[Roger the Chapman 02] - The Plymouth Cloak (10 page)

Alwyn nodded. 'So Mistress Overy and I expected.' A door opened from the servants' quarters and he turned his head. 'Ah! Here is Mistress Overy now. For the present, I will leave you in her capable hands. When you are settled just send for me. I must go. With the master and Lady Trenowth away, there is much to see to.'

He bustled importantly about his business, hurrying across the courtyard, the hem of his gown clinging around his thin ankles, and disappeared through the main door at the top of a shallow flight of steps which spanned the undercroft.

Philip and I shifted our gaze to the housekeeper.

She was a handsome woman, not in the first flush of youth, and I guessed her to be somewhere in her mid-thirties.

She wore a black woollen dress, with an apron and gorget of fine white linen. Her head was covered by a black silk hood, but a tendril of hair escaping from beneath it indicated that she had the fair Saxon colouring suggested by her blue eyes and pale skin. A large bunch of keys attached to her belt demonstrated her importance in the household. She had a most pleasant smile, but there was a steely glint in her eyes and a determined set to her mouth which boded ill for any underling who did not know his or her place. She looked a capable woman and one whom I should not care to cross.

She was within a few paces of us when she suddenly paused, screwing up her eyes as though to bring us better into focus. The early morning sun was full in our faces, and she moved a little to one side where the shadow of the gatehouse wall afforded her clearer visibility.

'You!' she said, staring at Philip.

He returned her scrutiny with interest, attracted, as by his own admission he always was, by any good-looking woman.

'Do we know each other?' he asked, smiling.

The housekeeper laughed, a low, musical sound, full-throated and with genuine amusement.

'Oh, not to speak to. But I've seen you around these parts before, four, maybe five years ago . . . Surely I'm not mistaken.' She tilted her head to one side, regarding him with patent admiration. 'I'm certain I couldn't mix up a handsome, well-built man like you with anyone else, now could I?'

It was his turn to laugh. I watched him swell with vanity, puffed up with pride that she remembered him.

'You're right. My brother - God assoil him! - was with me then. We were traders, buying and selling. But I don't recall you at Trenowth in those days.'

'I wasn't. I lived across the river, on the Devon side of the water. A widow woman then, as indeed I am still, but today I have this snug billet. However,' she added, recollecting her duties, 'we can talk later, when you've washed and eaten.

Please follow me, Master Underdown, and your man, if he will. I'll show you to your quarters.'

CHAPTER 8

We were housed in a comer room above the great chamber, its only door opening into a narrow corridor which led from the head of the main staircase, past the entrance to a second guest-chamber which was at present empty.

'We have few guests when the master's away,' Janet Overy said, ushering us both inside. 'Alwyn Steward and I thought this room the pleasanter of the two because of the window.' She indicated the open shutter which allowed the early October sunshine to filter through panes of leaded glass, an unusual luxury in an upstairs chamber and doubly so in a bedroom.' Sir Peveril had this done last year, when he had the honour of entertaining the Sheriff for two or three nights. A truckle-bed will be brought up by the men while you are having your breakfast. Yours, Master Underdown, will be laid in the great hall.' She nodded at me. 'You, fellow, can come to the kitchen.'

Philip shook his head. 'If it's all the same to you, Mistress, I'll eat in the kitchen with Roger here. I've no mind to sit in solitary state. That goes for my meals throughout our stay, which, as far as I can calculate, will probably be for a sennight. The steward knows the ins and outs of it. Which reminds me, I want a further word with him after breakfast.' He glanced around at the bed, the cedarwood chest in one comer, the bedside table on which stood a pewter jug and plate, ready for the "all-night'. 'Where's the garderobe?' 'At the end of the corridor, near the top of the stairs. One of the girls will bring you water to wash, and there's a pump in the courtyard for your man if he wants it.' Janet Overy looked at me as if seeing me clearly for the first time, and not just as a servant of Philip Underdown. I thought she seemed faintly surprised, as though I was not what she would have expected; but the expression was so fleeting that I decided I might have been mistaken. She added: 'Come down to the kitchens for your breakfast when you're ready. It will be waiting for you.' She went out and closed the door.

Philip threw himself down on the bed chuckling. 'Wasn't this a good idea of mine? A soft lodging for as long as we want it. I'm sorry to delegate you to the role of servant, but it would have looked strange if I had been travelling without one. '

His tone was cheerful, and I guessed that he was not at all sorry. It gave him a feeling of power and restored some of the pride my unwelcome presence had eroded. I said nothing, but crossed to the window, opened it and looked out. Because the aspect was south-facing, and the Cornish climate generally mild, someone, at some time, had planted a vine against the wall; a vine which had grown strongly and sturdily over the years so that now its leaves and tendrils embraced three sides of the window aperture. This had led to a single shutter being fitted, instead of the more usual two, which, when open, lay back flat against the wall on the left-hand side. The prospect immediately in view was of an open stretch of grassland, falling sharply away to the wooded banks of the river and the broad, well-worn track up which we had ridden a little earlier that morning.

I breathed deeply. The air was sweet and mild, and I could smell the scents of the river as it ran, unseen, somewhere below us, flowing from distant uplands to the open sea.

Then, at Philip's impatient instigation, I drew my head back into the room and set about unpacking my bundle. Not that there was much to unpack, and it was soon done, my spare shirt flung atop the chest and my black-handled knife, which served me so faithfully for so many purposes, tucked into my belt alongside my pouch with its small store of money. I took hold of my cudgel.

'For the love of Mary, why carry that with you?' Philip demanded irritably. 'Leave it here.'

I shook my head obstinately. 'We'll take a look around after we've eaten. I'll feel safer if I have it with me.' Philip shrugged. 'Please yourself. I need the garderobe, so let's be going. I'll use it on the way down.'

We both used it and, feeling more comfortable, proceeded downstairs, through the great chamber and across the courtyard to the kitchen. This seemed full of people, it obviously being the hour at which some of the household broke their night's fast after attending to the first chores of the day. A kitchenmaid was stirring a large pot over the fire, while another was unpacking the loaves of hot bread which she had just fetched in a basket from the bakehouse. The two men who had been unloading sacks of flour when we arrived were seated on a bench by one wall, bowls and spoons in hand, waiting expectantly. Alwyn the steward was overseeing the laying of his place at the centre table, fussily instructing a third small kitchenmaid in her duties, while Janet Overy calmly moved from one spot to another, making sure that everything was as it should be. But none of these held our attention as did the woman already seated at the end of the table, a little aloof from the rest of her companions, eating an apple.

'Jesus!' Philip breathed in my ear. 'What a marvel!'

And indeed, his enthusiasm was justified. I have known some beautiful women in my time, but very few who could match the red-haired, green-eyed voluptuousness of Isobel Warden - for so she was introduced to us.

'The wife,' Janet Overy said, with, I thought, a warning edge to her voice, 'of our bailiff, Edgar.'

But if she were trying to put us on our guard, Philip ignored her. Isobel Warden presented too great a challenge to be withstood. He went to sit beside her, swinging his legs agilely over the bench, the veins on his thick neck knotted like cords. The woman - for, young as she undoubtedly was, it was impossible to think of her as a girl - glanced sideways at him. Philip slid an arm around her waist and squeezed it.

Isobel raised no objection.

She was an extraordinarily bold woman, and I don't think I have ever met another quite like her. The other members of the household were obviously used to her, but disapproving none the less. Janet Overy frowned and Alwyn looked down his nose as though he had just got a whiff of the sewers. The three kitchenmaids started to giggle in the affected way which betokens embarrassment rather than genuine amusement, while the two men muttered angrily to each other, their sympathies plainly with the absent husband.

The housekeeper took a bowl of thick gruel from one of the girls and placed it in front of Philip. 'Eat this Master Underdown,' she said, 'and leave Isobel alone. She has a man of her own who is very jealous of her.' She smiled in propitiation. 'There are plenty of single women, or widows like me, without men having to steal from one another.' Philip laughed, and I frowned at him as I took my seat by his side. He returned my look mockingly and, in defiance of us all, once again put is arm around Isobel Warden's shapely waist. 'You don't mind, sweetheart, do you?' he asked, adding for the benefit of the rest of us: 'She likes me.' While he was speaking, a shadow had fallen across the open doorway and now there was a great bellow of rage from the man who stood there; a young man with curling black hair and a massive frame, his hands bunched into two admirable fists.

'Leave my woman alone!' he shouted and was across the room in two strides to lift Philip bodily off the bench, twist him round and floor him with a crashing blow to his jaw. It all happened so quickly that no one, including myself, had time to intervene.

I was, however, swift enough to get astride my companion's recumbent form before the infuriated young Hercules could launch another attack, his clawed hands suggesting that he was about to follow up by trying to throttle Philip. Instead, they closed around my upper arms.

'Get out of my way!' the bailiff thundered.

'You'll have to make me,' I answered.

'Stop this unseemly brawling immediately!' Alwyn thrust his steward's white staff between us. 'Edgar, this man is a friend of Sir Peveril, and you will treat him as you would if the master were present. Heed what I say or I shall be forced to dismiss you. As for you, sir,' he went on, addressing Philip, who was scrambling undignifiedly to his feet, 'please have the kindness to treat our womenfolk with the courtesy they deserve. And you, woman,' he continued, turning on Isobel, 'try to recollect that you are now married, and keep your favours for your husband.'

I should not have believed that such an ineffectual looking man could have wielded such authority, had I not witnessed it with my own eyes. Edgar still looked sullen enough to wish for vengeance, but he sat down at the table without argument, contenting himself with giving his wife a glance which boded her no good. Philip, too, resumed his place, although his cut and swelling jaw was going to mar his enjoyment of the food for several meals to come. Only the cause of all the trouble appeared unmoved by the steward's admonitions, and went on placidly eating her apple.

Mistress Overy would have attended to Philip's hurt at once, but he waved her away, determined to make light of his injuries. And indeed, it was his pride which had been wounded far more than his body, as I could tell by his furious expression.

Well, he had brought it on himself. I was in no mood to waste my sympathy on him.

The meal was eaten in uncomfortable silence, with only the housekeeper and myself making any attempt at conversation. When it was over, Philip announced that he was going to his room to rest. I followed him across the courtyard, through the great chamber and up to the narrow, twisting staircase to the rooms above. He turned on me irritably.

'Do we have to go everywhere together?'

I returned his look coolly. 'I think it's wisest, don't you?' He hesitated, then shrugged. 'Perhaps, in the circumstances.' He moved towards the bed. 'I'm tired after riding all night. I intend to sleep.' He laughed nastily. 'What a pity they haven't yet brought up the truckle-bed.' He broke off abruptly, his eyes fixed on the open window. 'There's someone there, among the trees.' He turned, painfully gripping my arm. 'I saw him.'

I tried to be reassuring, although my heart was beating unpleasantly fast. 'It's probably one of Sir Peveril's men.

You heard what Mistress Overy was saying at breakfast. The corn mill and the saw-pit and the forge are all out of sight of the house, on the edge of the estate. There are bound to be people coming and going all day.'

Philip shook his head. 'No. This man saw me looking and immediately dodged behind one of the trees. I think you ought to go and investigate. I'll stay here. You won't come to any harm on your own.'

'Very well,' I agreed reluctantly. 'But lock the door while I'm gone.'

I took my cudgel and went downstairs again. As I crossed the courtyard to the gatehouse arch, I heard my rouncey whinny softly from the stables, next to the servants' quarters.

It was amazing how, in just a few days I had grown to know his sound and smell and touch. I should hate parting with him when it came time to return him to the Bishop's stable at Exeter. I was tempted to go and see him, to make sure that he had been properly fed and watered after his long night ride; but I knew I must not allow our intruder, if there was one, time to get away, and in any case I could trust Sir Peveril's groom to know his job.