The Traitor’s Mark Read Online Free PDF

been for longer than anyone could remember and here they would undoubtedly stay.
    It was after I had been waiting about half an hour that arotund little man with a ruddy, clean-shaven face entered by a corner door and made his way to my table.
    â€˜Master Treviot? Good day. My name is Andreas Meyer, pastor to the community here. It is a privilege to meet someone whose name is held in such esteem among those of the true faith.’
    â€˜I did not think I was so ...’
    â€˜Oh, but you are. That terrible business of Master Packington.’ Meyer spoke in excited short bursts that came in rapid succession. ‘He had many friends here. Many friends. Merchants involved in spreading the truth in those evil days when Bibles had to be smuggled into England. Evil days. And you tracked down Master Packington’s killer.’
    â€˜Well, I ...’
    â€˜No need for modesty. You were tenacious in your quest. Tenacious. And were hounded for it by the Catholic curs. We of the Steelyard would have helped but ’tis difficult for us. Politics. You understand.’
    â€˜It was a long time ago,’I muttered.
    â€˜An important time. Lord Cromwell’s time. Without him there would be no official English Bible. We would still be smuggling them in our bales of cloth and barrels of wine. He was truly a Christian martyr. Done to death by the enemies of the Gospel. A great loss. A great loss.’ He paused for breath – but only briefly. ‘Now how can we help you? Our guard captain said you were enquiring about Johannes Holbein.’
    â€˜That’s correct. I understand ...’
    â€˜Holbein! Why do you seek him here?’
    â€˜I understand he has friends here who might know his whereabouts.’ ,
    Meyer eyed me cautiously. ‘He visits us from time to time.’
    â€˜Please,’ I said, with all the urgency I could muster, ‘if you know anything of his whereabouts tell me. I must speak with him urgently.’
    â€˜In that case, Master Treviot, you had best call at his house in Aldgate.’
    â€˜Have you heard nothing about the murder at Holbein’s house? The news is all over town by now.’
    Meyer looked startled. ‘Murder? No. Our walls are stout. It takes London gossip a long time to penetrate. What happened?’
    â€˜Violent men looking for our friend killed his assistant. Now you can see why I must find Holbein.’
    Meyer shrugged. ‘I really wish I could help you, but ...’
    I tried another approach. ‘Can you remember when you last saw Master Johannes?’
    Meyer pondered the question. ‘It must be two or three weeks since. Strange that, now I come to think of it. The Steelyard is his second home. He’s usually here several times a week.’
    â€˜Tell me, Master Meyer, if he wanted – for any reason – to hide ...’
    â€˜Would we help him? Certainly. He would be safe from prying eyes here. We could even get him on to a ship and out of the country.’
    â€˜And you’re sure this hasn’t already happened?’
    He stood abruptly. ‘Come, let me show you something.’
    We left the wine house by the door through which Meyer had entered, crossed a narrow alley and entered what was obviously the merchants’ guildhall, a lofty building whose panelled walls reached upwards to an elaborate arrangement of rafters. Light entered through large windows opposite the entrance but much of the remaining wall space was occupied with portraits of Hanseatic merchants past and present.
    â€˜You want to see how close we of the Hanse are to Master Holbein?’ Meyer waved a hand to right and left.
    Two long frescoes faced each other. Each represented a procession of numerous figures in vivid, glowing colours. Men, women, horses, wagons and chariots paraded from right to left. The paintings were amazingly detailed and lifelike.
    â€˜Magnificent,’ I exclaimed.
    â€˜Indeed, indeed.’ Meyer,