told him. “She’ll give you a tuppence, plus another penny for the book.”
I started to object to the price, but before the words escaped my lips the boy dashed toward the Minster. I glared at Newcome, who gave me a wolf’s smile in return, and Elizabeth and I hurried after the boy. He led us to a courtyard on the north side of the cathedral and stopped.
“Which door?” I asked.
The boy gave me a smile distinctly similar to his master’s.
“Ah, your tuppence,” I said.
“And the penny for the book,” he said, smiling wider at the prospect of payment.
I handed him the coins and he pointed down an alley.
“It’s there. There’s a sign above the door.” He nodded at Elizabeth and hurried back the way we’d come.
I took Elizabeth by the hand, and we entered the alley. As the boy had promised, a roughly painted sign hung above the printer’s door. I knocked, and the door opened to reveal a young man wearing an ink-stained apron.
He looked at the two of us for a moment before speaking. “This is a printer’s shop,” he said uncertainly.
“And I am here to see the printer,” I replied. “Is he in?”
He recovered himself and bowed. “I am sorry, my lady. It isn’t often that gentlewomen or children come to the shop. I assumed you had lost your way.”
“Is your master in?” I asked again.
“I am the printer,” he replied. “My master fled with the King’s men, and I’ve been here alone ever since.”
I looked into the shop and saw a huge wood press, boxes of type, and piles of paper waiting to be made into books.
“You are here by yourself?” I asked.
“I have a boy to set the type, but I cannot trust him to check the text. I must do that myself. We print the sheets together. How can I help you, my lady?”
“I am here about a book you printed recently. The one about the witches in Lancashire.”
The lad nodded. “Aye, a rushed job if ever I had one. The boy and I stayed up half the night, but I was well paid, so I cannot complain.”
He stopped, and a worried look appeared on his face.
“Is there a problem with my work?” he asked. “I have a license signed by the Lord Mayor.”
“No, it’s not that,” I said. “I need to know who sent the pamphlet to you.”
“Oh, thank the Lord.” He was visibly relieved. “In these times, I can never know who my books will offend. People will blame the printer when they can’t find the author. But I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
I felt my heart sink. “What do you mean?”
“The man who brought me the pamphlet never said his name. He gave me the script and the money, and went on his way. He didn’t even want copies for himself. He just made me promise to sell them all … as if I’d keep them.” He shook his head in wonder.
“What did he look like?” I asked.
The lad furrowed his brow in thought. “He was a soldier, I suppose. He had that air about him. And he had just three fingers on one hand.”
My heart quickened at this, and I could feel the blood rising in my cheeks. “Three fingers?” I asked. “Which three?”
“He had his first two fingers and his thumb. He’d lost his little finger and his leech-finger. And a bit of his hand had been cut away as well.”
My face must have reflected my distress at the news.
“What is it, my lady?” he asked. “Do you know him?”
“Aye,” I replied. “All too well.”
I offered the printer my thanks, took Elizabeth’s hand, and started home at a trot.
“What is it, Ma?” Elizabeth asked as we rounded the east end of the Minster. “Did you find the man you were looking for?”
“Yes, my love, I did,” I replied. When Stonegate was in sight, I stopped and took Elizabeth by her hands. “I need you to go straight home,” I told her. “Tell Martha and Hannah I’ll be along shortly, but I must see Mr. Breary.”
The girl nodded solemnly and threw her arms around my neck. “You’ll be back tonight?”
“I will,” I said. “I promise.”
I
I started to object to the price, but before the words escaped my lips the boy dashed toward the Minster. I glared at Newcome, who gave me a wolf’s smile in return, and Elizabeth and I hurried after the boy. He led us to a courtyard on the north side of the cathedral and stopped.
“Which door?” I asked.
The boy gave me a smile distinctly similar to his master’s.
“Ah, your tuppence,” I said.
“And the penny for the book,” he said, smiling wider at the prospect of payment.
I handed him the coins and he pointed down an alley.
“It’s there. There’s a sign above the door.” He nodded at Elizabeth and hurried back the way we’d come.
I took Elizabeth by the hand, and we entered the alley. As the boy had promised, a roughly painted sign hung above the printer’s door. I knocked, and the door opened to reveal a young man wearing an ink-stained apron.
He looked at the two of us for a moment before speaking. “This is a printer’s shop,” he said uncertainly.
“And I am here to see the printer,” I replied. “Is he in?”
He recovered himself and bowed. “I am sorry, my lady. It isn’t often that gentlewomen or children come to the shop. I assumed you had lost your way.”
“Is your master in?” I asked again.
“I am the printer,” he replied. “My master fled with the King’s men, and I’ve been here alone ever since.”
I looked into the shop and saw a huge wood press, boxes of type, and piles of paper waiting to be made into books.
“You are here by yourself?” I asked.
“I have a boy to set the type, but I cannot trust him to check the text. I must do that myself. We print the sheets together. How can I help you, my lady?”
“I am here about a book you printed recently. The one about the witches in Lancashire.”
The lad nodded. “Aye, a rushed job if ever I had one. The boy and I stayed up half the night, but I was well paid, so I cannot complain.”
He stopped, and a worried look appeared on his face.
“Is there a problem with my work?” he asked. “I have a license signed by the Lord Mayor.”
“No, it’s not that,” I said. “I need to know who sent the pamphlet to you.”
“Oh, thank the Lord.” He was visibly relieved. “In these times, I can never know who my books will offend. People will blame the printer when they can’t find the author. But I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
I felt my heart sink. “What do you mean?”
“The man who brought me the pamphlet never said his name. He gave me the script and the money, and went on his way. He didn’t even want copies for himself. He just made me promise to sell them all … as if I’d keep them.” He shook his head in wonder.
“What did he look like?” I asked.
The lad furrowed his brow in thought. “He was a soldier, I suppose. He had that air about him. And he had just three fingers on one hand.”
My heart quickened at this, and I could feel the blood rising in my cheeks. “Three fingers?” I asked. “Which three?”
“He had his first two fingers and his thumb. He’d lost his little finger and his leech-finger. And a bit of his hand had been cut away as well.”
My face must have reflected my distress at the news.
“What is it, my lady?” he asked. “Do you know him?”
“Aye,” I replied. “All too well.”
I offered the printer my thanks, took Elizabeth’s hand, and started home at a trot.
“What is it, Ma?” Elizabeth asked as we rounded the east end of the Minster. “Did you find the man you were looking for?”
“Yes, my love, I did,” I replied. When Stonegate was in sight, I stopped and took Elizabeth by her hands. “I need you to go straight home,” I told her. “Tell Martha and Hannah I’ll be along shortly, but I must see Mr. Breary.”
The girl nodded solemnly and threw her arms around my neck. “You’ll be back tonight?”
“I will,” I said. “I promise.”
I
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