been about to stop and rest, sell
their goods and recuperate for a while after all their travelling.
‘Look at that! Came from a rich woman, that did. Good pearl. Should fetch a fair sum.’
‘Where can we get rid of this stuff? Look at it! If we’re found with all this, everyone will know we’re robbers,’ Reg said,
appalled at the size of their haul. There were bracelets, necklaces, rings and plate, all worth a small fortune.
‘I know a man,’ Jordan said with confidence.
And that was the problem. It sometimes seemed as though the mere exercise of his will lent force to his ambition. They had
taken the jewellery and an acquaintance of Jordan’s had soon disposed of it for them – not for the sum it was worth, but for
enough money to give them sufficient to live on for some months to come.
Soon Jordan had decided that lying in wait to catch merchants and travellers was little use. There were better ways to make
money. He had concealed his wealth carefully, hoarding it, and although that cretin Daniel had tried to catch them both, reckoning
that they were involved in some unsavoury dealings, by the time he took notice of them Jordan was already well set up.
Yes, Daniel was right about their activities – not that it would do him much good.
Daniel was in his hall when the Coroner finally arrived, banging on the door with the hilt of his dagger.
‘Sergeant! Open this door!’
Cecily saw his face darken again, and she withdrew into the corner with her brother. Arthur denied ever being afraid of their
father, but both knew the truth: that when Daniel lost his temper he was capable of thrashing anyone, even his children, and
both sought to avoid him when he was in a rage. Today he seemed in a worse mood than ever, and Cecily felt the terrorgrow in her breast as Daniel’s face grew blacker while he waited for his servant to arrive.
‘By St Peter’s bones!’ he bellowed. ‘Will no one answer the door?’
A scurrying and pattering came from the yard, and then the servant girl rushed through to the door. She bowed and spoke bravely
to the men outside, then brought them into the hall.
‘Master, the Coroner and his friend wish to speak to you.’
‘Get out, tart!’ Daniel grated. ‘About your business!’
Sir Peregrine was impressive, tall, elegant, and striking-looking, and Cecily studied him as he languidly reached out with
a questing pair of fingers and dipped them into the little stoup that was nailed beside the door. He made the sign of the
cross, bent his head a moment, and then stared at Daniel, long and hard.
He had the look of a man who was used to violence, although perhaps not in the way that some men would resort to weapons at
the first opportunity. No, she thought that this was a man who took it for granted that his words carried weight and authority.
‘Well, sergeant? Have you any explanation as to why we should protect you from inevitable ruin?’
‘You mean old Ham? He shouldn’t have pulled a dagger,’ Daniel said flatly.
‘Does every man deserve death for possessing a dagger?’
Cecily was unprepared for the second man’s appearance. He stepped inside with an armed servant, glancing about him quickly
as though expecting an assassin to strike. She had heard her father say that this was the Keeper from Crediton, that he was
a dangerous man to cross. Perhaps so, but he was attractive, too, even if he was terribly old. She rather liked the way that
the beard which followed his jaw had grown sopeppered with grey, and his eyes, when they found her, were kindly, crinkled at the corners. They looked like eyes which would
smile all too easily. The only disquieting aspect of his appearance was the way in which he moved, looking about him sharply
before stepping in, and then standing alert while his servant leaned back against the wall in a negligent manner, and appeared
to study his fingernails.
‘He deserves the consequences if he pulls it against
their goods and recuperate for a while after all their travelling.
‘Look at that! Came from a rich woman, that did. Good pearl. Should fetch a fair sum.’
‘Where can we get rid of this stuff? Look at it! If we’re found with all this, everyone will know we’re robbers,’ Reg said,
appalled at the size of their haul. There were bracelets, necklaces, rings and plate, all worth a small fortune.
‘I know a man,’ Jordan said with confidence.
And that was the problem. It sometimes seemed as though the mere exercise of his will lent force to his ambition. They had
taken the jewellery and an acquaintance of Jordan’s had soon disposed of it for them – not for the sum it was worth, but for
enough money to give them sufficient to live on for some months to come.
Soon Jordan had decided that lying in wait to catch merchants and travellers was little use. There were better ways to make
money. He had concealed his wealth carefully, hoarding it, and although that cretin Daniel had tried to catch them both, reckoning
that they were involved in some unsavoury dealings, by the time he took notice of them Jordan was already well set up.
Yes, Daniel was right about their activities – not that it would do him much good.
Daniel was in his hall when the Coroner finally arrived, banging on the door with the hilt of his dagger.
‘Sergeant! Open this door!’
Cecily saw his face darken again, and she withdrew into the corner with her brother. Arthur denied ever being afraid of their
father, but both knew the truth: that when Daniel lost his temper he was capable of thrashing anyone, even his children, and
both sought to avoid him when he was in a rage. Today he seemed in a worse mood than ever, and Cecily felt the terrorgrow in her breast as Daniel’s face grew blacker while he waited for his servant to arrive.
‘By St Peter’s bones!’ he bellowed. ‘Will no one answer the door?’
A scurrying and pattering came from the yard, and then the servant girl rushed through to the door. She bowed and spoke bravely
to the men outside, then brought them into the hall.
‘Master, the Coroner and his friend wish to speak to you.’
‘Get out, tart!’ Daniel grated. ‘About your business!’
Sir Peregrine was impressive, tall, elegant, and striking-looking, and Cecily studied him as he languidly reached out with
a questing pair of fingers and dipped them into the little stoup that was nailed beside the door. He made the sign of the
cross, bent his head a moment, and then stared at Daniel, long and hard.
He had the look of a man who was used to violence, although perhaps not in the way that some men would resort to weapons at
the first opportunity. No, she thought that this was a man who took it for granted that his words carried weight and authority.
‘Well, sergeant? Have you any explanation as to why we should protect you from inevitable ruin?’
‘You mean old Ham? He shouldn’t have pulled a dagger,’ Daniel said flatly.
‘Does every man deserve death for possessing a dagger?’
Cecily was unprepared for the second man’s appearance. He stepped inside with an armed servant, glancing about him quickly
as though expecting an assassin to strike. She had heard her father say that this was the Keeper from Crediton, that he was
a dangerous man to cross. Perhaps so, but he was attractive, too, even if he was terribly old. She rather liked the way that
the beard which followed his jaw had grown sopeppered with grey, and his eyes, when they found her, were kindly, crinkled at the corners. They looked like eyes which would
smile all too easily. The only disquieting aspect of his appearance was the way in which he moved, looking about him sharply
before stepping in, and then standing alert while his servant leaned back against the wall in a negligent manner, and appeared
to study his fingernails.
‘He deserves the consequences if he pulls it against
Similar Books
