The son can barely hold a conversation. Whenever I see him,' she went on, 'I thank God that our boys are not like that. They go to school. They learn things. All that Patrick McCoy has learned is how to clear the tankards off the tables at the Saracen's Head.'
'It's not his fault.'
'I know, Jonathan. I feel sorry for the poor lad.'
'Anyway, he does more than simply clear away the tankards. His mother keeps most of her customers under control but, if one of them does start to cause mischief, it's Patrick who throws him out, young as he is. The lad's as strong as an ox.'
'Yes,' she confirmed. 'I saw him lift a beer barrel off a cart the other day. Most men would have rolled it along the ground but he carried it as if it was as light as a feather.' She shook her head worriedly. 'What's Bridget McCoy going to do with him?'
'Keep him at the tavern where she can watch over him,' said Bale. 'Mind you, that's not what the lad wants himself.'
'No?'
'He has an ambition, Sarah.' 'To do what?'
'My job - he wants to be a parish constable.'
She spluttered. 'Patrick McCoy?'
'Everyone's entitled to dream.'
'He could never do what you do, Jonathan.'
'The lad's eager and that's a good start. I've met too many officers who've been pushed into it against their will. If you resent what you have to do, how can you do it properly?'
'There are not many parish constables like you,' she said with an admiring smile. 'You love the work and do it well. And you're fit enough for the post. Constables in some parishes are almost decrepit.'
'I know at least three who are disabled, Sarah, yet they're kept hard at it because nobody else will come forward to take their place.' Clicking his tongue, he repeated a familiar complaint. 'No wonder there's so much crime in London when there are so few able-bodied men employed to prevent it. What's the point of laws if we lack the means to enforce them? We need more constables on the streets.'
'Could that lad possibly be one of them?'
'It's unlikely, I agree.'
'He's not clever enough.'
'Tom Warburton is hardly known for his brains.'
'Maybe not but Tom has other qualities.'
'So does Patrick - he's strong, honest and God-fearing.'
Sarah looked him in the eye. 'Would you like to work with him?'
'If it was a case of talking to people, or looking for clues, or reading documents of some sort, then the lad would be hopelessly out of his depth. But if I had to patrol the riverbank on a dark night,' said Bale, meeting her gaze, 'then I'd be more than happy to have him walking beside me.'
They had gone the best part of ten miles before they stopped at a wayside inn. While the horses were rested and watered, the travellers went inside for refreshment. Hester Polegate and her sons were too locked in their private anguish to be capable of any conversation so they dined alone in a corner. Christopher Redmayne shared a table with Sir Julius Cheever. It gave him an opportunity for time alone with the other man. Mindful of their last encounter, he kept off the subject that had so enraged his companion earlier.
'Having your daughter arrive from Richmond must have been a very pleasant surprise for you,' he began.
'I do not like surprises.'
'But this one must have gladdened your heart, Sir Julius.'
'Must it?'
'Mrs Serle is a member of your family.'
'Yes,' agreed Sir Julius, 'Brilliana does indeed have that claim on my affections. The trouble is that, where Mrs Serle goes, Mr Serle is always compelled to follow.'
'Do you not enjoy your son-in-law's company?'
'What is there to enjoy? Lancelot has neither wit nor affability.'
'I've always found him extremely affable.'
'That's because you've never had to endure his presence
'It's not his fault.'
'I know, Jonathan. I feel sorry for the poor lad.'
'Anyway, he does more than simply clear away the tankards. His mother keeps most of her customers under control but, if one of them does start to cause mischief, it's Patrick who throws him out, young as he is. The lad's as strong as an ox.'
'Yes,' she confirmed. 'I saw him lift a beer barrel off a cart the other day. Most men would have rolled it along the ground but he carried it as if it was as light as a feather.' She shook her head worriedly. 'What's Bridget McCoy going to do with him?'
'Keep him at the tavern where she can watch over him,' said Bale. 'Mind you, that's not what the lad wants himself.'
'No?'
'He has an ambition, Sarah.' 'To do what?'
'My job - he wants to be a parish constable.'
She spluttered. 'Patrick McCoy?'
'Everyone's entitled to dream.'
'He could never do what you do, Jonathan.'
'The lad's eager and that's a good start. I've met too many officers who've been pushed into it against their will. If you resent what you have to do, how can you do it properly?'
'There are not many parish constables like you,' she said with an admiring smile. 'You love the work and do it well. And you're fit enough for the post. Constables in some parishes are almost decrepit.'
'I know at least three who are disabled, Sarah, yet they're kept hard at it because nobody else will come forward to take their place.' Clicking his tongue, he repeated a familiar complaint. 'No wonder there's so much crime in London when there are so few able-bodied men employed to prevent it. What's the point of laws if we lack the means to enforce them? We need more constables on the streets.'
'Could that lad possibly be one of them?'
'It's unlikely, I agree.'
'He's not clever enough.'
'Tom Warburton is hardly known for his brains.'
'Maybe not but Tom has other qualities.'
'So does Patrick - he's strong, honest and God-fearing.'
Sarah looked him in the eye. 'Would you like to work with him?'
'If it was a case of talking to people, or looking for clues, or reading documents of some sort, then the lad would be hopelessly out of his depth. But if I had to patrol the riverbank on a dark night,' said Bale, meeting her gaze, 'then I'd be more than happy to have him walking beside me.'
They had gone the best part of ten miles before they stopped at a wayside inn. While the horses were rested and watered, the travellers went inside for refreshment. Hester Polegate and her sons were too locked in their private anguish to be capable of any conversation so they dined alone in a corner. Christopher Redmayne shared a table with Sir Julius Cheever. It gave him an opportunity for time alone with the other man. Mindful of their last encounter, he kept off the subject that had so enraged his companion earlier.
'Having your daughter arrive from Richmond must have been a very pleasant surprise for you,' he began.
'I do not like surprises.'
'But this one must have gladdened your heart, Sir Julius.'
'Must it?'
'Mrs Serle is a member of your family.'
'Yes,' agreed Sir Julius, 'Brilliana does indeed have that claim on my affections. The trouble is that, where Mrs Serle goes, Mr Serle is always compelled to follow.'
'Do you not enjoy your son-in-law's company?'
'What is there to enjoy? Lancelot has neither wit nor affability.'
'I've always found him extremely affable.'
'That's because you've never had to endure his presence
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