13 - The Midsummer Rose (19 page)

I sprang to my feet. I wasn’t aware of how I looked, but Adela later described my expression as murderous. I advanced my face to within about two inches of Richard’s.

‘What you mean is that our precious Mayor and Corporation want this murder solved in double-quick time and with no awkward questions asked. The Sheriff, at least, must know that there are suspicions of treasonable activity in connection with Robin Avenel. That I, myself, have implicated him in what happened to me at Rownham Passage. That I am still willing to swear that Elizabeth Alefounder and her maid were present, that they assaulted me, and that one of them killed the Irish sea captain, whose body was dragged out of the Avon twelve days ago. But Robin Avenel was a respected citizen of this fair city –’ I sneered openly – ‘and his father, the soapmaker –’ I managed to make it sound like an insult – ‘has a bottomless purse that is always at the disposal of the City Fathers. And we don’t want to sacrifice a good Bristol citizen and sully his name with accusations of treason, do we? Especially not when Providence has so thoughtfully provided us with our very own ram in the thicket. Well, I’m not going to let it rest there!’

Richard Manifold had the grace to blush, but he answered steadily. ‘Then you’re an even bigger fool than I take you for. Remember, you’re a family man now. You can no longer afford to take the law into your own hands.’

‘And if I refuse to testify against Burl?’

‘You’ll find yourself in the bridewell on a charge of obstructing justice. You may also find yourself accused of being an accessory to murder. Don’t forget we have the beggar’s testimony.’ He appealed to Adela. ‘Make him see sense, my dear.’

‘Roger …’ she began, but I interrupted with a roar.

‘Who asked you to keep calling my wife your dear? Get out of my house before I lose control and give you the same treatment that your red-nosed friend here has suffered at some other hero’s hands. Whoever it was, he has my undying admiration.’

‘It was Luke Prettywood,’ Jack Gload snuffled, fingering the swollen member tenderly. ‘Well, he’s got his comeuppance.’ He tried to grin, but I was happy to note that it hurt his face, so he desisted.

Richard got to his feet with more dignity than I think I could have mustered in the circumstances. He nodded to Adela, then turned to look at me.

‘I shall expect you this afternoon, Roger, at the Councillors’ Meeting Hall to make your deposition. Don’t let me wait in vain.’

And on this warning note, he left, Peter Littleman and Jack Gload trailing in his wake.

I have been inattentive in God’s house many times in my life, but that Midsummer morning I don’t believe that I was aware of a single thing that went on around me. In my own defence, I have to say that I was not the only person paying scant attention. There was an undercurrent of unease, of feverish excitement, and a constant sibilance that suggested much whispering behind hands and an even greater disregard of the priest than usual. And, once released from our devotions, the babel of voices was worthy of the great tower itself. The names of Burl Hodge and Robin Avenel were on everybody’s lips.

There was no sign of any member of the Avenel household present, but that was hardly surprising. They must still be coming to terms with their recent bereavement. But I couldn’t help wondering how the smart young widow was bearing her loss. And what of Luke Prettywood? How was he taking the news? Where had he been when Robin Avenel was murdered?

The tidings that I was to be one of the Crown’s two chief witnesses against Burl Hodge had not yet reached a wider public. So Adela, the children and I were allowed to escape the crowds still milling around Saint Lawrence’s Church, not yet sated with gossip, and make our way home to Small Street unmolested. But we breathed a sigh of relief too soon. Dreams of a quiet family dinner while we took stock of the situation were shattered as soon as we saw Margaret Walker standing outside the house, impatiently awaiting our return.

‘Roger!’ She wasted no time on any other greeting. ‘Have you heard about Burl?’ When I nodded, she went on urgently, ‘You must come back with me to Redcliffe and speak to Jenny. She’s beside herself with anxiety. She thinks you might be able to prove Burl’s innocence. Don’t shake your head like that. You’ve solved other mysteries. You helped me and Lillis. Don’t worry about your dinner. I’ll feed you all. Just come!’ As I hesitated, she lost her temper. ‘Oh, by the Blessed Virgin! You’re not so petty as to hold Burl’s recent animosity against him, are you? Think of Jenny! Think of the boys! Adela! Persuade him!’

‘It’s all right, Mother-in-law,’ I said quietly. ‘Adela doesn’t need to persuade me. I’ll just fetch Hercules. I can’t let him remain mewed up all day on his own. You and Adela and the children go ahead. I’ll catch you up.’

Once indoors, I dealt with Hercules’s effusive welcome – he always greeted me as though I’d just returned from a three year voyage to the realms of Prester John – found his rope halter and leading string, then sat down at the kitchen table for a moment or two, savouring the tranquillity of the empty house and marshalling my thoughts.

Somehow or other, I had to find Timothy Plummer and discover what exactly he was up to. I entertained a faint hope that I might be able to convince him to disappear for a while without giving further evidence to the magistrates, forcing them to rely on my word alone. Then if I denied what had happened …

But that would do no good. There must have been other witnesses to Burl’s attack on Robin Avenel. There was the ship’s master to whom Robin had been talking for a start. But he was a foreigner. Maybe he spoke little English. I must try to see him as soon as possible … There was a lot to be done, and I recollected with a sigh that I also had to report to Richard Manifold at the Councillors’ Hall sometime that afternoon.

I glanced down at Hercules who, once in his harness, was anxious to be off and chafing at the delay. I cast a regretful eye over Adela’s preparations for dinner, which appeared to be one of her succulent rabbit pies, followed by junkets and stewed pippins. A Midsummer’s Day feast to remember. Ah well!

I wanted to visit Jewry Lane to see for myself the place where Robin Avenel’s body had been found. But I guessed that, by now, Adela and Margaret would be wondering why I hadn’t caught them up, so Hercules and I set off up Small Street without more ado.

At the top, we turned left into Corn Street and made for the High Cross. Immediately ahead of us was Wine Street, where I could see a small, angry crowd surrounding the pillory. Investigation revealed that two of the ringleaders of last night’s apprentices’ riot had been placed there and were being pelted with refuse from the central drain. I threw a few handfuls of rotting vegetables myself, just to let them know how I felt about my wife and children having been frightened by their antics, then walked down High Street to Bristol Bridge, where I eventually overtook my family.

By now, my stomach was rumbling and I was in urgent need of sustenance, so I was not best pleased to discover that we were going straight to the Hodges’ cottage to see Jenny. But in Temple Street I found a repetition of the scene I had left behind on the other side of the Avon. Set in the Redcliffe pillory, near Temple Church, were two more ringleaders of the riot and one who had been arrested for assault. Luke Prettywood!

He was being pelted with filth by a crowd of street urchins who were promptly shooed away by Margaret Walker. Luke, as he had informed me the night before, was a Redcliffe man, and Redcliffe people look after their own, no matter what they’ve done. Moreover, this was the hero who had set about Jack Gload. I patted his matted hair. He gave me a sheepish grin.

‘How long?’ I asked.

He knew what I meant. ‘Until curfew,’ he croaked, his neck restricted by the confining headboards. He looked awful, with an unshaven chin and bloodshot eyes, muck and ordure streaking his face. ‘Hit Jack Gload. Shouldn’t have done it. Too much cuckoo-foot ale. Y’know what that stuff’s like.’

I did indeed, but Adela always kept a careful eye on the amount that I consumed. Spiced with ginger, basil and dill, it was a refreshing drink for a hot night that seduced you into thinking it harmless until you swallowed one draught too many. Then it kicked like a mule, and within minutes you were ready to fight the rest of the world. And, as in Luke’s case, you probably did.

‘Cheer up,’ I said. ‘At least you have the consolation of having picked the right target. Jack Gload has a marvellously swollen nose and black eye.’

Luke gave a strangled gurgle that might have been an attempt at laughter, then groaned. ‘My head’s bursting.’

‘Roger!’ Margaret’s voice rang out peremptorily. ‘Jenny’s waiting for us.’

I grimaced at Luke and moved away. Then, realizing that he might not yet have heard the news, turned back.

‘Robin Avenel’s dead,’ I said. ‘Murdered. That idiot Richard Manifold has arrested Burl Hodge.’

I hadn’t thought it possible for Luke’s face to get any whiter than it already was, but I was wrong. Every last trace of blood seemed to disappear, leaving his skin, beneath the dirt, the colour of old parchment. He struggled for words and finally whispered, ‘Marianne … How’s Mistress Avenel?’

‘I don’t know,’ I answered, my sympathy for him evaporating. ‘My concern’s with Jenny Hodge. I’m sure Mistress Avenel won’t prove inconsolable.’ Then my conscience got the better of me. I patted one of his hands, where it hung limply through the boards. ‘I’ll let you know if I get any news of her.’

As I moved out of range, another mob of children arrived to pelt Luke and the unfortunate apprentices with handfuls of dung which they had stolen from a cart further along the street. But by this time, Margaret Walker, together with Adela and the children, had walked on to the Hodges’ cottage, so there was no one to reprimand them.

The one-roomed dwelling was overflowing with people – concerned neighbours who had been told of Burl’s arrest and had come to express their outrage. There were a few faces I failed to recognize: strangers from without the city walls. I knew that Jenny and Burl were Lollard sympathizers, although the fact was never mentioned aloud.

‘Roger!’ As soon as Jenny caught sight of me, she leaped up from her stool, pushing aside her many well-wishers, and came towards me, hands outstretched. She had been crying; her face was puffy and tear-stained, and when I took her in my arms, I could feel her trembling violently. Jack and Dick were right behind her, her protectors; two boys who had been forced to grow up overnight and learn to act and think like men.

‘It’s all right,’ I soothed, awkwardly patting her back. ‘It’s all right.’

But of course it wasn’t all right: everyone knew that. Nevertheless, they all looked hopeful, as if they were expecting me to perform an instant miracle and tell them who had really killed Robin Avenel. I glanced despairingly at Adela, but she was busy soothing Adam, who was not only hungry, but highly annoyed at finding himself in a crowd of people to whom he had taken immediate exception. Margaret had her hands similarly full with our two elder children and the dog.

Something had to be done. I raised my voice. ‘I should like to speak to Mistress Hodge and her sons alone, and I’d be grateful if you would all go home. Margaret, take Adela and the children back with you and feed them. Hercules, as well. It’s past their dinnertime. I’ll join you later.’

There was a good deal of muttering and indignant sniffing, but eventually, urged more diplomatically by Jenny and her boys, the neighbours dispersed one by one until I was left alone with her and Jack and Dick. Adela pressed my arm lovingly as she went, her way of wishing me good luck.

I sighed. I was going to need it.

I
knew Jenny’s story would be the same one she had already told to Richard Manifold, but I wanted to assess her truthfulness for myself. In spite of my remarks concerning her honesty, I thought it possible that she might lie to save her husband.

‘Burl came to find me shortly after the fighting started,’ she said, drawing me forward to sit at the table. ‘We both of us knew that apprentices’ riots can turn violent. It was obvious Burl had been brawling, but I didn’t realize then it was with you. We looked for the boys to make sure they weren’t involved.’

‘Got more sense,’ grunted Jack.

‘More sense,’ agreed Dick, and I remembered how, when they were children, he had always echoed his elder brother.

‘We never touch cuckoo-foot ale,’ Jack went on. ‘We’ve seen what it leads to. Seen what it leads to with Father.’

‘With Father.’

Jenny flushed painfully. ‘That’s one of Burl’s failings, Roger, as you know. He can’t hold his drink. Anyway,’ she continued, ‘we found the boys, came home and waited for the Deputy Sheriff and his men to arrive. Once they did, the riot fizzled out, as we’d known it would. Then we went to bed.’

‘You two, as well?’ I glanced across the table at the boys, who nodded. ‘And did you sleep soundly? You didn’t wake up?’

This time they shook their heads, although I thought Jack hesitated a second or two before doing so.

I looked back at Jenny. ‘And you and Burl? You slept the night through as well?’

She returned my look defiantly. ‘Yes. Both of us.’ Her expression softened and she appeared to be on the verge of tears. ‘Oh, Roger! I’ve shared the same bed with Burl for over sixteen years. His slightest movement wakes me. I think I’m conscious of his body next to mine even when I’m asleep. I should know if he got out of bed, let alone if he left the cottage.’

I believed her. She and Burl had their disagreements, but there was a closeness between them that I had often envied. I leaned forward, resting my folded arms on the table.

‘Jenny, forgive me, but I have to ask you this. Even if you suspected Burl of being Robin Avenel’s murderer, wouldn’t you still protest his innocence? Wouldn’t you protect him?’

Jack jumped to his feet. ‘If that’s all you have to say, chapman, get out now!’

‘Get out now!’ came the faithful echo.

‘Sit down, the pair of you!’ Jenny ordered fiercely. ‘And mind your manners. Roger’s here to help us. He can’t do that if he doesn’t get at the truth.’ The boys subsided reluctantly and she turned to me. ‘Yes, I would. Of course I would. I’d even endanger my immortal soul and commit perjury for Burl if I thought it necessary. But it’s not necessary. I swear to you, Roger, as I trust in the Lord Jesus Christ and hope for eternal salvation, Burl did not stir from my side all night.’