purveyor’s life. No one liked a taxman, and a purveyor was not dissimilar: he would enforce the prices he chose, and no peasant had the option of arguing. There were many who might wish to take a shot at him with an arrow.
Here, though, it was very unlikely that someone might try to assault them. The kingdom was more or less at peace now, and this was one of the quieter backwaters of the nation. After the past turbulent years and the constant threat of war, everyone was subdued. The fear had been so overwhelming, its removal was startling. Luke thought it was like a man about to dive into a dangerous lake, who took a deep breath in preparation, only to be commanded to turn away from the water.
However, it was good to find that they were approaching a small tavern. After walking all of yesterday, until it was dark and difficult to gather firewood, Luke’s legs were weary by noon, and the purveyor – who had a high opinion of his own importance which Father Luke considered unwarranted – had refused to allow them to pause in Warwick. He did not want them to be delayed. That was enough to make Father Luke protest bitterly. The carter and he must walk almost all the way, for the horse could not manage any speed whilst bearing a man as well as hauling the cart.
Ham’s beast was large, with a splash of white like a fist on his breast, and a star of white on his rump, while on the left foreleg he had a white band about his ankle. In his youth, Ham said, he had been a spirited beast, but now, after many years of hauling loads up and down hills, the poor fellow was no longer at his best. It was a miracle, Luke thought, that the animal had survived this long. And it would be a miracle indeed, if he made it all the way to Kenilworth.
Instead of halting here, Dunheved proposed to allow them to rest when they reached the little village of Lecwotten 16 , a few miles north of Warwick. Ham and Luke exchanged a glance. Picking a fight with a senior official was foolish when the delay would be but a matter of an hour or so. What’s more ale in a small place like Lecwotten would be considerably cheaper than in a town like Warwick.
So they agreed to continue and soon reached the inn, which was little more than a tatty ale-house designed to service the small local community.
The purveyor and Ham went inside, Dunheved loudly demanding drink and food, but Luke chose to wait outside, to keep an eye on the cart and his metal-bound chest.
He detested the very sight of that box, and could not wait for the moment when he could pass it on to someone else. At times, he had thought to give it to this purveyor, but at the last moment he had always resisted the temptation. Dunheved seemed a hard man, and Luke would not be surprised if he didn’t just take the money for himself. Purveyors had a reputation for theft and shameless rapacity, often fleecing the populace and selling the excess goods at a profit. There were regular stories of such men being arrested for their corruption. This man was almost certainly formed from that mould. The only reason Luke was safe was due to the presence of Ham. The fellow might have the brain of an ox, but an ox can intimidate, and Ham was loyal to his priest.
Luke wandered over to the cart. In the bed were the sacks of provisions which the purveyor had bought, and Luke had carefully installed the chest in the middle, between two small barrels of perry, and behind the sack of lampreys, to stop it moving about too much. Now he pulled the sack aside, separated the folds of some blankets, and reached in to touch his chest. It was there, but very well wedged, and he must tug hard until he felt it move. Soon it was at the edge of the cart, and he raised the lid and peered inside. All was well. The coins were in little sacks of soft leather, and he counted them: none was missing. He would not put it past the purveyor to open it and steal a purse, but so far as Luke had seen, the man had shown no interest in it. He
Here, though, it was very unlikely that someone might try to assault them. The kingdom was more or less at peace now, and this was one of the quieter backwaters of the nation. After the past turbulent years and the constant threat of war, everyone was subdued. The fear had been so overwhelming, its removal was startling. Luke thought it was like a man about to dive into a dangerous lake, who took a deep breath in preparation, only to be commanded to turn away from the water.
However, it was good to find that they were approaching a small tavern. After walking all of yesterday, until it was dark and difficult to gather firewood, Luke’s legs were weary by noon, and the purveyor – who had a high opinion of his own importance which Father Luke considered unwarranted – had refused to allow them to pause in Warwick. He did not want them to be delayed. That was enough to make Father Luke protest bitterly. The carter and he must walk almost all the way, for the horse could not manage any speed whilst bearing a man as well as hauling the cart.
Ham’s beast was large, with a splash of white like a fist on his breast, and a star of white on his rump, while on the left foreleg he had a white band about his ankle. In his youth, Ham said, he had been a spirited beast, but now, after many years of hauling loads up and down hills, the poor fellow was no longer at his best. It was a miracle, Luke thought, that the animal had survived this long. And it would be a miracle indeed, if he made it all the way to Kenilworth.
Instead of halting here, Dunheved proposed to allow them to rest when they reached the little village of Lecwotten 16 , a few miles north of Warwick. Ham and Luke exchanged a glance. Picking a fight with a senior official was foolish when the delay would be but a matter of an hour or so. What’s more ale in a small place like Lecwotten would be considerably cheaper than in a town like Warwick.
So they agreed to continue and soon reached the inn, which was little more than a tatty ale-house designed to service the small local community.
The purveyor and Ham went inside, Dunheved loudly demanding drink and food, but Luke chose to wait outside, to keep an eye on the cart and his metal-bound chest.
He detested the very sight of that box, and could not wait for the moment when he could pass it on to someone else. At times, he had thought to give it to this purveyor, but at the last moment he had always resisted the temptation. Dunheved seemed a hard man, and Luke would not be surprised if he didn’t just take the money for himself. Purveyors had a reputation for theft and shameless rapacity, often fleecing the populace and selling the excess goods at a profit. There were regular stories of such men being arrested for their corruption. This man was almost certainly formed from that mould. The only reason Luke was safe was due to the presence of Ham. The fellow might have the brain of an ox, but an ox can intimidate, and Ham was loyal to his priest.
Luke wandered over to the cart. In the bed were the sacks of provisions which the purveyor had bought, and Luke had carefully installed the chest in the middle, between two small barrels of perry, and behind the sack of lampreys, to stop it moving about too much. Now he pulled the sack aside, separated the folds of some blankets, and reached in to touch his chest. It was there, but very well wedged, and he must tug hard until he felt it move. Soon it was at the edge of the cart, and he raised the lid and peered inside. All was well. The coins were in little sacks of soft leather, and he counted them: none was missing. He would not put it past the purveyor to open it and steal a purse, but so far as Luke had seen, the man had shown no interest in it. He
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