The latch of the door lifted, scraping metal against metal; drowning Jack’s denial. Yellow candlelight escaped as the door opened a crack, and a sigh arose from the men surrounding Jack. Anticipation? Or, like Jack – dread?
This wasn’t what he’d expected when he joined the ‘Bold Defiance’. He’d believed he was protecting journeymen silk weavers from greedy masters such as Peter Guise, into whose kitchen he’d just crept. It had taken Jack years to learn his trade and be accepted by the Weavers’ Company. And now his wife, Anne, was with child, he needed to secure his livelihood.
He pressed forward with the other men away from the blade tip. Ignoring the blood trickling down his neck, he pulled his hood forward. Now, in Peter Guise’s house, he didn’t want to be identified by the traitorous, or perhaps intimidated, servant who’d let them in.
Jack followed the others silently up the stairs, the leader testing each tread and stopping if it creaked. Once at the top, he gently opened the door. The hooded figures spilled in and headed towards the four looms, ghostly in the silvery moonlight.
“Now.” It was the voice of the man who’d threatened him earlier, and Jack stepped towards a loom. As others did the same, Jack grasped the handle of his knife and squeezed his eyes shut.
This felt so wrong.
For years he’d woven silk material such as the piece on this loom, creating intricate designs of birds and flowers. Not slashing and destroying with a few strokes of a blade. The hand holding the knife trembled. Hours before, it had lain on Anne’s swollen belly, feeling the kicks from below. His son or daughter.
“Now, damn you!” the voice said, and Jack told himself he was responsible for feeding his family. He opened his eyes and hacked at the fabric, cutting the lustrous silk from the loom.
The work of months, now in useless strips on the floor beneath broken looms.
The hooded men were eager to leave the site of such wanton destruction and hurtled down the stairs to escape.
At the back door, the leader whispered to each man, “The Mulberry. Friday night.”
At the appointed time, Jack arrived at the Mulberry Leaf alehouse. The landlord’s eyes darted around his establishment cautiously, and then, with a jerk of his head, he gestured to the stairs in the corner. Jack hurried up to the headquarters of the ‘Bold Defiance’.
Gradually men joined them. Ale flowed freely as the leader watched the money being counted. He smiled with satisfaction. Other masters had paid the new inflated levy they’d imposed after Peter Guise’s looms had been destroyed.
Jack watched in dismay. The answer to masters exploiting journeymen wasn’t for journeymen to exact revenge and extort money from masters. But he was in too deep. The leader of ‘Bold Defiance’ knew where he lived, and revenge would be brutal.