gently.
‘Is it possible that Sir Richard could have had a leman in London, with whom he might have wished to elope?’ The steward gave this idea short shrift, and rightly so. ‘Leaving everything he valued most behind him? His house, his clothes, his worldly goods! Your wits are wool-gathering! What leman is worth such a sacrifice? My master could have spent as long as he wished away from home, so my lady knew of his intentions. No, no! Some ill has befallen him on the journey home. There is no other explanation.’
I shook my head as I swallowed the last of my ale. ‘ You forget. The horses were left at the Crossed Hands inn. Whatever happened to Sir Richard and his servant befell them in London, as it did to Clement Weaver.’
The steward was not interested in the fate of Clement Weaver, pursuing thoughts of his own.
‘Besides, Sir Richard was not a man for womanizing. I doubt if he was ever unfaithful to my lady.’ Nor of much use to her either, his tone seemed to imply, but I made no comment. Robert continued: ‘His passion was wine. He would travel miles, brave all hazards, to taste a recommended vintage. His people were vintners, two generations back, who made their fortune and married into the nobility. Not that there’s lack of precedent for such a happening. Geoffrey Chaucer’s father was a vintner, and Chaucer’s granddaughter married the Duke of Suffolk. And the present Duke, Chaucer‘s great-grandson, is married to no less a personage than the present King’s sister.’
I noted a predatory gleam in his eye. If such things could turn out so for one family, why not for another? If his lady really were a widow, there might be hope for him yet.
I got reluctantly to my feet. The warmth of the fire was pleasant and I had no wish to leave it, but I had to be on my way. Roused from the contemplation of a rosy future, the steward turned his head, becoming once again aware of my existence.
‘You’re going? You’ll be sleeping in a ditch tonight,’ he added, not without a certain satisfaction. ‘Curfew’s past. The city gates will be shut.’
I smiled maliciously. ‘Oh, there are ways and means of getting into a town after dark, if you know them. Then one only has to avoid the Watch...‘ I winked conspiratorially.
His thin face assumed a prim expression. Plainly he felt that one who had so nearly embraced the religious life should be above breaking the law. He asked: ‘What have you decided with my lady?’
‘I’ve promised her that I’ll try to discover what has happened to her husband, and send her word if I do.’
‘And what do you think are your chances?’
‘Of finding out the truth?’ I considered the question. ‘More, perhaps, than I thought when I made a similar promise to Alderman Weaver to try to find out what happened to his son. Now, at least, I feel that the Crossed Hands inn may be central to the mystery. It’s the place to begin my inquiries, at any rate.’
The steward nodded. ‘And what do you think are the chances that Sir Richard might still be alive?’
There was the sharp smell of a candle as it guttered and died. The shutters were still open to the warm night air, and I could see a thin, ragged slip of moon hanging low over the distant trees. ‘If you want my honest opinion, none,’ I answered, trying to ignore the sudden flicker of relief in the pale blue eyes. ‘I think he and Jacob Pender and Clement Weaver are all dead, but how, and by whose hand, I have as yet no idea.’
‘And motive?’ Robert asked. ‘What do you say to that?’
I hesitated, unwilling to commit myself, but with so little doubt in my own mind, I was forced to admit: ‘Robbery. Sir Richard was a wealthy man and Clement Weaver was carrying a large sum of money about his person.’
The steward frowned. ‘But surely you told me earlier that no one was aware of that fact, except his father. Not even his sister.’
I was suddenly very tired and my mind felt dull and stupid. I
‘Is it possible that Sir Richard could have had a leman in London, with whom he might have wished to elope?’ The steward gave this idea short shrift, and rightly so. ‘Leaving everything he valued most behind him? His house, his clothes, his worldly goods! Your wits are wool-gathering! What leman is worth such a sacrifice? My master could have spent as long as he wished away from home, so my lady knew of his intentions. No, no! Some ill has befallen him on the journey home. There is no other explanation.’
I shook my head as I swallowed the last of my ale. ‘ You forget. The horses were left at the Crossed Hands inn. Whatever happened to Sir Richard and his servant befell them in London, as it did to Clement Weaver.’
The steward was not interested in the fate of Clement Weaver, pursuing thoughts of his own.
‘Besides, Sir Richard was not a man for womanizing. I doubt if he was ever unfaithful to my lady.’ Nor of much use to her either, his tone seemed to imply, but I made no comment. Robert continued: ‘His passion was wine. He would travel miles, brave all hazards, to taste a recommended vintage. His people were vintners, two generations back, who made their fortune and married into the nobility. Not that there’s lack of precedent for such a happening. Geoffrey Chaucer’s father was a vintner, and Chaucer’s granddaughter married the Duke of Suffolk. And the present Duke, Chaucer‘s great-grandson, is married to no less a personage than the present King’s sister.’
I noted a predatory gleam in his eye. If such things could turn out so for one family, why not for another? If his lady really were a widow, there might be hope for him yet.
I got reluctantly to my feet. The warmth of the fire was pleasant and I had no wish to leave it, but I had to be on my way. Roused from the contemplation of a rosy future, the steward turned his head, becoming once again aware of my existence.
‘You’re going? You’ll be sleeping in a ditch tonight,’ he added, not without a certain satisfaction. ‘Curfew’s past. The city gates will be shut.’
I smiled maliciously. ‘Oh, there are ways and means of getting into a town after dark, if you know them. Then one only has to avoid the Watch...‘ I winked conspiratorially.
His thin face assumed a prim expression. Plainly he felt that one who had so nearly embraced the religious life should be above breaking the law. He asked: ‘What have you decided with my lady?’
‘I’ve promised her that I’ll try to discover what has happened to her husband, and send her word if I do.’
‘And what do you think are your chances?’
‘Of finding out the truth?’ I considered the question. ‘More, perhaps, than I thought when I made a similar promise to Alderman Weaver to try to find out what happened to his son. Now, at least, I feel that the Crossed Hands inn may be central to the mystery. It’s the place to begin my inquiries, at any rate.’
The steward nodded. ‘And what do you think are the chances that Sir Richard might still be alive?’
There was the sharp smell of a candle as it guttered and died. The shutters were still open to the warm night air, and I could see a thin, ragged slip of moon hanging low over the distant trees. ‘If you want my honest opinion, none,’ I answered, trying to ignore the sudden flicker of relief in the pale blue eyes. ‘I think he and Jacob Pender and Clement Weaver are all dead, but how, and by whose hand, I have as yet no idea.’
‘And motive?’ Robert asked. ‘What do you say to that?’
I hesitated, unwilling to commit myself, but with so little doubt in my own mind, I was forced to admit: ‘Robbery. Sir Richard was a wealthy man and Clement Weaver was carrying a large sum of money about his person.’
The steward frowned. ‘But surely you told me earlier that no one was aware of that fact, except his father. Not even his sister.’
I was suddenly very tired and my mind felt dull and stupid. I
Similar Books
