‘All right! All right!’ Timothy groped his way forward, temporarily blinded by the transition from bright sunshine to near total darkness. ‘No offence intended. Your good fortune doesn’t bother me. Although I don’t suppose it’s delighted too many of the good folk of Bristol.’
‘True,’ I agreed glumly, thinking of former friends like Burl Hodge, who were now little more than polite acquaintances. ‘So, why do you want to see me? And why the secrecy? You’re not usually this coy about advertizing your presence.’
‘I am when I’m engaged on a highly sensitive job that requires diplomacy and finesse,’ he retorted.
Once again, I restrained a smile. I’d forgotten just how pompous Timothy could be.
‘Well? And what has that to do with me, pray?’
‘This.’ He prodded me in the chest. ‘Keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you, Roger!’
‘What are you talking about? What things? And if you mean what I think you do, let me tell you that it’s very much my concern. I was nearly murdered.’
‘I know all that,’ was the irritable rejoinder. ‘But keep your nose out, all the same.’ Timothy sighed. ‘It was just one of fate’s dirtier little tricks to land you right in the middle of this affair. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you in the alehouse. After you left, I got in conversation with your friend, the ferryman. A couple more beakers of ale soon loosened his tongue enough to learn the whole story. Fortunately, he still isn’t completely convinced by your version of events.’
‘Well, he should be,’ I barked triumphantly. ‘I’ve found a witness to what really happened.’
‘Who?’ Timothy’s eager question instantly made me wary.
‘Never you mind. That’s my secret.’
I saw him clench his fists. The cob stirred uneasily.
‘Now, look, Roger, I’m warning you! Go home and forget any of this ever happened. You haven’t discovered a witness to your story. You’re beginning to think it may all have been a dream …’
‘Oh, no! I’m not admitting to anything of the sort,’ I roared. ‘I’m sick of being thought a fool!’
‘Keep your voice down,’ he begged, his own sinking to little more than a whisper. ‘Try to forget what’s happened. Stop talking about it. Stop discussing it with all and sundry. If anyone mentions it, just say you’re bored with the subject. It’s over. You’re not interested. And, above all, stop prying and poking around this village. Stop asking questions. Because if you don’t, I won’t be answerable for the consequences. And I don’t want anything to happen to you, Roger, I really don’t. I’ve grown fond of you over the years, strange as that might seem. And Duke Richard would be most upset … No need to look like that. This has nothing to do with him. He still lives retired on his Yorkshire estates. I’m working for the King. Pity, but there it is. The quiet life and I don’t mix.’
‘That’s all very well,’ I said. ‘But if Robin Avenel and his sister are involved, it’s easy enough to guess that it has something to do with Henry Tudor.’
The Spymaster General managed both to nod and shake his head at the same time, quite a remarkable feat.
‘Yes and no,’ he grunted. ‘There’s more to it than that, my friend. You’ll just have to take my word for it. It’s not that I don’t trust you,’ he continued hastily, recalling past services that I had rendered the Crown, ‘but you might inadvertently let something slip. You wouldn’t mean to, but you might.’
‘Have I ever, in the past?’
‘Not wittingly, no. But you just can’t keep your nose out of trouble. When you scent a mystery, you’re like a dog after a rabbit. I daren’t risk telling you. Be content with that.’
I was hurt, even though I had to admit the truth of what he said. But I was angry, too. It was my life, after all, that had been put in danger.
‘I think I have a right …’ I began hotly, but Timothy interrupted me without compunction.
‘You have no rights at all where the safety of the realm is concerned. I’m warning you, Roger. Forget this entire episode ever happened. Go home to that wife and family of yours and, like I said, pretend it was all a dream.’
‘Or?’
‘Or you might get hurt. Or one of your children might get hurt. Or Adela — is that her name?’
I was beyond anger. I was furious.
‘Don’t you dare threaten me or mine, Timothy Plummer!’ I could scarcely spit the words out fast enough. ‘If necessary, I’ll go to London and appeal to the King!’
The Spymaster laid a placatory hand on my arm.
‘Calm down. Be sensible. You must realize as well as I do, that King Edward wouldn’t lift a finger to protect you or yours if he thought his throne was in danger. Do as I ask, I’m begging you, and no one will get hurt.’
My temper cooled a little. ‘Like that, is it?’
‘Like that.’
I chewed my bottom lip. ‘Very well,’ I said after a pause for reflection. ‘But I shall tell Adela the truth. She’ll say nothing, particularly if she knows that doing so would jeopardize my life or those of the children.’
Timothy hesitated, then nodded. ‘All right,’ he agreed. ‘I’ve met her. She seems a sensible woman. Far too sensible for you,’ he added with gratuitous insult, but then grinned affectionately and squeezed my shoulder. ‘Off you go now, lad, and take care.’
I led the cob outside and mounted. ‘Take care yourself,’ I told him.
He grinned and slapped the horse’s rump. At the bend in the track, I slewed round in the saddle, but, as I had expected, he was nowhere to be seen.
I rode home through the softly shimmering landscape, watching the shadows lengthen and the grasses blacken in their path. It was cooler now, a soft breeze floating inland from the river. But my curiosity was on fire. Something was going on, but I wasn’t allowed to know what it was, in spite of having, albeit unwittingly, become a part of it.
As I rode towards the Frome Bridge, someone was approaching, also on horseback, from the opposite direction. With a jolt to my stomach, I recognized her directly. She was actually wearing the same brown sarcenet gown, while, behind her, rode Rowena Hollyns, demure in grey homespun and a white linen coif.
‘Good evening, Mistress Alefounder,’ I said through gritted teeth.
She inclined her head, but did not answer. From her demeanour, it would seem that she had never seen me before in all her life.
Eight
I would have made love to Adela that night — God knows I wanted to! — but she held me off, reminding me that tomorrow was Sunday and we should be at church. So, I had to content myself with holding her in my arms while I recounted my day’s adventures.
This was the first chance I’d had since returning from Rownham Passage to be alone with her. Now, at last, the house was quiet, humans and animal exhausted by their own high spirits, asleep in their respective beds; Hercules snoring away in the kitchen, Elizabeth next door, Nicholas and Adam in the small chamber just above ours, for it had been decided during my absence, that our youngest child should join his half-brother on the thick goose-feather mattress that occupied most of the floor of the attic. Adela was tired of getting up each night to attend to his wants, and considered that removed from my snoring, his nights would be less disturbed. What Nicholas made of the arrangement, I didn’t dare ask.
Adela was as alarmed by my intelligence as I had known she would be. She stared anxiously at me through the gloom.
‘If those were Timothy Plummer’s instructions, then promise me, Roger, that you’ll stop your incessant meddling. I won’t have you put anyone’s life at risk. Do you understand me?’
‘I don’t suppose for a minute-’ I began, but she interrupted me with a hand across my mouth.
‘I’ll leave you,’ she threatened, ‘if you endanger your own life or the children’s.’
I tried insinuating a hand inside her nightrail. ‘The Church doesn’t approve of disobedient women.’
She permitted me to cup her breast, but made it plain that tonight that was as far as I was going to get.