Read Online The Law of Angels by Cassandra Clark - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cassandra Clark
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sprinkled with grey, fastidiously clipped, he now inclined his head. “Forgive me, sister. We don’t stand on ceremony in this town of ours. Maybe you need permission to mix so freely with us poor sinners?”
“I make up my own mind what I do.” Seeing his startled expression she added, “Within the Rule, of course. And nothing would please me more than to have a few words with you and the lord steward.”
Now would be a chance to get Ulf by himself and explain what had happened to Lord Roger’s property. If she could tell him the full story it might help soften the blow when Roger learned of it.
“But this chantry?” she continued as they went outside after she had made a hasty offering. “Is it for the repose of his own soul that Lord Roger’s going to such expense?” It was the first she had heard of any such thing. Brother Thomas hadn’t breathed a word.
“Sadly no. It’s for his father, Earl Robert. He died this Candlemas past.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. The news hadn’t reached us.” She frowned. She knew Roger had been fond of his father, even though the old man, in his nineties, an extraordinary age, had rarely left his castle on the coast up beyond Hartlepool for the last twenty years. To have a chantry built expressed the depth of Roger’s sorrow. But it showed the depth of her sequestration in the wilds that no word of it had reached her.
They walked along the street a little way and eventually entered a short alley leading into a yard. They came to a stop outside a house with a glaziers’ sign above the door: two crossed grozing irons on a blue ground. They had been followed from the church by a lad with rumpled hair whom Hildegard took to be the master’s apprentice. When she saw him in a proper light she judged him to be about twenty, nearing the end, then, of his apprenticeship with only a year or two to go.
The glazier followed her glance. “My apprentice, young Jankin,” he confirmed. “And I’m Master Edric Danby,” he introduced himself, adding proudly, “Guildmaster.”
A townsman of some standing then.
“I’m delighted to have a chance to talk to you. We sisters are somewhat starved for news. I didn’t realise what an excitement the Corpus Christi pageant was going to be. The crowds are already impressive—”
“And that’s Sister Hildegard’s voice and quite impressive itself!” called a man’s voice from close by. Ulf, Lord Roger’s steward, appeared in the doorway of the house, his head bent to avoid hitting it on the lintel. “What the devil are you doing out of Deepdale?” he demanded with a grin.
“Selling beeswax to Master Stapylton,” she told him, avoiding any mention of the disaster that had really brought her to town until she could talk to him in private. “But Master Danby has just told me Roger’s father died?”
Ulf turned his mouth down. “Poor old fella. But he had a good run as they say. Roger’s cut up, of course, even though he now gets the title.”
As if to make up for being ignored the master glazier made a sweeping gesture with one arm. “I’d deem it a privilege if you stepped inside, sister. You may better catch up on events over a mug of wine.”
“And you can cast your eye over the picture Lady Melisen wants the master here to turn into a window,” added Ulf. There was a strange gleam in his eyes that caused Hildegard to guess that something was going on. As Ulf didn’t elucidate she prepared herself for the unexpected.
The apprentice followed them inside.
Ulf hasn’t changed much, she was thinking as they took their places around a table in the window overlooking the yard.
It had been a year since they had last met and he was still the same affable fellow she had known all her life. Tall and broad-shouldered with an easy loose-limbed way of moving, even as a boy he had the look of somebody who could take care of themselves in any situation. It wasn’t surprising he had become Lord Roger’s right-hand man.
“I make up my own mind what I do.” Seeing his startled expression she added, “Within the Rule, of course. And nothing would please me more than to have a few words with you and the lord steward.”
Now would be a chance to get Ulf by himself and explain what had happened to Lord Roger’s property. If she could tell him the full story it might help soften the blow when Roger learned of it.
“But this chantry?” she continued as they went outside after she had made a hasty offering. “Is it for the repose of his own soul that Lord Roger’s going to such expense?” It was the first she had heard of any such thing. Brother Thomas hadn’t breathed a word.
“Sadly no. It’s for his father, Earl Robert. He died this Candlemas past.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. The news hadn’t reached us.” She frowned. She knew Roger had been fond of his father, even though the old man, in his nineties, an extraordinary age, had rarely left his castle on the coast up beyond Hartlepool for the last twenty years. To have a chantry built expressed the depth of Roger’s sorrow. But it showed the depth of her sequestration in the wilds that no word of it had reached her.
They walked along the street a little way and eventually entered a short alley leading into a yard. They came to a stop outside a house with a glaziers’ sign above the door: two crossed grozing irons on a blue ground. They had been followed from the church by a lad with rumpled hair whom Hildegard took to be the master’s apprentice. When she saw him in a proper light she judged him to be about twenty, nearing the end, then, of his apprenticeship with only a year or two to go.
The glazier followed her glance. “My apprentice, young Jankin,” he confirmed. “And I’m Master Edric Danby,” he introduced himself, adding proudly, “Guildmaster.”
A townsman of some standing then.
“I’m delighted to have a chance to talk to you. We sisters are somewhat starved for news. I didn’t realise what an excitement the Corpus Christi pageant was going to be. The crowds are already impressive—”
“And that’s Sister Hildegard’s voice and quite impressive itself!” called a man’s voice from close by. Ulf, Lord Roger’s steward, appeared in the doorway of the house, his head bent to avoid hitting it on the lintel. “What the devil are you doing out of Deepdale?” he demanded with a grin.
“Selling beeswax to Master Stapylton,” she told him, avoiding any mention of the disaster that had really brought her to town until she could talk to him in private. “But Master Danby has just told me Roger’s father died?”
Ulf turned his mouth down. “Poor old fella. But he had a good run as they say. Roger’s cut up, of course, even though he now gets the title.”
As if to make up for being ignored the master glazier made a sweeping gesture with one arm. “I’d deem it a privilege if you stepped inside, sister. You may better catch up on events over a mug of wine.”
“And you can cast your eye over the picture Lady Melisen wants the master here to turn into a window,” added Ulf. There was a strange gleam in his eyes that caused Hildegard to guess that something was going on. As Ulf didn’t elucidate she prepared herself for the unexpected.
The apprentice followed them inside.
Ulf hasn’t changed much, she was thinking as they took their places around a table in the window overlooking the yard.
It had been a year since they had last met and he was still the same affable fellow she had known all her life. Tall and broad-shouldered with an easy loose-limbed way of moving, even as a boy he had the look of somebody who could take care of themselves in any situation. It wasn’t surprising he had become Lord Roger’s right-hand man.
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