took his time over the reply, obviously thinking carefully what to say. âI heard there was some trouble at his house recently.â His tone was nonchalant.
âYes, Wednesday. Some ruffians broke in and killed his assistant.â
âWhat? Young George? How terrible.â His pretence of shock and surprise was not convincing. He obviously knew more than he wanted to admit. I began to think I was wasting my time with the fellow.
âIndeed. It was fortunate Master Johannes was not there. You have no idea where I might find him now?â
âWhen I saw him last, a few days ago, he was on his way to court. He was talking about some commission he had for the new queen. I suppose he is still there.â
âPerhaps Master Reynold, here, may have seen him.â I turned to the messenger. âWhere is his majesty keeping court now? Do you know if our artist friend is there?â
The young man was glad to air his knowledge. âThe courtâs at Ampthill Castle, near Bedford. Itâs small for the whole court but his majesty vows heâll not come a mile nearer London as long as the plague lasts.â
âAmpthill â was that not where Queen Catherine was kept?âthe priest asked.
âAye, that she was,âReynold replied.
âGod keep her!â Harriday crossed himself. âThe kingdom has gone from bad toââ
âSo,â I interrupted impatiently. âIs Master Holbein there?â
âWas,â the messenger replied. âHer majesty commanded him there to paint likenesses of the kingâs children. The princesses are travelling with the court but Prince Edward lives nearby at Ashridge.â
âSo, the artist is no longer there?â I prompted.
I think he left at the beginning of the week.â
âTo come back to London?â
Reynold shrugged.âI suppose.â
I looked at the Fleming. âAnd he has not been in touch with you since then?â
John shook his head.
âThen it seems he never reached the City.â
âPerhaps he was headed somewhere else,â John suggested. âAnother customer. Another commission.â
âAnd youâve no idea where I might seek him?â
âJohannes is a quite solitary man â secretive even. I do not think he confides his movements to other people. Certainly not to me.â
âA pity,â I said. âI have important news for him about his children. They are safe and in my care. Should you ever stumble across Master Holbein,â I said sarcastically, âperhaps you would be kind enough to let him know where to find his family.â
Soon afterwards I bade the company farewell. As I rode back to West Cheap I reflected grimly on my wasted morning.Yet, perhaps not totally wasted. Was it just because I disliked the man that I felt convinced John of Antwerp was determined to stop me making contact with his friend?
Over the next couple of days the work of closing up the house continued. I sent Adie and the children on ahead in my coach with the loaded wagons and most of the remaining staff. Because the roads were in such a sorry state due to the heavy rain, it was obvious that the journey would take them at least a couple of days. My plan was to leave twenty-four hours later with three mounted and armed servants and arrive at about the same time. Before I could go I had to reply to the Lord Mayorâs letter. All I could say was that I had failed to contact Holbein and, thus, must regretfully decline the commission. It was the bare truth. It made both me and my friend appear incompetent but I could not add to it. That would only have encouraged speculation about Holbeinâs disappearance and set tongues wagging around the City. For the hundredth time I racked my brains to think what could have happened to him. I had been farming out design work to him for some three years and had never had cause for complaint. He always produced his drawings promptly