[Roger the Chapman 04] - The Holy Innocents (24 page)

'Well,' beamed that younger sibling now, clapping me on the shoulder, 'fancy that! We're on our way to Totnes to try our fortune with the castle garrison. Men get tired, mewed up in barracks, with only themselves for company. Even drinking and whoring can pall, and then they're glad of other amusement. Are you making for the town yourself? Do you know it?'

'I've been lodging there some days already,' I answered, 'and am returning for the night. I've... I've had a berth of a sort, but now I've lost it. I was hoping to sleep in the Priory guest-hall.'

'Then we'll join you, if we may,' said Martin Fletcher. 'If it's fine, we sleep in the wagon, but it's beginning to look like rain.' He indicated his two companions. 'These are my friends. Peter Coucheneed, he's a juggler and a good one, and the other is Luke Hollis, who plays the flute and dances. As for me, I rattle the tabor and mime a little.'

The first named, Peter Coucheneed, was very tall and stringy, with a high, domed forehead, and going prematurely bald. The second man, Luke Hollis, was squat and fat with a pot belly and an unruly mop of thick, dark hair. The contrast between them was ludicrous, and no doubt earned them a laugh before ever a ball was juggled or a note played by way of entertainment.

'And I'm called Roger,' I said. 'A chapman by trade and now by name, although Brother Nicholas would have known me as Stonecarver or Carverson, for that was how my father earned his living. So, shall we go the last short distance together? If you're ready for some victuals, there's an alehouse near the castle I can recommend.'

The four of us entered by the East Gate, although the keeper was reluctant to let the wagon through.

'Mind you keep it off the main highway,' he ordered, after much negotiation. 'There's still a chance that the lord Sheriff might arrive before curfew.'

In reply to my companions' questions, I explained about the outlaws and the state of fear pervading the countryside.

'However, I doubt his lordship will be here before tomorrow morning,' I said, as we climbed the hill towards Jacinta's tavern, 'but you'd do well to find a place for the cart where it won't impede the Law's progress when he and his sergeants finally appear.'

But this was easier said than done; the wagonette, although not big, was of sufficient width to block most of the alleyways, and the Priory porter expressed strong doubts about allowing it to stand in the courtyard.

'My Lord Sheriff will be received here, in the forecourt, and neither His Worship the Mayor nor Father Prior will wish to see it cluttered with a mummers' cart, in however obscure a corner. My advice is to return to the Foregate.'
 

'What about the castle?' I suggested to Martin. 'After all, that's where you're bound.'

But the officer of the garrison was also discouraging.

'Alas, no entertainment this evening, my friends,' he said, looking sadly at the painted cart. 'Any other time but now, and we'd have welcomed you with open arms. But the lord Sheriff, whenever he arrives, will expect to find us fresh and alert, and we'd not be that after a night's carousal; for what's an entertainment without drink to go with it? Nor can I offer hope for tomorrow, for we'll be off chasing these damned wolf-heads as soon as his lordship gives the word.' 'We'd best get back to the Foregate,' Peter Coucheneed sighed, 'and be on our way first thing in the morning. There's no custom for us here. We've picked a bad time.' Martin and Luke Hoilis nodded in agreement, but I was not so despondent.

'Folks will be in need of cheering up when the posse has Ieft, and some of the townsmen with it. Stay for a day or two, and I think you'll have no regrets. There's good money to be made in a place like this, as I discovered. Many of the Burghers have well-lined pockets. As for the wagon, no call to make up your minds to lie outside the walls just yet. I have a friend in High Street who might let you use the outer courtyard of her house, where there's also stabling for the mule. The poor creature looks as though it's about to drop between the shafts.' And I briefly explained the circumstances, naming no names but that of Grizelda, and leaving unmentioned all that had gone before the burning of her cottage.

My suggestion was received with thankfulness, tempered by doubt that anyone would allow a band of strolling players within her pale, or be persuaded to take their honesty on trust when she knew nothing of them. But I said that my recommendation would guarantee their welcome, adding that with fear of the outlaws hanging over the town like a pall, Mistress Harbourne might well be glad of their company. I was less confident than I sounded, for Grizelda and I had parted on bad terms, but I was sanguine enough to hope that my humble apology would be accepted.

After some discussion, it was felt to be wisest if Martin and I went alone to make the necessary request, leaving Peter and Luke to sup ale in Jacinta's tavern, where we would rejoin them later.

'For you're her friend and Martin has a respectable face,' Luke said, adding frankly, 'Peter and I are like to scare her out of her wits if she sees us staring at her out of the dark.

God fashioned us both to make men laugh, but together, and at night, I don't deny we can be frightening.'

Both Martin and I refuted the claim vigorously, but in the end agreed that there might be some sense in the argument.

So, we went together to knock on Grizelda's door, where a torch in an iron holder at one side of the doorway had been lit, casting a smokey, amber glow across our faces. At least she would be able to recognize me without any difficulty.

It was some moments before she answered our summons, but at last the heavy oaken door swung inwards and Grizelda, a lantern held aloft in one hand, stood before us.

'Who's there?' she asked. 'What do you want?' Then the light from her lantern found me out and she stared in astonishment. 'Roger? What are you doing here? I thought you well on your way by now.'

'I came back,' I answered contritely, 'to beg your pardon. Once my temper had time to cool, I realized that you were only jesting.'

She made no reply and in the silence the lanternlight passed from my face to that of Martin Fletcher. 'Who's this?' she demanded.

I hastened to introduce him and explain our errand. 'He and his friends need shelter for the night for their mule and wagon. I thought you might be willing to stable both in the outer courtyard.'

'We'd be no trouble to you,' Martin assured her fervently.

'And we'd be gone as soon as the town gates open in the morning. But with these wolf-heads on the prowl, we don't fancy sleeping in the open ground of the Foregate.'
 

'There's a stockade to the south of the Pickle Moor,' she retorted.

I had not expected Grizelda to be so ungracious, particularly as she herself had just been a victim of the outlaws.

'A poor defence, broken in several places. And nothing to the north,' I reproached her.

She rewarded me with scarcely a glance, for the most part keeping both her eyes and the lanternlight fixed on Martin.

'I'm sorry,' she said, 'but I'm here alone. A woman has her reputation to think of. To be allowing three strange young men within her walls is to put it at risk, especially in this town, where there are eyes and ears at every casement.' I was astonished at the coldness of her manner, and realized that I must have hurt her far more deeply than I had imagined. I was about to argue the cause of Martin and his friends, when I became aware of a movement in the passageway behind her. It was tittle more than a shifting of the darkness, the faintest blur of whiteness denoting a face, but enough for me to feel sure that someone was there.

'Who's that?' I asked sharply, starting forward.

Grizelda whirled about, raising the lantern higher, sending long shadows dancing up the walls. But the passageway was empty. She turned on me fiercely.

'Why are you trying to frighten me?' she snapped.

'There was someone there,' I told her urgently. 'I saw him.' Why was I so certain that it had been a man? 'Martin! You must have noticed something.'

But my new acquaintance shook his head. 'The tight from the lantern was shining in my eyes.'

'Nevertheless, there was someone there,' I insisted. 'Grizelda, let me come in and search.'

'No!' She blocked the doorway with her body, but her voice softened a little. 'Roger, I know you mean well and that you are concerned for my safety, but you have allowed your imagination to get the better of you, just as you did last night. Oh, it's not altogether your fault. I accept my share of the responsibility. I should never have encouraged you to inquire into this business in the first place, but I was angry and griefstricken for my little innocents.'

'And now you are not?' My tone was icy.

'How can you ask such a question?' She reared her head. 'Do you think anything can ever assuage my grief? But I have come to accept that there is no mystery; that the simple explanation of how things happened is the right one.'
 

'This is a sudden conversion,' I flung at her angrily.

She sighed. 'Roger, I'm sorry. I suppose I always knew where the truth lay, but it was an indulgence to unburden myself to a sympathetic ear, and one I was unable to resist. Forgive me. But the events of the past night have made me realize how fragile our hold upon our destiny is. I must put the past behind me. Forget it, and look towards the future. So must you. You have a child, and by your own admission, you have been absent from Bristol many weeks. Return to her.' Grizelda held out her free hand. The harshness had gone from her face and there was a rueful gleam in her eyes. 'I'm not the woman for you. No, don't deny that the thought has crossed your mind once or twice during these past three days, as, I must confess, it has crossed mine. But we should not suit. Now, go away, go home, and forget me. I'm sorry I cannot accommodate your friend and his companions, but if I am to find a place as housekeeper in this town, then I dare not let my good name be sullied by even the merest suspicion of disorderly conduct.'

I took her fingers in mine and pressed them against my lips. I was ashamed of myself both for the way in which I had treated her earlier in the day, and for attributing vengeful motives to her.

'We'll be off,' I said, clapping Martin on the back, 'and trouble you no further.' But I could not help glancing over her shoulder, peering anxiously into the gloom of the passageway. Had I indeed seen someone lurking there? Or was Grizelda right, and was my imagination beginning to get the better of me? 'Take care,' I urged her, pressing her hand before releasing it.

She smiled. 'I promise.' She retreated from the threshold and closed the door.

Martin Fletcher turned curious eyes upon me, plainly sensing a story which he would dearly love to explore, but for the moment, his chief concern was for the safe bestowal of his wagon. Peter Coucheneed and Luke Hollis were equally dismayed with the failure of our mission.

'We must make haste and leave before the gates are closed,' Martin told them. 'There's nothing for it but to sleep in the Foregate. One of the cottagers will give us food and water for Clotilde.' And he tickled the mule affectionately behind the ears. 'Rogues and vagabonds like us can't be permitted to clutter up the streets of a respectable town.'

Meantime, Jacinta had emerged from the tavern to lure us back inside again, custom not being so brisk that she could afford to lose four young men set upon a convivial evening.

When she knew of the mummers' predicament, she was angry, but could offer no remedy. The ale-house was hemmed in on all sides by houses and the outer walls of the castle. She turned to me.

'And you, lad, where will you be sleeping, now that you've lost your former lodging'?' She eyed me up and down in a manner which made me most uneasy. 'You're welcome to find a bed here for the night, if you don't mind sharing a pallet with my son.'

I hurriedly declined the invitation, dismissing as unworthy the suspicion that the bed I would end up sharing might well be her own.

'I'll try the Priory guest-hall first,' I said, 'when I've seen my friends here safely beyond the walls.' And I set off downhill once again, walking beside the wagonette.

We were within yards of the East Gate when there was a sudden commotion, and a party of horsemen rode through, showing a fine disregard for the gatekeeper and anyone else who happened to be in their path. The central figure was richly attired and mounted on a handsome black gelding, its jingling harness glinting in the torchlight. Half a dozen other men, in jackets of thick green frieze and helmets of boiled , leather, were of only slightly less importance, in their own eyes at least, and one of them shouted for someone to run and fetch the Mayor. Behind these gentlemen, streamed a small cohort of servants. The lord Sheriff, having made all speed from Exeter, had arrived.

'I'll not get a bed in the Priory tonight,' I said to Martin, 'so I might as well come with you. I've acquaintances in the Foregate,' I added, thinking of Granny Prattle, 'where I might find a welcome.'

He nodded and drove the wagon forward. Its tail had barely cleared the archway when the bell rang for curfew, and the town gates creaked shut behind us.

By the time a sheltered nook had been found for the wagon, food and water obtained for the mule and I had knocked on the door of Granny Praule's cottage, it was growing late and we were all tired and hungry. I refused Granny's pressing invitation for us to sup with her, guessing from her granddaughter's worried expression that they did not have sufficient food on the shelves for four extra people. I accepted with gratitude, however, the offer of Bridget's mattress for the night, while she shared her grandmother's.