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Authors: Kate Sedley
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herself hurriedly, signing to me to do the same - 'she could take no more, not even to protect her little darlings. She packed her box and summoned Jack Carter to take her home to Bow Creek.
'She left the children playing upstairs, but within two hours of her departure, they had vanished, in spite of the fact of that both Bridget Praule and Agatha Tenter swore it was impossible for them to have quit the house unseen. Their bodies were discovered, horribly mutilated, six weeks later, caught in some branches on the banks of the Harbourne; downstream, a mile or so from where it flows into the Dart.' The innkeeper swallowed some of my ale, her hand shaking so much that a few drops spilled from the cup on to the table, her face sallow and glistening with sweat. 'They had been murdered by the outlaws.' She gripped my wrist. 'But how had they wandered so far without anyone noticing them? How had they got out of the house when every door was within view of one or other of the servants? It could only have been by witchcraft, practised by that devil, Eudo Colet!'
'But it seems he's not been arrested on any such charge,' I pointed out. 'And the authorities would most surely have acted, had there been any proof of malpractice against him. Where was he when the children vanished? How old were they? There's so much I still don't understand.'
She answered my last question first. 'The boy, Andrew, was the elder. Six summers he'd seen, and looking forward to his seventh when he was so wickedly cut down. His sister, Mary, was a twelvemonth younger, and as pretty a little soul as you could wish to see this side of heaven. Eyes as blue as periwinkles and hair the colour of ripened corn. She took after her mother in looks, but was without the waywardness. A little angel, and her brother not much short of one; the children of Rosamund Crouchback's first husband, Sir Henry Skelton.' I made no comment. In my experience, children, however good or placid, were rarely angelic. Recalling myself at that age, I knew I must have been a sore trial to my long-suffering mother; falling out of trees, tearing my clothes, stealing apples and playing rowdy games of football in the street.
'So, what of Eudo Colet?' I prompted, when my hostess seemed inclined to sink beneath the weight of maudlin reminiscence. 'Where was he when the children vanished?' It was beginning to grow dusk. A flame, licking at the edge of a log, sent the shadows soaring. The landlady roused herself and shrugged.
'Out of the house,' she grudgingly admitted, 'visiting Master Cozin on some affair of business. Business!' she added scornlully. 'What did he know of business, beyond how to spend the money it brought him? For you must understand that after Sir Jasper's death, his partner, Thomas Cozin, had seen to everything for Mistress Rosamund. And very well he'd done it, too, by all accounts: she grew wealthier by the day.
So no one was more dismayed than he, when she returned from London married to a man he knew nothing about. And never managed to know anything about, either, in spite of trying hard for information, like the rest of us. A mystery Eudo Colet was when she brought him home and a mystery he's remained.'
'But there's no mystery where he was when his stepchildren disappeared,' I interrupted gently. 'You say he was with Master Cozin, who, to my certain knowledge, is a respected burgher of this town. If he vouched for his visitor, I don't suppose anyone would doubt him.'
The innkeeper, who had risen to draw me another cup of ale and fill one for herself returned to the table. Her stool creaked protestingly as it again received her weight. She gave me a speaking look, drank deeply and wiped her mouth on her apron.
'That,' she hissed, 'is why I say it was witchcraft. Eudo Colet enlisted the help of the devil!' Once more, she made the sign of the cross.
I could see that I would be wasting my breath if I attempted to overcome her prejudice, so I merely asked, 'It's
'She left the children playing upstairs, but within two hours of her departure, they had vanished, in spite of the fact of that both Bridget Praule and Agatha Tenter swore it was impossible for them to have quit the house unseen. Their bodies were discovered, horribly mutilated, six weeks later, caught in some branches on the banks of the Harbourne; downstream, a mile or so from where it flows into the Dart.' The innkeeper swallowed some of my ale, her hand shaking so much that a few drops spilled from the cup on to the table, her face sallow and glistening with sweat. 'They had been murdered by the outlaws.' She gripped my wrist. 'But how had they wandered so far without anyone noticing them? How had they got out of the house when every door was within view of one or other of the servants? It could only have been by witchcraft, practised by that devil, Eudo Colet!'
'But it seems he's not been arrested on any such charge,' I pointed out. 'And the authorities would most surely have acted, had there been any proof of malpractice against him. Where was he when the children vanished? How old were they? There's so much I still don't understand.'
She answered my last question first. 'The boy, Andrew, was the elder. Six summers he'd seen, and looking forward to his seventh when he was so wickedly cut down. His sister, Mary, was a twelvemonth younger, and as pretty a little soul as you could wish to see this side of heaven. Eyes as blue as periwinkles and hair the colour of ripened corn. She took after her mother in looks, but was without the waywardness. A little angel, and her brother not much short of one; the children of Rosamund Crouchback's first husband, Sir Henry Skelton.' I made no comment. In my experience, children, however good or placid, were rarely angelic. Recalling myself at that age, I knew I must have been a sore trial to my long-suffering mother; falling out of trees, tearing my clothes, stealing apples and playing rowdy games of football in the street.
'So, what of Eudo Colet?' I prompted, when my hostess seemed inclined to sink beneath the weight of maudlin reminiscence. 'Where was he when the children vanished?' It was beginning to grow dusk. A flame, licking at the edge of a log, sent the shadows soaring. The landlady roused herself and shrugged.
'Out of the house,' she grudgingly admitted, 'visiting Master Cozin on some affair of business. Business!' she added scornlully. 'What did he know of business, beyond how to spend the money it brought him? For you must understand that after Sir Jasper's death, his partner, Thomas Cozin, had seen to everything for Mistress Rosamund. And very well he'd done it, too, by all accounts: she grew wealthier by the day.
So no one was more dismayed than he, when she returned from London married to a man he knew nothing about. And never managed to know anything about, either, in spite of trying hard for information, like the rest of us. A mystery Eudo Colet was when she brought him home and a mystery he's remained.'
'But there's no mystery where he was when his stepchildren disappeared,' I interrupted gently. 'You say he was with Master Cozin, who, to my certain knowledge, is a respected burgher of this town. If he vouched for his visitor, I don't suppose anyone would doubt him.'
The innkeeper, who had risen to draw me another cup of ale and fill one for herself returned to the table. Her stool creaked protestingly as it again received her weight. She gave me a speaking look, drank deeply and wiped her mouth on her apron.
'That,' she hissed, 'is why I say it was witchcraft. Eudo Colet enlisted the help of the devil!' Once more, she made the sign of the cross.
I could see that I would be wasting my breath if I attempted to overcome her prejudice, so I merely asked, 'It's
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