The Painter's Apprentice, page 12
Shivering, Beth turned to Johannes, too shocked by the horrific scene to speak.
‘The Battle of Cassel,’ he said, in a voice so quiet she could barely hear him. ‘I still hear the screams in my head. I smell the fear and the gunpowder and feel the dust slippery with blood beneath my feet.’
‘It’s a dramatic and epic canvas and the composition of the drawing is excellent,’ said Beth carefully, ‘but …’
‘It’s not pretty enough for you?’
‘That doesn’t concern me. But working on this canvas, living it, will make you melancholy.’
Melancholy? Is that how you call this, this, agony that I feel in my heart? I cannot sleep without bad dreams. I remember …’ He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it sticking up in untidy points. ‘Those bloody papist bastards! The memories are burned into me. But I think to myself, perhaps if I paint this terrible vision, maybe then I will forget and the dreams will stop and I may sleep again.’
‘Johannes, you will make yourself ill if you don’t sleep or eat. I’ll ask Mama to make you a sleeping draught.’
‘Sleep!’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘Ask her for hemlock.’ He covered his eyes with his palms. ‘Then I will sleep and never wake up.’
Alarm made her voice sharp. ‘Don’t say that, Johannes! Eat your supper and go to bed. I’ll fetch you the sleeping draught now.’
He hunched his shoulders and turned his back upon her to stare at the battle scene again.
Beth felt a constriction in the pit of her stomach as she recognised that Johannes had once more started to slide down the slope into despair. She didn’t think that poppy syrup was going to cure all that ailed him.
Ten minutes later she returned to the studio to find that he hadn’t moved. She touched him gently on the shoulder. ‘Enough, Johannes! Time for bed.’ He looked up at her, his eyes dark with sorrow; her heart clenched at his pain. ‘I’ve brought you the sleeping draught in a cup of hot milk and I promise you that tonight you will sleep like a baby.’ She blew out the candles so that the harrowing canvas disappeared into the dark.
Chapter 15
Beth came yawning down to breakfast. It was still early but her sleep had been so badly disturbed by frightening dreams of Johannes’s canvas of the Battle of Cassel that she’d not dared close her eyes again.
Noah was breakfasting in the great hall, a roll of drawings on the table beside him. He took one look at Beth and poured her some coffee.
Gratefully, she sipped the bitter brew, feeling the warmth of it begin to strengthen her. ‘You’re up early,’ she said.
‘I’m off to Richmond Palace to meet the Clerk of Works.’
‘May I see your drawings?’ she asked, interested to see Noah’s work in spite of her reservations about their purpose.
He readily untied the roll of papers and spread them out. ‘This is the front elevation, showing the Great Gate. We’ll be restoring the battlements over the top.’
‘Very fine. And this one?’ Beth smoothed down the curling edges of a plan as they bent over it, heads together.
‘Here is the nursery,’ said Noah. ‘There will be new doorways to the adjacent chambers for the wet nurse and the dry nurse. The nursery maids and scullery maids have the attics. The kitchens are here beside the storerooms, with attendant quarters for the cook and housekeeper. There will be a laundry for the baby’s breech cloths and I’ve made provision for the King and Queen to have their own bedchambers and salon in case they wish to visit the child.’ His face glowed with enthusiasm.
‘All this for one baby?’ asked Beth wonderingly.
Noah laughed. ‘I haven’t even mentioned the quarters for the rest of the retinue or the garden. And the King spares no expense. The little princeling’s quarters will be finished with nothing but the very best silk hangings and wallpapers especially imported from France …’
‘Traitor!’ The hoarse shout came from behind them, startling them so much that their heads banged together.
Johannes, his face suffused with scarlet, stood before them with his fists clenched and his chest heaving. ‘Papist traitor!’
A sudden cold wave of apprehension gripped at Beth’s vitals. ‘Johannes …’ She reached out a hand towards him but he pushed it away, his bloodshot eyes focused on Noah.
Slowly, Noah stood up. ‘Johannes, you misunderstand …’
‘I misunderstand nothing! You support the papist cause and laugh in my face, describing the luxury of the nursery you make for this … this spawn of the Devil! Can you not see that the King and his priests will destroy us all?’ His jaw worked with emotion and his lips were flecked with spittle.
Noah spread his hands wide. ‘Truly Johannes, I do not support the papist cause. I merely …’
‘You papists killed my family!’ shouted Johannes, jabbing his forefinger at Noah. ‘Liar! Murderer!’ He launched himself at Noah, fastening his fingers around his throat and shaking him violently like a terrier with a rat.
Noah fought to free himself but Johannes only shook him all the harder.
‘Johannes! Johannes, stop!’ Beth threw herself at him, but he was seized by bloodlust and deaf to her cries.
Noah’s face turned purple as he scrabbled frantically to free his neck from Johannes’s vice-like grip. Beth wrenched at Johannes’s arm but he flung her off and she thudded against the wall. Dazed, she fumbled for her whistle, giving three shrill bursts.
Noah ceased his struggles and his eyes rolled up to show the whites as he slumped against Johannes’s chest.
Terrified, Beth yanked violently at Johannes’s hair. He gave a howl of pain and lashed back, smashing his elbow into her face. Moaning, she clasped her nose as shooting stars of agony exploded across her vision.
Noah, grey-faced and with his tongue protruding, had collapsed to the floor by the time Emmanuel and William arrived to prise Johannes’s fingers away and force his forearms behind his back.
Johannes continued to rage, twisting and fighting in Emmanuel’s imprisoning arms.
‘In the name of heaven, what happened?’ asked William as he tore open Noah’s shirt and tried to rouse him.
Beth fell to her knees beside them, her knuckles pushed against her mouth, the cold grip of dread that Johannes had killed Noah rendering her speechless.
Moordenaar! Papist murderer!’ Johannes yelled.
William shook Noah hard and slapped his cheeks. ‘Come on, Noah! Wake up!’
Noah’s chest rose and the breath rasped in his throat.
‘Thank the Lord!’ said William. ‘Take slow, easy breaths, Noah. You’re safe now.’
Susannah pushed her way through the gathering of shocked faces crowded all around. Beth pulled herself to her feet and clung to her mother with shaking arms.
‘Whatever happened?’ asked Susannah, as she dabbed at Beth’s nose with her handkerchief.
Beth stared in horror at the lock of Johannes’s hair, torn out by the roots, that was still entwined in her fingers. Her voice broke. ‘I c-c-couldn’t make him stop.’ She glanced at Noah, whose face was ashen. There were angry red marks around his neck as he continued to heave for breath.
Johannes, still lost to reason, flailed his arms, sobbing and screaming as Joseph and Emmanuel grappled with him.
Poor Joan’s voice rose in a terrified wail, accompanied by anxious cries from Nellie Byrne, and Susannah went to soothe them.
‘Emmanuel,’ said William, ‘put Johannes in the cell.’
‘No!’ Beth grasped her father’s arm. ‘You can’t!’
‘Beth, look at him! He’s a danger to himself and to others. See what he’s done to you and to Noah.’ He tipped up her chin and gently felt her nose and cheek. ‘Nothing broken but you’ll have a black eye.’
‘I don’t care about that,’ she said impatiently, brushing his hand away. ‘Father, it’s Johannes! Please, please don’t put him in the cell.’
William’s face was implacable. ‘He nearly killed Noah. Tend to Noah’s bruises while I sedate Johannes.’
Johannes, roaring and fighting like a man possessed by the Devil, was manhandled away.
Beth sat on the floor beside Noah until his breathing steadied. Eventually his eyes opened and she was shocked to see that they were red with burst blood vessels. Gently, she smoothed the hair off his forehead. ‘Shh! Don’t try to speak. You’re all right now.’
After a while she helped him to his feet and supported him to the dispensary. Talking reassuringly to him with a calmness she didn’t feel, she placed cooling compresses on to the swelling and empurpled skin of his neck, unsure which one of them was shaking the most. She poured out a measure of honey and glycerine linctus for him. ‘Sip this,’ she said. ‘It will soothe your throat.’
‘Your poor face!’ croaked Noah. He reached up to touch her cheek; that was her undoing.
‘I thought Johannes was going to kill you!’ Her throat closed in a spasm as she choked back tears. A few more seconds and Noah’s life would have been snuffed out.
Noah pulled her head to his shoulder, his breathing harsh in her ear as she struggled to contain the waves of trembling that had overtaken her.
‘Johannes is never violent!’ she said, as Noah patted her back. ‘He becomes sad and miserable but I never thought it possible he could ever hurt anyone.’
‘Shh, now!’ whispered Noah.
Beth clung to him, squeezing her eyes tight shut to banish the picture of her beloved Johannes with the light of murder in his eye.
Chapter 16
The following morning Beth dressed quickly, her teeth chattering in the freezing air of her bedchamber, and then examined her face in the mirror. Her father had been right: she had a black eye a prizefighter would be proud of.
Shock had set in the previous night after she went to bed. Cecily had wrapped her in the curve of her body and held her tightly while she shivered and wept. She was still unable to put out of her mind what Johannes had done to Noah.
Leaving Cecily to sleep, Beth went to find her parents as they breakfasted in the great hall. ‘I can’t believe that Johannes turned like that,’ said Beth in disbelief to William. ‘He’s always so gentle. He’ll be frightened in the cell and I must go and see him.’
‘We gave him a strong sleeping draught last night and he’s not yet awake. The question is: what are we going to do with him?’ asked William, a frown creasing his forehead.
Susannah took Beth’s hand. ‘Evidently, he isn’t to be trusted any more and I’m worried for the other guests.’
Beth stared at her, horror-struck. ‘You won’t make Johannes leave Merryfields! He didn’t mean to hurt me. Christmastime is always difficult for him as it brings home to him how much he misses his family, and then he overheard Noah talking about his plans for the royal nursery which upset him terribly. Father, Mama, come to the studio with me now. I must show you something.’ She took hold of their hands. ‘Please!’
In the studio the great canvas still rested on the easel. With trembling fingers Beth turned it towards the light so that her parents could study it more closely. The painting was even more horrifying by the light of day and the terror of it sliced into her insides. ‘He’s told me many times of the atrocities the French carried out on the Dutch soldiers and how his brothers were killed and then his wife—’ She broke off, her face scarlet, unable to use the word raped. ‘His wife was attacked and died later, along with the baby she carried.’
William and Susannah stared silently at the harrowing panorama for a long time.
‘Can’t you see how distressed he must be to have painted this monstrous scene? He blames the Roman Catholics for his family’s deaths. And then to hear that Noah is building a luxurious nursery for a papist prince, a prince who could be the means for the King to turn England into a Catholic country again …’
Slowly, William said, ‘The poor man is caught in the living hell of his own memories.’
‘Creating this terrible picture must have made it all come to life again for him,’ said Susannah.
‘Please,’ Beth pleaded, ‘I beg of you, you must let him stay at Merryfields! We are the only family he has left now.’
‘I will make no decisions until I have spoken to him,’ said William. ‘Meanwhile, will you mingle with the guests this morning and try to reassure them? They’re all upset by the disturbance.’
‘Will you promise to call me as soon as I can see Johannes?’ asked Beth.
‘Of course.’
It was late afternoon before William accompanied Beth to the cell. ‘He’s quiet now,’ he said, ‘but he refused to talk about what happened.’
Johannes sat with his back to them and Beth was overcome with pity for him. The big man seemed somehow diminished; it wrung her heart.
Beth moved forward but William caught her by the wrist and held her to his side. ‘Johannes,’ she whispered.
His head jerked around. ‘You came, then?’ His face was as grey as ashes and his eyes dull.
As he stared at her a look of horror washed over his face. Burying his head in his hands, his shoulders heaved.
Beth shook her father’s hand off her wrist and ran to embrace Johannes. She rested her chin on his hair and rocked him as he wept, murmuring nonsense words of comfort while tears fell in a stream off her chin.
‘I’m sorry,’ he sobbed. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’
‘Hush, now!’ she soothed.
‘Your pretty face is all bruised. I never meant to … Hearing about the papist prince … terrible changes are coming to this country where I thought I was safe! And my battle painting, the memories of that time still so clear in my mind …’ He drew in a shuddering breath. ‘I was there again, the blood slippery under my feet and my brothers all hacked to pieces …’
‘But Johannes, you must know that Noah is not a papist? His work is almost entirely building Anglican churches. But while he is working for Sir Christopher Wren, he must do as he is bid. His involvement with the royal nursery is most definitely not because he wants a papist heir to the throne. Besides, the people of this country do not want Catholicism in England and will do everything to oppose it.’
‘The question is,’ said William, ‘what are we going to do with you now?’
Johannes hung his head. ‘I want nothing but to spend my time painting with Beth.’
‘I need some time to consider the best course of action,’ said William.
Johannes gently touched Beth’s face. ‘I’m so sorry, my little chicken. I was gripped by such a sudden terror I didn’t know what I was doing. And I am sorry I hurt Noah too.’
Her heart breaking, she held his hand to her cheek. ‘I know that, Johannes.’
Later, Beth and her parents sat in the solar, deciding what to do.
‘We cannot risk Johannes attacking anyone again,’ said William.
‘That painting must be destroyed,’ said Susannah, ‘since it inflames his passions so dangerously.’
‘But Johannes isn’t dangerous!’ protested Beth.
‘Can we be sure of that?’
Beth went to look down at the garden, where John and Old Silas were busy clearing the flowerbeds of the last leaves. A twist of smoke rose up from the bonfire in the vegetable garden. Suddenly the solution came to her. ‘You always say that busy hands make for a happy mind, Father.’
‘Our successes at Merryfields have proved that.’
‘Then we should let Johannes work. I do not think he truly cares if he never leaves the studio at all. There is that little storeroom where we keep the paints and props for the still life paintings. Johannes could have a bed in there. You can lock him in.’
‘But …’
‘I am a calming influence on him, Father. I know him better than anyone and can alert you immediately if I think his behaviour is changing. Let Joseph stay with us for a while if you like, as a guard.’
‘Beth speaks a great deal of sense,’ said Susannah
William sighed. ‘I see you two are in collusion against me.’ He smiled at Beth. ‘I will not risk your safety but in my opinion yesterday’s furore was an exceptional incident. However, one more like that and Johannes will have to leave Merryfields. And we will burn the battle scene.’
‘Must you?’ asked Beth. ‘Surely you can see it will be a great work of art?’
‘But it would destroy its creator in the process,’ said William.
Half an hour later, Beth stood beside John and Noah watching the canvas burn on the garden bonfire. The drummer boy writhed in silent screams as flames licked at the canvas, bringing to life the swirling smoke. The dying horse at the edge of the drawing blackened and then burst into flames as the breeze teased the fire into a blaze.
‘It’s terrible, the agony man inflicts upon another in the name of religion,’ whispered Noah, his voice still hoarse.
Beth wrapped her arms tightly across her chest to prevent herself from snatching the canvas to safety and beating out the flames. Horrifying though it was, it had the potential to be one of Johannes’s best works.
‘I feel guilty about the destruction of such a painting,’ said Noah miserably. ‘If only I’d left for Richmond Palace a little earlier …’ He sighed. ‘In the circumstances I shall return to Fulham.’
Beth’s stomach clenched. Confused, she realised she didn’t want him to go but at the same time she couldn’t help thinking that if he hadn’t boasted about the proposed opulence of the royal nursery Johannes would not have been driven into such a passion.
John poked the canvas with a stick and it crackled and curled until before long it was nothing more than a glowing pile of ashes. He heaped another bucket of damp leaves on top and black smoke billowed over them in a cloud.
‘It’s a s-s-shame,’ said John. ‘Still, now he can finish your p-p-portrait.’ He smiled, mischief in his eyes. ‘I w-w-wonder if he has enough colours in his palette to paint your face, since your bruises display all the colours of the rainbow?’
