16 - The Three Kings of Cologne Read Free

their new-fangled name. For over a century, we have had a thriving trade with Iceland. In return for our soap and woollen cloth, the Icelanders have sent us all the dried stockfish that we could handle, enabling us to supply our own wants and sell the surplus on over an area stretching as far east as London, south to Salisbury and north to Worcester. But now that trade, too, is in jeopardy. So, you see, we want new markets. And if there is indeed a land west of Ireland, we urgently need to know about it and establish trading links before it’s discovered by anyone else.’
    ‘Why is the stockfish trade in danger?’ I asked.
    ‘Because members of the Hanseatic League are offering the Icelanders higher prices for their fish; prices that Bristol merchants can’t afford, either in goods or money.’ My companion heaved a regretful sigh. ‘Unfortunately, the city of Cologne is a part of the League.’
    ‘Why unfortunately?’
    I thought for a moment that John Foster was not going to answer. Then he asked,
    ‘Can you keep a secret, Master Chapman?’
    ‘I think so,’ I replied cautiously, not sure what was coming.
    The Alderman smiled. ‘In any case, it won’t be a secret for long.’ He continued with apparent irrelevance and an endearing modesty, ‘You may know that I am shortly to become Mayor.’ I nodded. ‘I have therefore come to the conclusion that it is high time I did something for my native city. After talking the matter over with my wife, I have decided to build a chapel and almshouses on a piece of land outside the walls, at the top of Steep Street, which I have recently acquired from the Magdalen nuns. They rented it some years ago from the Abbot of Tewkesbury – a ninety-nine-year lease – intending to use it as a graveyard. But no one has ever been buried there, and the Sisters eventually decided to rid themselves of what has become an encumbrance. So, after some negotiations, the land is now mine. Oh, I know what you’re thinking!’ He didn’t: at that moment, my mind was a total blank. ‘You’re thinking – and you’d be right – that Bristol is already blessed with a number of excellent almshouses, amongst them those founded by my good friends, William Spencer and Robert Strange, not to mention the ancient Gaunts’ Hospital. But we all have the arrogance to want our names to live on after we have gone to meet our Maker.’
    ‘A … a very noble enterprise,’ I agreed somewhat stiffly. ‘But … but, forgive me, what has this to do with our previous conversation? With the fact that Cologne is a member of the Hanseatic League?’
    Alderman Foster chuckled. ‘Of course, I was forgetting. I mentioned, I think, that I mean to have a chapel built as well as the almshouses. When it is finished – and who knows when that might be? Our English stonemasons are not noted for their swiftness.’
    ‘But splendid craftsmen,’ I put in with what I hoped was a twinkle in my eye.
    ‘Of course,’ he concurred gravely, but with an answering twinkle. ‘That goes without saying. So! When my chapel is finally completed, I shall have it dedicated to the Three Kings of Cologne. If there is still trouble with the League, I anticipate some opposition, but I am determined to have my way.’
    ‘The Three Kings of Cologne,’ I murmured. ‘The Magi? The Three Wise Men?’
    ‘Indeed. In the twelfth century, their remains were taken from Milan to Cologne by the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick Barbarossa himself. Melchior, King of Nubia and Arabia, gave gold to the Christ Child as a symbol of His kingship. Caspar, King of Tarsus and Egypt, gave frankincense, as a tribute to His godhead. And Balthazar, King of Godolu and Seba, gave myrrh, which presaged His death. In the east, myrrh is used for embalming corpses.’
    ‘It will certainly be unusual,’ I said. ‘To the best of my knowledge, there is no other church or chapel with such a dedication.’
    ‘I know of none,’ he answered cheerfully. ‘It will