C. Sansom - Lamentation

‘Not yet. But remember I got four pounds from Stephen Bealknap.’ I frowned slightly, thinking again of his deathbed words.

‘Make sure you find him,’ Tamasin told her husband. ‘Or I will be out looking the next day.’ She asked me, ‘Is tomorrow not the day you go to Hampton Court?’

‘Yes. But I do not have to be there till five in the afternoon. I’ll search for Timothy till I have to leave.’

Next morning, while Barak was busy rousing people to join the hunt, Josephine and Goodman Brown and I went out again. They took the road eastward, to see if the boy had left London; if he had, he would be impossible to find. But he had spent all his life in the city, he must surely be here somewhere.

There was a little crowd in Fleet Street, for today was hanging day and people always gathered to watch the cart that carried the condemned to the great gibbet at Tyburn, its occupants standing with nooses round their necks. Some of the crowd shouted insults, others encouraged the condemned to die bravely. Though I shuddered as always at this spectacle, I stopped and asked people if they had seen Timothy. But none had.

I went along Cheapside, calling in all the shops. I had dressed in my robe and coif, to impress the shopkeepers, but perhaps some thought I was mad as I asked each a set of questions which soon became a chant: ‘I am looking for a lost stable-boy. . ran away yesterday afternoon. . thirteen, medium height, untidy brown hair, his two front teeth missing. . Yes, five pounds. . no, he hasn’t stolen anything. . yes, I know I could get another. .’

I asked among the beggars at the great Cheapside conduit. At the sight of a rich gentleman they crowded round me, their stink overpowering. There were children among them, filthy, some covered in sores, eyes feral as cats’. Women as well, too broken or mad even to be whores, in no more than rags, and men missing limbs who had been in accidents, or the wars. They were all blistered by the sun, with cracked lips and dry, matted hair.

More than one said they had seen Timothy, holding out a hand for a reward. I gave each a farthing to whet their appetites and told them the extraordinary sum of five pounds awaited if they produced the boy — the right boy, I added emphatically. One lad of about twelve offered himself in Timothy’s stead, and bared a skinny arse to show what he meant. One of the women waiting for water at the conduit called out ‘Shame!’ But I did not care what they thought, so long as Timothy was found.

There was one further resource I had not tapped. Guy had met Timothy several times at my house, and the boy liked him. What was more, if something happened to him, he might turn up at St Bartholomew’s. Despite the distance that had come between us, I needed Guy’s help.

His assistant Francis Sybrant opened the door and told me his master was at home. He looked at me curiously, for I was dusty from the streets. I waited in Guy’s consulting room, with its pleasant perfume of sandalwood and lavender, and its strange charts of the human body marked with the names of its parts. He came in; I noticed he was starting to walk with an old man’s shuffle, but the expression on his scholarly brown face under the thinning grey curls was welcoming.

‘Matthew. I was going to write you today, about Mistress Slanning. I am glad you told me about her.’

‘How does she fare?’

‘Not well. Her priest has spoken with her, but she told him what she and her brother did, and allowed him to tell me, but then broke down again badly. I have prescribed her a sleeping draught; she has a good household steward, he will keep her from doing what her brother did, so far as anyone can. Perhaps in a little while she may confess fully, and receive absolution.’

‘Do you think confession would rest her mind?’

He shook his head sadly. ‘I think it will never rest again. But it would ease her.’

‘Guy, I need your advice on another matter — nothing to do with the great ones of the realm,’ I added as his expression became wary. I told him Timothy was missing, and he readily offered to look out for him at the hospital. But he added sadly, ‘There are thousands of homeless children in London, more every week, orphans and those cast out from their homes, or coming in from the countryside. Many do not live long.’

‘I know. And Timothy — it is partly my fault.’

‘Do not think of that. I am sure you are right, he is still in the city, and your offer of a reward may find him.’ He put a comforting hand on my arm.

I returned to the house shortly before lunchtime. Barak was there, and said he had half a dozen people out looking. He had told those who had joined the hunt to recruit others, on the promise that each would get a portion of the reward if they found the boy. ‘Contracting the job out,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’ve got Nick out looking too, we’ve more than caught up with the work at chambers.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, grateful as ever for his practicality.

‘I think you should stay here now, to hand over the reward if someone finds him. What time must you be at the banquet?’

‘Five. I must leave by three.’

‘I’ll take over here then.’ He stroked his beard. It was tidy as usual, Tamasin kept it well trimmed. ‘You’ll look for Lord Parr?’

‘I’ll make sure I find him,’ I answered grimly.

‘Remember, Nick and I are available tonight, if we’re needed.’

‘Tamasin — ’

‘Will be all right. You’d be mad to go there alone.’

‘Yes. I hope Lord Parr will supply some men, but bring Nicholas back here after the search for Timothy, and wait for me. Just in case. Thank you,’ I added, inadequately.

By three o’clock, several ragged boys had come or been brought to my door, but none was Timothy. I left Barak and took a wherry upriver to Hampton Court. I had done my best to clean the London dust from my robe before I left. I carried the rented gold chain in a bag; wearing it in the city would be a sore temptation to street robbers. I was tired, my back hurt, and I would have liked to lie down rather than be forced to sit on the hard bench of the boat.

‘Going to the celebrations to welcome the French admiral, sir?’ the boatman asked.

‘That’s right.’

‘They enlisted me last year, sent me to Hampshire. Our company didn’t go on the King’s ships, though. We came home after the French fleet sailed away. I lost a lot of money through being taken from my trade.’

‘At least you came back with your life.’

‘Ay. Not all did. And now we’ve to welcome that Frenchie like a hero.’ He turned and spat in the river as the high brick chimneys of Hampton Court came into view in the distance.

One of the many guards posted at the landing stage led me into the Great Court fronting the palace. The wide lawned court backed on to high walls, and in the centre was the Great Gate leading to the inner court and the main buildings, whose red-brick facade looked mellow in the sunlight. Hampton Court was a complex of wide interlocking spaces, a complete contrast to the cramped turrets and tiny courts of Whitehall — less colourful, but more splendid.

In the Great Court I saw two large temporary banqueting houses, skilfully painted to look like brickwork, with the flags of England and France flying from pennants above. Even the smaller of the two structures looked as though it could seat a hundred people. Some of the royal tents had also been put up, their bright varied colours making a vivid picture. Hundreds of people, mostly men, but a goodly number of women too, stood conversing in the wide courtyard, all in their finest clothes. Servants bustled to and fro, handing out silver mugs of wine and offering sweetmeats from trays. There was a steady hum of conversation.