Edward Marston - Trip to Jerusalem

The first priority was to be able to speak to the boy and that meant getting rid of the gag. Unable to brush it down with his knees, he looked around for a source of aid. A wooden rake was standing against the wall on his right. Though he could not reach it with his feet, he could scoop the straw towards him and that brought the implement ever closer. It also brought piles of dung and his shoes were soon covered with it, but he did not give up. Richard watched with interest as his friend got the rake within reach and then lifted both feet before jabbing them down hard on the prongs. The rake flipped up and Nicholas had to move his head aside as the handle smashed into the wall beside him. He trapped the implement with his shoulder then used the end of it to push his gag slowly upwards. It was agonising work that earned him several jabs in the face but he eventually managed to move it enough to be able to speak.

His words tumbled out through deep breaths. 'How are you, lad?'

The boy nodded bravely and his eyes showed spirit.

'Have they hurt you badly?'

Richard Honeydew shook his head and made a noise.

'Let's see if we can get your gag off now, Dick.'

Nicholas used his body and feet to propel the rake towards the apprentice and the latter tried to copy what he had seen. It took him much longer and collected him many more painful pokes with the end of the pole but he did finally force the gag out of his mouth. He filled his lungs gratefully then coughed violently.

'They'll stink us to death in here,' said Nicholas.

'How did you find me, Master Bracewell?'

'Never mind that, Dick. The main thing is to get you out of here safely. How many of them are there?'

'Two. They kidnapped me together.'

'At the behest of Banbury's Men.'

'Is that who stole me away? I had no idea. They keep me locked up and only come when it is time to feed me.'

'You look poorly'

'I am fine,' said the boy unconvincingly.

'They will pay for what they have done to you.'

'It is not them that I fear, Master. They have tied me up but they have not ill-treated me.' He looked around with disgust. 'What makes me afeard is the dark and the damp and the smell and, most of all, the rats.'

'Rats?'

'They come snuffling around sometimes. I am afraid that they will eat me alive!' He relaxed visibly. 'But not now that you are here. I feel safe with you.'

'No rats will harm you, Dick.'

The boy smiled. 'I knew you would come for me.'

'Tell me exactly what has happened to you.'

While he listened to Honeydew's tale, his eyes roved the outhouse in search of a means of escape but none presented itself. Then he noticed some movement under the straw beside a wooden bucket of water. When the boy caught sight of it, he flew into a panic.

'A rat! A rat! Another rat!'

The creature came out of the straw and shuffled towards the terror-stricken boy. Nicholas yelled and lashed out at the animal with his feet, putting it to flight and kicking over the bucket as well. As cold water made his discomfort even greater, he began to fret and complain but he soon checked himself. The accident might yet be turned to account. He almost smiled.

M spy some hope, Dick.'

'Do you, Master?'

'There may yet be a way out.'

'How?'

'You will see. But I need your help.'

'I will do anything I can, sir.'

'Encourage me.'

Richard Honeydew soon understood what he meant. The packed earth beneath the straw had been loosened by the deluge and gave way to urgent feet. Using his shoes as a rudimentary spade, Nicholas began to scoop out a hole close to the wall. The deeper he went, the softer was the earth and he kicked it out into a heap beside him. It was a long and laborious process which brought the sweat streaming out of every pore and made his body ache as if it was ready to split asunder. Whenever he felt like giving up, however, he glanced across at the boy and was given all the exhortation he needed.

'Keep on, sir! You are working wonders! Stay there!'

Nicholas struggled on, getting bruised and filthy in the process but making definite headway. Ultimately, the hole was big enough for him to be able to lower himself into it and take the strain.

He had undermined the wall completely. When he tested his strength against it, the stone moved slightly. Richard Honeydew giggled with delight.

'We are almost there!'

"Not yet, lad."

'I know your strength, sir. You will do it.'

Nicholas nodded wearily. The real effort now began. He pushed, felt it give some more, rested a moment then adjusted his position. Calling on all his reserves of energy, he shoved hard with his feet and let his broad shoulders attack the solidity of the wall. It was the work of several wounding minutes but his efforts were not in vain. With a low crumbling noise, the wall gave way and chunks of stone came crashing down around him. Nicholas was cut, bruised and bloodied but his hands were now free of the metal ring. He began to rub his wrists against the sharp edge of a piece of stone.

'You did it, Master Bracewell!' said the boy.

'With your help.'

'All I did was to watch you.'

'And stiffen my resolve.'

'Can you saw through the rope?'

'It is done!' said Nicholas, holding up his hands. ' He cast aside his bonds and dragged himself across to untie the boy's wrists. Before they could tackle the ropes on their ankles, however, they heard the sound of running footsteps. Nicholas pulled himself upright and bounced to the door as it was unbolted from outside. A stocky young man came rushing in with a dagger at the ready. Grabbing him by wrist and neck, Nicholas threw him hard against the remains of the wall, diving on top of him to disarm him and hold the weapon to his throat. The man was dazed and fearful.

'Do not kill me, sir!' he pleaded.

'Who are you?'

'An ostler, sir. I work here at the inn.'

'You have been our gaoler.'

'Only because I was paid. I meant no harm.'

'Do not move!'

Nicholas used the dagger to slit through the ropes that held his ankles then he cut the boy loose as well. He placed a knee on the ostler's chest and held the point of the blade just in front of the man's face.

'You struck me down from behind,' he accused.

'I was told to guard the boy.'

'What else were you told?'

'To hide the basket in the stables.'

'What basket?'

'They were costumes, sir.'

'From Westfield 's Men?'

'That was the name.'

Nicholas stood up and yanked the ostler to his feet. He did not have to threaten his captive any more. Plainly terrified, Human led them immediately to the part of the stables where he had concealed the costume basket. Nicholas was pleased to see his two horses there as well and took the opportunity to repossess his own sword and dagger. He used his rapier to pin the man to the wall while he pondered.

'Has the company returned?' he said.

'Not yet, sir. They celebrate at Lavery Grange.'

'Take me to Master Randolph's room.'

'Who, sir?'

'He will have the finest bedchamber here.'

"Tis at the front of the inn, sir.'

'Teach me the way.'

'I have no place up there.'

'I do,' said Nicholas. 'Lead on or lose an ear.' They went stealthily across the yard.

Lambert Pym stood in the brewhouse at the rear of his inn and watched another cask being filled. It would now be stored in his cellars for conditioning until it was ready to be tapped and drunk. Pym had grown up with the smell of beer and ale in his nostrils and it stayed with him wherever he went. His customers at the Trip to Jerusalem bought beer, or, if they had a little extra money, some ale. He imported some wine from Bordeaux but it was too costly for most people. Malmsey wine from Greece was even more expensive, as was sack, but Pym kept a supply of both for certain patrons. During the three days of Whitsuntide, he would need to draw deeply on all his stocks.