Chapter 18: Brugge

(Robin of Oaklea narrates)

It was about noon that the ship arrives off the shore of the great port of Brugge, where we haul down our sail and stop outside of the river estuary. Captain Ecbergct advises that we have to stay out in the roads awaiting for the tide to turn so we can enter on the tidal surge going up river. Besides, with the switching around to come off the land once more, we will be at the mercy of the currents. We three passengers get our small bundles ready. I check my bow and two quivers of arrows, but wrapped in the tarred cloth I obtained from our river captain Leofwine, they are dry and undamaged. We wash and refresh ourselves in buckets of seawater hauled up on ropes. We are all smiles having arrived here safely.

We glide into the bustling harbour of Brugge, much more crowded, and with much larger ships than we saw in our harbour of departure in England. Surely this must be the busiest trading port in the world, Hugh declares, before we make land and tie up alongside the ship’s usual morning wharf at Brugge. While we traverse the harbour, the captain carefully points out ships from all over the world.

“All over? Even China?” Hugh asks, his eyes as big as platters.

Possibly to humour him, the captain points to a gaudy galley, that looks to me like a picture of an older Venetian craft that Alwen once showed me painted in a book, and the captain says that is a Chiney junk, bringing in jade and ivory and yards and yards of coloured silks. Hugh is open mouthed in awe, while the captain and his mate at the tiller grin at their tall tales.

We disembark and say our farewells. The captain tells us he is only dropping off part of his cargo here and then sailing down past Biscay Bay to collect a cargo of Bordeaux wine. He wouldn’t be back this way for a couple of weeks or so, depending on the wind. Sailors are the most relaxed and fatalistic people I have ever met.

As soon as we hit the streets, we stop people walking by and ask directions to the Red Hand Bank. Eventually one of them tells us the way and we start to make our way there. We are at the end of the lane within fifty steps. The lane is close by the river, where the boats ply up and down and only a lane or two away from the wharves and warehouses. The whole place is bustling with people, all purposefully rushing from place to place.

We are the only country-bred folk who stop and stare open mouthed at the scene, we are like boulders in a stream, with folk stepping around us, muttering to themselves about the inconvenience they are being caused, just like that of a babbling brook. But is it any wonder we stop and stare? It is like nowhere else I have ever been before. The biggest places I have been, Bartown and the slightly smaller Wellock Brigga, are nothing like this. Even some of the larger towns we past through on the river boat, look ruder and poor compared to this. The common lane where the bank is supposed to be is actually paved with stone!

It is an imposing city building, narrow like all the rest of the street, but three stories high with an attic atop of that. The ground and first floors are of smooth dressed stone, the top floors of timber with brick infill and really large pieces of clear glass set in leaded criss cross diagonals in the windows, letting plenty of light in. Flanders are famous for their blown glass, but I have never such thin sheets of glass in windows before.

We look at each other wondering what to do now that we have got here. I look towards Lady Elinor, as she wants me to call her until she is back with the mistress she serves. After all, she is the one who needs to see her Lady’s banker. Hugh is more interested looking around at the wealthy people walking by, wrapped in expensive furs and extravagant hats.

Before we can make a move, the door opens and Rebecca is standing there, urging us to come inside, “Come quickly, without delay, we haven’t a moment to spare!”

We squeeze through the door, Lady Elinor first, and Hugh being pushed in by me, while I bring up the rear. Rebecca bolts the door behind us, turns and puts her arms around me and squeezes me in greeting.

“So good to see you, Robin, you look quite well, considering your journey. Your father, your mother, they are well?”

“Aye, when I last saw them last, but it has been two weeks since I saw Alwen, and a week since Will returned to the Castle. There is a plague there that had him summoned home.”

“I know, I have heard. It sounds like Bartown has caught the Chinese ague. We first had it here two winters ago. It carried my dear father off among others, particularly targeting the old and the very young. When it struck us this winter it only harmed the new people, the ones who missed catching it last year, the rest of us barely suffered at all. It seems the cure is to catch it and, if you survive, you only feel a little discomfort the next time around. Now, come on through to the back room, we have some food and drink for you to refresh yourselves before you have to leave to go back to England.”

“You say you know? How?” I ask.

“Move along, please come on, we haven’t long. I have refreshments laid out for you. I will explain everything, but first you must eat and drink and change your clothes.”

We walk along a dark narrow passage towards a door half opened. Flickering candlelight dances on the walls at the end of the corridor.

Inside the room is a long dining table groaning with dishes of cheeses, meats, butter, bread and pastries. Jugs of wine, milk and water and marvel of marvels glasses! We have a few at the Inn, mostly local poorly blown glass, but some carved crystal that is imported and expensive, which we can only afford to bring out for special guests. But this table had a dozen or more on it as if commonplace.

“Please help yourself, we are used to dining customers and guests of all tastes here, so you will surely find something to tempt you.”

“Madam Rebecca, I must speak to you about my dowry and inherit—”

“All safe and secure, Lady Elinor, never fear, the Count will never get his hands on a single sou, I assure you.”

“But I have not shown you my proof.”

“Of course, Lady Elinor, you are perfectly right, we must do everything properly as laid down by your father.”

“Yes, yes, of course we must,” Lady Elinor says hastily, as she starts to pull a cord around her neck and pulls out a locket. With trembling fingers she tries to open it without success.

“Shall I open it my dear?” Rebecca says, as though she is speaking to a child who is having difficulty with her buttons, “after all I have seen it before.”

She reveals a stunning green stone, like a giant’s tear drop.

Rebecca says “Lady Elinor, your fortune is safe, but you must return home immediately, as your Mother is not safe. Robin, would you be so kind as to escort her home—”

“My job is done, Madam, Rebecca,” I say, as I bow to each in turn, “I was obligated to get you here, but now I will take my leave, you can afford to buy your own passage back to England, where you can buy your own horse.”

“Wait, will you not escort me back to England?” Lady Elinor asks.

“Yes, Robin, will you not escort the Lady back to England, to her mother’s?” Rebecca adds, “she could be in mortal danger.”

I turn to Rebecca, “Has she enough in her dowry to pay her passage and an escort home?”

“She can afford to buy an army,” comes the calm reply.

“I could pay you...” Lady Elinor offers.

“We are not men for hire, Madam!” I retort, despite Hugh’s tugging at my sleeve, no doubt wishing me to reconsider.

“Please, Robin, you are who I trust and through you I have saved my fortune and my mother from paupery. I have no other Captain I would rather trust my life to.”

Rebecca whispers in her ear.

“Rebecca tells me she holds sway over the archbishop here, and will arrange the annulment of my betrothal, even in my absence. I am as good as being a damsel in distress once more, in need of a good knight, or at least an accurate archer.”

“And you do have to return to England, and soon,” Rebecca says in soothing tones, clearly used to unruffling feathers and persuading far more powerful personages than I to mutual agreement, “there are storm clouds forming over the good citizens of your shire, Robin, and I doubt you have enough funds left to pay your passage back to where you left your mounts?”

“True,” I admit resignedly, accepting defeat at the hands of two formidable women, “So where do you want to go?”

“To my mother’s Inn in Pitstone. That is where she will feel most safe.”

“I will take you that far, my Lady. Then, I must return home.”

“Thank you, Robin, you are a true knight.”

“Then I will be his true squire!” chips in Hugh, brandishing a sausage as if it were a broadsword.

Lady Elinor turns to Rebecca.

“You said earlier that you have seen this stone before?” Lady Elinor asks.

“It was paid to my father in lieu of a debt, sometime before I was born, it is the Emerald of Autiel, and was once part of the crown of the ancient Breton Kings, but now the Count of Breton is but a vassal of the Duke of Normandy. The Jewel is the key to the County of Autiel, the possessor is the owner of that rich estate, which is presently under protection of the King of England, who possesses all of Normandy and the western seaboard of France all the way down to the Pyrenees.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you are a wealthy woman, the estate has been paying into this account for over twenty years, with not a single denarii paying out. It has become a King’s ransom.”