Read Online Death and the Cornish Fiddler by Deryn Lake - Free Book Online
Authors: Deryn Lake
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she’s ready.”
So saying they went into the street outside and looked around.
A goodly collection of men and boys, the youngest being about fourteen years of age, were heading up Coinage Hall Street, banging drums and various other noisy instruments. As well as bearing May blossom they also had greenery in their hats, together with great smiles and a deal of noisy laughter. John, again struck by the primitive sight, listened to another verse of the song.
“ Where are those Spaniards That make so great a boast O!
They shall eat the grey goose feather And we will eat the roast O!
In every land O!
The land where’er we go With Hal-an-tow O!
Jolly Rumble O!”
So there was a line in it that spoke of the Spanish Armada, while the grey goose feathers referred to the arrows of English archers.
Like the bowmen of Agincourt, thought John, and felt patriotic and proud.
On the opposite side of the street he could see Kathryn Pill and Isobel, clapping their hands noisily and making much of waving at the group of singers. Standing a little further down from them were the four cousins, Muriel Legassick, Tabitha Bligh, together with Gregory and Geoffrey Colquite. They seemed to have gathered several friends with them, including one large lady with a sweep of white hair beneath a huge hat, and very large, very sensual eyes. She caught the Apothecary gazing at her and gave him a slow secretive smile. Slightly disconcerted, John looked away.
Isobel was making the usual fuss, refusing to hold her mother’s hand and stamping her foot. Even while he watched her the child twisted out of Mrs Pill’s grip and ran into the crowd of singers, joining in their song with a “la la”, sung hopelessly out of tune.
“Isobel, come here,” shouted the mother, but to no avail. The child continued to dance along with the men, some of whom were annoyed, one or two smiling with embarrassment, but the majority frankly angry.
“Trust her ,” said John.
A big lad, tall and well built, leant down to the girl and said, “Move along, little lady. This be a man’s dance.” And he put his hand on her shoulder.
What happened next was unbelievable. Isobel turned on him like a savage dog and sunk her teeth into his flesh, drawing blood. The man let out a howl of pain and moved rapidly away, at which several of the other band of singers turned on the child.
“Out you little witch. Be off with you before we call the Constable.”
Isobel stood there looking defiant, then she poked out her tongue to its full length and ran as fast as her legs could carry her down the hill, out of Coinage Hall Street, and off in the general direction of Loe Pool. Kathryn, after a moment’s hesitation, followed in pursuit, shrieking, “Come here, Isobel. Come here!”
John, glad that he had Rose with him and a valid excuse not to join in the chase, said, “What a perfectly horrible child.”
“I’m not like that am I, Papa?”
“Not in the least I’m delighted to say.”
He picked Rose up and swung her onto his shoulders, “There. Can you see better?”
“Yes. Shall we follow the singers?”
“We certainly shall.”
“Won’t Mrs Elizabeth wonder where we are?”
“We’ll go back soon and have breakfast with her.”
“Oh good. Do you like her, Papa?”
How to explain to a young child that he had fallen in love with the Marchesa and was determined to somehow or other persuade her to marry him. Impossible, thought John, and simply answered “Yes, very much.”
“I like her too.”
But John was no longer concentrating, having just caught sight of Tim Painter making his way up the street at a strolling pace. So he had been down at the far end all along, unless he had joined Kathryn when she had gone running down in pursuit of Isobel. But if that were the case why had he come back alone? And where were the other two? Had he been on his own the Apothecary would have investigated further but a pressure on his shoulders told him that Rose was
So saying they went into the street outside and looked around.
A goodly collection of men and boys, the youngest being about fourteen years of age, were heading up Coinage Hall Street, banging drums and various other noisy instruments. As well as bearing May blossom they also had greenery in their hats, together with great smiles and a deal of noisy laughter. John, again struck by the primitive sight, listened to another verse of the song.
“ Where are those Spaniards That make so great a boast O!
They shall eat the grey goose feather And we will eat the roast O!
In every land O!
The land where’er we go With Hal-an-tow O!
Jolly Rumble O!”
So there was a line in it that spoke of the Spanish Armada, while the grey goose feathers referred to the arrows of English archers.
Like the bowmen of Agincourt, thought John, and felt patriotic and proud.
On the opposite side of the street he could see Kathryn Pill and Isobel, clapping their hands noisily and making much of waving at the group of singers. Standing a little further down from them were the four cousins, Muriel Legassick, Tabitha Bligh, together with Gregory and Geoffrey Colquite. They seemed to have gathered several friends with them, including one large lady with a sweep of white hair beneath a huge hat, and very large, very sensual eyes. She caught the Apothecary gazing at her and gave him a slow secretive smile. Slightly disconcerted, John looked away.
Isobel was making the usual fuss, refusing to hold her mother’s hand and stamping her foot. Even while he watched her the child twisted out of Mrs Pill’s grip and ran into the crowd of singers, joining in their song with a “la la”, sung hopelessly out of tune.
“Isobel, come here,” shouted the mother, but to no avail. The child continued to dance along with the men, some of whom were annoyed, one or two smiling with embarrassment, but the majority frankly angry.
“Trust her ,” said John.
A big lad, tall and well built, leant down to the girl and said, “Move along, little lady. This be a man’s dance.” And he put his hand on her shoulder.
What happened next was unbelievable. Isobel turned on him like a savage dog and sunk her teeth into his flesh, drawing blood. The man let out a howl of pain and moved rapidly away, at which several of the other band of singers turned on the child.
“Out you little witch. Be off with you before we call the Constable.”
Isobel stood there looking defiant, then she poked out her tongue to its full length and ran as fast as her legs could carry her down the hill, out of Coinage Hall Street, and off in the general direction of Loe Pool. Kathryn, after a moment’s hesitation, followed in pursuit, shrieking, “Come here, Isobel. Come here!”
John, glad that he had Rose with him and a valid excuse not to join in the chase, said, “What a perfectly horrible child.”
“I’m not like that am I, Papa?”
“Not in the least I’m delighted to say.”
He picked Rose up and swung her onto his shoulders, “There. Can you see better?”
“Yes. Shall we follow the singers?”
“We certainly shall.”
“Won’t Mrs Elizabeth wonder where we are?”
“We’ll go back soon and have breakfast with her.”
“Oh good. Do you like her, Papa?”
How to explain to a young child that he had fallen in love with the Marchesa and was determined to somehow or other persuade her to marry him. Impossible, thought John, and simply answered “Yes, very much.”
“I like her too.”
But John was no longer concentrating, having just caught sight of Tim Painter making his way up the street at a strolling pace. So he had been down at the far end all along, unless he had joined Kathryn when she had gone running down in pursuit of Isobel. But if that were the case why had he come back alone? And where were the other two? Had he been on his own the Apothecary would have investigated further but a pressure on his shoulders told him that Rose was
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