Alice had never said anything about her lover. There had been no need.
‘She had no one?’
‘She wouldn’t have betrayed the master,’ Joan said primly, face reddening.
‘That is curious,’ Baldwin said, and she could not help glancing at the master. Henry Paffard was watching her, his face devoid of emotion. She couldn’t tell whether he was
pleased or angry.
‘Another question,’ Baldwin said, drawing her attention back to him. ‘Why were you walking along that alley? It is very unpleasant there for a young woman as the light fades.
Surely you would have been better served to use the front door?’
‘It’s just a rule of the household that servants will enter the house by the rear door,’ she told him.
‘I see,’ was all Baldwin said, but the look he gave Henry Paffard was as black as thunder.
Edith’s House, St Pancras Lane
Simon had woken to the sound of his grandson bawling his head off, and he rolled over in his bed to listen with a smile on his face.
It was good to wake in a real bed again, and better still to know that he was here with his daughter’s family, safe with people he loved.
He rose and dressed, making his way to the hall.
‘Good morning, Father. You slept well.’
‘Yes.’
‘I wasn’t asking! I could hear your snoring through the floor!’
‘I didn’t keep you awake, did I?’ Simon said, crouched beside the cot in which his grandson was lying, his face red as he opened his mouth for another bellow of rage.
‘Your mother is unkind to your old grandpa, isn’t she?’
Edith laughed and offered him some meat and bread to break his fast. Simon knew that she was showing off, but he accepted with alacrity. Soon he was sitting at the table, a pewter plate filled
with honeyed larks and slabs of fresh cheese before him, and a goblet of wine at his side.
‘You do yourselves well here,’ he commented, sucking the meat from a lark’s thigh.
‘Peter hopes to be accepted into the Freedom of the City,’ Edith said.
‘I never thought to hear my daughter with such a smug tone!’
‘I’m not smug, Father. Just proud, that’s all.’
‘Aye – proud as a popinjay! I am very happy for you, Edith.’
He was. From here, he could see the tapestries on the walls, the picture at the far end of the chamber. She had a better house than he, by far. His room last night was a separate chamber beneath
their solar, and this hall was huge compared to his own, the screens decorated with emblems of the city. Much money had been expended on the place from the days when it was owned by Edith’s
father-in-law, Charles, and he and his wife had left it for Edith and Peter when they had their new house built near the Guild Hall. It was only natural that she should be proud of all she had
acquired.
‘When do you expect Sir Baldwin to arrive?’ she asked.
‘Hmm? Oh, not late. I daresay he is still having some discussions at the Cathedral,’ Simon said.
The light tone did not reflect his mood. It was still uppermost in his mind that there would be consequences flowing from the escape of Sir Edward of Caernarfon, and that was a source of grave
concern to him.
He had no idea how this was going to affect him – and his family.
Combe Street
Baldwin glanced at Sir Reginald. He did not wish to take over the inquest, but the Coroner gestured assent, so he continued, looking at Joan. ‘Maid, did you see a man near
here that night?’
‘Yes. A priest,’ she said.
‘Where?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Out in the road there,’ she said, and explained how she had hidden, fearful of encountering a man so late.
Baldwin glanced over his shoulder. The Coroner was looking up at the sky, measuring the sun, and Baldwin thanked the girl for her evidence then stepped back to Sir Richard’s side.
‘I find that this maid Alice was killed by a man unknown,’ the Coroner began, and read through the facts of the case. ‘The knife which killed her was a knife worth about one
shilling and
‘She had no one?’
‘She wouldn’t have betrayed the master,’ Joan said primly, face reddening.
‘That is curious,’ Baldwin said, and she could not help glancing at the master. Henry Paffard was watching her, his face devoid of emotion. She couldn’t tell whether he was
pleased or angry.
‘Another question,’ Baldwin said, drawing her attention back to him. ‘Why were you walking along that alley? It is very unpleasant there for a young woman as the light fades.
Surely you would have been better served to use the front door?’
‘It’s just a rule of the household that servants will enter the house by the rear door,’ she told him.
‘I see,’ was all Baldwin said, but the look he gave Henry Paffard was as black as thunder.
Edith’s House, St Pancras Lane
Simon had woken to the sound of his grandson bawling his head off, and he rolled over in his bed to listen with a smile on his face.
It was good to wake in a real bed again, and better still to know that he was here with his daughter’s family, safe with people he loved.
He rose and dressed, making his way to the hall.
‘Good morning, Father. You slept well.’
‘Yes.’
‘I wasn’t asking! I could hear your snoring through the floor!’
‘I didn’t keep you awake, did I?’ Simon said, crouched beside the cot in which his grandson was lying, his face red as he opened his mouth for another bellow of rage.
‘Your mother is unkind to your old grandpa, isn’t she?’
Edith laughed and offered him some meat and bread to break his fast. Simon knew that she was showing off, but he accepted with alacrity. Soon he was sitting at the table, a pewter plate filled
with honeyed larks and slabs of fresh cheese before him, and a goblet of wine at his side.
‘You do yourselves well here,’ he commented, sucking the meat from a lark’s thigh.
‘Peter hopes to be accepted into the Freedom of the City,’ Edith said.
‘I never thought to hear my daughter with such a smug tone!’
‘I’m not smug, Father. Just proud, that’s all.’
‘Aye – proud as a popinjay! I am very happy for you, Edith.’
He was. From here, he could see the tapestries on the walls, the picture at the far end of the chamber. She had a better house than he, by far. His room last night was a separate chamber beneath
their solar, and this hall was huge compared to his own, the screens decorated with emblems of the city. Much money had been expended on the place from the days when it was owned by Edith’s
father-in-law, Charles, and he and his wife had left it for Edith and Peter when they had their new house built near the Guild Hall. It was only natural that she should be proud of all she had
acquired.
‘When do you expect Sir Baldwin to arrive?’ she asked.
‘Hmm? Oh, not late. I daresay he is still having some discussions at the Cathedral,’ Simon said.
The light tone did not reflect his mood. It was still uppermost in his mind that there would be consequences flowing from the escape of Sir Edward of Caernarfon, and that was a source of grave
concern to him.
He had no idea how this was going to affect him – and his family.
Combe Street
Baldwin glanced at Sir Reginald. He did not wish to take over the inquest, but the Coroner gestured assent, so he continued, looking at Joan. ‘Maid, did you see a man near
here that night?’
‘Yes. A priest,’ she said.
‘Where?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Out in the road there,’ she said, and explained how she had hidden, fearful of encountering a man so late.
Baldwin glanced over his shoulder. The Coroner was looking up at the sky, measuring the sun, and Baldwin thanked the girl for her evidence then stepped back to Sir Richard’s side.
‘I find that this maid Alice was killed by a man unknown,’ the Coroner began, and read through the facts of the case. ‘The knife which killed her was a knife worth about one
shilling and
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