Read [Roger the Chapman 06] - The Wicked Winter Online

Authors: Kate Sedley

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Historical

[Roger the Chapman 06] - The Wicked Winter (19 page)

BOOK: [Roger the Chapman 06] - The Wicked Winter
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'Wh - who–' Jasper stuttered, then added on a gasp of relief, 'Oh, it's you, Chapman. God in heaven, what a start you gave us ! What are you doing here, anyway?'
 

I held up my basket. 'I've been sent to get more firewood for the kitchen.'

One of the Capsgrave brothers relieved Hamon of the bottle and took a long draught of its contents, wiping his mouth afterwards on the back of his hand.

'I've seen you somewhere afore you came here,' he said, looking hard at me.

'I was at the valley mill when you arrived, searching for Friar Simeon.'

The younger of the pair nodded. 'So you were. I remember now. What were you doing there then?'

'Selling my wares, of course. Just as I was hoping to do at Cederwell, but so far there's been precious little chance. Which of you two is Jude and which Nicholas?'

'I'm Jude,' the older and thinner man said, adding, 'You came 'ere at a bad time, Chapman.'

'Couldn't 'ave bin worse,' concurred his brother.

I inquired, 'Did Lady Cederwell tell either of you why she needed to see the friar so badly?'

The brothers looked astonished.

'No,' said Nicholas, 'nor did we ask. It's our place to obey orders, not to query 'era.'

'Sir Hugh mentioned that you both came here with her from Campden; that you were both devotedly loyal to Lady Cederwell and her brother.'

Jude Capsgrave gave a short bark of laughter. "E said that, did 'e? Well, I'm not surprised. 'E's never 'ad time fer any of the 'ousehold she brought down 'ere with 'er. But the truth is we weren't long in 'er service before 'er marriage. As for Master Gerard, neither of us 'ave ever thought much to 'ira, and that's a fact. A poor creature, clinging to 'is sister's kirts and playin' at being the gentleman, when all the world knows 'im fer a bastard.'

'Knew,' corrected his brother.

'What? Oh, ar! Knew.' Jude shook his head incredulously. "A bad business! A bad business!'

I agreed, and entered the other stall to begin filling my basket with wood.

Inevitably, the four of them followed to gather around the entrance and watch, for there are few things so pleasant in this world as to stand idle while someone else works. At last, however, Jasper, probably recollecting my assistance of the previous morning, came forward to help. Together, we sweated and strained to pack some of the biggest logs into the basket, straightening up when we had finished, both of us clasping our hands to our aching backs. I gave Jasper my heartfelt thanks, and he in his turn procured the leather bottle from Jude and passed it to me. I drank deeply.

'Has any one of you set foot outside the manor walls this morning?' I asked, wiping the neck of the bottle on my sleeve and returning it to Jasper.

They protested vigorously that they were not so foolhardy.

They had all, at some time, visited the kitchen, and Nicholas Capsgrave admitted that he had been as far as the fish pond in order to feed the carp, a job not normally assigned to him, but which he had undertaken to save Jenny Tonge from getting her feet any wetter than they already were, after descending the gallery stairs from the dormitory.

'That was when I saw Fulk Disney going out by the gate in the wall. The snow were all churned up where 'e'd scuffed 'is way through it. But I don't know what errand 'e'd been sent on, nor what 'e were up to.'

'No good, that's fer certain,' opined his brother. 'And if 'e were gettin' 'is dainty feet wet in this weather, 'twas fer one person only. Though why Maurice'd be sending 'im abroad on a morning like this, I can't think.'

I asked innocently, 'Why should Fulk be dancing to Master Cederwell's tune? Surely it's Sir Hugh who pays the piper?'

I saw the brothers glance furtively at one another, as though they had said too much. Jude remarked with apparent irrelevance, 'You're very friendly with that friar; that Brother Simeon or whatever they calls 'ira.'

'I heard him preach in Bristol and my mother-in-law gave him dinner. Quite by chance I fell in with him on my way to the manor. That's all.'

Nevertheless, I could not deny to myself that I fully intended sharing such information as I acquired with Simeon, and so did not press my question. These men had their loyalties, and no doubt had heard of the friar's mission to stamp out immorality wherever he found it. It was far better for me not to seek confirmation of my suspicions than to bring the full wrath of the Church upon Fulk's and Maurice's heads. If I knew nothing to the contrary, I could acquit them in my own mind and presume them innocent. And I have often wondered in the secret places of my heart how we know for sure that the Church, that the Holy Father himself, is truly the mouthpiece of God. (There, I have set it down at last, but only because I know that these words will be read by no one but me until after I am dead. I did confess earlier to having courage of one kind, but not of another.) 'How did Lady Cederwell get on with her stepson?' I asked instead, adding a final log to my basket.

Once again the brothers looked at one another, then shrugged. At last Nicholas took it upon himself to answer.

'There weren't much love lost atween 'era, 'tis true. She were only a twelvemonth or so older than 'e is. An' she weren't easy to get on with. Always on 'er knees, always sermonisin'.'

'Did she–?' I hesitated, choosing my words. 'Did she object to Maurice's friendship with Fulk Disney?'
 

'Can't say nothin' to that,' Jude cut in tersely, attempting to nudge his brother in the ribs without me seeing. 'We're grooms. We're mostly in the stables. Don't take much notice of what goes on indoors.'

'Why should she?' Nicholas demanded, staring straight into my eyes.

They still refused to trust me; but each, in his own way, had answered my question. I was content. Both Maurice and Fulk Disney could have wished Lady Cederwell dead before Brother Simeon arrived at the manor. But why either one of them would have wanted, or needed, to kill Gerard Empryngham was a mystery.

Hamon and Jasper had necessarily been silent bystanders during this exchange, quietly finishing the contents of the bottle between them. But now Hamon suddenly remarked, 'You ask a lot of questions, don't you, pedlar?'
 

There was a note of menace in his tone which made me glance sharply at him. But I gave a cheerful laugh and said as offhandedly as I could, 'I'm a naturally curious person.'
 

'They say curiosity killed the cat,' he answered.

'They also say that cats have nine lives. It's useless to threaten them.'

Hamon's eyes, grey with little flecks of brown in their depths, opened wide in innocent surprise.

'You mistake me? Why should I wish to threaten you, Master Chapman? Whatever gives you that idea?'
 

I picked up the basket of wood. 'I must get back to the kitchen. I shall no doubt see you all there at dinnertime.' And I took my departure without replying to Hamon's question.

Once outside the stable door, I found it already snowing again. Delicate, feathery flakes brushed my cheeks and settled across my shoulders, but this fall would not last long, for a little grudging sunshine was finding its way through the rent in the clouds, gilding the surface of the fish pond. I could see the black hole where Nicholas had broken the ice to feed the fish, and, on the opposite side, I could see a man's tracks leading to the gate in the wall, where Fulk Disney had kicked up the snow in front of him as he walked. On a sudden impulse, I set down the basket of wood and followed in his footsteps.

The gate had been used this morning, for the key still stood in the lock and it had not been properly fastened. I had only to push the iron-studded, wooden panels very gently for it to open without my having to lift the latch. Any resistance offered by the piled-up snow on the other side had already been overcome, and the gate swung back into an arc of cleared ground. And the footprints continued, running straight as an arrow homing into the gold, towards the door of the Saxon tower.

Why had Fulk gone there? Had he been looking for something? And, if so, who had sent him? Maurice Cederwell seemed the likeliest answer to that last question, and yet one could never be certain of anything. My instinct was to investigate at once, but I knew that if I did not return soon with the logs, Martha Grindcobb would be sending someone to find me. Reluctantly, I retraced my steps.

'And about time!' was the cook's greeting as I entered the kitchen. 'The friar here said you were going for the wood when he left you, and that was before he went off on his travels again. What's the matter with the pair of you? Why aren't you both be happy to sit in the warm instead of wandering about in the cold?'

I made no reply, merely emptying the logs into the bigger basket which stood behind the door and then going to squat on the floor in the further comer, beside Brother Simeon.

'Well?' he asked, whisking aside the hem of his tom black habit. 'What do you have to tell me?'

For the next ten minutes, while Martha and the kitchenmaids bustled around us, I recounted the conversation I had overheard earlier that morning between Mistress Lynom and Sir Hugh. When I had finished, he drew in a long, hissing breath.

'So,' he said at last, 'they stand condemned out of their own mouths that one of them is a murderer.'

I shook my head. 'No, Brother. Neither admitted to the crime. But that they are lovers is certain. We can guess that Lady Cederwell wished to speak to you on the subject; to ask for your advice; to beg you to put the fear of God into Sir Hugh, enough at any rate to scare him into ending the affair. She was afraid for his immortal soul.'

'As well she might be.' The friar's face was grey with anger.

'But there's more,' I continued, and told him of my encounter with Fulk Disney and my conviction that he had visited the tower this morning.

'I should like to know why he was there,' I added. 'What was he up to? After dinner, before it gets dark and the snow sets in again, I intend visiting the tower myself. I shall probably be no wiser when I leave than when I got there, but you never know. I might find something.'

Chapter Thirteen

Dinner had been eaten. Pigeon pasties, served with dried peas and parsnips, and saffron and honey coffins had all been consumed with hearty appetites despite the recent bereavements and quarrels. Mistress Lynom's tray was brought down from her room with each platter wiped clean, Sir Hugh and his son, dining in state in the great hall, had also returned empty dishes, and even Adela Empryngham had consumed every morsel sent up to her in the women's dormitory. As for the rest of us - Tostig Steward, Fulk Disney and Phillipa Talke in a small room adjacent to the pantry, the Capsgrave brothers and their uninvited guests in the stables, Father Godyer in his bedchamber and everyone else in the kitchen - we had all managed to fill our bellies, if not to capacity then at least enough to blunt the edge of hunger.

Martha Grindcobb apologised for there not being more.

'But you know how it is in the depths of winter, it's not wise to deplete your stores too much.'

What she meant of course was that Sir Hugh was on the niggardly side, and resented having to dispense hospitality wilh too lavish a hand. But there had been sufficient to feed everyone and now, with noon just past and the day as bright as it was likely to get, I decided that it was time to visit the tower. I looked round to ask Simeon if he wished to accompany me, but he was already snoring, his back supported by a barrel of dried fish, his hands clasped together on his stomach. I got to my feet, pulled on my boots, which had been drying by the fire since my return to the kitchen, picked up my cloak and headed for the door.

'And where are you off to again?' Martha demanded as I passed her. She was busy scraping the coating of beeswax from a fresh batch of preserved eggs which one of the maids had just fetched for her from the storeroom. 'You're only just dryshod. What's the point of going outside to get wet all over again? It's still snowing.'

'Not heavily, not yet,' I pleaded. 'I can't stay cooped up indoors all day. These great legs of mine need to keep on the move.'

She sniffed. 'Don't give me that tale! You're off to the stables, I'll be bound, playing fivestones with Jude and Nicholas and those two ne'er-do-wells of Mistress Lynom's. Or Mary-on-the-Wall, or some other game of chance.' She rolled a little of the beeswax into a pellet, popped it in her mouth and started to chew, a habit I've noticed amongst many people who like to exercise their jaws between meals.

After a while, they will spit the beeswax out, lodging it wherever is handy; under the edge of a table, on the rung of a stool, or even on the rim of a cooking-pot. A filthy habit my mother always called it; but if it gives pleasure, where's the harm?

I did not enlighten Martha as to my destination, merely grinning amiably and allowing her to think what she pleased.

I suspected that she probably would not approve of my going to the tower. I was a guest in the house, there on sufferance because of the weather, and it did not behove me to go snooping around in what was not really my concern. So I put on my cloak, pulled up its hood and stepped into the main passageway. As I did so, Fulk Disney emerged from the steward's room, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, removing the final traces of his recent meal. He froze when he saw me, fixing me with another of his sullen and resentful stares.

BOOK: [Roger the Chapman 06] - The Wicked Winter
13.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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