simples box in her hand was too heavy for her.
As he watched, she stumbled and seemed to stagger.
“Goodwife! Hold fast! I’m coming!”
A few loping strides and he was at her side, his strong arm supporting her fragile frame.
“Thomas, ’tis you. Don’t fuss me. I am all right.”
“Of course you are. It is these cobblestones; too uneven by far. Let me take your box of medicaments.
“I have been to see the Parrys. They said you were visiting your patients.”
Keeping up an encouraging chatter, Thomas saw her to the steps and assisted her up.
Outside the Parrys’ door, she stood, swaying slightly, trying to catch her breath.
“Leave me here, Thomas. They’ll only chide me if they see you bringing me back as if my own two feet could not carry me.”
Thomas handed her back the simples box.
“Then I shall bid you farewell for now, goodwife.”
He descended the steps and stood at the shadowed foot, watching until she was safely inside.
To be continued…
