‘No, he intends to go straight back to London. The Queen’s expecting a child any time now. And he’s quite sure this time it will be a boy and nothing must go wrong.’
‘Good. As a matter of fact, I can’t see the King wanting to pay Fitzroy a visit. I can’t see him trusting him.’
‘He doesn’t trust anyone, Sheriff.’
‘Oh yes he does. He trusts you, my Lord. He knows you’d never make a traitor. You haven’t got the stomach for it.’
‘Thanks for the compliment, Sheriff. You certainly know how to put a man down. However, you’re right about me not being a traitor; but not because I’m a coward. With all his faults, King Henry will keep the country together. God knows what would happen if the Yorkists came back in power. We’d slip back into anarchy. Also, it’s a relief to have an easy conscience. At least I can sleep soundly at night.’
* * *
Sheriff Landstock left after a hearty midday meal. His two assistants carted Perkins and Bovet away to Marchester. Geoffrey grumbled about how much they’d depleted his stocks of food which he was building up for the King’s visit; and Nicholas thought about Jane’s visit that afternoon.
* * *
They both arrived together at the gate leading into the gardens. Nicholas took her hand and led her into the inner garden where the fruit trees were in full blossom and the spring flowers made bright punctuation marks in the lush green meadow grass. Nicholas took her over to a stone seat under the fruit trees and they sat down. Yesterday’s storm had passed away and the air was fresh and full of the scents of the newly washed plants. He looked at his beautiful assistant and once again felt that painful rush of fear at the thought that anything unpleasant could happen to her.
‘Jane, I think you should let this case drop now. You’ve been very useful to me, but now I think things are getting dangerous. Let the Sheriff and me find out who this Ultor is.’
She stared at him in blank astonishment and her face flushed scarlet. ‘I can’t back out now, Nicholas. I’m just as much involved in this as you are. You’ve lost a steward. I’ve lost a friend and could lose another if we’re not careful. Agnes is safe for the moment, but she can’t stay there for ever.’
‘She must stay there until we find Ultor. Have you been to see Agnes today?’
‘Of course. What kind of person do you think I am? Do you think I would let an old woman go without food and bedding? The monks won’t go near her, that’s for sure, and the villagers think she should be dragged out and hanged. The rumours haven’t stopped because the fire was put out. In fact they’ve got worse. People are now saying she started the fire herself to burn the evidence of her wicked spells. They think she’s in league with the devil, and they blame the Prior for sheltering her.’
‘Time’s running out. There’ll be no rest until we find Ultor. One thing’s clear, that’s for sure, he wants Agnes Myles silenced. And he’s setting about it in a devious way. He wants other people to do his work for him. He could’ve burned down her house with her in it, but no, he sets her shed on fire. Now why? Did he know she kept something in there which could incriminate him? I wonder … is the shed completely destroyed?’
‘I could check on my way home.’
‘I’ll come with you, Jane. Has Agnes said anything to you, yet?’
‘Of course not. The poor soul’s been frightened out of her mind. She can’t remember anything at the moment, except what happened to Ambrose and the fire. But I’ll keep trying.’
‘And Jane, take care. If it gets around that you are seeing Agnes regularly, then your life could be in real danger. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’
He took hold of her hands and examined her slender fingers one by one. ‘These hands are made to play the lute, not to put out fires. One day, when this is all over, Jane, you must come here and play just to me. And we will talk of music and dancing and love, and forget all these horrors.’
She flashed him a smile and withdrew her hands. ‘I would love that, Nicholas, but there’s just one small problem.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘I’ve got an old and crabby father whom I happen to love, but who loathes the gentry. You’ll have to get round him first before he’ll let me come up here and play music to you. He’s trying to find me a nice respectable wool merchant, someone he can gossip with; someone who won’t make him feel inferior.’
‘We can soon put a stop to all that. He can call me Nicholas like you do.’
‘That’ll be the day, my Lord,’ she said, her eyes twinkling. ‘Maybe he’ll mellow as he gets older. But let’s get down to Agnes’s cottage.’
* * *
They rode together down to the village. Thyme Cottage hadn’t been touched by the fire, but the shed was almost destroyed. Only a couple of corner posts were still standing looking like two blackened teeth. They picked their way over the charred wood and the smashed bottles, their contents spilled out and congealed on the floor. There was nothing here that they could salvage.
‘I don’t know what she kept in here. I don’t think she ever made an inventory, but I think there was a row of pottery jars on a shelf over there. There’s no sign of them now. Of course, Agnes could have rearranged her stock before the fire, but I think that someone knew what was in those jars and came back after the fire was over and took them away. Anyway, there’s nothing left now.’
‘It sounds like Ultor wanted to destroy the evidence in those bottles. Maybe he came back in the early hours of the morning. Maybe he hid somewhere until everyone had gone home. Damn, how stupid I’ve been! I should’ve put a guard on the house.’
‘You weren’t to know there was anything important to steal in the shed. After all, it was completely destroyed. I wonder if Agnes can remember anything about the contents of those jars. Nicholas, I pray to God that she’s safe in her little room.’
‘It must be the safest place in the county, Jane. She’s in a strongly built room with no outside window, attached to a Priory. And you have the key.’
‘You’re quite right. I’ll try not to worry about her. But I’m terrified he might strike again.’
They stood there looking at the blackened heap of rubbish that was once Agnes’s apothecary’s store. The shadows were creeping across the garden; evening was drawing in. Jane shivered.
‘Who is this Ultor, Nicholas? He’s clever, literate and ruthless. He’ll not hesitate to get rid of an old woman who might be a witness.’
‘And he’s devious,’ said Nicholas. ‘And dangerous, Jane. He must never suspect you’re involved in all this.’
‘He’ll not suspect a feeble woman. I’m only doing what all charitable women do – visiting the sick. No, I don’t think I’m in any danger. You are much more vulnerable.’
‘He wants me alive, right enough. I’m necessary to his plans. After all, the King’s coming to stay in my house. Of course if, God forbid, he succeeds in his plotting, he’ll get rid of me later on.’
‘We must find him, Nicholas. But where do we go from here?’
‘You tell me, Jane.’
‘Me? But I’m only a feeble woman. How should I know?’
Chapter Twenty
‘Forty people!’ exclaimed Geoffrey Lowe.
‘At least,’ said Nicholas looking at him impatiently. ‘Oh stop panicking; you’re acting like an old woman. Use your imagination. This is the King we’re talking about. He’ll have at least ten personal servants; the Queen about the same. She’s expecting a child, remember, and will have extra ladies-in-waiting. Then there are the six yeomen, the King’s personal bodyguard. We must invite the Prior, the Sheriff plus two of his side-kicks; and then there’s Warrener. He’ll have to be invited, I suppose.’
‘Why the hell do we have to ask him?’
‘Because his daughter’s going to sing for us. Oh yes, that means Brother Benedict will have to come; and there’ll be some musicians as well. Damn! That means we ought to ask the Bishop; but on second thoughts, no. There’s been enough trouble in the cathedral lately. So get it into your head that there’ll be at least forty people sitting down to dinner on the night of the seventh. Then don’t forget the servants and the lay brothers; they’ll want soup and small beer and cold meats.’