"Aye."
"I was hopeful I might search with you. Four eyes are better than two, and seeking the solution to a mystery appeals more than stitching gatherings."
"Your father can spare you from the work?"
"He must do so soon. He is seeking an apprentice to replace me."
"Come. I will show you the place where the thieves, be that how they entered Canterbury Hall, must have come over the wall."
Two thatchers were busy at the yarn-spinner's cottage, their work protracted due to the loss of one of their number. They looked up from their work as we skirted the wall. As I think back on the moment, it was probably not "we" they observed so intently. Being in Kate's company brings a man more attention than he might otherwise receive. And perhaps, more than he might want. I considered this and made note to myself that, was there a time I wished to be incognito, I must not be in Kate's company. Or would she be a successful distraction? What man, beholding Kate, would remember her unremarkable companion?
While I considered this we reached the place where, if a ladder was used to scale the enclosure, it would have been placed.
The thatchers got little work done for the next half-hour. Each time I looked from the grass to the yarnspinner's roof, I found them studying me. Or studying Kate, which was more likely. I found occasion to study her myself. Had I been more alert to my business I might have found the leather thong. But it was Kate who did so.
The leather strip was far back from the wall, five paces or so, well away from where any ladder might have stood. As if, in a fury, whoso had broken the thong then flung it away in anger.
Kate held the slender strip of leather above her head and laughed in satisfaction. It is not often a woman is allowed triumph over a man. I smiled at her sport, and thought as how a bailiff might be well served to have an observant wife.
Kate held the thong out to me. There was but one more thing to do with it. I carried it to the yarn-spinner's home, where the ladder stood propped against the north wall. The thatchers watched me approach, then one recognized me as the surgeon who had treated their companion. He shouted a greeting from the roof, loosened his rope harness, and slid to the top of the ladder. Kate and I met him as his feet struck the ground.
"You be the leech what set Aymer's shoulder to rights," he declared.
"Aye. I saw him this day. The injury troubles him."
"It does. He'll be more careful, like, on a roof, next job."
"He is to come to Canterbury Hall this afternoon for some herbs which will dull the ache and perhaps grant sleep."
"'E'll be grateful, can you do that."
"He told me also that he was pitched from this ladder when you first set to work here."
"'E was," the thatcher laughed. "On 'is arse in the mud. Splutterin' curses, 'e was."
"A thong was missing, he said, and the rung fastened with but a length of yarn, dirtied so it would appear to be a strip of leather."
"'At's right."
My eyes traveled to the ladder. A new thong, lighter in color than the others, marked the repair. I held out the broken thong found in the grass. The thatcher peered at it, then at his ladder.
"The lass found this in the grass between here and the wall about Canterbury Hall. A match for the others, would you agree… but for the new repair."
"Aye, 'tis. But why was it there?"
"Someone may have used your ladder to go over the wall and commit theft."
"Must've torn the thong on the way down," the thatcher mused.
Aymer Thatcher appeared around the corner where Canterbury Hall meets St John's Street. I turned to greet him, showed him the broken thong, and bid him follow Kate and me to the porter's gate. I have had good result in treating the pain of injuries with a potion of wild lettuce and hemp seeds and root. Mixed with ale, these herbs bring sleep and allay much affliction. I might have included seeds of columbine, but I mistrust the use, for too much is poison. A man in great pain might be tempted to take more than he was advised. Then all pain, and his life, would be ended.
I left Kate and the thatcher at the gate, found my pouch in the guest chamber, and poured generous portions of the herbs into a bottle, which I sealed with a wooden plug. In my pouch was also a small vial of flax-seed oil mixed with the oil of monk's hood. The concoction is potent in relieving aches when rubbed on the afflicted joint, but deadly if consumed.
I found the thatcher leaning against the wall, and Kate also, pressed close to the stones. Her brow was furrowed, her face pale. My first thought was that this thatcher had made free with his tongue while I was seeing to his relief. I was about to speak sharply to the fellow when, following Kate's gaze, I saw two men sauntering down St John's Street toward Canterbury Halclass="underline" Sir Simon Trillowe and a youth I took to be his squire.
I handed the bottle of herbs and vial of oil to Aymer and was about to instruct him in their use when Sir Simon's path brought him before us. He stopped, stared at me, then Kate, then back to me. He smiled. No, he smirked, and finally spoke.
"We meet again… Hugh, is it?"
"Master Hugh," Kate replied.
"Do maids speak for you?" he jibed.
"Perhaps those who would not speak to you would willingly speak for Master Hugh," Kate rejoined. Her cheeks were flushed red.
"Ah, but Mistress Kate, you have just spoken to me.
"'Twas of need, not pleasure, be sure." Kate turned from Sir Simon and found something engrossing beyond the Canterbury Hall gate which demanded her attention.
"Perhaps we will meet again, Master Hugh." He emphasized "Master". "Indeed, I am certain of it." He walked on. The youth turned to me and laughed.
What was I to do? Seek Lord Gilbert and complain? Of what? Had I been threatened? Probably. Could I prove it? No. Did I want Lord Gilbert to think me incapable of winning my own battles? I resolved that, for so long as I remained in Oxford, I would wear my dagger under my cotehardie. I was sure Sir Simon spoke true. We would meet again. He would see to it. His injured pride demanded balm.
I instructed the thatcher to mix a portion of the lettuce and hemp into a pint of ale an hour before he wished to sleep, and told him of the caution he must take in applying the oil to his skin; that no trace of the liquid must touch his lips. He tugged his forelock in gratitude and respect and asked what was owed for this relief. I collected a ha'penny and the thatcher set off clutching the flask and vial to his chest with his good hand. Kate and I followed.
We were walking on Catte Street when Kate finally spoke. "Sir Simon is angry with me, I think."
"At us. Had I hoped to win you, and lost, I would be as cross as he."
"But you would not threaten another."
"Would I not?"
"Nay. I would not wed such a man, and you are not."
"Aye," I agreed. "I would endure my loss in silence."
I had not thought of the Lady Joan Talbot, now the Lady de Burgh, for many months. As I spoke her comely face came to mind. But only briefly. Kate is quite capable of banishing thoughts of other females from my mind.
I left Kate at her father's shop with the promise that we would meet on the morrow for troth plight and hear the banns first read. I do not remember what the Canterbury Hall cook served that evening for supper. It was surely another pottage with maslin loaves, else I would remember. Stolen books and a comely maid possessed my thoughts.
Master Wyclif accompanied me to St Peter's Church next morning. With Master John and her father as witnesses, Kate vowed before a priest to become my wife, and I pledged to make her so.
Before the mass a curate stood and announced to the congregation our intention to wed. He asked was there any who knew of reason we might not. I half expected Sir Simon to appear from behind a pillar and denounce our purpose. But he did not, nor did any other, and so the banns were announced. Twice more the priest would do so, then Kate might become my wife.