The Tanner’s Daughter – Episode 31
The Tanner's Daughter by Pamela Kavanagh
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- 34. The Tanner’s Daughter – Episode 34
Jane put down her quill and read her entry in the journal.
On the nine and twentieth day of August in the year 1556, a great fire broke out on Chester’s Northgate region.
Three and thirty homes were destroyed, also barns and back-houses. There has been much loss of life.
She had found the book in the bedchamber writing desk and had decided to record the dire event that had overtaken the town.
This brought the night back in horrifying detail…
St Werburgh’s clock was striking midnight when they were woken by the town crier alerting citizens, racing through the streets hollering and clanging his bell frantically.
Will threw on his clothes, roused manservants Perivale and Rolf and hustled them off in the direction of the fire, intent on joining those who were trying to staunch the flames, and never giving a thought to the danger of it.
He left the rest of the household on the landing, clad in their night-robes and struggling to collect their scattered wits.
Jane wondered if she would ever see Will again.
Her mother was overcome with fear for her childhood friend Ann Lovett, who lived alone on the Northgate and was far from young.
Jane took charge and turned to the cook and maid.
“Martha, Dorcas. Clothe yourselves and go prepare us some refreshments. A restorative tisane might be best for my mother. Dorcas, see to it.”
The servant was plainly at a loss and Jane had to wonder how her mother had ever come to employ such a useless baggage.
It struck her that her mother had seemed less than enamoured with the girl of late.
“Dorcas!”
“Mistress, I… I have yet to acquaint myself with tisanes and such,” the servant stammered.
Tempted to box the girl’s ears, Jane went to attend the task herself.
Later, fully dressed and sipping cup after cup of small ale, the four of them sat around the kitchen hearth, waiting.
None of them dared to voice what might be happening in a nearby quarter of the town.
It was the longest night of Jane’s life. She worried for the poor wretches caught up in the fire.
She worried for the men who were fighting the flames, and for her mother who fretted for the friend with whom she had shared a lifetime of joys and sorrows.
But Jane’s greatest concern was for Will.
She knew his rashness, his resistance to any sense of peril, and prayed that he would keep safe and return to her unscathed.
All that night and for the best part of the next day the fire raged, engulfing everything in its path.
The celebrations arranged for Will’s birthdate were dismissed, since the male guests were at the Northgate along with every other able-bodied man, fighting the fire.
Great was Jane’s relief when, as the smoke-filled dusk drew down, a filthy, sorry-looking trio of men arrived home, coughing and wheezing from the effect of the fumes and escorting between them the frail figure of Ann Lovett.
Constance fell upon her friend with a cry of gladness, embracing her.
She sobbed her gratitude to the men for saving her friend from a terrible end.
Perivale wiped a fist across his reddened eyes.
“’Tweren’t us, madam. Rolf an’ me were part of the water line, passing the filled buckets along to douse the flames.
“’Twas Master Will that went to the rescue. Saw ’im with me own eyes, I did.
“Flung a soaked blanket over himself as protection and barrelled in, bringing out them trapped in the yards at the back o’ the blazing buildings.
“One after another he brung out some of ’em little childer. Mistress Lovett were among ’em.”
“That was brave indeed,” Constance said to Will.
“Nay, madam. Others were doing as much.”
“’Twere yourself organised the water lines, sir,” Rolf was quick to say.
“Well, someone had to bring order out of chaos. They were all rushing round like headless chickens and getting nowhere.
“Jane, is there any ale? My throat feels shredded and I have a thirst like no other. Same goes for these fellows here.”
The ale was produced, plus brandy for Ann Lovett, who was shaking badly from shock.
Jane turned to the servants.
“Dorcas, prepare the guest room for Mistress Lovett. Martha, heat some water for bathing.”
“Tes already on the boil in the wash-house, Miss Jane.”
Hands on her ample hips, Martha Renfrew turned to the dishevelled company.
“Who’s first for the tub?”
Will grinned tiredly, his teeth very white in his smoke-blackened face.
“Best see to Mistress Lovett’s needs. We three can avail ourselves of the pump in the stable yard.”
Jane now caught sight of livid blisters on the backs of his hands and forearms.
“Will, you are hurt?”
“’Tis but a trifle. This lady here has suffered worse.”
The brandy was beginning to take effect. Ann Lovett stroked her singed locks and smarting skin with a steadier hand.
“My hair! My forehead caught it, too. And look at my clothes. Ruined, and these all I have left to my name.”
“But you are safe, Ann, and with friends,” Constance said soothingly.
“Yes.” Ann Lovett sounded bewildered. “A young woman was there. She smeared me with a salve she carried.
“Wondrous soothing, it was. She was helping the injured. A brave woman.”
Jane met Will’s gaze. Trust Margery to be where she was needed most.
