The Pardoner's Crime (5 page)

‘I have heard that your cook is a rare artist,' Richard said. ‘My assistant has tasted his pigeon pie and said it was
delicious
.'

The cook placed the tray in front of Sir Thomas and stood grinning at Richard. ‘I have one great secret which I willingly tell all who would like to produce fresh meat,' he said, his voice booming and jolly, as if he was on the verge of laughter most of the time.

‘Tell me your secret then, good master cook,' said Richard.

‘Why, sir, it is simple. I only use the freshest of meat, fowl and fish, because I let them live until they are ready to be cooked. It is my mission on earth to cook and to feed all who will eat their fill,' he said.

‘Aye, but not always at my expense,' growled Sir Thomas. ‘You may have guessed, Sir Richard, that he is a man given to over-zealousness.' Then, turning his gruff eye on the cook, ‘This looks adequate; you may go Gideon Kitchen.'

‘May you all be blessed with an appetite to match this small repast,' said Gideon Kitchen as he retreated backwards, still grinning from ear to ear, despite his master's attempt to deflate him.  

Richard felt his stomach juices go wild at the mixed aroma of roast chicken, venison and boar. He looked around the hall, his eye falling upon Emma Oldthorpe, the apothecary's wife. She smiled at him demurely and he felt strange warmth come over him. And in the corner of his vision he was all too aware of the pleasing perfume and charms of the Lady Wilhelmina sitting beside him.  

‘What think you of our little welcoming feast, Sir Richard, Sergeant-at-Law?' asked Sir Thomas, leaning past his wife.  

‘Succulent!' Richard uttered without thinking. It was the word that was already in his mind, although he had not exactly been thinking of food.

After taking care of his master's belongings, Hubert had left Richard to slumber and made his way up to the battlements by an inner staircase on the far side of the bailey bakehouse. Evening was approaching and with it a glorious sunset had draped the sky with crimson and pink clouds. He strolled along and immediately engaged the first male-clad guard in conversation. He had recognized him straight away, since he had directed him to the kitchen that afternoon. They rapidly fell into the easy conversation of one soldier to another, for both Hubert of Loxley and Adam Crigg had done service as foot soldiers in wars; Hubert in England, Wales and Scotland and Adam in those as well as a time in Ireland, for he was a good ten years Hubert's senior.  

‘I remember how dull it is to patrol around a castle rampart,' said Hubert sympathetically. ‘Especially when our masters are feasting and drinking until late in the evening.'  

Adam's weather-beaten face creased into a wrinkled,
lopsided
grin, on account of an old battle scar which prevented one side of his mouth from moving fully. ‘I know that you have
one master, so I hope that he is good to you. As for me, I have to be honest when I tell you that I don't rightly care much for any masters.'

Hubert clicked his tongue. ‘I am fortunate and have a good one, but I understand what you mean. The likes of us can hardly choose, we have to do what we are told.'

Adam Crigg nodded sagely. ‘Aye, our masters keep changing depending on their fortunes. I have been a soldier since I was eleven years of age, just as my old father was afore me. Don't misunderstand me, I have been loyal all my life to whoever has held Sandal Castle. That means that I was loyal to John de Warenne, the Earl of Surrey and fought wherever he dragged us. Then Thomas Plantagenet, the Earl of Lancaster besieged the castle and took it over, and I served him, God rest his soul. And now I am loyal to the King.'

Hubert grinned. ‘True, Adam. We are all King's men now. And I expect all the other guards have a similar outlook on things.'

The old soldier's face contorted again and he looked
sideways
and spat through the nearest embrasure of the battlement wall. ‘That makes me laugh. There are only a few proper soldiers here. That is me and about thirty of the original castle guard.' He leaned over conspiratorially and continued in a whisper. ‘The rest of them – all sixty of them – are Sir Thomas Deyville's men. And I reckon they have sold their hearts and souls to the ‘Deyville!' He grinned at his own wit.

‘The trouble is, not one of them knows one end of a pikestaff from the other, so if we ever had a proper attack, they would be as much use as a bunch of milkmaids.'

He looked along the wall at another guard who was watching over another segment of the wall, between the next two turrets. ‘We had best keep walking, Hubert, lest that young jackanapes reports me and I get my knuckles rapped.'

They walked on and Hubert shrugged his shoulders. ‘Still, I suppose they will just have to learn, like we did, eh, Adam?'

Adam snorted derisively. ‘They have learned a lot of things already, if you ask me, and not a lot of it is good. Like I said, they are the Deputy Steward's men and they behave just like him. Not a spark of human kindness among them. They'll all beat a serf or a bondsman as soon as look at him. I don't like it. These are my people. I am born and bred around here and I—'

He was stopped by a sudden shouted stream of profanity from behind them.

‘What is going on here? What is that man doing up here?'

Hubert and Adam had spun round to see a furious
mail-clad
sergeant of the guard advancing upon them. ‘Who let this man up here?'

Hubert had taken an instant dislike to the fellow and he stood his ground. ‘I climbed the stairs myself! And
you
didn't stop me!' Then, before the burly sergeant could say anything further, he went on, his voice cutting and aggressive, ‘And nor should – or
could
you have! I am Hubert of Loxley, assistant to Sir Richard Lee, the Circuit Judge of the King's Northern Realm who is eating with your master right now.' His voice had risen in volume with each word. After glaring at the sergeant he dropped his volume again. ‘Or would you like to explain your attitude to him yourself?'

Hubert saw the other's hesitation. He recognized the pattern. A bully boy who was unable to stand up to bullying himself. He sneered contemptuously. ‘I suggest you don't interfere with King's officers in the future.'

The sergeant glowered at Hubert and then at Adam. Then without a word he walked past them towards the other guard.

‘The bastard will have harsh words with me later,' Adam whispered, unable to keep the humour from his voice. ‘But it was bloody worth it!'

Despite himself, Richard enjoyed the meal. He found that after satiating his ravenous appetite with his trencher, heaped with roast boar, venison and the most delicious
vegetable concoctions, and slaked his thirst with a couple of goblets of fine spiced Bordeaux wine, he was able to settle back and enjoy the conversation along the table. He nibbled cheese and sliced apples and listened to Lady Katherine discourse upon the concept of original sin and the need to resist temptation. He smiled as she pushed her goblet forward in the direction of the butler in the expectation that it would be replenished.

Then while Lady Alecia enquired of the prioress about some priory matter he took the opportunity to talk with the beautiful Lady Wilhelmina. To his delight he discovered that she was knowledgeable about many things, including art, music and falconry. He was surprised to learn that she was well-schooled in writing and that she could read both Latin and Greek, as well as speak French.

‘My mother taught me,' she explained, catching Richard's look of surprise and his fleeting glance in her father's
direction
. ‘She has a wonderful mind, Sir Richard. It is a pity that in this day a woman is only permitted to develop
accomplishments
in the homely arts, or in making babies!'

He looked at her in wonder, scarce knowing how to reply.

‘Or rather, in making male babies!' she went on, with some spirit. She sipped some wine. ‘If things were different I would like to study the law.'

Despite himself an indulgent smile formed on his lips and he saw a spark of ire flash in her eyes. He immediately regretted having drunk more wine than he should, for he had let his guard down.

‘Do you not think that a woman has the wit for law, Sir Richard?' she challenged.

‘Oh many women most assuredly would,' he returned, sympathetically. ‘It is a shame that men have not the wit to let them.'

She smiled up at him, her eyes fixing his keenly. ‘And you, Sir Richard. Do you have the wit? Would you be prepared to do a battle of wits with a – mere woman?'

He found the way that her lips curled into a smile utterly beguiling. He was about to reply when Sir Thomas clapped the nun's priest upon the back and immediately reached for one of his bells. As it rang out the chatter from the other tables abruptly halted, as did the music from the minstrel's gallery and the room went quiet.

Sir Thomas heaved himself to his feet. ‘My guests, I trust that you have enjoyed your meal, your wine and the company. You will all, of course, enjoy the hospitality of the Hall, the Great Chamber next door and the rooms below this for the night.' He grinned affably. ‘I would not wish you all to get in trouble by trying to get back into Wakefield after the eight o'clock curfew.'

Laughter echoed to the high rafters.

‘My purpose in inviting you all here this evening was twofold. First to let you see and perhaps afterwards talk with Sir Richard Lee, who will be advising me in legal matters at the Manor Court in the next few days. And second, I wanted to bring all of the main people involved in the Wakefield Mysteries.'

Richard pricked up his ears. At last, he thought.

‘Representatives from the burgers, all of the guilds, the clergy and the constables of three of the town wards are here tonight.' He spread his hands to indicate the Prioress and the nun's priest at either end of the high table. ‘And Lady Katherine the prioress of Kirklees Priory and Father Daniel, the playmaker are here to tell us about the final preparations for the Wakefield Mystery plays that are being performed on Corpus Christi Day itself.'

Richard listened and silently cursed himself for a fool for not realizing what the Deputy Steward had been referring to by ‘the Mysteries'. He listened as first the prioress, then Father Daniel explained how each guild would be responsible for the putting on of various scenes of the Biblical story, plays and tableaux of which he had written the directions and dialogue of at least half.

‘This man is a genius with words,' Lady Wilhelmina
whispered
. ‘They already call him the Wakefield Master. My mother and the prioress say that he will be famous long after he is dead.'

‘Rather be famous while he is alive,' Richard whispered back.

Sir Thomas took to his feet again once they had completed their speeches and deliberations. ‘And I have one final piece of information to impart to you all. On the day of the Mysteries, we shall be joined by His Majesty King Edward the Second, himself.' He beamed about the hall as the good people of the Manor of Wakefield gasped in surprise and wonder. Finally, he looked at Richard. ‘What say you to that, Sir Richard?'

Richard put down his goblet and wiped his lips with a towel. He inclined his head and stood up to address the hall. ‘I say that this is an undoubted honour for the Manor of Wakefield and for the town itself. It is good to see that it is so well organized, and that you have such knowledgeable people to direct the performances.'

People applauded his words and tapped their goblets and beakers in approval on the tables. When the tumult settled down again Richard went on, ‘Yet if his majesty is coming to the manor so soon, it is beholden to us to have all judicial matters taken care of. The King's Law must be seen to be working.'

Another round of approval echoed about the hall.

‘As the Circuit Judge of the King's Northern Realm and the Judge of the Manor Court I am letting you all know that the first session of the court will take place tomorrow morning.' His eyes sought out the trestle table upon which the
constables
of the town wards were sitting. ‘Tomorrow morning a jury will be selected and sworn in and we shall begin the
investigation
of two crimes that I already know have been committed. One is of a rape.'

There were gasps and exclamations of outrage.

‘And one of cold-blooded murder of a felon in the custody of
the township. Both are extremely serious and could have dire repercussions for the town.'

The hall mostly fell silent. ‘Tomorrow all residents of Wakefield and the surrounding hamlets and villages of the manor will attend at eleven o'clock and the jury shall begin by viewing the body.'

He bowed and took his seat; all too aware that he was attracting looks and stares from all over the hall. He was also aware that Lady Wilhelmina's eyes seemed to register a sort of fascination.

After a signal from Sir Thomas the quartet began to play again and Richard nodded his head approvingly. ‘You have a fine band of musicians there. Especially the lute player.'

Lady Alecia's eyes sparkled and she smiled, almost
wistfully
. ‘Ah, that is Alan-a-Dale, my protégé. His fingers pluck those strings just as I used to be able to do myself. He is a beautiful artist.'

Richard nodded and sipped his wine. ‘Indeed he is. And a most handsome young man, too.'

He felt the touch of a dainty foot touch his leg and in the corner of his eye he saw Lady Wilhelmina's lips give a
half-smile
. Despite himself he felt the colour rise to his cheeks.

Albin of Rouncivale had gone to his lodgings behind the
shambles
after finishing his day's work, his purse considerably swelled and his bag of pardons proportionately reduced. His assorted relics had worked well for him, especially his latest acquisitions. After exchanging his pardoner's clothes for a nondescript brown doublet and broad-brimmed hat he had gone for some supper and a mug of ale. But the Wakefield ale was too tempting, he found, and instead of visiting one tavern, he found himself visiting all six within the town, ending up in the Bucket Inn near to the Jacob's Well near the Warrengate.