I nodded. ‘She would no doubt wish to see her three sons safely off to France. And it makes sense that Duke Richard will be staying with her at Baynard’s Castle. He always does so when he’s in the capital.’
‘You know that for a fact, do you?’ my hostess asked and, glancing round, I saw that her smile was slightly mocking.
‘So I’ve been told by those that might be reckoned in the know,’ I answered. Once again I felt that to admit to having met His Grace of Gloucester twice, and to having been of service to him on both occasions, would embroil me in lengthy explanations which, anxious to be on my way, I would rather not embark on. ‘That was an excellent meal, Mistress, even better than it smelled; something, half an hour ago, I would have deemed impossible. Now, to complete our business!’ And I picked up my pack, opening it and spreading its contents out on the table.
In payment for the food she chose a small, carved wooden bobbin containing three needles and a spool of fine white thread which might, I considered, have cost her somewhat more in the market-place than she would have charged me for the plate of pig’s trotters. However, I had suggested the bargain and could not cavil at it now. She cast a longing eye over my other wares, particularly struck by a pair of scented leather gloves the deep, rich colour of violets. Like my warm leather jerkin, lined with scarlet, I had obtained them in exchange for more necessary goods, this time from the wife of an impoverished gentleman living in Dorset. The lady had been loath to part with one of her few remaining pieces of finery, but the family had fallen upon hard times and needs must when the Devil drives. I was pleased to think that I had dealt generously with her.
Mistress Gentle sighed regretfully, running one fingertip over the soft, silk-like sheen of the leather, but decided that the gloves would be of no use to her.
‘John would most certainly buy them for me if I asked him,’ she assured me earnestly, ‘but when would I have cause to wear such things?’ She regarded her red and work-roughened hands for a disparaging moment, before thrusting them into her apron pocket. ‘No, they’d be laid away in lavender and never see the light of day. Put them back in your pack, chapman, before temptation gets the better of me and I persuade my husband, contrary to his good judgement as well as my own, to purchase them.’ She looked on wistfully as the gloves were folded away again, before adding with sudden inspiration, ‘When you leave here, go to Chilworth. The chandler’s ford’s not more than five or six mile north by east of S’ampton and I’d lay money you’ll find a willing buyer in Lady Wardroper. Very proud of those delicate white hands of hers, she is. And she has an elderly, doting husband in Sir Cedric.’
I thanked her for her advice and took my leave. She seemed a little reluctant to let me go and, I fancy, would have detained me further but that a shout from outside warned her of the advent of yet another diner. I shouldered my pack and followed her to the door, where I made my escape. The two goodwives had by now departed and the butcher was standing in the mouth of the alleyway, touting for trade. We exchanged a few words and I congratulated him on the quality of his meat, but he was too busy watching out for fresh custom to waste much time on one already satisfied.
‘Your wife advises me to make for Chilworth Manor,’ I said as a parting shot and he nodded.
‘You’d probably be wise to do as she says. Sir Cedric’s very plump in the pocket. They’re one of the best-known families in these parts. Honest, English-speaking people. Well, the menfolk are. Saw young Matthew only last week, just before he left for London. Said they’d been entertaining a travelling singer – same one as came here looking for food, I reckon – but as all his songs had been in French, he couldn’t understand a word of them. But Lady Wardroper, now, she’s different. She has a few words of the language.’
I gave him good-day, deciding that I would follow Mistress Gentle’s recommendation, especially as a north-easterly direction must bring me eventually to Winchester, and so on to the London road. Moreover, I would need a berth for the night, which might well be found in the manor kitchen. It was not long past eleven o’clock, so if I walked briskly, not stopping to sell my wares, I could probably reach Chilworth by late afternoon without much difficulty.
I settled my pack more comfortably on my back, turned my feet in the direction of Southampton’s East Gate, and as I walked, began to whistle in my customary tuneless fashion. For I have never had any ear for music and don’t suppose that I ever shall.
Chapter Two
The afternoon was well advanced by the time I approached Chilworth Manor. This lay a mile or two east of the ford, close to the banks of a small stream, tributary to the River Itchen.
It was a beautiful day, the wind blowing fresh and sweet across the meadows. Smoke rose from cottage chimneys iridescent as a rainbow and the sky was a swimming lake of deepest blue, smudged here and there by soft white clouds. The clang of a blacksmith’s hammer sounded a joyful carillon of anvil blows and the rise of pasture, away to the west, was rinsed by blue-veined shadows. The stream flowed softly between its fringe of rushes and I could see clear down to the bed of gravel underneath. Daisies and the golden cups of celandine starred the straggling grasses.
Suddenly the flow of water began to diminish until it dwindled into the merest trickle. Rounding a bend by some willow stumps, I came upon the reason. A shepherd had dammed the stream in two places to form a pool and was washing his flock, assisted by a stout lad with hard red cheeks and a surly, disgruntled expression. It was the boy’s job to drag the reluctant animals one by one into the water, where the shepherd stood thigh-deep, removing the foul and loose wool from around the udders and thoroughly washing the fleece. When he had finished examining the beast’s mouth and ears, the sheep scrambled up the opposite bank to join its fellows, where it dripped and shivered miserably, regarding him with a wide and baleful stare for having been subjected to such indignity. The lambs, separated from their dams, cried piteously.
I greeted the shepherd and his assistant cheerfully. ‘God be with you both! Am I on the right path for Chilworth Manor?’
The lad made no reply, but the older man paused in his work and nodded. ‘You are that. You’re on demesne land now. The house is about half a mile further on from here. Are you a chapman?’
‘I am. And hoping to sell some of my wares to Lady Wardroper, who was recommended to me as a likely patroness by a butcher’s wife in Southampton.’
The shepherd laughed. ‘Mistress Gentle, I’ll be bound. A good woman, always willing to help others. Her daughter, Amice, did some sewing and embroidery for my lady at one time, before she went away from home.’ He turned back to the ewe he was washing and began to prise her jaws apart. The animal, justly incensed by such treatment, tried to rear up and place her two front feet against his chest, but the man moved closer, skilfully frustrating the attempt. ‘Got to watch this one,’ he said. ‘She’s old and up to all the tricks. Many’s the soaking I’ve had from her in my time, when she was a bit younger and spryer than she is today.’ When the ewe was done and had proceeded, stately with outrage, to the opposite shore, the shepherd signalled to the boy to halt a moment and turned to face me. ‘My cottage is close by here. Before you go on to the Manor House, do you have time to visit my wife? She was complaining only yesterday that we’ve had no pedlar pass this way for several weeks, and as a consequence she’s short of various items. She’s broken the blade of her kitchen knife and she’s also in need of a pair of good, stout laces, if you’ve such a thing in your pack.’