Read Online A Trail of Ink by Mel Starr - Free Book Online

already.”
    “The cook will find something for me, I think.”
    “The capon is fat. You shall dine with father and me.
    Kate spoke this not as an invitation, but as a conviction. A capon seemed to me an improvement to the usual pottage and loaf at Canterbury Hall. I made no objection.
    We walked through the Smithgate on to Holywell Street but forty paces from Caxton’s shop. As we did a figure appeared in the door, leaving the place. The man was tall, with a close-trimmed dark beard, wore particolored chauces, a green cotehardie, and a yellow liripipe coiled about his head.
    Sir Simon Trillowe saw us approach and frowned mightily, so that his dark brows met above his nose. He took no step in our direction but stood fast before the shop and observed us through narrowed eyes.
    “Sir Simon,” I greeted him with a bow.
    Trillowe made no reply to me, but turned to Kate and spoke. “Mistress Kate… your father said you were out. Perhaps I am too late to ask if we might walk again along the Cherwell?”
    “Aye, Sir Simon. I am needed this afternoon in the shop.”
    Trillowe smiled grimly at Kate, glared at me, and strode west toward Canditch and the castle.
    It was well past noon and the bell at the Augustinian Friary rang for nones when Kate, her father, and I sat at the workroom table for our dinner. The capon had stewed all morning in a broth with turnips and leeks and was delicious. I did not wish to be thought a glutton, so contented myself with a modest portion. But when I had finished Kate spooned out another helping to my bowl. I protested, but she knew it was but for courtesy and ladled the bowl full. Robert Caxton looked up from his own spoon with a benign expression. I was pleased that the stationer did not seem to think I was presuming upon either his dinner or his good nature.

    While we ate Kate told her father of the injured thatcher and my ministrations to him.
    “‘Tis a good thing to be able to help men so,” Caxton affirmed between bites of turnip. “My back seems now good as ever since you drew the splinter from it.”
    “Father kept the splinter,” Kate laughed, “and shows it to all who are willing to hear the tale of his wound.”
    I was pleased to learn that word of my skills might thus become known, but it seems unlikely that an injured man would forsake the physicians and surgeons of Oxford to seek me at Bampton. It is good when men speak well of you, even if no profit follow.
    I was reluctant to leave the stationer’s shop when the meal was done. Had you seen Kate and spent time in her presence you would understand. I have written these words before. They bear repeating. And lurking in my mind was an apprehension that Sir Simon might return while I was away.
    Nevertheless I bid Kate and her father “good bye” - after praising the meal. Kate can cause a man to forget himself, but I kept enough of my wits about me that I remembered to thank her for dinner.
    Only after I left the stationer’s shop did I think of Arthur. I have written that Kate had such an effect upon me. Perhaps Arthur had gone to the stables behind the Stag and Hounds and seen to our horses. Then he might have dined at the inn. Or perhaps he returned to Canterbury Hall and was fed there. I set my feet toward Canterbury Hall. If I did not find Arthur there, he might return later and find me.
    I found him. Arthur had drawn a bench from the guest chamber and sat upon it against the chamber wall, drowsing in the afternoon sun. I might have some worry for his welfare, but it was clear he had little concern for mine. Considering the company in which he last saw me, this was understandable.

    Arthur became aware of my approach, and jerked upright when he saw me. He seemed abashed that I had found him lazing in the sun, but I hold nothing against a man who seeks the simple pleasures God provides when no duty calls him.
    “Are the horses well?” I asked.
    “Aye. They be fine. An’ Mistress Kate?” Arthur