The Prodigal Son by Kate Sedley Page B

and made a little mewling sound like an injured cat.
    It was not my place to say anything, but I glanced at Anthony in an attempt to convey that it was time to stop this questioning. He continued relentlessly, however, apparently oblivious to the other man’s distress in his quest for the facts.
    â€˜So you knew nothing of what had happened until the next morning, when you got up and found her dead and the family treasure and John Jericho gone?’
    George Applegarth nodded mutely, unable to speak. His face was the colour of parchment and had a waxy sheen to it. I thought he was going to faint, but to my relief, Anthony saw it, too, and bit his lower lip in contrition. He put an arm around the steward’s shoulders and, as I struggled out of the armchair where I had been sitting all this while, lowered him into it. George began to shudder.
    â€˜My dear old friend, what a crass fool I am! Why in heaven’s name didn’t you tell me to shut up?’ The younger man thumped himself on the forehead with his fist. ‘Why am I such an unthinking blockhead? Chapman, why didn’t you kick me on the shin? No, no! That’s not fair. The fault is mine.
Mea culpa
. George, can you forgive me, bringing it all back like that? If you want to kick my arse, I’ll bend over willingly and let you do it.’
    That produced a faint smile and a shake of the steward’s head. He forced himself to his feet again.
    â€˜It’s only natural you should be curious, Master Anthony; that you should want to know what happened. It’s just that I think I’ve got over it,’ he added apologetically, ‘and then when I’m reminded, I discover that I haven’t. My dear Jenny … We’d no child nor chick of our own and she loved you two lads like she was your mother.’ He made a determined effort to speak more cheerfully. ‘Take no notice of me, my dear boy …’ He choked, coughed, then drew back his shoulders, bracing himself to resume his duties. ‘Now I must go and oversee the laying of the supper table. Your first meal at home, I want everything to be as you would wish it.’
    â€˜Of course you do.’ Anthony grinned, still looking a little shamefaced; but his natural resilience – or natural insensitivity? – was already convincing him that George Applegarth could not really be as upset as he had seemed. ‘And mind those idiot place-setters put me where I belong, in the centre seat on the dais.’ He added grimly, ‘I’m bound to have my mother and brother one on each side, I suppose. But the seat of honour is mine.’
    The steward bowed his head in acquiescence. ‘That is perfectly understood. And now, if you’ll excuse me …’ He took his wand of office from the corner where it was kept and made for the door. But with his hand on the latch, he paused and turned back. ‘Be careful, Master Anthony. You’ve made enemies by this sudden and unlooked-for return.’
    As the door closed behind him, Anthony laughed. ‘If George thinks I’m afraid of either Simon or my lady mother, he’s getting senile in his old age. Now, come along, Chapman.’ He offered me his arm. ‘I’ll show you to my chamber. The housekeeper should have had it prepared by this time. Then it’ll be supper. I don’t know about you, but after all this excitement, I’m ravenous.’
    Supper was a difficult meal from the moment that Dame Audrea arrived in the hall to find her elder son already installed in her customary place in the centre of the dais; and herself relegated to the seat on his left hand. Simon would have attempted to oust his brother by force had he not been restrained by his mother’s frowns and hissed admonitions to behave.
    The tensions and undercurrents among family members and retainers were aggravated by the presence of strangers; two monks returning to Glastonbury, a merchant on his