The Traitor’s Mark by D. K. Wilson

the cesspit of villainy again. Did you not see enough of that world back in thirty-six?’
    â€˜A just rebuke, old friend. No, I was young and headstrong then – as you told me often enough. Now, even if I had the time, there would be little I could do to extricate Bart from his predicament, but ...’
    â€˜I feared there would be a “but”.’
    â€˜Well ...’ I hesitated, watching the bees hovering round the hive at the end of the garden. ‘You know Lizzie ... Who’d have thought seven years ago that she and Bart could have made a good life for themselves.’
    Ned nodded. ‘Indeed. I still thank God for them in my prayers.’
    â€˜And now they have the two bearns ... To see all that thrown away just because Bart found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time ...’
    â€˜But you must not blame yourself for that, Thomas.’ Ned fixed me with that earnest gaze I always found disconcerting.
    â€˜Oh, I don’t. Of course not.’
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜Well ... I could have thought more before sending Bart to Aldgate. It was so out of character for Holbein to keep me waiting for his drawings. I might have guessed thatsomething was wrong. I should have gone myself. What happened was ...’
    I briefly explained the sequence of events.
    Ned listened attentively, nodding occasionally. At last he said, ‘Back in the monastery one of the biggest problems we faced was false sins. Some of the brothers were so intent on pursuing holiness that they invented sins to confess. They punished themselves for things God had no intention of punishing them for.’
    â€˜And you think I’m doing the same?’
    â€˜You could not possibly have foreseen what would befall Bart in Aldgate.’
    â€˜So you’re suggesting I should shrug my shoulders, say, “It’s not my fault”, and leave him to his fate?’
    Ned sighed deeply. ‘No, we must, of course, do all we can.’
    â€˜We?’ I smiled.
    â€˜Is that not why you have come – to enlist my help?’
    â€˜You did say you knew at least half a dozen gangs of ruffians who might have committed this crime.’
    He nodded wearily. ‘I will make some enquiries – very, very discreetly. It is not wise to appear too inquisitive.’
    The Kent Road was inches deep in mud and very busy, Twice we were obliged to stop and help other travellers ease their mired vehicles on to firmer ground. We made slow progress and had to stay the night in one of the better inns. I hoped that the rest of my household had not fared so badly,and was relieved to find everyone safely installed at Hemmings when we arrived late the following morning.
    There was, as always, much to be done in and around the estate – steward’s accounts to be checked, tenants’ complaints to be heard, building repairs to be assessed and, where necessary, set in hand. I never forgot about Bart and Lizzie’s plight. Every day I hoped that I might hear some positive news: that Master Johannes had come out of hiding to save my friends; that Ned had identified the real assassins; that someone from the alien community might offer a clue about the artist’s enemies. I even allowed myself to imagine that John of Antwerp might experience a twinge of conscience and break his oath of secrecy to a friend in the interests of wider justice. But these thoughts were pushed to the back of my mind by my many responsibilities as a landowner.
    And by my concern for the children. As I watched Carl, Henry and Annie explore their new surroundings, I was amazed by their remarkable resilience. Adie was extremely good with the tiny ones. By the time I arrived she had already found a wet nurse for little Jack and she knew many games and stratagems to keep his older sister occupied. After a couple of days, little Annie stopped crying for her mother. The boys were enjoying exploring the woods and parkland.