![[Roger the Chapman 02] - The Plymouth Cloak](https://fs.ageofbook.com/477967/thumbs/152x264/roger-the-chapman-02-the-plymouth-cloak.jpg)
you?' He hesitated, then shrugged. 'Perhaps, in the circumstances.' He moved towards the bed. 'I'm tired after riding all night. I intend to sleep.' He laughed nastily. 'What a pity they haven't yet brought up the truckle-bed.' He broke off abruptly, his eyes fixed on the open window. 'There's someone there, among the trees.' He turned, painfully gripping my arm. 'I saw him.'
I tried to be reassuring, although my heart was beating unpleasantly fast. 'It's probably one of Sir Peveril's men.
You heard what Mistress Overy was saying at breakfast. The corn mill and the saw-pit and the forge are all out of sight of the house, on the edge of the estate. There are bound to be people coming and going all day.'
Philip shook his head. 'No. This man saw me looking and immediately dodged behind one of the trees. I think you ought to go and investigate. I'll stay here. You won't come to any harm on your own.'
'Very well,' I agreed reluctantly. 'But lock the door while I'm gone.'
I took my cudgel and went downstairs again. As I crossed the courtyard to the gatehouse arch, I heard my rouncey whinny softly from the stables, next to the servants' quarters.
It was amazing how, in just a few days I had grown to know his sound and smell and touch. I should hate parting with him when it came time to return him to the Bishop's stable at Exeter. I was tempted to go and see him, to make sure that he had been properly fed and watered after his long night ride; but I knew I must not allow our intruder, if there was one, time to get away, and in any case I could trust Sir Peveril's groom to know his job.
One of the laundrywomen emerged from the laundry, carrying a basket of washing under one arm. She gave me good-day and followed me under the arch into the meadow, where she began spreading out the wet clothes on the grass to dry. I went on my way towards the belt of trees, plunging down the track which led to the river's edge, slowing my pace and peering cautiously from one side to the other. The bright sunlight paled and dimmed, struggling to penetrate the interlaced branches overhead. The leaves were already turning, and occasionally the breeze would shake some loose, floating them to earth like delicate flakes of beaten copper.
Gripping my cudgel more firmly, I left the track and began to explore among the undergrowth, where last year's leaf mould still clung about the trunks and roots of stunted young trees, unable to force their way upwards into the light.
It was very quiet and from time to time I paused, hearing nothing but the thudding of my heart. Once, from the path now hidden from my view, I heard the rumble of a cart and the shout of the carter to his assistant to, 'mind that those logs at the back are tied securely!'; firewood for the coming winter was being carded from the saw-pit up to the house.
I had no sense of being watched, only a feeling of being completely alone. In spite of what I myself thought I had seen at the ferry crossing, I was seized by the growing conviction that Philip had in fact seen nothing, and that he had deliberately got me out of the way while he went in search of Isobel Warden. It would now be an object with him to revenge himself upon the bailiff, and in what better way could he do that than by seducing his wife? Common sense told me that even Philip Underdown would not be so foolish, yet I found myself crashing through the trees and running up the track to the gatehouse as though the Green Man himself were at my heels. I ran across the courtyard and the great chamber, took the stairs three at a time and burst into our room...
Philip was sprawled, sound asleep and snoring, on the bed.
Feeling extremely foolish and more than a little ashamed of my suspicions, I gently closed the door on his recumbent form and wondered what to do next. It seemed pointless to return immediately to the woods to carry on my search. If there had indeed been anyone there, he would have withdrawn long ago, disturbed by my
I tried to be reassuring, although my heart was beating unpleasantly fast. 'It's probably one of Sir Peveril's men.
You heard what Mistress Overy was saying at breakfast. The corn mill and the saw-pit and the forge are all out of sight of the house, on the edge of the estate. There are bound to be people coming and going all day.'
Philip shook his head. 'No. This man saw me looking and immediately dodged behind one of the trees. I think you ought to go and investigate. I'll stay here. You won't come to any harm on your own.'
'Very well,' I agreed reluctantly. 'But lock the door while I'm gone.'
I took my cudgel and went downstairs again. As I crossed the courtyard to the gatehouse arch, I heard my rouncey whinny softly from the stables, next to the servants' quarters.
It was amazing how, in just a few days I had grown to know his sound and smell and touch. I should hate parting with him when it came time to return him to the Bishop's stable at Exeter. I was tempted to go and see him, to make sure that he had been properly fed and watered after his long night ride; but I knew I must not allow our intruder, if there was one, time to get away, and in any case I could trust Sir Peveril's groom to know his job.
One of the laundrywomen emerged from the laundry, carrying a basket of washing under one arm. She gave me good-day and followed me under the arch into the meadow, where she began spreading out the wet clothes on the grass to dry. I went on my way towards the belt of trees, plunging down the track which led to the river's edge, slowing my pace and peering cautiously from one side to the other. The bright sunlight paled and dimmed, struggling to penetrate the interlaced branches overhead. The leaves were already turning, and occasionally the breeze would shake some loose, floating them to earth like delicate flakes of beaten copper.
Gripping my cudgel more firmly, I left the track and began to explore among the undergrowth, where last year's leaf mould still clung about the trunks and roots of stunted young trees, unable to force their way upwards into the light.
It was very quiet and from time to time I paused, hearing nothing but the thudding of my heart. Once, from the path now hidden from my view, I heard the rumble of a cart and the shout of the carter to his assistant to, 'mind that those logs at the back are tied securely!'; firewood for the coming winter was being carded from the saw-pit up to the house.
I had no sense of being watched, only a feeling of being completely alone. In spite of what I myself thought I had seen at the ferry crossing, I was seized by the growing conviction that Philip had in fact seen nothing, and that he had deliberately got me out of the way while he went in search of Isobel Warden. It would now be an object with him to revenge himself upon the bailiff, and in what better way could he do that than by seducing his wife? Common sense told me that even Philip Underdown would not be so foolish, yet I found myself crashing through the trees and running up the track to the gatehouse as though the Green Man himself were at my heels. I ran across the courtyard and the great chamber, took the stairs three at a time and burst into our room...
Philip was sprawled, sound asleep and snoring, on the bed.
Feeling extremely foolish and more than a little ashamed of my suspicions, I gently closed the door on his recumbent form and wondered what to do next. It seemed pointless to return immediately to the woods to carry on my search. If there had indeed been anyone there, he would have withdrawn long ago, disturbed by my
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