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here since his boyhood. He corresponds with his sister, however, and knew that my father had died the year before last. He was even able to tell me the terms of the will.’ (The sister was plainly the sort of informant every brother would wish to have.) ‘Naturally, I settled my affairs in the east and started out for home the very next day. And so here I am, come to claim my inheritance. I can only hope that my mother and brother will be better pleased to see me than you are.’ But even as he voiced this pious wish, Anthony Bellknapp glanced at me and pulled a comical grimace.
    â€˜Then you’re more of a fool than I took you for,’ Sir Damien snapped, ‘and all I can say is that I’m glad I shan’t be present to witness the meeting between you and young Simon. He’ll be in a state to cut your throat, so I’d watch out if I were you.’
    Anthony laughed openly. ‘What you mean, dear brother-in-law, is that you’d like to see him try. No, no! You’d like to see him succeed. Then I’d be dead, he’d be hanged and Ursula would become my father’s sole heir.’
    â€˜Nothing of the sort,’ the knight answered austerely. ‘Ursula’s dowry was more than adequate.’
    The younger man straightened his back and stretched. ‘Oh, I know that. But enough is never quite enough, my dear Damien, now is it?’
    â€˜I’m returning to bed,’ the knight replied. ‘I trust you’ll have the good manners to be gone before I get up in the morning.’ And he mounted the short flight of stairs to the spare bedchamber over the aleroom with a stateliness and outraged dignity it was a joy to behold. At least, I thought so, and, judging by the grin on his face, so did Master Bellknapp.
    â€˜What a piece of work he is!’ he exclaimed. ‘He hasn’t changed at all in eight years.’
    The landlord followed his wife out to the kitchen, and while they were absent, we were joined by Anthony Bellknapp’s servant, who announced that he had watered and fed their two horses and seen them settled for the night. He was a tow-headed lad, whose eastern counties speech fell oddly on my ears, and who smelled powerfully of sweat and bad breath. Nobody else seemed to notice, however, and Sir Damien’s squire and page came creeping back to the fire where they were soon in conversation with the young man, whose name, we learned, was Humphrey Attleborough. Anthony Bellknapp leaned forward on his stool, hands dangling between his knees, apparently listening to their idle chatter, but in reality, as I could see by his glazed expression, miles away in his thoughts.
    I wondered what he was thinking about, although it took little imagination to guess. He had to be speculating on the nature of his reception at Croxcombe Manor when he arrived there the following day. If he had been entertaining a wild hope that he might be welcomed by mother and brother after his long absence, Sir Damien’s attitude must have warned him to expect the worst. And there was yet more grief to come when he discovered that his beloved Jenny Applegarth was dead, brutally murdered. Master Litton’s quickness of mind had prevented him learning the truth tonight, but it had only postponed the evil day.
    The landlord reappeared, as though summoned by my thoughts, carrying two bowls of broth and the heel of a loaf which he handed to the new arrivals. Then he bade us goodnight and withdrew. I once again wrapped myself in my cloak and lay down beside Hercules, suddenly realizing how very tired I was after the exertions of the day, and hoped that the other four would soon follow suit. But I need not have worried. I had been up before dawn and covered, by my reckoning, a good eight miles before being rattled and jolted another eight in the turf carrier’s cart over rutted tracks baked hard in the summer heat. The voices of squire and page, master and manservant