‘Hilda! By God’s bones, it’s you!’ He lurched forward and indifferent to spectators, threw his long arms about her and hugged her to his chest. Then he seized her by the shoulders and leaned back, so that he could get a good look at her. ‘Hilda, you are a sight for my weary eyes and my lonely soul! But how came you here?’
The tall blonde took his hands in hers and beamed back at him, radiant in her happiness at seeing this dour, dark man again.
‘I came with Roger on the St Radegund,’ she said gaily. ‘Far better than wearying myself on a horse for a week!’
The St Radegund was one of the vessels that belonged to the wool-exporting partnership of Hilda, John and Hugh de Relaga, one of Exeter’s portreeves.
Roger Watts, a stocky, weather-beaten mariner, stepped forward and touched a finger to his forehead. ‘Mistress Hilda persuaded me to bring her, Sir John. I took a full cargo of your wool from Topsham to Bruges, then came back to London with finished cloth from the Flanders weavers. We must sail for Exeter the day after tomorrow, I’m afraid, for your partner has another load ready there bound for the Rhine.’
‘So we have a whole day tomorrow, John, for you to show me the sights!’ murmured Hilda, squeezing his hands with hers.
‘And two whole nights,’ thought John rapturously. Her English was heavy with the accent of South Devon, music to his ears.
Gwyn loomed behind him and as soon as Hilda released John, the Cornishman seized her in a bear hug. For almost twenty years, he had watched her grow from a lanky girl into the beautiful woman she was now and he loved her himself in his avuncular way. ‘It’s like a breath of fresh air to have you here in this miserable place!’ he boomed.
John was now aware of a smaller figure lurking behind Hilda. This was Alice, her little maid, a girl of about thirteen, one of the sailor’s orphans that Hilda cared for in Dawlish. She came forward now to bob her knee, shy in the presence of this forbidding man. She knew her mistress was enamoured of him and blushed when he took her hand and bade her welcome.
‘How was your journey, did you have fair weather?’ John asked them, suddenly at a loss for better words.
‘It was fine, far better than suffering the high roads for days on end!’ said Hilda gaily. ‘I voyaged so much in good weather and foul with Thorgils, that the sea holds no terrors for me — nor for Alice here, who is a true sailor’s daughter.’
They were still all standing in the centre of the room, with Aedwulf peering from the back door at this lovely, elegant woman. His wife Osanna, who had been taking in this drama, suddenly bustled forward.
‘Sir John, what are we thinking of! Your guests have travelled over the seas and need rest and sustenance. Sit you down and I’ll get your dinner, there’s enough to go round for all!’
She hurried towards the back door and yelled at her hen-pecked husband to get ale and wine for the company. The fact that Hilda by her looks and speech was obviously of Saxon blood like themselves, made them particularly hospitable.
John and Gwyn dragged stools and a bench to the table, which they all crowded around — Alice went to crouch in a corner, but the benevolent Gwyn sat her on a milking stool at the table.
As Aedwulf bustled in with ale, cider and a flask of wine, the coroner and his officer were eager to hear news of their home city, and plied both the shipmaster and Hilda with questions, to which she had a few answers.
‘When I knew I was coming to visit you, I made it my business to go to Exeter,’ she said, as John placed a cup of wine before her. ‘I called at the Bush and all is well, Gwyn! Your wife is busy but contented and she told me that business is excellent; she has had to take on an extra skivvy in the kitchen. The boys are well and helping her with the running of the inn. They send their love to you and hope to see you before long.’
Gwyn beamed at the news and vowed that he would visit them soon, even if he had to walk all the way to Devon!
‘I have precious little news for you, I fear, John,’ said Hilda more soberly. ‘I called at your house in Martin’s Lane and spoke to your maid Mary. She is well enough, but unhappy at the long silence, and concerned about your keeping on the empty house. She worries that eventually she will lose her job and her home. She told me to tell you that Brutus is well, though pining for you.’
To John’s surprise a lump came in his throat as he heard of his old hound and his faithful housekeeper. Again he regretted the king’s desire to exile him in this alien place, but there was little he could do about it for now.
‘And have you heard anything of my wife?’ he asked.
Hilda shook her head sadly, a lock of blonde hair escaping from under her white linen headcloth. ‘I knew you would want news, John, so I went up to Polsloe Priory to see what I could learn. I managed to speak to that old nun, Dame Madge, who seems to look upon you with favour, but there was little she could tell me.’
‘You did not get to meet Matilda herself?’ he asked rather ingenuously. Hilda’s finely arched brows lifted in mild surprise.
‘It would have been folly even to try!’ she said. ‘Your wife’s attitude to me for many years past has not been the most cordial.’ She paused to sip from her pewter cup of wine.
‘No, Dame Madge told me that Matilda still refuses to talk either about you or her brother Richard and spends all her time either in prayer or helping in the infirmary.’
‘Has she decided to take her vows and make her stay permanent?’
Hilda gave a delicate shrug. ‘I asked the nun that and she said your wife had still not made up her mind.’
‘Damn the woman,’ murmured John. ‘She is deliberately dangling me on a string. I cannot decide what to do about our house, in case she decides to return there at some time.’
Osanna now bustled in with wooden bowls, platters and bread, while Aedwulf shuffled behind her with a large dish of mutton stew. The housekeeper, usually indifferent and sometimes surly, seemed energised by the presence of these guests and ladled out the surprisingly good stew with exhortations to eat heartily. After the mutton, there was boiled bacon, beans and carrots and the visitors did ample justice to the food, especially after having suffered shipboard rations for over week. Thanks to Gwyn’s encouragement and teasing, Alice overcame her shyness, eating and drinking weak ale with every sign of enjoyment.
There was bread, cheese and nuts to finish and conversation flowed easily. John discussed the affairs of their wool and cloth shipping business with Roger Watts and said that he would get Thomas to write a letter about it for the shipmaster to take back to their active partner, Hugh de Relaga.
‘I must get back to the ship, which is berthed just below London Bridge,’ said Roger when they had eaten their fill. ‘There is work to be done concerning the cargoes and we must catch the noon tide the day after tomorrow. I will come for Hilda and her maid during the morning.’
He had hired a couple of rounseys for the short journey from the city, Alice sitting behind him, and now he took himself to the backyard to collect his horse, leaving the other for Hilda’s use. Gwyn smiled to himself at Roger’s assumption that Hilda would be staying with de Wolfe and then went on to wonder what he himself should do about it. With only two rooms in their cottage, he decided to make himself scarce for a couple of nights.
‘I’ll bed down with the palace guards, Crowner,’ he said quietly. ‘With young Alice here as well, you’ll need some privacy.’