[Roger the Chapman 02] - The Plymouth Cloak (23 page)

Janet's voice interrupted my thoughts. 'You have it safe? That letter that's caused all the trouble?'

If I fingered the left-hand edge of my jerkin, I could feel the stiff crackle of parchment between the leather and the lining, but I refrained from doing so and merely nodded.

'How long to supper?' I asked. 'I'm hungry.' 'When are you not?' she scolded gently. She dipped her spoon into the pot and tasted its contents. 'A little while yet, but not too long. Go outside and get some air, but don't go far. And don't go chasing after Silas Bywater.'
 

'I won't,' I promised, suddenly feeling very weary. All that had happened that day, from the discovery of Philip's body to being nearly throttled twice, with all my exertions in between, was at last beginning to take its toll. What did it matter if the questions I wanted to ask Silas Bywater were never put to him? If a self-confessed murderer was convicted for a crime he hadn't committed? The energy which had coursed through me for the past hours was abruptly quenched.

The only thing I wanted to do at the moment was to sleep. I stretched my arms until the bones cracked and yawned hugely.

Janet smiled. 'You're worn out, lad. Go and lie down. I'll send one of the girls to call you when it's time for supper.'
 

'I think I will,' I said. 'I've only just realized how tired I am. My throat still hurts as well.' I glanced around me. 'I left my cudgel here this morning, after breakfast. I thought I left it by the door, but it's not there now. Either I was mistaken or somebody's moved it.'

'I did,' Janet answered. 'It's there, in that corner. I kept falling over it where it was.' I noticed that she too was looking extremely tired and careworn. It had been a nightmarish day for all of us, and I was not surprised when she sat down at the kitchen table, fanning herself with her apron. She added: 'Perhaps you'd better leave it here for the time being. The Sheriff's officer may wish to see it. We've laid the knife beside the body in the great hall, but it's possible he might wish to inspect both the weapons used. I'll see that no one takes it by mistake. I know how highly a man prizes his own particular sword or cudgel.'

I thanked her and got to my feet. My limbs felt like lead, as they so often do at the prospect of ease after great labours.

Two little kitchen-maids, chatting and giggling to one another as they gathered together the bone-handled knives and stale trenchers of bread ready to lay the table for the evening meal, smiled shyly at me as I passed them. Their round, worshipping eyes told me that they regarded me as a hero who had unmasked a dangerous criminal, and I was too human not to find it pleasant, so I grinned and winked at them in return.

The courtyard was quiet now, the carter having departed with his wagon. John Groom was also invisible, but I could hear him whistling tunelessly inside the stable. A horse whinnied and I wondered if it were my rouncey or Philip's horse - now the property of Sir Peveril - who was missing his master. Luke was presumably still keeping watch inside the chapel, or else he had been relieved by James. Either way, there was no sign of them. From the bakery, I could smell the sweet aroma of newly-baked bread which would be eaten at supper. Tomorrow there would be a new batch for the breakfast table. The laundry was empty now, the laundress and her assistants gone to their homes in the village, the linen dried and folded in the big baskets, awaiting the smoothing irons to get rid of the creases.

I crossed to the great chamber and mounted the stairs to my room. Philip's and my belongings were still in a heap in the middle of the bed, just as they had been abandoned by Jeremiah Fletcher when I surprised him. Tonight I would pack everything into the saddle-bags, ready for my return to Plymouth on the morrow. But for now, I was too sleepy to do anything but let them lie where they were. I removed my jerkin, felt inside the lining, which I had never sewn up, to assure myself of the letter's safety, took off my boots and fell exhausted upon my truckle-bed. Moments later, I was sleeping soundly.

And moments after that, I was awake again, sitting bolt upright and staring, slack-mouthed, before me. Then I swung my legs to the floor and began pulling on my boots with hands that shook, shrugged on my jerkin and was out of the room, down the stairs and across the courtyard to the stables almost before I knew it. I glanced furtively towards the kitchen to see if Janet were anywhere in sight and slipped inside the stables to find John Groom.

He was busy hauling the bales of fodder up the ladder to the hay-loft above and did not immediately hear me call his name. There were a number of stalls facing me as I entered, only two of which were occupied at present, by the cob and Philip's flea-bitten grey. Of Sir Peveril's horses, one was being ridden to Launceston by the sawyer and the rest were presumably with him in London.

'John!' I exclaimed urgently, laying my hand on the ladder and shaking it as hard as I dared.

He paused in surprise and then looked down, his face red with exertion. 'Oh, it's you,' he said. 'Give me a hand with the rest of the bales, will you? The carter should by rights have done it, but he was anxious to be away. He was too ashamed to stay any longer after that stupid trick he played.'

'I can't,' I answered. 'I must catch up with Silas Bywater. I need my horse now.'

He grumbled and swore a great deal, but then his better nature overcame his ill-humour. He deposited his burden in the loft and descended once more to saddle the cob. He was a slow, thorough man and I had to curb my impatience, expecting every moment to hear Janet Overy beating spoon against skillet as a signal that supper was almost ready. At last, however, I was up and away, the rouncey frisking under me, delighted to renew our acquaintance. As I rode into the courtyard, Edgar Warden and his assistants appeared through the archway, having finished their day's work and eager now for their evening meal. The bailiff scowled at me as I passed, but offered no other sign of hostility, even managing to look a little ashamed of himself if the truth were told. I wondered if he and Colin and Ned had heard of the aftemoon's events, if the news had as yet spread to all parts of the manor, or if they had still to be told of them, and what they would make of them when they knew.

But the thought was fleeting. I had too much else on my mind, not least the necessity of overtaking Silas Bywater and forcing him to tell me what it was that I needed to know. I felt sure that only he and one other held the key to the riddle of Philip Underdown's death. I knew beyond doubt now who the real murderer was, but was uncertain as to the reason. As I rode, I went back over the events of the past two days, since our arrival at Trenowth the previous morning, and began to see more clearly a pattern emerging. Things had been said and done which by themselves meant nothing, but put together started to form a picture. And I could go even further back, to one of my early conversations with Philip, and also to something which John Penryn had said.

'There are always the cellars,' he had told Philip. 'No ghosts. Just the best ale and wine this side of the Tavy. ' Philip's own voice echoed through my head. 'I cannot bear to be cooped up. It frets me to be in a confined space for very long.'

And he had confessed to having nightmares about being chained up in the dark.

I stopped briefly in the village to make certain that Silas had not delayed his journey by a visit to the inn, but the landlord had not seen him. The landlord's wife, however, was more helpful.

'I met him just beyond the manor pale not an hour since, walking south. Said the murderer had been taken and he was free to return to Plymouth. Heading for the ferry, I reckon.' I thanked her and rode on, letting the rouncey have his head as much as I dared in view of the roughness of the tracks thereabouts and my inexpert horsemanship. I recognized very little of the country through which I passed, it having been dark when Philip and I traversed it, going in the opposite direction, in the pre-dawn hours of yesterday morning. The weather had cleared even more as the afternoon shadows lengthened, and there was now no sign of the morning's threatened storm. A very fine evening was promised and the distant hills were lost in a shimmering amber haze.

I seemed to have been riding for a long time, and was just beginning to worry lest Silas Bywater should for some reason or another have turned aside into one of the neighbouring villages, when, to my great relief, I emerged from a grove of trees and saw him four or five furrows' length ahead of me. I shouted to him to stop as loudly as I could and dug my heels into the cob's side, spurring him forward and soon overtaking my quarry.

Silas had turned in alarm at the sound of his name and was plainly considering the possibility of making a run for it. But in the end he decided to stand his ground and showed me a defiant face as I came abreast of him.

'What do you want?' he asked me in a surly voice. 'Alwyn Steward and Mistress Overy gave me permission to go, now that you've caught the murderer.' He looked suddenly suspicious. 'The Sheriff's officer hasn't arrived yet, has he? It's not he who's told you to come after me? He doesn't wish me fetched back?'

I swung myself out of the saddle with a sigh of relief. In those days I was not a natural horseman. 'You can be easy on that score,' I reassured him. 'There was no sign of either Thomas Sawyer or the Sergeant when I left Trenowth, although no doubt they'll be here before nightfall. No, I'm the one who wants a word with you. There is something I need to know which you can tell me, and as I intend to have the information one way or another, you might as well make it easy for yourself by answering my questions. I am, when all's said and done, much bigger than you.'

He acknowledged this fact with an ill grace. 'What is it you want to know?'

'There's a cottage over there,' I pointed out, 'and as I shall have missed my supper by the time I return to Trenowth, let's see if the goodwife will spare bread and cheese and small ale for two weary travellers. The horse, too, could do with a rest and some water.'

Silas thawed a little with the realization that I was friendlier than he had at first supposed. 'Very well,' he agreed, falling into step beside me. 'We might as well be comfortable, although I could tell you here and now what it is you want to know, because I can guess what it is you've come for.'

It was nearly dark by the time I reached Trenowth manor house again. The gates of the compound still stood open and there was a bustle within which told me that the household was in imminent expectation of the Sergeant's arrival from Launceston. Cressets and torches had been lit in profusion, and Alwyn, hovering on the top step outside the great hall, staff of office in hand, had changed into his best furred gown.

Even those servants who lived in the village and should long ago have gone to their homes still loitered around the courtyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of any drama that might unfold. Isobel and Edgar Warden were seated on the stone bench outside the servants' quarters, and John Groom came forward at once to take my rouncey, having seen me ride in from his position in the stable doorway. Only Janet Overy was missing, and a brief question elicited the fact that she was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to a meal especially prepared for the Sheriff's officer.

'You won't get anything,' the groom informed me. 'She was main put out that you weren't at supper.' I made no reply, but made my way to the kitchen, hoping against hope that I might find Janet alone. My prayers were answered, the two little maids having been sent outside in order to warn of the Sergeant's approach as soon as it was known. As I entered, Janet half-turned, thinking it to be one of the girls, but her face clouded when she saw who it was.

'And where have you been?' she demanded angrily. 'You were supposed to be lying down on your bed.' I shut the kitchen door carefully behind me. 'I went after Silas Bywater,' I said.

Her voice became shrill. 'Why? You promised me–'
 

'I know, and I'm sorry to have broken that promise. But I had to know, you see. I had to know why you killed Philip Underdown.'

CHAPTER 19

There was a protracted silence while I waited for her to deny the charge. But she didn't. Instead, she came forward and sat down heavily at the kitchen table.

'What made you suspect me in the first place?'
 

I swung my legs over the bench and sat opposite her.

'Because you gave yourself away, twice. Earlier this afternoon, when I asked why you thought Philip Underdown chose to leave the bedchamber from an upper floor window rather than a lower, you answered that he might have been afraid of rousing me if he rose and dressed and went downstairs. But by putting me to sleep outside the door, he could climb down the vine without any such worry. I should have seen then what I saw later, that only from Philip himself could you have learned of that stratagem. I did not tell you and no one else knew of it.'

She stared down at her hands which were clasped tightly together on the table in front of her. 'And how did I give myself away the second time?'

'You were very tired, as I was. Your thoughts were muddled and confused by all the events of the day. You could no longer distinguish between what you knew and what you were supposed to know. You knew that it was my cudgel that had been used to bludgeon Philip Underdown to death when the attack with the knife had failed. Again, only he could have informed you that it was mine. Did you never pause to wonder why it wasn't found beside the body, or how it was brought back here?'