Edwin Pennyfeather received me in the outer room of the lawyer’s chambers with his usual cheerful grin, but pulled down the corners of his mouth when I expressed a wish to see his master.
‘I don’t know how he’ll be willing to spare you the time, Master Chapman. He’s very busy just at present. A new will he has to draw up for Alderman Stoner.’
I was just about to deny, for the second time that morning, that my business was of any importance, when the door to the inner sanctum opened and Lawyer Heathersett appeared, ushering the alderman out. He was none too pleased to see me, but when I begged for five minutes of his time, he grudgingly agreed.
He followed me into the musty-smelling inner chamber, where piles of law books were stacked on shelves and even in piles on the floor, and waved me to a chair in front of a large, ink-stained desk before seating himself behind it.
‘Well, Master Chapman, and what can I do for you?’ he asked impatiently.
So I told him of my trip to Glastonbury, of what I had learned from Brother Hilarion, of my theory concerning Edward II and even touched on my suspicions of both Sir Lionel Despenser and Gilbert Foliot.
Somewhat to my surprise, he didn’t fire up in defence of his friends, but gnawed on the end of a quill pen to the detriment of his remaining front teeth, several of which looked rotten enough to snap under such treatment. Finally, when I had finished, he demanded, ‘Have you proof of any of this?’
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘Not what you could call proof. But I have this very strong hunch. .’
The lawyer snorted. ‘Hunches are of no use in a court of law.’
‘I know that,’ I retorted irritably. ‘But what would you advise me to do?’
‘Nothing. There’s not a thing you can do.’ He nibbled even harder on the end of his pen. ‘All the same, what you’ve told me doesn’t surprise me. I’ve suspected for quite some time now that Gilbert has Lancastrian sympathies. As long as the late king was alive, they lay dormant. Edward was too popular with all kinds and conditions of men for there to be much opposition to his rule. Indeed, many people, wherever their loyalties secretly lay, were prepared not merely to tolerate him, but actively supported him. The Bishop of Ely is a case in point. But all that changed with Edward’s death. When Gloucester took the throne. .’ He broke off, shrugging his narrow shoulders.
‘Old loyalties reawakened?’ I suggested.
He nodded and leant forward across the desk, peering at me with his short-sighted, protuberant eyes.
‘Quite so. But they’ll be careful until they see which way the wind’s blowing. Until they see if King Richard remains as popular as he seems to be at present. These rumours we’ve been hearing about the two princes. .’ He smiled cynically. ‘Well, my advice to anyone would be to forget those. They’re probably untrue anyway. But southerners don’t like Richard. He’s a stranger to them. And he’s known to be priggish. Strait-laced. A good husband, father, friend, but intolerant of debauchery in any shape or form. That won’t appeal to a lot of people.’
‘So what are you advising me to do?’ I asked.
‘I’m not advising you to do anything,’ he snapped. ‘I thought I’d made that clear.’ Frowningly, he reconsidered this statement. ‘All right! I’m advising you not to pursue this matter until you have positive evidence that Gilbert and that friend of his, Sir Lionel Despenser, are planning to aid Henry Tudor. And it seems to me that you won’t have that unless this Tintern treasure, as you call it — if, that is, it exists at all except in your imagination — turns up. Let sleeping dogs lie. Just accept that these break-ins, the murder of that pedlar who was with us in Wales, young Noakes’s death are simply what they seem to be — street robbers going about their business, a chance killing for gain, a youth accidentally drowned in a river.’
He was right, of course. Everything that had happened had a reasonable explanation. Even the attack on me in Keynsham had been explained away by Joseph Sibley. I could suspect what I liked about the goldsmith and Lionel Despenser, but unless I could force them to show their hand, it was all speculation.
‘Thank you for your time, Master Heathersett,’ I said and got to my feet. ‘I appreciate your advice.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sure,’ he added slyly, ‘that your royal master will understand your predicament.’
There it was again, that presumption that I was working for the king! In a way I supposed I was. But not on his orders nor in his pay. I was about to protest my innocence yet again when the lawyer interrupted me.
‘Gilbert Foliot isn’t the only man you need to look at in this town,’ he said dryly.
I turned back, raising questioning eyebrows, but he waved his pen at me. ‘I’m saying no more. Now, if you’ll please go, I have work to do. Edwin will show you out.’
I hesitated, but he drew some documents towards him, bending his head over them until his nose almost touched the parchment. I should get no more out of him, so I left.
Young Master Pennyfeather, who must have had his ear to the door, was waiting to bid me a deferential ‘good morning’.
Adela was watching impatiently for my return.
‘You said you’d be as quick as you could,’ she reproached me. ‘Did you see Master Callowhill?’
‘No, he was out, so I went to visit Lawyer Heathersett instead.’ I judged it best to be frank.
‘Oh, well! In that case your journey wasn’t entirely wasted,’ my wife commented dryly. She went on, ‘I’ve decided to take Luke with me,’ and indicated the box on wheels that I had made five years previously for Adam. ‘Margaret must get used to the idea that we’re fostering him, so the more she sees of him the better. But that, unfortunately, means that Hercules insists on coming, too.’ The treacherous animal, his leading rope around his neck, was already positioned alongside the box, gazing adoringly at the baby who was waving his little fists at him and gurgling something that Adela assured me was the word ‘dog‘. (How women know these things is beyond me.) ‘So you just have Adam to look after,’ she concluded somewhat bitterly.
I looked at my son who was regarding me with wide-eyed innocence, a sure sign that he was plotting mischief.
‘He’ll be more than enough,’ I protested feelingly and accompanied my wife and family to the street door, waving them off as they made their way up Small Street. By the time I had returned indoors, Adam had disappeared. Whatever he was up to it was something quiet, so, thankfully, I let him get on with it, substituted my boots for a pair of shoes and went into the parlour for an hour or more of peace and quiet. I intended to think things through and marshal my thoughts into some sort of order, but within minutes of sitting down in my armchair — comfortably adorned with two of Adela’s hand-embroidered cushions — I was sound asleep.
I don’t know how long I’d slept — probably no more than ten minutes or so, when I was roused by knocking on the street door. Cursing, I forced myself to my feet and went to answer it. To my surprise, Henry Callowhill was standing outside, in company with Gilbert Foliot.
‘Master Chapman!’ he exclaimed, extending his hand. ‘I met your wife by the High Cross and she told me that you are wishful of speaking to me, that you had in fact called at my house a little earlier, so I thought I might as well come to visit you and find out what it is that you want. And as I had just fallen in with Master Foliot here, he’s done me the favour of accompanying me.’
I swore inwardly. As what I wanted to say to Henry Callowhill concerned my suspicions of the goldsmith, I was in something of a quandary. Wondering desperately what explanation I could offer, I invited them both inside — I could do no less — and ushered them into the parlour. I felt unjustly irritated with my wife for having interfered in my affairs. The fact that she had obviously thought she was being helpful in no way assuaged my annoyance.
I saw both men glance curiously around the parlour, but whether they were thinking it poor and ill-furnished compared with their own, or whether they were considering it as too well appointed for a mere pedlar, I was unable to decide. If the latter, then it would merely confirm their belief that I was in the pay of the king. But as to how I came by the house itself, they must know the circumstances. Everyone in Bristol knew them.