[Roger the Chapman 02] - The Plymouth Cloak (21 page)

The landlord was nowhere to be seen, but the determined, muscular-looking woman who attended to my needs could only be his wife, and I decided he might have good reason to be wary of her. When she had served me, I too leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes, but not to sleep. In my mind's eye I summoned up the image of Silas Bywater and considered him.

If he had indeed sent a message to Philip, when could Philip have received it without my knowledge? The answer was the same as before; yesterday morning after breakfast, when I was out searching for the man Philip was supposed to have seen from the bedchamber window, and when I presumed him to be asleep on his bed. So, having settled that, I came to my second question. Why had Silas summoned him to a secret meeting? Because, as he had hinted to me on more than one occasion, he knew something to Philip's detriment and was intending to threaten him with it in order to get the money he felt was his due. But why had Philip agreed to the assignation? There was, to my mind, and as I had told myself earlier, only one answer. The time, the place, could both have been at Philip's suggestion with one end in view; to rid himself of a man who had suddenly reappeared in his life and who threatened to become an embarrassment. Philip had set out to murder Silas, but had himself been killed instead, either by his intended victim or by Jeremiah Fletcher, who had accidentally discovered them together.

Before I had time to pursue this argument any further, to find out its flaws or lack of them, my thoughts were interrupted by my fellow drinker.

'Here's a to-do then, for the country. Though it's too far away to worry we, I reckon.' I realized he was referring to the Earl of Oxford's invasion and not the event uppermost in my mind, Philip's murder, which suggested that he was a stranger in the village. I nodded, loath to give him more encouragement, but he went on, undeterred: 'The King'll sort it out, no doubt.'

'No doubt,' I said and closed my eyes again, willing him to do the same.

"E's a good King, is Edward. Better for the likes o' we than poor old Henry, and 'e's got 'is brothers t'back 'im up.

Leastways, 'e's got Duke Richard. Don't know as I reckon much to t'other 'un.' Having disposed thus unceremoniously of George of Clarence, he asked: 'You from the village?' Cornered, I opened my eyes and answered grudgingly: 'No. Just passing through. I'm lodging for a day or so at the manor house. I have friends there among the servants.' This was no lie. I could certainly claim Janet Overy as a friend.

The information seemed to intrigue him. 'So you know 'em up there, do you? You'll be missing the fun.' I stared at the man stupidly. 'Fun?' I repeated.

He drank off the rest of his ale, then nodded. 'Aye. I come up from St Germans this morning with a load of hay for Sir Peveril Trenowth's stables. I'm a carter by trade,' he added. 'But a fellow stopped me just short o' the village and offered me this if I'd let 'im take my place for an hour or so.' He plunged his hand into the pouch at his belt and proudly produced a gold farthing, as the quarter noble used to be called in those days. 'Said 'e was a friend of Alwyn the steward and wanted to play a trick on 'im. Said Alwyn'd bet 'im two angels that 'e couldn't get into the house without 'im knowing.' The man put the coin away again and looked at me, a little shamefaced. 'Not sure I altogether believed 'im, but I don't get the chance o' many gold coins in my job, an' besides, 'e was well-spoken and well-dressed.' It was clear that the carter had allowed his greed to override his better judgement. 'A gentleman, you might say, so quite likely 'is story was true after all. 'E's quite likely to be a friend of this Alwyn. 'E borrowed my hat, as well, so's 'e could hide 'is face. "You'll want to take off that tunic, too," I tells 'ira. "No one'll think you're a carter dressed like that." So 'e did, but I don't think 'e quite trusted me. Took it with 'im, under the bales of fodder.'

I lumbered to my feet, almost overtuming the table in my hurry. 'A thin-faced man?' I asked. 'Narrow features?' "Es. You could say that. A bit weasely maybe, now you come to mention it. But a gentleman, for all that,' he insisted defiantly.

'That doesn't make him any less a rogue,' I snapped, yelling for the landlord's wife so that I could pay my shot.

'You fool! Do you think there aren't evil men among our betters, just as there are among the lower orders?' The carter had grown pale and his hand shook as he put his mazer down on the table. 'You know this man?' he asked apprehensively.

I nodded, turning to pay the goodwife of the inn, who had arrived breathing fire and slaughter at the imperiousness of my summons. I gave her over the odds to placate her. As I made for the door, I paused to lay my hand reassuringly on the carter's arm.

'Don't worry. You may have done me a service if I can catch this man. I know what he has come for and most probably where to find him. Where did you arrange to meet him to reclaim your wagon? No matter! You had better follow me to the house when you are ready.'

And I was through the ale-room door and running up the path before, now thoroughly alarmed, he could question me further.

CHAPTER 17

The rutted track was barred with long October shadows and the pale sunshine struggled to make itself felt between the dying leaves of the overhanging trees. A late-flowering patch of musk mallow, its pale rose blooms nodding at the end of fragile stalks, gleamed corpse-like among the ragged grasses.

A bird sang high in the branches above me, and the river rippled on its gentle way somewhere below. So much beauty, but I had eyes and ears for none of it: my thoughts were fixed entirely on Jeremiah Fletcher.

The man had to be desperate to try such a ruse in broad daylight, ready even to brave the possibility of finding me or someone else in my room. He must have felt his luck to be in when he saw me leave the courtyard, and I felt that my luck was in that he had seen me. For now he would be lulled into a sense of false security, believing himself to have time to search the bedchamber again with less chance of being interrupted. He would look more thoroughly than he had done this morning, when he had climbed in through the window and had, perforce, to make his exit the same way. It was a means of ingress and egress he had not dared use in mid-afternoon. I wondered what excuse he had made to gain access to the great chamber and the stairs.

My footsteps sounded hollowly as I raced beneath the archway. At first, I thought the courtyard was deserted because the sun was in my eyes. But as my vision cleared, I saw James and Luke and John Groom beside the cart, humping bales of hay on to their shoulders, ready to carry them across to the stables.

’Where is he?' I shouted. 'Where's the carter?'
 

They all gaped at me for a moment, bewildered by my urgency of tone. Then the man who I later learned was James pointed in the direction of the house. "E wanted to use the privy. I told 'im there was three, an' 'e chose to go indoors.

Said 'e'd never seen the inside of a gentleman's house and t'would be a rare opportunity fer 'im to do so.'

I was running towards the great chamber door before he ~ had finished speaking, calling over my shoulder: 'Come with me quickly! He's no carter! He's a thief!' Out of the comer of my eye, I saw them exchange dubious glances, wondering if I'd taken leave of my senses and debating whether or not they should ignore my commands. 'Hurry!' I shouted. 'It's true, I swear it!' I paused with my hand on the latch of the great chamber door. 'One of you fetch Alwyn and rouse the servants! The other two follow me!'

I could not wait to see if they obeyed, if my voice had contained sufficient authority to impress them, but turned and went inside. I ran across the room and mounted the stairs two at a time, not even bothering to look in the garderobe, so convinced was I that it would be empty. And I was right. As I glanced along the corridor, I could see that the door to my bedchamber was ajar, and the sound of stealthy movements could be heard from inside.

Checking my headlong rush, I drew in several deep breaths to steady myself before creeping forward to peer through the crack. Then I pushed wide the door.

'You won't find what you're looking for,' I said. 'It's not there.'

The startled face which turned towards me, the wide-brimmed hat now discarded, was unmistakably that of the man from Buckfast Abbey, and undoubtedly that of
 
Jeremiah Fletcher who had stayed last night at the Trenowth inn. He had not, this time, created the havoc of his earlier visit. What was the point? If the letter had not been hidden in the pillows or mattresses before, it was unlikely to be concealed now in their replacements. But everything else, which belonged either to Philip or myself, had been gathered into a pile on one of the beds and was being thoroughly searched item by item.

The man had been crouching on the floor, but now he sprang to his feet, his hand groping at his waist for the dagger in his belt, only to realize with dismay that he had put it off, together with his tunic, when he had assumed his disguise of the carter. The recollection brought with it a wave of panic, and for the second time in little more than an hour, I found myself the object of a murderous attack. But now I was truly afraid, for this man was used to killing, and he would not scruple to murder me if he got the chance. His hands were already clawing at my throat in an effort to silence me; slender hands to suit his delicate frame, but with all the power and strength of fear behind them. If he fell into the clutches of the law, it would undoubtedly be a hanging matter; for whether he were responsible for Philip's death or no - and I had by no means made up my mind on that score - there were others who would certainly believe him guilty, and previous crimes which could probably be laid at his door. I thought it unlikely that Philip was the first of King Edward's messengers to have met a violent death through the machinations of Lancastrian agents.

With shaking fingers, I tore at his wrists and kneed him in the groin, but although Jeremiah Fletcher yelped, he refused to let go. When you are faced with the prospect of a rope around your neck, I imagine nothing else is of any importance and that terror deadens pain. Yet again that afternoon, the blood was drumming in my ears and there was a yellow mist before my eyes when help once more arrived, this time in the tardy shapes of Luke and John Groom. They had obviously been loath to believe me, but prudence had eventually won.

With a shout compounded of anger and astonishment, they threw themselves upon my attacker and hauled him clear, beating him roughly to the floor, where they both sat on his chest to pinion him down.

'B'lady, you'm right, maister,' the groom said admiringly.

"E were a thief, then! 'Ow did you know?'

I was still leaning against the bedchamber wall, gasping for breath, and all I could manage by way of answer was a frog-like croak. Fortunately, I was for the moment spared any further efforts at conversation by the appearance not only of Alwyn Steward and James, but also of Janet Overy wielding a rolling-pin, the laundress brandishing the wooden stick used for removing linen from the tubs of boiling water, and the baker carrying the long-handled spatula with which he put in and took out the loaves from the ovens. Their various assistants, goggle-eyed at so much excitement in one day, brought up the rear.

'So,' said Alwyn, 'we have our thief and no doubt our murderer, too.' He turned to me. 'Do you know this man, Roger Chapman?' When I nodded, he gave a grunt of satisfaction. 'And caught, seemingly, in the very act of trying to commit a second murder. You two men, and you, James, bring him along and we'll see him safely bestowed under lock and key until the Sheriff's officer arrives this evening.' Relief at such a successful outcome, with no shred of blame attaching to any member of Sir Peveril's household, made the steward genial, and he led the way from the room with a jaunty step and head held high. He could give a good account of events to his master on that gentleman's return; or as good an account as possible in the circumstances.

Janet put a hand beneath my elbow. 'Come with me, lad. That throat of yours has taken more than its fair share of abuse this afternoon. But the same treatment as before will work miracles. You'll see.'

I believed her, for she certainly seemed to know her herbs and remedies; and by the time she had once again completed her ministrations, I felt less pain and was able to make myself understood, although my voice was still ragged.

Emerging into the courtyard, I learned that Jeremiah Fletcher, bound hand and foot, was securely locked in a small room in the chapel, with James, Luke and John Groom taking it in turns to guard him. Alwyn, who imparted this information, asked me to tell him all I knew about the prisoner; so, deciding that nothing would do now but the truth, I gave him the history of our ill-fated journey from my meeting with the Duke of Gloucester in Exeter to the present moment. Two things only I omitted; Silas Bywater's part in the story and any mention of the knotgrass.

I could see that Alwyn was impressed by the added stature which my version of events had given me. So, taking advantage of the fact, I asked if I might be allowed to see Jeremiah Fletcher alone for a few minutes.

'There are a few things which I have to ask him,' I said, managing to convey by my manner that these questions were of vital importance to the safety of the realm.

'We-ell...' The Steward considered my request, then nodded briskly. 'You have my permission, but make sure that Luke, who is standing watch at the moment, remains outside the door.'

'If Fletcher is bound by wrist and ankle, as you tell me, he can hardly be any danger to anyone.'