"Don’t waste your time hanging around in London. There’s a whole world out there just waiting for Roger Chapman’s wares. However hard it may sound, Clement Weaver and Richard Mallory are dead. Forget them.’"
I think I have fallen for Kate Sedley’s blend of history, mystery and intrigue. These were “the times that tried men’s (and women’s) souls.” Politics, war, disease, crime, etc. were rampant. It was a protracted battle for the throne of England between the Houses of Lancaster and York (otherwise know as the War of the Roses). Into this Sedley introduces a chapman, Roger by name. I wasn’t conversant with the term “chapman.” It was then the term for peddler. Roger has recently left his abbey “to seek my fortune, outside the safety of its walls." With little funds he decides to do so as a chapman.
He begins his trade in the countryside and smaller towns and a dalliance on a warm day leads to learning of the disappearance on a visit to London of Clement Weaver, son of a well-to-do alderman and a member of the rising middle class. Roger promises to see what he can find if/when he gets to London. The explanation accepted by all but a few was that "Clement Weaver had been one of the hundreds of men and women who were murdered each year for the money which they might, or might not, be carrying. The world was a violent and dangerous place, as Abbot Selwood had warned me when I left the abbey to seek my fortune, outside the safety of its walls."
He is barely twenty and just out into the wider world: "I felt that God was demanding something of me in return for His forgiveness for my having abandoned the religious life." Despite not being a man of the world, rumors of larger concerns are passed on by everyone and a peddler is exposed to many of them: "‘You forget,’ Alison replied patiently, ‘that it was a very dangerous time just then. The Earl of Warwick had brought King Henry out of the Tower and proclaimed him rightful king again. The sanctuaries were overflowing with King Edward’s followers, and there were many not even in sanctuary, but hiding in the city. And it was only a matter of weeks since the execution of the Earl of Worcester. My uncle told me he had never seen the Londoners in such a restless, feverish state of excitement. He said the number of crimes was rising daily.’ I remembered that even we, in our seclusion at Glastonbury, had heard some rumours of the terrible mob violence which had occurred in London at the execution of King Edward’s Constable. The Earl of Worcester had been nicknamed the Butcher of England,"
Our Roger is an empathetic man who finds “doing the right thing” almost the only choice: "In my mind’s eye I could envisage quite plainly the figure of her brother as she had last seen him, huddled in his cloak against the driving rain, illuminated by the flickering torchlight of the Crossed Hands inn, with so few steps between himself and safety. The Baptist’s Head was within sight, Thomas Prynne, his father’s old friend, waiting to welcome him, a posset of warm ale already brewing on the fire… But Clement Weaver had never arrived." He agrees to “ask around if he should ever get to London.” But before that, Canterbury is his destination and he gets a sense of dangers extant in the larger cities: "There were rich pickings to be had in Canterbury, where the constant influx of pilgrims from all parts of the country meant an unceasing flow of money into the pockets of its citizens. It had more taverns and cookshops than any other town of its size that I had passed through. And more trouble, too: the streets were rarely quiet. There were frequent disputes between the clerical and secular interests of the town; between mayor and archbishop, layman and priest. They quarrelled over water rights, the fishmarket, and whose authority it was to arrest wrongdoers; over ecclesiastical immunities and restraints of trade. It was nothing to see several brawls a day in the Canterbury streets, and it was not always simply fists which were used. I had been there less than a week, and already I had seen daggers drawn on more than one occasion."
It is there, by chance, he learns of another “disappearance in the same area of London” and also polishes his skills: "‘It’s most gracious of your ladyship to see me.’ One thing above all others those last few months had taught me: if you need to grovel, then do it well. People who like power and flattery don’t like them in half-measures. ‘I very much appreciate your condescension.’…"‘I should be grateful for any news of Sir Richard.’ She spoke stiffly, and I could see that the idea of being obligated to a common chapman did not please her. But, like Alderman Weaver, she realized that I had advantages not enjoyed by her servants nor even by the Sergeant of the Watch. No one would suspect me of over-much intelligence nor of having any interest in her husband’s disappearance. I was in a position to make inquiries without actually seeming to do so, and might also pick up scraps of information which would give me a clue to his fate."
So it is on to London where the number of encounters and the pace pick up and before things are resolved there are some life or death encounters.
The plot was quite satisfying and the descriptions of life – in a village or the metropolis; among friends or strangers; at various levels of status and wealth were the real treasure.
I am delighted to discover Kate Sedley and Roger the Chapman so delighted that I am going to share some additional quotations.
"I felt that God was demanding something of me in return for His forgiveness for my having abandoned the religious life."
"We set off along Corn Street, dodging the piles of filth in front of the houses and the mounds of offal outside a butcher’s shop. There were plenty of pigs and goats, too, to impede our progress; they had no business, legally, to be kept within city limits; but the good citizens of Bristol ignored this regulation in the same way that people of other towns up and down the country ignored it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life it’s that the English see every law as a challenge, either to be circumvented or broken."
"‘I expect the plague will be rife again this summer.’"
"‘You forget,’ Alison replied patiently, ‘that it was a very dangerous time just then. The Earl of Warwick had brought King Henry out of the Tower and proclaimed him rightful king again. The sanctuaries were overflowing with King Edward’s followers, and there were many not even in sanctuary, but hiding in the city. And it was only a matter of weeks since the execution of the Earl of Worcester. My uncle told me he had never seen the Londoners in such a restless, feverish state of excitement. He said the number of crimes was rising daily.’ I remembered that even we, in our seclusion at Glastonbury, had heard some rumours of the terrible mob violence which had occurred in London at the execution of King Edward’s Constable. The Earl of Worcester had been nicknamed the Butcher of England,"
"I noticed that although the windows giving on to Broad Street had wooden shutters below, the top halves were made of glass. Nowadays we think far less of glass in private houses, but it was quite a new thing in England then, and very expensive."
"There were rich pickings to be had in Canterbury, where the constant influx of pilgrims from all parts of the country meant an unceasing flow of money into the pockets of its citizens. It had more taverns and cookshops than any other town of its size that I had passed through. And more trouble, too: the streets were rarely quiet. There were frequent disputes between the clerical and secular interests of the town; between mayor and archbishop, layman and priest. They quarrelled over water rights, the fishmarket, and whose authority it was to arrest wrongdoers; over ecclesiastical immunities and restraints of trade. It was nothing to see several brawls a day in the Canterbury streets, and it was not always simply fists which were used. I had been there less than a week, and already I had seen daggers drawn on more than one occasion."
"‘It’s most gracious of your ladyship to see me.’ One thing above all others those last few months had taught me: if you need to grovel, then do it well. People who like power and flattery don’t like them in half-measures. ‘I very much appreciate your condescension.’"
"I had spent a congenial morning discussing with a priest from Southwark William of Ockham’s theory that faith and logic could never be reconciled, and that therefore ecclesiastical authority was the sole basis for religious belief."
"The lower half of the building was made of stone, but the upper half had a timber frame, with walls of wooden lattice work and plaster. The downstairs windows, which looked out on to Thames Street, had old-fashioned shutters, but some of those above were of horn, or covered with sheets of oiled parchment."
"West Cheap, or Cheapside, is also known simply as The Street, because it’s so famous. I don’t suppose there’s a soul in the whole of England, then as now, who hasn’t heard of it. It’s not what it was when I was young, but as I’ve remarked before, that goes without saying. My children and grandchildren will feel the same when they’re my age. But when I first saw it, in that October of 1471, I thought it must be the most magical place in the whole wide world. Cheap, of course, comes from the old Saxon word ‘chipping’, meaning a market: there was nothing cheap, in its current usage, about The Street. There were shops stuffed with silks and carpets, tapestries brought from Arras, gold and silver cups and plates, the most magnificent jewellery. My eyes were dazzled and I felt like a child in fairyland,"
"I saw grey Bristol soap being sold at a penny the pound, less than half the price of the hard white Castilian. The ordinary black liquid soap was only a halfpenny."
"The hood lay in her basket, along with flowers she had been gathering. These included the feathery, flat-topped heads of fleabane, and a quantity of the plant known as Ladies’ Bedstraw, the bunched yellow heads clinging tightly to the long, pale stems. I remembered my mother collecting the selfsame plants; the first, burnt, gave off an acrid smoke which was death to fleas; the second she would boil, using the flowers to make dye, and extracting a substance from the stalks and leaves which could be used as a substitute for rennet. The girl sat down beside me and took off her shoes and stockings,"
"Old age is not simply a matter of rheumatic joints, defective eyesight and impaired hearing; it’s waking up one morning and realizing that there is no longer any future."