Satisfied as to my well-being, they withdrew once more behind the curtain and retired to bed. I lay sleepless in the darkness, a prey to misgivings and fears for the future.
If only it had been Cicely Ford who had come to my rescue, how happy I should have been then. But gradually, such ungrateful thoughts were replaced by the need to interpret my dream, for I knew from experience that somewhere in its jumble was a grain of sense. On only rare occasions in my life have I had what my mother would have called the 'sight', but whenever I am worried or perplexed, I have dreams which are so much confusion on the surface, but contain in their depths the seeds of truth. And whatever that truth might be concerning William Woodward's disappearance, someone had considered it worthwhile to have me murdered before I could discover it. Two ruffians had been hired to kill me and, but for Lillis's concern and bravery, I should now be lying cold and lifeless on the bridge.
I hurriedly put the thought from me and concentrated instead on my dream, going back over its events before it started to fade. Henry Dando! Who was he? I covered my face with my hands to block out the familiar shapes of the room, and tried to remember… Of course! Miles Huckbody's friend at the Gaunts' Hospital, who had mentioned seeing Edward Herepath. Now, what exactly was it he had said?
Miles had protested that Edward Herepath was in Gloucester the night William Woodward had disappeared.
"E were, that's true enough,' Henry Dando had answered.
'I saw 'im meself on the Friday morning as 'e were setting out. 'E were some way distant, but I recognized that bay of 'is that 'e were ridin'? Yet surely both Mistress Walker and Edward Herepath himself had insisted that he had travelled to Gloucester on Lady Day; in other words on the Thursday. Either one was lying and the other had been misled, or Henry Dando had seen someone else riding Master Herepath's bay.
I eased my long limbs, uncomfortable in the narrow bed, conscious of a stiffening in the joints, legacy of my evening's encounter. With a sigh, I resigned myself to the knowledge that I should have to visit both the livery stables and Gaunts' Hospital again in the morning, and wondered how someone, somewhere, would react to the realization that I was not after all dead, but still intent on ferreting out the truth. In future, I must take my cudgel with me at all times when I walked abroad, and must also watch my back, as the Irish slavers had advised me.
I was beginning to doze once more when I recollected the cloaked and hooded figure, the man I had seen once and heard twice, and who had figured so silently in my dream. Who was he, and what, if anything, was his part in the mystery of William's abduction? And why, in that dream, did I get the impression that both William Woodward and Edward Herepath knew him? For a moment I was wide awake again, but fatigue and weakness exacted their toll, and the next thing I knew, daylight was filtering through the shutters.
The farrier was genuinely pleased to see me, and having expressed the hope that I had reached my lodgings in safety the preceding evening — a hope I did nothing to dispel — he invited me into his room for a stoup of warmed ale. 'For it's a bitter cold morning, as I told you it would be.'
He rubbed his hands together and blew on his knuckles in an attempt to warm them. 'I said we should have frost and I was right. I generally am.'
I acknowledged this boast with what I trusted was an admiring smile, and indeed his prophecy had proved correct. The dank, cheerless streets of the past few weeks had been transformed by the heavy frost into a fairy world, all white and gold. Gossamer-thin clouds trailed each other across a pale blue sky; ice-bound streets glittered in needle-sharp sunlight; a thin coating of rime sparkled from every cave and post and wooden gallery. My spirits had lifted as I stepped out of doors, and every undertaking seemed less of a trial in the better weather.
I accepted the farrier's invitation and followed him into a small, single-storey building set in a corner of the stables. A row of six stalls housed, at present, only three horses, and a sleepy youth was just beginning his morning task of cleaning them out. He quickened his pace reluctantly at a command from the farrier, but, I suspected, dawdled again immediately we had disappeared from view.
'This is cosy,' I said, warming my hands at the brazier and noting with gratitude the jug of ale warming amongst its coals.
Wrapping a piece of cloth around one hand, my host lifted the jug and poured its contents into two clay cups which stood on a side-table, one of which he handed to me. 'Now,' he asked shrewdly, 'how can I help you? For I don't flatter myself you've sought me out again after such short acquaintance just for the pleasure of my company.'
I was forced to admit that this was so. 'You mentioned that Edward Herepath's bay was stolen the night William Woodward was attacked and abducted. I am right, am I not, in believing that it was not the horse ridden by Master Herepath to Gloucester?'
The farrier put down his half-empty cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'How could it have been?' he demanded irritably. 'Master Herepath set out in the morning. He asked me to have Cresside, his roan mare, saddled and ready for him as soon as possible after early mass.'
'So it was Thursday he travelled, not Friday? You're sure of that?'
My companion snorted angrily. 'Of course I'm sure. It was Lady Day and William Woodward came round later to collect the rent. This place,' he added by way of explanation, 'belongs to Master Herepath. He owns a lot of property in this city.'
'So I've been told.' I sipped my ale thoughtfully, wondering where this new fact fitted in among the rest. 'It was fortunate, at least, that it was one of his horses which was stolen. He didn't have to recompense another owner for its loss. How did the thief get in? The place is securely locked at nights from what I saw yesterday evening.'
'That it is!' the farrier replied with a fervour which made me suspect he might, at some time, have fallen under suspicion. 'Whoever it was, obtained a key to the wicket gate and unbolted the big double doors from within. Fortunately, I was able to call upon the witness of my neighbour to testify that I was at home all right. His wife was taken with labour pains shortly after Compline, and the midwife shooed him out of his cottage because he was getting under her feet. It was a long labour, being as how it was a first child, and he was so anxious, he and I sat up talking most of the night. It was dawn before the babe was born and I was finally able to join my wife in bed.' He added spitefully: 'She wouldn't do a good turn for anyone.'
'But your virtue was rewarded. You could not be accused of the crime.'
The farrier pursed his lips. 'Not of the crime itself, no. But Master Herepath and I are the only two people who are known to have keys to the wicket gate. I think the sergeant was inclined to think me guilty of complicity.
However, Master Edward, God bless him, would have none of it, saying he would trust me with his life, let alone his horses, and sent the sergeant away with a flea in his ear. He's a good man, a just man, very different from his wastrel of a brother.'
'Was the bay ever found?' I finished my ale and returned the cup to the table.
'No. The animal completely vanished. After it was shut safely in its stall on the Thursday evening, it was never seen again to my knowledge.'
But it had been seen again, I thought to myself; on the Friday morning, according to Henry Dando, unless, of course, he had mixed up the days. It suddenly became imperative that I see him without further delay. All my curiosity was aroused. I thanked the farrier for his hospitality and said I had urgent business to attend to. I wrapped myself in my cloak, pulled the hood well forward about my face, seized my cudgel, and set out for the Gaunts' Hospital for the second time in three days.