Read Online The Brothers of Glastonbury by Kate Sedley - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Sedley
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companion grunted. ‘The chest may still be locked,’ he said, ‘but I think I might know where Peter keeps the key.’
Chapter Five
Mark and I both rose at first light, neither of us able to sleep once the sun began to probe the shutters. We were glad to throw these latter wide to allow cool air into the stuffy bedchamber, before descending to the pump between the stable and the kitchen in order to wash away the soil and sweat of night.
While I waited for Mark to finish (for his ablutions naturally took precedence over mine) I seized the opportunity to examine the dusty earth, and noted that it had been scuffed over as if to erase all trace of footprints. I found this strange. Why should my companion have troubled to do this if his were the only ones to be seen?
Mark must have seen me looking at the ground, for he paused in the act of rubbing himself dry to ask edgily, ‘Have you found something?’ I pointed out my curious discovery and there was a moment’s hesitation before he said with forced jocularity, ‘Oh yes! I was just being over-cautious, I’m afraid. I thought the sight of footmarks might upset the women if one of them ventured outside this morning while I was still abed. As it turns out, of course –’ he shrugged and spread his hands – ‘we are up before them.’
It was an unconvincing explanation, but maybe just unconvincing enough to be true. For now, therefore, I accepted it, but determined nevertheless to keep a close eye on Mark. He had betrayed a hint of resentment when talking about his brother’s inheritance of their father’s second-best bed, which had aroused my ever-ready suspicions. Whether or not I was being unfair to him, only time would tell.
I washed and dried myself, cleaned my teeth with my willow bark and then went to the privy before rejoining Mark in his bedchamber. Fully dressed, I followed him downstairs again to the kitchen to eat breakfast and shave, using water heated by Lydia, the little maid. Seen in daylight, she appeared neither so pale nor so diminutive as she had done the previous evening, but even so, the top of her head barely reached to the middle of my upper arm. By contrast I seemed a giant, and her swift, delicate, birdlike movements made me feel awkward and gauche. The two apprentices, already seated at the table eating their oatmeal, were blear-eyed and only half-awake, tired after yesterday’s long and futile search. Dame Joan and Mistress Cicely had not yet put in an appearance.
While Lydia plied me with bread and ale, oatmeal cakes and a piece of fresh fish, I, too, fought against the desire for slumber. I had had a disturbed night after the fatiguing ride from Farleigh Castle and could willingly have crawled back between the sheets to sleep until noon. But I had work to do, and the sooner I buckled down to it, the sooner I should be free to continue my journey to Bristol.
It was one of the perversities of my nature – and, I suspect, a common characteristic of most people – that, while I had been free to do as I pleased and go wherever the fancy took me I had had little desire to return home, but as soon as I had committed myself to the concerns of others I longed to see my daughter and mother-in-law again. However, I had promised my services to Dame Joan and Mistress Cicely and could not now go back on my word. And I was unable to suppress entirely the thrill of anticipation which always gripped me when faced with an apparently unsolvable problem – and one, moreover, which might prove perilous. If, in this particular case, magic and witchcraft were involved in Peter Gildersleeve’s disappearance, then I could do nothing except guard myself as best I could from the evil spirits responsible. But I did not really believe that God would lead me into that kind of danger; bodily danger, yes, but surely He would not imperil my immortal soul!
When we had both finished shaving, I suggested to Mark that I should inspect his brother’s chest of
Chapter Five
Mark and I both rose at first light, neither of us able to sleep once the sun began to probe the shutters. We were glad to throw these latter wide to allow cool air into the stuffy bedchamber, before descending to the pump between the stable and the kitchen in order to wash away the soil and sweat of night.
While I waited for Mark to finish (for his ablutions naturally took precedence over mine) I seized the opportunity to examine the dusty earth, and noted that it had been scuffed over as if to erase all trace of footprints. I found this strange. Why should my companion have troubled to do this if his were the only ones to be seen?
Mark must have seen me looking at the ground, for he paused in the act of rubbing himself dry to ask edgily, ‘Have you found something?’ I pointed out my curious discovery and there was a moment’s hesitation before he said with forced jocularity, ‘Oh yes! I was just being over-cautious, I’m afraid. I thought the sight of footmarks might upset the women if one of them ventured outside this morning while I was still abed. As it turns out, of course –’ he shrugged and spread his hands – ‘we are up before them.’
It was an unconvincing explanation, but maybe just unconvincing enough to be true. For now, therefore, I accepted it, but determined nevertheless to keep a close eye on Mark. He had betrayed a hint of resentment when talking about his brother’s inheritance of their father’s second-best bed, which had aroused my ever-ready suspicions. Whether or not I was being unfair to him, only time would tell.
I washed and dried myself, cleaned my teeth with my willow bark and then went to the privy before rejoining Mark in his bedchamber. Fully dressed, I followed him downstairs again to the kitchen to eat breakfast and shave, using water heated by Lydia, the little maid. Seen in daylight, she appeared neither so pale nor so diminutive as she had done the previous evening, but even so, the top of her head barely reached to the middle of my upper arm. By contrast I seemed a giant, and her swift, delicate, birdlike movements made me feel awkward and gauche. The two apprentices, already seated at the table eating their oatmeal, were blear-eyed and only half-awake, tired after yesterday’s long and futile search. Dame Joan and Mistress Cicely had not yet put in an appearance.
While Lydia plied me with bread and ale, oatmeal cakes and a piece of fresh fish, I, too, fought against the desire for slumber. I had had a disturbed night after the fatiguing ride from Farleigh Castle and could willingly have crawled back between the sheets to sleep until noon. But I had work to do, and the sooner I buckled down to it, the sooner I should be free to continue my journey to Bristol.
It was one of the perversities of my nature – and, I suspect, a common characteristic of most people – that, while I had been free to do as I pleased and go wherever the fancy took me I had had little desire to return home, but as soon as I had committed myself to the concerns of others I longed to see my daughter and mother-in-law again. However, I had promised my services to Dame Joan and Mistress Cicely and could not now go back on my word. And I was unable to suppress entirely the thrill of anticipation which always gripped me when faced with an apparently unsolvable problem – and one, moreover, which might prove perilous. If, in this particular case, magic and witchcraft were involved in Peter Gildersleeve’s disappearance, then I could do nothing except guard myself as best I could from the evil spirits responsible. But I did not really believe that God would lead me into that kind of danger; bodily danger, yes, but surely He would not imperil my immortal soul!
When we had both finished shaving, I suggested to Mark that I should inspect his brother’s chest of
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