Next morning was not so cold, for which small blessing I remembered to thank the Lord Christ before Arthur and I set out for Holywell Street. I was eager to learn of Sir Jocelin Hawkwode and his residence. Robert Caxton had not opened his shop for business when we arrived, but Kate was prompt at the door when I knocked upon it.
"Father told you of the house on Great Bailey Street where… what is his name?"
"Hawkwode… Sir Jocelin Hawkwode. Arthur learned his name yesterday and you found his abode."
"Shall I take you there?"
"Aye. 'Tis early, but we may catch the fellow before he goes about for the day."
Terce had not yet rung and the streets were near empty, so nothing impeded our progress to Great Bailey Street. The house Kate pointed out was a substantial dwelling, typical of an Oxford town house of a prosperous gentleman. It was two stories tall, and four chimneys indicated plenty of warmth available for cold winter days. A few tendrils of smoke rose from one chimney. Perhaps the cook was out of bed and at the day's business, but few others were, it seemed.
I wished to confront Sir Jocelin on the street, where he might be alone, rather than in his lair. The house was large enough to accommodate a dozen knights and squires. It would be folly to impeach the man where he might call companions for aid.
I required of Arthur that he escort Kate back to her father. She was not pleased. The banns were read and we might soon be wed, if I did not raise her choler too often. I was uneasy, for it seemed in the past days I had chosen to displease Kate more than once.
Across Great Bailey Street from Sir Jocelin's residence was the ancient moat and the castle. Shops around the corner on Pennyfarthing Lane were yet closed, so no customers walked the muddy streets. A man may lose himself in a crowd. Alone he cannot. I did not see a face peer from a window, but someone surely did. They saw me saunter up and down the road and plotted, while I awaited Arthur's return.
Perhaps the third time I traveled the street the door burst open as I passed the place and three young men charged silently from the house. They stumbled over each other briefly, then came running straight for me. One wore a green surcoat and a short red beard sprouted from his chin.
This was not the plan I had envisioned when I considered a confrontation with Sir Jocelin. Some day, when I greet the Lord Christ in heaven, I must ask why my schemes so seldom unfold as contrived.
My fur coat is warm, but not suited to flight. The heavy garment caught at my legs as I turned from my pursuers and ran. I am not sturdily made. In a fight with one of these knights I would be hard pressed. Against three I would find myself pummeled into the mud of the street, or worse. But an advantage of a slender form is a good turn of speed when I take to my heels. And most men find unknown reserves when pursued by those who intend them harm. My flapping coat slowed me but little.
The castle gate stood open little more than two hundred paces from me. Was Sir John Trillowe yet sheriff I would have passed the castle and fled toward Canterbury Hall. Was Sir Simon yet in residence the castle would have provided no refuge.
A few men about business in the castle walked to and fro through the gatehouse. Some heard my feet pounding through the mud and glanced up from their passage to see what provoked such haste. I threaded my way past these fellows and glanced over my shoulder to see what distance I had put between myself and my pursuers. I was pleased to see them skidding to a halt in the castle forecourt, unwilling to continue the chase and surely startled that I would seek refuge in the castle. I slowed my pace, turned to Hawkwode, bowed, and swept my arm in invitation to follow. He glared, shook his fist, and turned away.
13
I had intended to call upon the new sheriff, mention my employer, and learn could Lord Gilbert's name bring me Sir Roger's aid. Sir Jocelin Hawkwode and his companions hastened this visit. Perhaps God chose to contrive my call upon Sir Roger this day, and devised this method to get me to the castle. If so be, it succeeded remarkably well.
This was my third visit to the castle. I was learning my way about the place. I knew well where to find the sheriff's chamber and set off for the hall with resolute steps. None challenged my passage. I gave appearance of knowing where I was going and seemed to have reason for going there. And a man wearing a fur coat on a cold day is thought to be of some means and therefore worthy of a warder's deference.
The anteroom before Sir Roger's chamber was already crowded with supplicants. I heard the hum of conversation while I was yet in the passage leading to the chamber. A dozen or more men and two women crowded the room. Many held documents in hand or rolled under an arm. A clerk, unknown to me, looked up from a table which guarded the door to the sheriff's chamber. His visage spoke; words were unnecessary: "Another who seeks a post or favor from Sir Roger."
The place before the clerk's table was empty. Those in the hall had presented their petitions and now awaited Sir Roger's will. The wait, I thought, might be long. I decided to see what Lord Gilbert Talbot's name might do to speed my appeal.
"I am Hugh de Singleton, bailiff to Lord Gilbert Talbot at his manor of Bampton. Lord Gilbert and Sir Roger fought side by side at Poitiers."
This information did not seem to impress the clerk. He shifted his gaze to admire his fingernails.
"Lord Gilbert has sent me to Oxford on a matter of some urgency," I continued. This was not exactly true, but was not untrue, either. "Lord Gilbert would be much pleased should Sir Roger find occasion to assist in the difficulty. Perhaps you might inform Sir Roger of my presence and Lord Gilbert's request."
The clerk rolled his eyes but did as I asked. As bailiff to Lord Gilbert I have much authority in Bampton, and some even in Oxford. Though it is true in Oxford I must occasionally flee from miscreants who respect neither me nor my employer.
The clerk pushed open the heavy oaken door and I heard voices through the aperture. Sir Roger had a guest already. The clerk stood in the doorway and repeated my words nearly as I had spoken them. The fellow was practiced at relaying messages to his master.
When the clerk was silent I heard a chair scrape across the flags and a heartbeat later a round, florid face appeared beyond the clerk, peering at me through the open door from under a pair of the shaggiest eyebrows I have ever seen. On a bright day Sir Roger carries with him his own shade.
"Bailiff for Lord Gilbert, eh," Sir Roger exclaimed, and pressed past his clerk through the doorway. "How does he? Is well, I hope. Enter… enter. How may I assist him?"
I did not hesitate. As I passed into the inner chamber I caught sight of envious glances from those who were before me seeking audience with Sir Roger. I felt guilty, but the emotion soon passed.
The sheriff's previous caller stood before a table which occupied the center of the chamber. A chair rested upon the flags behind him, and another where Sir Roger must have sat, was placed across the table from the visitor.
I did not know the supplicant I had displaced, but it was clear from his behavior that he was unwilling to leave Sir Roger's presence. The sheriff, however, seemed pleased for the interruption as opportunity to chase the fellow away.
"Be assured, Sir Thomas, that I will give the matter scrutiny." This the sheriff said while placing a meaty hand upon the small of Sir Thomas' back and firmly thrusting him toward the door. Sir Roger then nodded to his clerk, and the fellow pulled the door shut firmly before Sir Thomas could turn to protest his expulsion.
"Your name again?" Sir Roger asked.
"Hugh de Singleton."
"And in Gilbert Talbot's service at Bampton?"
Aye.
Sir Roger motioned to the empty chair, and when I sat he drew up the other chair across the table.