He had brought a skin of wine, some cheese and a loaf of bread for the journey. Others might look upon a ride of ten leaguesacross the moors as dangerous at best, and more probably near suicidal, but Simon had covered these moors regularly in thelast eight or nine years, and he knew the different parts better than he knew his garden at Lydford.
They stopped in the lee of a hill and lunched together, drinking the wine and chewing lumps of cheese with the loaf, a harshbrown one which proved to have more fragments of grit from the millwheel than actual grain, judging from the foul crunching. Several times Simon had to search out shards of moorstone and discard them. Still, it was enough to fill their bellies, andonce the horses were watered they set off once more, Rob muttering under his breath all the while.
‘Why did you ask to join me, if you are so bitter?’ Simon demanded at last, exasperated.
‘I didn’t know you were bringing me up here. Thought we’d be going on a real road, stopping off at a tavern for the night. Thought it would be a laugh.’
‘Now you know the truth,’ Simon said unkindly. ‘So shut up, or take yourself to the main road south of here and meet me in Tavistock tomorrow.’
‘I can’t go alone! I’ll get lost!’
‘Let me dream,’ Simon muttered.
Chapter Three
Exeter City
Master Richard de Langatre was a comfortably-off man. In his early thirties, he had the paunch of a man considerably older, and hischeery smile won the attentive gazes of many mothers of unmarried daughters who saw in him a potential son-in-law. After all,the man from Lincoln was fortunate enough to have a good business and a near-monopoly in Exeter.
He was not the most handsome man in the world. The round features and fleshy jowls showed his financial position, but didnot add to his charm. However, the shock of mousy-coloured hair and his grey eyes offset the appearance of unbending probityand financial expertise. The eyes were too prone to laughter, and the hair would never submit to a comb or brush, always endingup unruly and discreditable no matter what the barber did to it. The first impression was that this man would be pleasantcompany for an evening in the tavern.
Today he had been shopping, a task which he viewed as essential not only to the efficacy of his mixtures, but also to hisreputation. There were some hideous concoctions he had made in the past which now he recalled with fondness. The more foulthe medicine, the more the patient valued it, he believed, and provided that he didn’t kill too many with his potions — and none had died as a direct result of taking hismedicines, so far as he knew — he should find his reputation improving and his purse growing heavier.
This year, ah, this year had been a good one. First the consultation with the sheriff over the little matter with his woman,then some woman who had been nervous about her husband’s learning of her infidelity — she had paid well for the correct answer! — and finally the man who wanted to be abbot. He had been willing to pay well, thank the Lord! Yes, this year had been goodto Master Richard. A good necromancer was always in demand, he reflected happily.
He was back at his room as the sun began to dip towards the west. After shopping he had betaken himself to Suttonsysyn nearthe Guildhall. In there, near the great fire, he had warmed his hands and feet from the chill outside, and partaken of a quartof good strong ale warmed and spiced and sweetened as he liked it with honey. Afterwards he bought himself a few honeyed thrushesfrom a stall, and chewed them standing at the street corner, watching the passers-by.
You could tell much by watching and observing how people walked and talked, he always thought. And just now, people were wary.
It was no surprise. He had been discussing it this morning at the inn. Michael Tanner had been there, and the two had sattogether as they drank, as was their wont. Michael had a friend who was working in the cathedral close, and he was often oneof the first to get news, but today everyone was alert to the latest gossip.
‘It is true, then?’ Richard had asked.
Michael nodded grimly and set his pot aside. He was a short, dark man with a square face and a thin salt and pepper beard. His eyes were sharp and grey, always darting about, watchingto see if anyone was listening to them. ‘Absolutely. I heard it from the steward himself. He was there in the room when theking’s messenger arrived, and heard every word he spoke. The queen has had her household broken apart, her income is slashed,and even her dower has been taken from her. They leave her nothing. It is hard to believe, but my friend tells me that themessenger spoke of the king’s children.’
‘What of them?’
‘All taken from the queen. All being looked after by trusted maids — those trusted by the king, I mean.’
Master Richard whistled low. ‘He must hate her. Do you think he could suspect her of treason?’
It was a proof of their closeness that such a word could be used. Michael and Richard had grown to know each other becausethe latter rented his house from Michael, but they had soon developed a mutual regard. Richard appreciated that. It was notoften that others would respect a man who was a dabbler in magic.
Michael pulled a face. ‘How could a man trust a woman like her? She has French blood, my friend. Her loyalties are split. It’s hardly fair to blame her — but if you were the king, how could you trust a woman who was sister to the French king justat the time that the French are threatening to steal King Edward’s remaining lands?’
Master Richard shook his head at the thought. Since the fight over the French attempt to build a fort at Saint Sardos, the French and the English had been at loggerheads. A truce had been agreed, but that would only last a number of months. Andonce it had expired, the French king Charles IV could all too easily take over all the remaining English lands in France. ‘It is a terrible thing when a man and a woman fallapart. The marriage vows should hold them together.’
‘You can’t expect an Englishman to cleave to a flighty French wench,’ Michael said harshly. He finished his drink and bade Master Richard farewell. Then he leaned down quickly and whispered in Master Richard’s ear. ‘You know, there’s talk that shepaid a man like you to remove her enemy and her husband. That would make a husband think carefully about her, wouldn’t it?’ He winked and was gone, leaving Master Richard with a full pint remaining in his pot, and a delicious rumour to absorb.
The uppermost thought in his mind as he walked homewards was that he would dearly love to meet the queen and see what he couldlearn from her … it was never likely to happen, but she must be a fascinating woman. Especially when she was being dispossessedlike this. Could she really have hired someone to kill off her own husband? If she had been involved in an act like that,it was no surprise that she should be considered a malign influence on her children. A woman who plotted her husband’s murderwas surely inadequate as a mother. She might raise them to hate her husband as much as she did herself.
It said much about her, though, if she was prepared to hire a necromancer like him to remove a king, he thought. Then, ashe opened his door to enter, he was shocked from his reflections by the hand at his shoulder.
‘Master? Are you Master Richard of Langatre?’
Stilling his anger, he smiled. ‘Yes, mistress. Can I be of service?’ After all, it wasn’t so often that the sheriff’s wifecame to see him.
Tavistock Abbey
Simon reached the abbey in good time, with at least an hour of daylight remaining. Overall, a pleasing journey, apart from the whiningbehind him. The only cure for that was to ride on a little faster, so that the lad’s legs couldn’t keep up.
‘Are we there now?’ Rob was staring at the great moorstone walls with trepidation, eyes wide like a rabbit watching a hunter.