The Midwife's Tale (35 page)

The siege continued for another week, but without hardship, even for the city’s poor. Martha and I attended two or three births and talked about many things, but not her brother. During the day, I sometimes forgot that I had killed a man with my own hands. But Richard Baker continued to haunt my dreams.

The return to normalcy also gave me the chance to plan Anne Goodwin’s escape from York. I knew that Rebecca would not rest until she had protected herself from Anne, so she would never be safe in the city. For Anne’s sake, I wanted to wait until the siege ended, so I sent a few shillings to Samuel Short to ensure her comfort. A week later, word came that Prince Rupert’s forces would soon arrive at York, and the city rejoiced to see the rebels breaking camp. As the rebels fled and Rupert’s men came into sight, the Lord Mayor ordered the city’s church bells be rung to celebrate the city’s miraculous deliverance. I did not know how long our reprieve would last, so I hastened to the Castle. When I arrived, the gate was wide open as the garrison celebrated the end of the siege. A guard took me straight to Samuel’s tower, and Tree met me at the door.

“Hello, lady,” he said brightly, and to my surprise and pleasure he threw his arms around my legs, gave me a hug, and began to chatter on about the doings in the Castle. “There’s a pregnant lady in one of the other towers,” he said. “They’ll execute her after she has the child. If you’re her midwife, you can visit me and Samuel all the time!”

“I’m not her midwife,” I said, forcing a smile. “But I’ll tell Samuel that you can visit me as often as you want.” And I’ll wash you every time you do, I thought.

“Welcome, Lady Hodgson,” a voice called out, and Samuel Short appeared at the top of the stairs that led to the cells. “I’ve only got one guest of yours now, and she is doing well. You can go down to see her on your own. Since she’s staying voluntarily, I stopped locking the door.” He thought for a moment. “Perhaps I’ll start renting out the rest of the rooms as well,” he said with an impish grin. “I could advertise the healing properties of the Ouse. You could invite your friends from the countryside! What do you say?”

“With the end of the siege, business would be quite brisk,” I said. “I’ll summon my relatives from Hereford. They’d much prefer this to one of the inns. It has a lovely view of the moat and river.”

“Excellent news! We’ll be rich!”

“I am rich, Samuel.”

“True enough,” he said with a laugh. “But then we’d
both
be rich. I could be knighted, perhaps even become a lord!”

When I reached Anne’s cell, I found that it now held many of the comforts Esther had left behind. Anne sat on the bed, reading a cheap pamphlet. I glanced at the title and saw that it detailed the horrid murder of Thomas Penrose by his rebellious apprentice and a whore. I supposed that description of the crime came nearer the truth than the one about Stephen Cooper’s murder.

Anne rose when I entered and curtsied deeply. “My lady, thank you again for arranging my stay here.”

I could not help laughing. “Any time you would like to stay in a prison cell, I think I will be able to find you a spot.” Her smile gladdened my heart, and I knew that all would be well with her. “Anne,” I said, “I think now is the time for you to leave.”

“But what about the Hookes? They can’t have given up already, can they?”

“No, they haven’t. But I don’t mean that you should leave the Castle. You still need to leave York. London would be best, and I have purchased a seat on a carriage leaving this afternoon. It is unlikely the Hookes would follow you so far, and they would have a devil of a time finding you if they did. They say it is growing by the thousands every year. I have already sent letters on your behalf to my friends in the city. They will see that you find a good position.” I gave her a packet with the names of my London friends, and a few coins to help her until she found a position.

“What of my family?” she asked. “Surely I will see them again, won’t I?”

“They will meet us at the carriage to bid you farewell, but you must remember that your life here is over, and your new one lies in London. Gather your belongings, for we must leave immediately. If the King’s men lose their advantage, the rebels may renew their siege of the city.”

Anne nodded and began to put her meager possessions in a canvas bag. She followed me to Coneystreet, where a southbound carriage prepared for its departure. Her seat had cost me a pretty penny, but after all she had suffered, it seemed the least I could do for her. As we approached the inn, I could see Margaret and Daniel Goodwin peering anxiously into the crowd in search of Anne’s face. The smiles that lit up their faces when they caught sight of her will stay with me for the rest of my days. I saw joy and love, of course, but also a trace of sadness, for they knew that they might never see their daughter again. I stood back while they embraced, and when they started to cry, I swallowed my own tears. To say farewell to one’s child is a terrible thing. All too soon, the driver shouted for his passengers. Anne clambered aboard and found a seat by the window. As the carriage pulled into the street and started toward the Ouse Bridge, Anne spied me and raised her hand in thanks and farewell. I looked for Margaret and Daniel in the crowd but could not find them. After the carriage turned out of sight, I went home.

*   *   *

The hope provided by Prince Rupert’s arrival proved short-lived. Two days later, the rebels, assisted by the upstart Cromwell, defeated the King’s men at Marston Moor, and the siege began anew. But this time nobody believed that the garrison would resist for more than a few weeks, for with the defeat of the King’s army, the city’s fall became inevitable.

A few days after the battle, I sat in my parlor reading when Hannah appeared in the doorway. “My lady, there is a gentleman here to see you. He says he comes from the Lord Mayor.” She paused for a moment. “He is
Italian
!” she whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

I could not imagine why Bacca had come to see me, but it seemed unlikely that he would announce himself if he intended to do me harm, and with Richard’s death, he had no reason to do so. I told Hannah to see him in.

“Lady Hodgson, how are you?” Bacca said. “I am happy to see that you survived your recent troubles.” I instinctively brought my hand to my cheek and felt the plaster covering the wound I’d received from Ellen. “Ah, do not worry about a scar on the cheek,” he said, running his finger along his own. “It will make you all the more alluring.”

I smiled despite myself. “What can I do for you, Mr. Bacca?”

“Always to business. You English are so serious,” he said, pouting. “I came to tell you that the Lord Mayor has decided not to pursue you for defying his will. He has sent a letter to the Minster asking that you be allowed to keep your license to practice midwifery.”

“And I presume you will no longer threaten me?”

“Oh, Lady Hodgson…” He laughed. “I hope you did not believe that the Lord Mayor would have hurt you. You are the daughter of his predecessor! These rebels may not know the meaning of honor and loyalty, but the Lord Mayor certainly does. He apologizes, and sincerely regrets any misunderstanding on your part.”

“On my part?” I asked in disbelief.

“I am simply delivering the message,” he said. “Whether you believe it is up to you.”

“Does his apology have anything to do with the fact that the rebels will soon take the city?”

“He did not say this to me, but I think it would be a reasonable conclusion.” He paused for a moment. “I must commend you on freeing your friend from the Castle. The Lord Mayor is pleased that justice has been done.”

“Did you ever believe that Mrs. Cooper killed her husband?”

“You seem to have confused me with the constable, my lady,” he said. “I have more important concerns than a single murder. In truth, I don’t much care whether Mr. Cooper was killed by Mrs. Cooper, Charles Yeoman, or your brother Edward.”

“Edward?” I cried. “What do you mean?”

Bacca stared at me for a few moments and then began to laugh. “You have many commendable qualities, but are quite blind to those closest to you.”

“You suspected Edward?”

“I did from the start, and so should you. If the maidservant hadn’t killed Mr. Cooper, Mr. Yeoman might have. And if he hadn’t, I imagine your brother would have paid him one final visit. Mr. Cooper seemed quite intent on the destruction of the city, and your brother is not nearly fanatical enough to stand by and let it happen.”

“And if the Lord Mayor had demanded it, you would have killed him?”

“Are we not at war, my lady? If we count the apothecary’s apprentice, you have slain more rebels than most of the soldiers in the King’s army. If I had killed Mr. Cooper, it would have been no different.

“I also came to bid you farewell,” he said, rising to his feet. “I will leave the city after it falls into the rebels’ hands. I look forward to going home, but I found your case interesting, to say the least. I’ve not met many midwives who can kill with their bare hands—it was a job well done.”

An image of Richard’s lifeless eyes came to mind and I looked away from Bacca. “I am very lucky to be alive.”

In the end, predictions about the city’s fall proved accurate. Thankfully, the garrison held out long enough to negotiate favorable terms of surrender. The city’s leaders insisted that none of the Scottish barbarians be garrisoned in the city. Once the rebel generals agreed, the Royalist garrison retreated to the south. With the loss of York, the rebels now held all of the north, and the King’s cause seemed in greater danger than ever.

The ensuing weeks heralded great changes for the city. The King’s men, including the Lord Mayor and his retinue, fled the city, and the godly seized control of the city’s government. This meant even more authority for Edward and also those around him, including me. I disagreed with Edward on all manner of political and religious questions and lamented what he had done to Will, but I was not fool enough to cut him off when he was at the height of his power. Ironically, even as the city saw its political life turned upside down, my own home found peace. I delivered as many women as would have me, and Martha proved an able assistant. Our physical wounds healed as well. The bonesetter had done such a fine job that by the fall none could tell that her arm had ever been broken. In this I was less fortunate, for Ellen’s blow left me with an inch-long scar on my cheek, a token by which to remember her. To my great surprise and pleasure, Tree took me up on my invitation to visit, and he soon got in the habit of stopping by several times each week. At first he came for the food—and resisted the scrubbing I gave his face—but after a time he made himself a second home in Birdy’s old room. Hannah, Martha, and I took turns teaching him to read, and I even dragged him to church whenever he slept at my house on a Saturday night.

Ellen’s pregnancy continued without incident, and in the fall, Dorothy Mann delivered her of a stillborn girl. Once the child had been born, preparations began for Ellen’s execution. Edward had pressured me to attend, saying that I was the woman responsible for her capture, but I denied him. A few weeks after Ellen’s death, I made a decision that would prove the most consequential since I agreed to marry Phineas and come to York. Martha and I had just returned from delivering a woman in Goodramgate parish, and once again Martha had proven herself useful. I found her in the kitchen.

“Martha, please come to the parlor with me.” She was a bit taken aback but followed. “You have acquitted yourself well since coming to my house. You kept your head and acted quickly when you had to. Let me see your hands.” At this she hesitated, but she held them out, palms up. They were rough, of course, thanks to the work she did. Her fingers were long and thin, not as gnarled as they would become with years as a maidservant and then a lifetime as wife to a blacksmith or clothier. I put my hands into hers. “Squeeze.”

“My lady?” This was not what she had expected.

“Squeeze my hands,” I repeated, and she did, with a firm grip. “Good. You need a quick mind and strong hands, and clearly have both. I can teach you the rest.”

“The rest?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron, looking nervous.

“Martha, I want you to be my deputy,” I said. “I will teach you the mysteries of my profession, and in due time you will become a midwife yourself.” For the first time since we’d met, Martha seemed unsure of herself.

“My lady,” she said, “I don’t know what to say. What would I do?”

“Well, you’d still be my servant, and you will assist Hannah as you have until today. You will assist me in the delivery room as you have these last few months. Over time I will ask much of you and teach you more. You’ll learn how to care for women when they are with child, in travail, and after they deliver. Once you gain a reputation as a skillful midwife, women will start to seek you out on their own. If you are good at it, you will have more respect and earn far more money than you ever would otherwise.”

“I would be honored to do this, my lady.”

“Good,” I said, taking her hands in mine. “I think we will work well together.”

Author’s Note

This book has its origin in the serendipitous discovery of a will written in 1683, for it was there I first met a York midwife named Bridget Hodgson, who provided a model for the fictional midwife in
The Midwife’s Tale.
These two Bridget Hodgsons have much in common: they were both wealthy gentlewomen; both lived in the parish of St. Helen’s, Stonegate; and both practiced midwifery. What attracted me to Bridget in the first place was that in her will, she defined herself by her profession, “midwife,” rather than her martial status, “widow.” I have read hundreds, if not thousands, of wills, and she is the only woman I found who did this. The historical Bridget also seems to have had a strength of character not often visible in the historical record, as she named her daughter and at least four of her godchildren after herself (Bridget Swain, Bridget Ascough, Bridget Morris, Bridget Wilberfoss).

In addition to Bridget, I have included fictionalized versions of other historical figures in
The Midwife’s Tale.
She did, in fact, have a deputy midwife named Martha, and was friends with Sir Henry Thompson, who was one of the pallbearers at her funeral. The historical Bridget was married twice and widowed twice, the second time to Phineas Hodgson. Phineas appears to have been a bit of a spendthrift, for while his father’s will left large sums to Phineas’s brothers, Phineas did not do so well: “I give unto my son Phineas Hodgson in full satisfaction of his filial child’s part and portion the sum of ten pounds of lawful English money … in regard he hath been so chargable to me.”