Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 105, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 640 & 641, March 1995

He and Buckley went together, followed by the Northleach merchants. Sir John found Buckley of Broadway a mixed bag of goods. The young man had nothing of the sea about him except a rough reddish sunburn which might have been acquired in any outdoor occupation. His walk was a long stride without the sailor’s roll to it, and his hands, though strong enough, lacked the heavy calluses of a seaman. He had a broad plain face which suggested honesty without guaranteeing it. He stood a head taller than his Northleach companions.

They, in turn, had the half-sea, half-soil look which marked most of the English in Calais, whether they were wool merchants or clerks. The Treaty of Calais in 1359 had filled the city with hundreds of such hearty tradesmen. Sir John felt a comfortable superiority in such company and assumed a leadership which they never questioned.

They made their way first to the small warehouse where Buckley’s wool was stored. The guard was asleep and when Buckley shook him to wake him up, the fellow thought he was being attacked and tried to flee. However, all was well and they left the place more safely guarded than they found it.

So off they went, the tall young man now following the shorter two and Sir John a cautious fourth. He wanted to see how well the young men knew Calais. They had got to the first warehouse quite directly. The second was not far, and there they found the guard awake and prepared to shoot them. On finding out who they were, he seemed glad for company and the five of them talked awhile in the dark. As they talked, a land breeze sprang up and the sky cleared. A crescent moon hung almost overhead and gave enough light to show the shapes of buildings but not enough to throw a shadow.

“And now we must go to Frederick Elthan’s warehouses,” Sir John said.

“Why?”

“Because we have to scotch those vandals. It will do little good for you to save this shipment of wool if you never make another. These attacks could drive The Staple out of Calais; and that could drive England from the Continent. A few large merchants form the main support of The Staple and Elthan is one of the most important.”

“Why Elthan in particular?”

“Because of something you all told me at supper. Come now, his warehouses are a way off and I want to get there before they are damaged.”

Philpot and Stace were willing enough, but Buckley was not enthusiastic. Since seeing to his own goods, he had lost all sense of urgency. He was, Sir John realized, a loner who was not sure enough of himself to go it alone. He finally went with Sir John because the others did.

From there on Sir John had to lead the way. Sensing that he had a captive audience, he described some of his early adventures. “I was only thirteen when I first came to Calais,” he said. “A local wool merchant had just bought all of our May clipping. (We always sold to merchants, never to broggers.) And I talked my father into letting me go with the merchant as a ’prentice. I earned and learned, for the man kept me busy helping at whatever task needed an extra pair of hands. We sailed from Hull and halfway across were attacked by Scottish pirates. We held them off with a small cannon and our bows. Once when the others were busy breaking out the darts, I got to fire the cannon, but they never let me load it. That, they said, took skill. When the pirates saw we were well armed, they steered off and we never saw them again.”

For a while they talked about pirates and storms, of ships lost, men lost, and worst of all, whole cargoes of wool lost.

They were less than a quarter of a mile from Elthan’s houses when they heard cries for help. Brandishing their clubs, the three young men rushed forward. They heard sounds of a small but furious scuffle and, as they reached the scene, they saw a torch being lit.

Two ruffians were assaulting the guard while a third man was waving his newly lit pine torch to get it to burn more vigorously. His intention was obvious. He was just waiting for the other two to dispose of the guard and he was going to set fire to the building.

The attackers heard Sir John’s party and turned to face them. A vicious but unskilled brawl ensued. Stace struck the firebrand from the first man’s hand and dealt him a solid blow on the ear before the man seized a small timber and counterattacked. The others were evenly matched, clubs against clubs. Sir John observed that Buckley was mainly concerned to counter the blows of his opponent, and as a result received several blows to his arm and shoulder. The two from Northleach were driving fiercely forward, backing their adversaries down the street. Sir John drew his sword, and when the vandals saw the glint of moonlight on steel, they dropped their clubs and fled.

Sir John stamped out the burning slivers and helped the warehouse guard to his feet.

“You was just in time,” the guard said. “In another few minutes they would’ve killed me and burnt the house.”

Sir John turned to his friends. “What damage did you do?” he asked.