The Apothecary’s Apprentice 43
The Apothecary's Apprentice
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- 1. The Apothecary’s Apprentice 43
Alice stood at the market apothecary stall and presented Henry Gryce’s stillroom requirements.
Mistress Willoughby, wife to the herbalist, studied the list and looked up.
Shrewd hazel eyes met Alice’s tellingly.
“Aye, ma’am. We have all these items in stock.”
The woman’s look was loaded, putting Alice uneasily on the alert.
Purchases assembled, it came as no surprise when, among the packages, a scrap of parchment was delivered into her hands.
“For your safe-keeping, ma’am,” Mistress Willoughby murmured. “That will be three silver shillings.”
Alice paid the sum, stowed the items away in her basket with her other shopping and took herself off, the scrap of parchment tucked in her sleeve.
She did not attempt to read it until she was back home.
“What’s what?” Ned enquired.
“A message of sorts. Jennet did say Thomas would find a way of getting in touch.
“Ned, I do not like this involvement. It could be dangerous for her.”
“Jennet knows how to keep her wits about her.” Ned indicated the note. “What says it?”
“Tonight. Eight of the clock. Wood Street.” Alice shrugged. “It means nought to me.”
“Wood Street is where Daniel Crossgates bides. Thomas will have got the men together for a meeting.
“Tell Jennet what it says and burn the evidence.”
Alice tossed the parchment into the fire and proceeded to put away the shopping.
The apothecary packages she took downstairs to Jennet in the stillroom, quietly conveying the message at the same time.
Jennet’s hopes lifted at the words. It had been a trying week.
Conscious of the master’s eyes following her in the shop, knowing his patience was wearing thin, she had not been herself at all.
She had been unable to sleep at night, pressed hard to concentrate at her work and irritable with her parents.
Thomas’s message made a difference, though the need for care was paramount.
When, finally, she let herself out of the house, ostensibly on her rounds with simples box in hand, she resisted the urge to head straight for the venue.
She took a roundabout route, glancing back now and again to make sure no-one followed.
At the Crossgates’ cottage, she was admitted at her knock.
There was Thomas, together with the figures of Jed Bates, Matt Carew and the householder, Daniel.
They greeted her eagerly.
“Tell me what happened over Maynard before the others arrive,” Jennet urged.
Bates answered.
“It wasn’t him.”
“What?” Jennet stared at them. “How so?”
“We laid in wait and got him coming out of the alehouse. He swore he weren’t responsible.”
“You believed him?”
Bates nodded.
“Aye. We wasn’t exactly gentle. Him were in fear of his life.”
“Leastways, the encounter did some good,” Thomas put in. “Maynard’s dealing will be more fair from now on. His clients will find the payment more worthwhile in future.”
“Well, that’s something,” Jennet acknowledged. “But if Maynard wasn’t the culprit, then who was?
“There are other merchants that answer to the description the bailiff gave me.”
“It could still have been him the man saw,” Carew reasoned.
“Maynard could have been indirectly involved, then fallen prey to fantasising about it when the ale loosened his tongue.”
“Perhaps.” Thomas nodded.
“Oh, Thomas.” Jennet was crestfallen. “What a disappointment.”
“I shall not give up. Someone has a falsehood on his conscience. ’Tis not the best thing to carry to the grave.”
Thomas paused.
“Do you have writing materials with you?”
Jennet nodded.
“In my simples box.”
“Excellent. We shall need the written names of all those willing to put their mark to the petition to be presented to the Queen’s Privy Councillors at Whitehall Palace.
“The men will be here before long. Could you deal with that?”
“Surely.” Jennet delved into the box. “Tell me how to phrase the petition and I’ll write it for you.”
Presently the room filled and the meeting rolled into action.
It was arranged for Bates to make the journey to London the following week.
“How long do you expect to be gone?” Jennet asked.
“A week, given the three days of travelling each way.”
“It is a risky venture, Jed,” she told him.
“All to a good cause. The Queen needs to be made aware of our plight,” Bates returned.
“If someone don’t make a stand, what hope is there for the future?”
It was late when the meeting ended, and Thomas insisted on accompanying Jennet home.
“We might be seen.”
“I walked your grandmother home from her rounds often enough. Where’s the difference?”
“I am not yet established as goodwife. If the master has anything to do with it, I never shall be.”
They walked on through the flare-lit streets.
A knot of marauding youths broke from a side street and Thomas took Jennet’s hand.
They crossed the town square and came to the steps of the shop.
To Jennet’s surprise Thomas placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her at the corner of her mouth.
It was not exactly a sweetheart’s caress, but neither was it a brotherly gesture.
It brought a measure of comfort as she ascended the steps and let herself into the house.