My hand was crushed in the giant’s until I could hear the bones crack, but there was no hint of recognition.
‘I’m obliged to you, sir, for providing my sister with congenial company.’ He shot a snide sidelong glance at his brother-in-law as he spoke, then turned to William Lackpenny. ‘And you, sir! You are. .?’
Jane Armiger introduced our travelling companion in a slightly breathless way that betrayed a sudden nervousness. Her brother glanced at her sharply, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He looked again, more openly this time, at Robert Armiger, but the latter was too wrapped up in his own complacency to imagine, even for a second, that his wife might prefer anyone else to him. In any case, I guessed he was bracing himself for the moment when Master Cook’s true position in the Duchess of York’s household would be revealed.
Meantime, Goliath was subjecting Will to close scrutiny. ‘Haven’t I seen you before somewhere, Master Lackpenny?’ he asked brusquely.
‘You may have,’ was the laconic reply. ‘At any rate, I’ve seen you. I’m a member of Sir Edward Woodville’s household and I was at the banquet at Baynard’s Castle the other night. I saw you when the Duke of Gloucester ordered you to be brought before him and his mother at the end of the meal in order to thank you personally for the magnificent feast you had provided. A gracious gesture, I thought, but certainly not undeserved. Every course was superb.’
His condescending manner was lost on Oliver Cook, who merely grinned and said with utter confidence, ‘I’m the best you’ll find anywhere. Although,’ he added disconsolately, ‘my remarkable talents are largely wasted in the duchess’s employ. She’s too penny-pinching since she embraced the religious life. One of these days, I shall be forced to accept one of the many offers I’m always receiving from other members of the nobility to cook for them.’ He released Will’s hand and nodded. ‘That must have been where I saw you, then. Although I wouldn’t have said I noticed anyone in particular. I mean on the lower tables, of course.’
My smart young gent coloured a little at having been so easily placed among the menials, but he said nothing. There was, after all, nothing he could say.
‘Well, Robert,’ Master Cook continued, throwing one huge arm about his brother-in-law’s shoulders, just as the landlord re-entered the parlour with a tray laden with food and a stoup of wine. ‘I can tell you’re pleased to see me.’ He shook with suppressed laughter. ‘Your expression is a picture, believe me.’ He turned to Eloise. ‘Robert doesn’t like admitting he married a cook’s sister. A cook’s daughter, if it comes to that. Our father was even better at his trade than I am, wasn’t he, Jane? And that is to say he was the very best of his generation. But Robert regards it as a lowly occupation and is secretly ashamed of not being able to resist a pretty face.’
I expected Master Armiger to bluster and deny the charge, but he didn’t. He just picked up his book again, hunched his shoulder towards the rest of us and went on reading. Goliath chuckled, pulled up a stool to the table and attacked the cold pigeon pie.
I took the opportunity to slip out of the parlour and cross the passage to the ale room, hoping to find John Bradshaw among its many occupants. It took me a few minutes to locate him, but I discovered him at last tucked into a discreet corner by the hearth, drinking steadily, but soberly, alongside Philip Lamprey, who seemed as morose as ever. As he glanced up and saw me struggling through the crowd towards his corner, Philip gave me what could only be construed as a look of desperation. He nudged his companion and muttered something before standing up and emptying his still half-full beaker of ale into the floor rushes.
‘Here, you c’n have my place, Roger,’ he muttered. When I protested, he said something about having to attend to the horses and had vanished into the rowdy throng before I could stop him.
I sighed, sitting down beside John on the narrow bench. ‘He’s no different, then?’ I groaned.
‘Give him time,’ John grunted. ‘What are you doing here? Masters don’t join their servants in the ale room. And by the way, while I think of it — ’ he lowered his voice, although no one could have overheard us in that din — ‘don’t forget to settle with the landlord about the lodging and maintenance of the horses while we’re in France. Pay him half whatever he asks and promise the rest on our return.’ I nodded, trying to look as though I had already worked it all out, when in fact I had given no thought whatsoever to the animals or what was to become of them during our absence. John went on, ‘So? Why have you come to find me? What’s happened now?’
I explained about the arrival of Oliver Cook and his relationship to Mistress Armiger and reminded him of the story of my own fraught encounter with the giant of the Baynard’s Castle kitchens.
‘Has he recognized you?’ John demanded, but not too anxiously.
‘Not yet.’
‘Nor will he.’ John spoke confidently and, slewing round, eyed me up and down. ‘You look nothing like your normal self. Those clothes give you a different appearance altogether. You give the impression of a confident, prosperous merchant. A master tradesman.’
‘And I don’t normally?’ I was indignant, and also perturbed. His words had shattered my self-deluded image.
He grinned and shook his head. ‘Now go back to the parlour,’ he advised. ‘And don’t come frequenting the ale room too often. It will occasion remark.’
‘How long are we going to be stranded here?’ I asked savagely.
‘I don’t know. I’m no King Cnut, trying to command the wind and waves.’
‘He didn’t,’ I retorted. ‘He was just trying to teach his sycophantic courtiers a lesson — that he wasn’t God.’ On which erudite note — a sop to my battered self-esteem — I stomped off to rejoin my fellow travellers in the parlour.
The next day, the weather had improved enough to make sailing a possibility, but the master of The Sea Nymph had scruples about putting to sea on a Sunday and hoped, apologetically, that we would share them.
We had no choice, which he well knew, so we all went to church and confessed our sins, then hung around the inn, praying that the weather would improve even more by the following morning.
It was a long and trying day, with a bunch of ill-assorted people, at least two of whom thoroughly disliked one another, cooped up in a small inn parlour, having too much time on their hands and too little to keep themselves occupied. Walking was limited because of the weather, which, as I have said, was less stormy, but still did not permit of much outdoor exercise. Mistress Armiger and William Lackpenny did, on one occasion, manage to disappear at the same time, but if the lady’s husband seemed unaware of the fact, her brother did not, and went in search of her almost immediately. Within a very short space of time, Jane returned to the parlour in company with Goliath, an angry spot of colour in either cheek, to be followed sometime later by Will, sporting what was undoubtedly a black eye. His tale of having walked into an open door was, to say the least, unconvincing, but as Robert Armiger apparently failed to notice the injury, or accepted the explanation for it without question, there was only Eloise and myself to be amused by the black looks Will directed in Oliver Cook’s direction for the rest of the day.
The excellent meals did, it was true, provide some respite from our collective boredom, but towards evening, just after supper, a bitter quarrel broke out between Robert Armiger and his brother-in-law. I was not present for the beginning of it, having gone to relieve myself in the outside privy, but recriminations were in full flow by the time I returned to the parlour. It didn’t take me many moments to realize that Jane Armiger was the cause of the contention, with Oliver accusing Robert of not taking sufficient care of her, and Master Armiger bitterly regretting that he had allowed himself to be trapped in an unsuitable marriage. Words and phrases such as ‘low connections’, ‘greasy scullions’ and ‘thick-headed yokels’ escaped his lips in an insulting stream until Oliver, goaded beyond endurance, hit him, a good right-handed punch that sent Robert crashing to the floor.