‘What of the war? They won’t tell us anything, for fear it may unsettle us. But old Ben Tudball is allowed out and he saw a great troop of soldiers marching past …’
‘They say the French are sending a fleet to invade us. And that the Duke of Somerset has taken an army to the Scottish border. But it is all rumour. Nobody knows. Barak thinks the rumours come from the King’s officials.’
‘That does not mean they are untrue.’
‘No.’ I thought, she has such a sharp, quick mind, and her interest in the world is real. Yet she is stuck in here. I looked at the barred window onto the yard. I said, ‘I heard someone down the corridor banging to be let out.’
‘It’s someone new. Some poor soul that still believes they are sane.’
The atmosphere in the room was musty. I looked at the rushes on the floor. ‘These need changing,’ I said. ‘Hob should attend to it.’
She looked down, quickly scratched at her wrist. ‘Yes, I suppose they do.’ Fleas, I thought. I’ll get them too.
‘Why do we not go and stand in the doorway?’ I suggested quietly. ‘Look out at the front yard. The sun is shining.’
She shook her head, wrapping her arms round her body as though to ward off danger. ‘I cannot.’
‘You could when I first knew you, Ellen. Do you remember the day the King married the Queen? We stood in the doorway, listening to the church bells.’
She smiled sadly. ‘If I do that you will press me to go outside, Matthew. Do you think I do not know that? Do you not know how afraid I am?’ Her voice took on a bitter note and she looked down again. ‘You do not come to visit me, then when you do you press and cajole me. This is not what we agreed.’
‘I do visit you, Ellen. Even when, as now, I am busy and have worries of my own.’
Her face softened. ‘Have you, Matthew? What ails you?’
‘Nothing, not really. Ellen, do you really want to stay here for the rest of your life?’ I hesitated, then asked, ‘What would happen if whoever pays your fees were to stop?’
She tensed. ‘I cannot speak of it. You know that. It upsets me beyond bearing.’
‘Do you think Shawms would then let you stay out of charity?’
She flinched a little, then said with spirit, looking me in the face, ‘You know I help him with the patients. I am good with them. He would keep me on. It is all I want from life, that and – ’ She turned away, and I saw tears in the corner of her eyes.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘All right.’ I stood up and forced a smile.
Ellen smiled too, brightly. ‘What news of Barak’s wife?’ she asked. ‘When is her baby due?’
I LEFT HER half an hour later, promising to be back within two weeks – within two weeks, not in two weeks, she had nudged our bargain in her favour again.
Hob Gebons was waiting for me in Shawms’s untidy little office, sitting on a stool behind the desk, hands folded over his greasy jerkin. ‘Had a good visit, sir?’ he asked.
I closed the door. ‘Ellen was as usual.’ I looked at him. ‘How long is it she’s been here now? Nineteen years? The rules say a patient can only stay in the Bedlam a year, and they’re supposed to be cured within that time.’
‘If they pay, they stay. Unless they make a lot of trouble. And Ellen Fettiplace don’t.’
I hesitated a moment. But I had made up my mind: I had to find out who her family were. I opened my purse, held up a gold half angel, one of the old coins. It was a large bribe. ‘Who pays Ellen’s fees, Hob? Who is it?’
He shook his head firmly. ‘You know I can’t tell you that.’
‘All the time I’ve been visiting her, all I’ve learned is that she was attacked and raped when she was in her teens, down in Sussex. I’ve learned where she lived too – a place called Rolfswood.’
Gebons stared at me through narrowed eyes. ‘How did you find that out?’ he asked quietly.
‘One day I was telling her about my father’s farm near Lichfield, and mentioned the great winter floods of 1524. She said, “I was a girl then. I remember at Rolfswood …” Then she clammed up and would say no more. But I asked around and discovered Rolfswood is a small town in the Sussex iron country, near the Hampshire border. Ellen won’t say anything else though, about her family or what happened to her.’ I stared at Gebons. ‘Was it someone from her family that attacked her? Is that why they never visit?’
Hob looked at the coin I still held up, then at me. ‘I can’t help you, sir,’ he said slowly and firmly. ‘Master Shawms is very particular about us not asking anything about Ellen’s background.’
‘He must have records.’ I nodded at the desk. ‘Maybe in there.’
‘It’s locked, and I’m not going to be the one to break it open.’