Read Online The Saltergate Psalter by Chris Nickson - Free Book Online

jakes, his fingers felt large and fumbling, like an old man.
    With a bowl of bean and barley pottage in his belly, he left the house. People were already up and around, workers gathered round a fire outside the church. He passed in the shadows of first light, his boots light on the ground as he walked down Soutergate in his shirt and hose. By the time he reached the bottom he was out of breath.
    He stopped at the bridge, hands resting on the cold stones of the parapet, and watched the flow of the River Hipper below, trying to piece together what had happened on Saturday night. They’d taken him by surprise.
    ‘What are you doing, John?’
    He turned to see Walter standing by his side; he’d been too lost in his musings to hear his approach. The boy smiled apologetically.
    ‘What are you doing here?’
    ‘I followed you. Do you mind?’
    ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Not at all.’ With his good right hand he pointed downstream. ‘That’s where I climbed out. I’m just trying to remember as much as I can.’
    He stood silently for a little while. There were images, flashes, but nothing more. Maybe it would all return in time; maybe not. Finally he sighed and clapped Walter on the shoulder.
    ‘Let’s go and see the coroner. Maybe he’s learned more about where Edward and his friend might be.’
    ‘I thought we were finished with this.’
    ‘We are,’ John told him with a grin. ‘But I’m like anyone else, I want to know the tale.’
    • • •
    As they walked into the yard on the High Street, they could hear raised voices, the coroner shouting somewhere inside the house. John put a finger to his lips, standing and waiting until there was silence.
    ‘Should we go, John?’ Walter asked.
    ‘No.’ He knew de Harville’s temper; it was like quicksilver, always shifting from one mood to another. Another minute and his anger would have evaporated. He knocked on the door, and they were ushered in by a serving girl who was wiping the tears from her cheeks. The coroner was alone in the hall, sitting with his boots up on the table and peeling a dried apple from last autumn with his knife.
    ‘Able to drag yourself out of bed today, Carpenter?’ There was a hard edge to his voice.
    ‘Yes, Master.’
    ‘The dog and his pup together. Come to hear what happened?’
    ‘I’d like to know.’
    ‘It’s simple enough. Your butcher has gone to ground. For all I know, he might have left Chesterfield altogether. He’d better, if he has a whit of sense.’
    ‘Have you sent people out searching?’
    De Harville took tight hold of the knife and plunged the point into the scarred wood. ‘I’m not a fool. Don’t go telling me my job.’
    ‘What about the other man?’ John persisted. ‘Did you find a name for him?’
    ‘We did,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘The monk wrote it down.’
    He’d find Brother Robert later; he wanted to know.
    ‘I still don’t understand it–’
    ‘You don’t need to,’ the coroner cut him off. ‘They’ve already shown their guilt. But we still need to hoist them on the gallows. And I told you to find them.’
    ‘Me?’ he answered in astonishment. ‘I can’t if they’ve gone. Master.’
    ‘Can’t?’ De Harville tilted his head. ‘Didn’t I give you a job, Carpenter? I expect you to finish it. Or have you become a poor workman?’
    Inside, John bristled.
    ‘I did what you asked,’ he replied coldly.
    The coroner pulled the knife out of the wood and pointed it at him. ‘The job isn’t finished yet.’
    ‘I can’t go chasing all over the county for them.’ The man knew that just as well as he did.
    ‘Then find out if they’re still in Chesterfield.’ His anger flashed briefly, then he smiled. ‘I’m sure you could do that.’ He selected another apple and began to peel it with fierce concentration. ‘You have your orders, Carpenter.’
    John looked at Walter. He left the room, the boy close behind.
    Outside, he hunted for Brother Robert, and found him in the stable,