A Trail of Ink (19 page)

“‘Tis likely.”

It seemed likely also that one of Oxford’s stationers or bookbinders had seen an opportunity to make a profit from stolen goods, and purchased Master John’s book. It would be no trouble to send another, unknown to the stationers, to enquire was a copy of Sentences offered. The stationers of Oxford knew me and Arthur and knew why we sought Sentences. An unprincipled stationer might hide the book from us but offer to sell to another. But where were Wyclif’s other books? Had perhaps some other unscrupulous bookseller acquired them? Then why not Sentences? Would a dishonest merchant buy twentyone books but not one more? This made no sense.

I opened the tavern’s rear door and called to Arthur, who stood but a few paces away in the lane behind the tavern. Together we left the place and joined Kate, who was twitching with curiosity to learn what had happened in the tavern. I told them both.

I directed Arthur to loiter on Little Bailey Street and Littlegate Street. Should the youth return to the Red Dragon, he was to apprehend him and take him to Canterbury Hall. Arthur could not catch the lad in a footrace, but one so puny as this scholar would never break free of a man like Arthur, once he had a hand upon the lad’s shoulder. And Robert Salley had never seen Arthur, so could be approached without being frightened. I told Arthur to return to Canterbury Hall with the Angelus Bell did the youth not return to the tavern.

I walked with Kate to the Holywell Street, then returned to Canterbury Hall. Master John greeted me expectantly but I was required to disappoint him with the unsatisfactory outcome of the day’s quest.

“Take heart, Hugh. You learn more each day.”

“But what I learn serves but to confuse me.”

“That youthful scholar will surely return to his lodgings,” Wyclif concluded. “Then Arthur will have him. His chamber might be meanly furnished, but for a poor man even little is too much to lose.”

“I believe he has sold Sentences to some unprincipled stationer. It was not in his room, and he did not have it in hand when he went through his window. Tomorrow, early, I would like to send another to call upon the stationers of Oxford, seeking a copy of Sentences. A scholar new to Oxford, and not well known, would suit. Have you a scholar here at Canterbury Hall who could undertake this commission?”

“Aye. I have such a man. Roger Gaddesden is new to Oxford and the Hall this term.”

“Is he a monk or secular?”

“A secular. But why… ah, I see. If a Benedictine from Eynsham has to do with this, it might be best to exclude other Benedictines from the duty.”

I heard the Angelus Bell ring from St Frideswide’s Priory Church. Darkness was upon the town. Arthur soon stalked through the gatehouse and reported no success. Robert Salley had not returned to the tavern.

Master John and Arthur and I plotted the next day while we consumed a supper of pottage and maslin loaf. When the meal was done Wyclif called Roger Gaddesden to his chamber and I explained what was needed of him on the morrow. The man was near my own age, but seemed as exuberant as a child when told what was required of him. He was as much in awe of Master John as I had been when a student at Balliol College.

Next day at dawn Arthur and I set out for the Red Dragon while Roger Gaddesden prepared to visit stationers in search of Master John’s stolen book. Clothed in Lord Gilbert’s livery of blue and black, Arthur was a memorable sight. I bid him discard this uniform temporarily and don a laborer’s garb. He was not pleased at the reduction in station, but agreed with the necessity when I explained what was needed of him.

I thought it best that Arthur and I not be seen together near the Red Dragon, so bid him wait in Pennyfarthing Lane while I went first to the tavern to see had Robert Salley returned in the night. The proprietor had not yet opened his door for customers. I thumped upon it until my knuckles grew tender before the fellow opened to me.

No, Salley had not returned. Yes, I might inspect his lodging myself did I desire. I did. The bare room was as I left it the day before. I departed the tavern, found Arthur wandering Pennyfarthing Lane, and told him to spend the morning watching Little Bailey Street and Littlegate Street for Salley’s return.

The poor scholar did not return to his lodging that day, nor any other so far as I know. His trail was cold. Roger Gaddesden found no copy of Sentences offered, nor did any stationer know where such a volume might be had. One was willing to take an order, advising Gaddesden that a scribe in his employ could produce a copy in three months. Master John’s book, like Robert Salley, had disappeared.

I sent Arthur to prowl Little Bailey Street next day also, knowing not that the ragged scholar would never again be seen near the Red Dragon. But another was seen there, and this appearance served to deepen my confusion.

On the days when I assigned Arthur the boring task of pacing up and down the lanes near the Red Dragon, the fellow had only a maslin loaf for his dinner, washed down with a cup of ale from the tavern. So he was eager and punctual when the bell at St Fridewide’s rang for vespers and thereby warned that supper was about to be served at Canterbury Hall.

Between spoonfuls of pottage Arthur told me of a visitor this day to the Red Dragon. Shortly after the sixth hour, while he was within the tavern concluding his sparse dinner with a cup of ale, Sir Simon Trillowe entered the place. At first Arthur thought it was me entering the shadowy tavern.

“You an’ Sir Simon be much alike, since you began growin’ a beard. An’ he was wearin’ a fur coat much like yours.

Sir Simon bought no wine or ale, but strode directly to the stairway. His entry, Arthur reported, seemed not to interest the proprietor, who but glanced at Sir Simon as he entered, then showed no further interest in his presence.

Sir Simon mounted the stairs to the upper floor of the tavern, spent but a few moments there, then clattered hurriedly back down to the ground floor. He walked straight to the tavernkeeper and addressed the fellow in whispered conversation. Arthur had seated himself by a far wall so as to be inconspicuous did Robert Salley return. He was too far distant from the parley to hear, but he saw the proprietor shake his head to answer several questions from Sir Simon.

Sir Simon, Arthur added, left the tavern in a black mood. His brow was furrowed, his chin thrust forward, his visage foul.

This information was near as hard to digest as the Canterbury Hall pottage. Who, or what, had Sir Simon sought at the Red Dragon? And why did failure cause the man such discontent? Did he seek Robert Salley also? If so, why? I had accepted Master John’s commission to seek a thief and stolen books, but rather than solve the riddle, my efforts had only found new mysteries. There was nothing to do but scratch my head in bewilderment, so I did.

If I found Robert Salley I might press the youth about Master Wyclif’s book: how he came by it, and where may be the others. But I could hold no threat over Sir Simon Trillowe, to demand why he visited the Red Dragon and what he sought there. Perhaps it was not Salley Sir Simon pursued, but from Arthur’s description of the event Sir Simon did not find what he wished, and Salley was gone from the place.

I walked alone - I did not wish any who frequented the Red Dragon to see Arthur in my presence - next morning to the tavern. The place was newly opened for business but had not yet attracted custom. I ordered a cup of wine and settled myself at a bench. The wine was well watered and I wondered that the mayor and sheriff did not fine the fellow. Just such practice caused the terrible St Scholastica Day riots that took so many lives when I was new come to Oxford.

Perhaps the sheriff or the mayor had taken note of the business and sent Sir Simon to collect a fee which would turn the law from the Red Dragon’s door? But Arthur had seen no coin change hands, else he would have said, and had seen the tavernkeeper shake his head, “No.” I dismissed the thought.

The low morning sun did little to illuminate the interior of the tavern. The proprietor gave no sign that he recognized me as the man who sought Robert Salley three days past. He was bored, drumming fingers upon his wine-stained table, and eventually began a conversation about the weather. November in England. Is there no other thing in November to complain of, the weather will always suit.

I wore my fur coat this day, for the morning was chill. So it was clear to the fellow that I was no college scholar, and of some means; a man whose custom he would like to keep. It would have been easier for him to do so had he been less liberal with water in his wine.

When he saw that my cup was near empty the tavernkeeper rose, ewer in hand, and approached my bench. I waved him away and as I did so I saw recognition flash across his face.

“Ah… you was seekin’ Robert Salley yesterday,” he said in his gravelly voice.

“Nay. ‘Twas three days past I sought him. Has he returned?”

I thought I knew the answer to that question, but thought it could do no harm to ask.

“Pardon… a gentleman lookin’ much like you was’ere seekin’ the lad yesterday. He’s not been back. Never seen ‘im before, but ‘e knew what ‘e was about. Went straight up to Salley’s lodgin’s, an’ when ‘e saw ‘e wasn’t there come straight down an’ asked when ‘e was like to return. Told ‘im I hadn’t seen the fellow since Wednesday.”

“Did you tell him how it was when Salley disappeared? How another sought him, and he went through the window to escape?”

“Aye.”

“How did the gentleman take the news?”

“Right black about it, ‘e was.”

“Did he ask to be told when Salley returns, if he returns?”

Nay.

I wondered why that could be. I was about to offer the man tuppence would he promise to send word to the porter at Canterbury Hall did Robert Salley appear. Why would Sir Simon not do likewise? Perhaps he knew where the poor scholar might be was he not at the tavern.

I opened my purse and gave the tavernkeeper tuppence; for the wine and for his eyes, which I asked he keep open for either Robert Salley or Sir Simon. Did the poor scholar return, he agreed to send his wife to Canterbury Hall with the news. Did Sir Simon, whose name I did not let fall, call again, he would report the event and conversation to me when I next called. I did not tell the fellow that Arthur would also be watching for Salley and Sir Simon. Perhaps I did not fully trust the tavernkeeper. He was willing to take silver from me. Might he accept coin from another to ignore or mislead me? Perhaps I am become too suspicious of other men.

I found Arthur where I left him, on Fish Street, before St Frideswide’s Priory, and told him of Sir Simon’s search for Robert Salley.

“Why would ‘e be seekin’ the likes of a poor scholar?”

“Could be coincidence,” I replied, “or it could be that Salley has something which Sir Simon wants.”

“Or knows somethin’ Sir Simon wants to know,” Arthur added. “An’ if ‘e wants somethin’, might be the same thing we want of ‘im.”

“Aye. Perhaps both, for the scholar has little else another man might want, but for Master John’s book.”

“Why would Sir Simon want that?”

“‘Tis worth twenty shillings. Even a young knight would not despise such a sum.”

“But ‘ow would ‘e know Salley had it, an’ ‘ow did the lad come by it anyway?”

This conversation occupied us as we walked through a misting rain to Canterbury Hall and our dinner. I was much pleased with my fur coat and felt some guilt that Arthur, striding beside me, was not so warm or dry. The difference in our situations did not seem to trouble him. Perhaps he had lived cold and wet so long that the conditions were of no consequence to him.

Being chilled and damp did not spoil Arthur’s appetite. He plunged into his bowl of pottage with his usual enthusiasm. And, in truth, the meal was some better than common. This was a fast day, so no pork flavored the peas and beans, but there were lentils and scraps of capon to season the mix. The cook, however, seemed to enjoy a balance. The ale was stale.

The sun was beginning to appear through breaks in the clouds when dinner was done. Arthur was surely pleased with this development, for I sent him to watch over the Red Dragon again. He would stay dry for the afternoon.