![[Roger the Chapman 03] - The Hanged Man](https://fs.ageofbook.com/508345/thumbs/152x264/roger-the-chapman-03-the-hanged-man.jpg)
fantasies of things which could never be.
Edward Herepath resumed his seat beside the fire and glanced up at me. My legs were beginning to ache with inactivity, for he had not offered me a stool. 'Is there anything else you wish to ask?' he inquired.
I hesitated, sensing that his patience was wearing thin, but reluctant to take my leave before I had satisfied my curiosity still further. At last, I ventured, 'You were in Gloucester when the seeming murder of William Woodward occurred.'
'Indeed. I had gone to look over a horse with a view to purchase. An acquaintance of my friend Master Peter Avenel had told me of his intent to sell whilst staying in Bristol a few weeks earlier. The animal sounded exactly suited to my requirements, and I therefore made arrangements to travel north as soon as possible after Master Shottery's return to his native city. I rode to Gloucester on Lady Day and took lodgings for two nights at an inn. This gave me the morrow to look over the horse and make up my mind whether or not to buy, and a third day in which to return home at my leisure, which is exactly how things fell out.' A look of distress contorted his handsome features. 'As it happened, I could well have returned a day earlier, for the purchase was speedily concluded early on the Friday morning, but Master Shottery was unable to offer me hospitality, as his wife, he said, was feeling unwell. However, I decided to adhere to my original plan and remain in Gloucester until the following day.' Cicely said quietly from the window-seat behind him, ‘You must not blame yourself, dear Edward. Your earlier return would have prevented nothing. Little though any of us knew it at the time, the mischief, whatever it was, was already done.'
I asked abruptly: 'You were not anxious, Master Herepath, as to what might have happened in your absence, knowing that you had, at least according to Mistress Walker, inadvertently let slip to your brother that William Woodward was holding the money until you came home?' Edward Herepath's face flushed a dull red beneath its beard. I held my breath, waiting to be dismissed for my impudence, but instead provoking a small, if wintry, smile. 'You take your commission seriously, Master Chapman. Mistress Walker and her daughter appear to have chosen their champion wisely. Very well, yes, I admit to having felt a twinge of uneasiness every now and then. But my brother had been the cause of so much worry throughout his life that I had grown accustomed to such feelings, as one might grow used to the nagging pain of an old wound which, with time, one is able to ignore. Does that answer satisfy you? I trust so, for it's the only excuse I have.'
I gave a little bow. 'You have been more than gracious, Master Herepath, and I thank you for bearing so patiently with my questions. With your permission, I shall now take my leave.'
He rose to his feet once more, good humour restored at the prospect of my departure. And who could blame him? My probing must have awakened many painful memories which he was trying to forget.
'Both Mistress Ford and I hope that we have been of some service to you. Have you any idea, as yet, what could possibly have happened to William Woodward?'
I shook my head. 'I confess to being as much in the dark as ever, but I shall certainly seek out this Miles Huckbody and question him. Mistress Ford, your humble servant. And yours, sir. Thank you, and God be with you. If it is not too presumptuous, I shall keep you both in my prayers.'
Chapter Nine
Cicely Ford rose immediately from her place by the window and accompanied me to the door. I noted the slight frown of disapproval on Edward Herepath's face and guessed that her willingness to serve others irritated him. He wanted to revere her, isolate her from the common herd, set her apart from the mundane rigours of everyday life, but that was plainly not her way. Without displaying any trace of humility, Cicely Ford was happy to be of use, and refused to
Edward Herepath resumed his seat beside the fire and glanced up at me. My legs were beginning to ache with inactivity, for he had not offered me a stool. 'Is there anything else you wish to ask?' he inquired.
I hesitated, sensing that his patience was wearing thin, but reluctant to take my leave before I had satisfied my curiosity still further. At last, I ventured, 'You were in Gloucester when the seeming murder of William Woodward occurred.'
'Indeed. I had gone to look over a horse with a view to purchase. An acquaintance of my friend Master Peter Avenel had told me of his intent to sell whilst staying in Bristol a few weeks earlier. The animal sounded exactly suited to my requirements, and I therefore made arrangements to travel north as soon as possible after Master Shottery's return to his native city. I rode to Gloucester on Lady Day and took lodgings for two nights at an inn. This gave me the morrow to look over the horse and make up my mind whether or not to buy, and a third day in which to return home at my leisure, which is exactly how things fell out.' A look of distress contorted his handsome features. 'As it happened, I could well have returned a day earlier, for the purchase was speedily concluded early on the Friday morning, but Master Shottery was unable to offer me hospitality, as his wife, he said, was feeling unwell. However, I decided to adhere to my original plan and remain in Gloucester until the following day.' Cicely said quietly from the window-seat behind him, ‘You must not blame yourself, dear Edward. Your earlier return would have prevented nothing. Little though any of us knew it at the time, the mischief, whatever it was, was already done.'
I asked abruptly: 'You were not anxious, Master Herepath, as to what might have happened in your absence, knowing that you had, at least according to Mistress Walker, inadvertently let slip to your brother that William Woodward was holding the money until you came home?' Edward Herepath's face flushed a dull red beneath its beard. I held my breath, waiting to be dismissed for my impudence, but instead provoking a small, if wintry, smile. 'You take your commission seriously, Master Chapman. Mistress Walker and her daughter appear to have chosen their champion wisely. Very well, yes, I admit to having felt a twinge of uneasiness every now and then. But my brother had been the cause of so much worry throughout his life that I had grown accustomed to such feelings, as one might grow used to the nagging pain of an old wound which, with time, one is able to ignore. Does that answer satisfy you? I trust so, for it's the only excuse I have.'
I gave a little bow. 'You have been more than gracious, Master Herepath, and I thank you for bearing so patiently with my questions. With your permission, I shall now take my leave.'
He rose to his feet once more, good humour restored at the prospect of my departure. And who could blame him? My probing must have awakened many painful memories which he was trying to forget.
'Both Mistress Ford and I hope that we have been of some service to you. Have you any idea, as yet, what could possibly have happened to William Woodward?'
I shook my head. 'I confess to being as much in the dark as ever, but I shall certainly seek out this Miles Huckbody and question him. Mistress Ford, your humble servant. And yours, sir. Thank you, and God be with you. If it is not too presumptuous, I shall keep you both in my prayers.'
Chapter Nine
Cicely Ford rose immediately from her place by the window and accompanied me to the door. I noted the slight frown of disapproval on Edward Herepath's face and guessed that her willingness to serve others irritated him. He wanted to revere her, isolate her from the common herd, set her apart from the mundane rigours of everyday life, but that was plainly not her way. Without displaying any trace of humility, Cicely Ford was happy to be of use, and refused to
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