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Read Online [Roger the Chapman 02] - The Plymouth Cloak by Kate Sedley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Sedley
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constant activity, and such a state of idleness did not agree with our constitution.
Over and above that, however, the Falcon's failure to arrive on time was an irritating delay which we could well have done without, disliking as we did each other' s company. But even that we might have endured with stoicism - for there are many reasons why a ship can be detained at sea - had it not been for my growing conviction that someone had been spying on us at the quayside.
My first inclination had been to blame an overheated imagination, but the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I had indeed seen a man loitering in the mouth of the alleyway.
'Then where did he go?" Philip demanded, with all the truculence of one willing himself not to believe. 'You say that when you looked, there was no one there.'
'There were plenty of houses for him to step inside, on both sides of the street.'
Philip Underdown snorted. 'Hovels, all of them. A finical man like our friend from the Abbey would be disinclined to trust himself inside one of those.' He laughed mockingly. 'He might dirty his fine clothes.'
But he was talking to convince himself. He knew as well as I did that if the man were a hired assassin, or a Woodville retainer, the fine clothes and delicate deportment were nothing more than a blind to mislead us. Such a man would not be put off by the consideration of muddying his dress.
These thoughts continued to haunt us throughout the evening, and proved the basis for a spasmodic, but acrimonious, discussion as we sat in our bedchamber, listening to the shouts and noisy laughter drifting up from the aleroom downstairs. And although these grated on our overstretched nerves, the comparative silence which followed the curfew bell was even worse. We finished the ale which the obliging Moll had brought us, and decided that it was time to sleep, neither of us anticipating much success.
Strangely enough, I was asleep almost before my head touched the pillow, but immediately I began to dream. It was the same dream ! had had a month or so earlier, in the Hospital of St Cross, in Winchester. I could again feel the wind on my face as I walked slowly forward beneath the interlacing trees, see the crescent moon above the clouds, feel the rough, stony path beneath my feet. And I was seized by the same all-pervading fear as I stumbled over the body...
I awoke once more in a state of sweat and panic, unsure for the moment of my surroundings. Then I heaved myself out of bed and crossed the room to open the shutters, which gave on to the yard at the back of the inn, taking in great gulps of salt sea air.
'What is it? What's the matter?'
I turned my head to make out Philip Underdown, his feet already out of bed, his dagger clasped in his right hand.
'Nothing,' I said, feeling rather foolish. 'A nightmare, that's all. I've suffered from them since childhood.' My description was not strictly accurate, but I felt that to tell the truth, that my dreams were often like glimpses into the future, would be to lay myself open to even more of his contempt and scorn. As it was, he laughed derisively before lying down again.
'An uneasy conscience, perhaps,' he suggested, not without malice.
'Perhaps.' I was in no mood to argue. I leaned out to reclose the shutters, when I noticed, for the first time, the slip of crescent moon hanging above the chimney-pots of the town. The sense of foreboding gripped me yet again and I shivered. A breeze had sprung up, blowing in from the harbour, and as I reached for the second shutter, the noise of creaking wood sounded from somewhere below me. Glancing down, I saw that the shutters of the room immediately under ours were swinging wide on their hinges. Someone had prised them open in order to enter the inn.
'He's here!' I hissed at Philip. 'He's in the house! There's no time to get help or try to trap him. Push one of the beds across the door.'
He needed no second bidding; and even as we manoeuvred
Over and above that, however, the Falcon's failure to arrive on time was an irritating delay which we could well have done without, disliking as we did each other' s company. But even that we might have endured with stoicism - for there are many reasons why a ship can be detained at sea - had it not been for my growing conviction that someone had been spying on us at the quayside.
My first inclination had been to blame an overheated imagination, but the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I had indeed seen a man loitering in the mouth of the alleyway.
'Then where did he go?" Philip demanded, with all the truculence of one willing himself not to believe. 'You say that when you looked, there was no one there.'
'There were plenty of houses for him to step inside, on both sides of the street.'
Philip Underdown snorted. 'Hovels, all of them. A finical man like our friend from the Abbey would be disinclined to trust himself inside one of those.' He laughed mockingly. 'He might dirty his fine clothes.'
But he was talking to convince himself. He knew as well as I did that if the man were a hired assassin, or a Woodville retainer, the fine clothes and delicate deportment were nothing more than a blind to mislead us. Such a man would not be put off by the consideration of muddying his dress.
These thoughts continued to haunt us throughout the evening, and proved the basis for a spasmodic, but acrimonious, discussion as we sat in our bedchamber, listening to the shouts and noisy laughter drifting up from the aleroom downstairs. And although these grated on our overstretched nerves, the comparative silence which followed the curfew bell was even worse. We finished the ale which the obliging Moll had brought us, and decided that it was time to sleep, neither of us anticipating much success.
Strangely enough, I was asleep almost before my head touched the pillow, but immediately I began to dream. It was the same dream ! had had a month or so earlier, in the Hospital of St Cross, in Winchester. I could again feel the wind on my face as I walked slowly forward beneath the interlacing trees, see the crescent moon above the clouds, feel the rough, stony path beneath my feet. And I was seized by the same all-pervading fear as I stumbled over the body...
I awoke once more in a state of sweat and panic, unsure for the moment of my surroundings. Then I heaved myself out of bed and crossed the room to open the shutters, which gave on to the yard at the back of the inn, taking in great gulps of salt sea air.
'What is it? What's the matter?'
I turned my head to make out Philip Underdown, his feet already out of bed, his dagger clasped in his right hand.
'Nothing,' I said, feeling rather foolish. 'A nightmare, that's all. I've suffered from them since childhood.' My description was not strictly accurate, but I felt that to tell the truth, that my dreams were often like glimpses into the future, would be to lay myself open to even more of his contempt and scorn. As it was, he laughed derisively before lying down again.
'An uneasy conscience, perhaps,' he suggested, not without malice.
'Perhaps.' I was in no mood to argue. I leaned out to reclose the shutters, when I noticed, for the first time, the slip of crescent moon hanging above the chimney-pots of the town. The sense of foreboding gripped me yet again and I shivered. A breeze had sprung up, blowing in from the harbour, and as I reached for the second shutter, the noise of creaking wood sounded from somewhere below me. Glancing down, I saw that the shutters of the room immediately under ours were swinging wide on their hinges. Someone had prised them open in order to enter the inn.
'He's here!' I hissed at Philip. 'He's in the house! There's no time to get help or try to trap him. Push one of the beds across the door.'
He needed no second bidding; and even as we manoeuvred
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