‘That’s the technical position. It doesn’t help much in practice.’
He took a delicately embroidered handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. ‘I visited Elizabeth in Newgate this morning,’ he said. ‘God’s mercy, it’s a terrible place. But she still won’t talk.’ He ran his hand over his plump, badly shaven cheeks. ‘Why won’t she talk, why? It’s her only hope of saving herself.’ He looked across at me pleadingly, as though I had the answer. I raised a hand.
‘Come, Joseph, sit down. Let us start at the beginning. I know only what you told me in your letter, which is little more than is in this foul pamphlet.’
He took a chair, looking apologetic. ‘I’m sorry; I’ve no good hand at writing.’
‘Now, one of your two brothers is the father of the boy who died - is that right? - and the other was father to Elizabeth?’
Joseph nodded, making a visible effort to pull himself together.
‘My brother Peter was Elizabeth’s father. He took himself to London as a boy and got himself apprenticed as a dyer. He did moderately well, but since the French embargo - well, trade has gone right down these last few years.’
I nodded. Since England’s break with Rome the French had banned the export of alum, which was essential for the dyeing trade. It was said even the king wore black hose now.
‘Peter’s wife died two years ago.’ Joseph went on. ‘When the bloody flux took Peter last autumn there was barely enough left to pay for his funeral and nothing for Elizabeth.’
‘She was their only child?’
‘Yes. She wanted to come and live with me, but I thought she’d be better off with Edwin. I’ve never married, after all. And he’s the one with the money and the knighthood.’ A note of bitterness entered his voice.
‘And he is the mercer the pamphlet mentions?’
Joseph nodded. ‘Edwin has a good business head. When he followed Peter to London as a boy he went straight into the cloth trade. He knew where the best profits could be made: he has a fine house by the Walbrook now. To be fair, Edwin offered to take Elizabeth in. He’s already given a home to our mother - she moved from the farm when she lost her sight through the smallpox ten years ago. He was always her favourite son.’ He looked up with a wry smile. ‘Since Edwin’s wife died five years ago, Mother has run his household with a rod of iron, although she’s seventy-four and blind.’ I saw he was twisting the handkerchief in one hand; the embroidery was becoming torn.
‘So Edwin is also a widower?’
‘Yes. With three children. Sabine, Avice and - and Ralph.’
‘The pamphlet said the girls are in their teens, older than the boy.’
Joseph nodded. ‘Yes. Pretty, fair-haired and soft-skinned like their mother.’ He smiled sadly. ‘All their talk’s of fashions and young men from the Mercers’ dances, pleasant girlish things. Or was till last week.’
‘And the boy? Ralph? What was he like?’
Joseph twisted the handkerchief again. ‘He was the apple of his father’s eye; Edwin always wanted a boy to succeed him in his business. His wife Mary had three boys before Sabine, but none lived past the cradle. Then two girls before a boy who lived, at last. Poor Edwin’s grief shot. Perhaps he spared the rod too much—’ He paused.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Ralph was an imp, it must be said. Always full of tricks. His poor mother could never control him.’ Joseph bit his lip. ‘Yet he had a merry laugh, I brought him a chess set last year and he loved it, learned quickly and soon beat me.’ In his sad smile I sensed the loneliness Joseph’s rupture with his family would bring him. He had not done this lightly.
‘How did you hear of Ralph’s death?’ I asked quietly.
‘A letter from Edwin, sent by fast rider the day after it happened.
He asked me to come to London and attend the inquest. He had to view Ralph’s body and couldn’t bear doing it alone.’
‘So you came to London, what, a week ago?’
‘Yes. I made the formal identification with him. That was a terrible thing. Poor Ralph laid on that dirty table in his little doublet, his face so white. Poor Edwin broke down sobbing, I’ve never seen him cry before. He wept on my shoulder, said, “My boykin, my boykin. The evil witch,” over and over.’
‘Meaning Elizabeth.’
Joseph nodded. ‘Then we went to the court and heard the evidence before the coroner. The hearing didn’t take long, I was surprised it was so short.’
I nodded. ‘Yes. Greenway rushes things. Who gave evidence?’
‘Sabine and Avice first of all. It was odd seeing them standing in that dock together, so still: I believe they were rigid from fear, poor girls. They said that the afternoon it happened they had been doing tapestry work indoors. Elizabeth had been sitting in the garden, reading under a tree by the well. They could see her through the parlour window. They saw Ralph go across and start talking to her. Then they heard a scream, a dreadful hollow sound. They looked up from their work and saw that Ralph was gone.’