" 'Tis yours an ye let us in!" Cob shouted. "I'll get it again for ye later," he whispered to Katherine.
"No," she said faintly, "it doesn't matter."
The door opened. Cob shoved it wider, and palling Katherine with him walked in. Cob shut and barred the door. "Here ye are then," he said roughly, dropping the noble in the old man's shaking outstretched bind.'
The old man was called Elias, and usually he worked around the fishhouse as night-watch. He had been left here alone this afternoon to guard the house, for Master Guy had gone to an emergency meeting in Fishmongers' Hall called by Walworth the mayor, who was also a fishmonger and who had hurried from the King in the Tower to confer with his fellows on the rebel crisis which was getting more serious each moment.
"Where's Dame Emma?" said Katherine sinking down on the settle. The kitchen fire was unlighted, the low-raftered room that had always shown a homely cheer was now empty and gloomy behind its drawn shutters.
The old man bit the gold noble between his wobbly remaining teeth before slipping it in some hidden cranny of his stained and fishy tunic. "She's gone," he said, eyeing the two intruders with bleak suspicion.
Master Guy, alarmed at last, had packed Dame Emma and the maids off to St. Helen's priory for safety when at dawn the Kentish rebels had poured over the Bridge, but no need to tell this strange tousled wench that - or anything. Elias folded his arms around his shrunken chest and mumbled with feeble malevolence, as Cob who had been rummaging came back with his finds.
"Ye best eat, lady," said Cob breaking a juicy hunk off a meat pie and holding it out to her. As Katherine shook her head, he thrust out his mug of ale. "Drink then!"
She lowered her lips and swallowed thirstily. Cob held the mug and suddenly chuckled. "Here's something warms me cockles," he said, "to see the Lady o' Kettlethorpe a-drinking from the same mug as her serf - ay, there's a sight would dumbfounder 'em back home!"
Katherine raised her head from the mug. "Cob," she whispered, looking at him wonderingly. Cob, the runaway from Kettlethorpe - -she knew him now. It was no squire had guided her this day, had told puzzling lies for her. It was her own rebellious serf. Yet not long ago she had dreamed that he was going to kill her. She had dreamed that she saw him chopping the emblems from the marble mantel in the Avalon Chamber. He had given her a strange sideways glance when a question had been asked. What question? "Who are you then?" Had someone asked that? There were others there in the dream: men - and Blanchette. But Blanchette was sleeping in the Duchess' bower - nay, in the! Monmouth Wing.
"Cob?" she said. "Do you know where is Blanchette?"
"Nay, lady," replied the little outlaw quickly, and crossed himself. "For sure now ye must rest. Old gaffer." He prodded Elias who was crouching on a stool by the dead fireplace. "Where can the lady rest?"
The old man hunched himself. "On the floor, forsooth."
"I know where to go," said Katherine, not hearing him. Why did Cob cross himself? she thought. Behind a flimsy wall a sea of horror surged and pounded, but the wall still held.
"The chamber above the fish-shop," she said to Cob. 'Tis where I've always gone. Ay - I must lie down a while." Her head spun as she rose, and she dragged herself towards the stairs.
"Ye can't go up there, woman!" squealed Elias, jumping up and shaking his fist as he hobbled after Katherine.
Cob gave him a negligent shove and gestured with his knife. "Me whistle's still dry. Where's more ale? Ye've not earned your noble yet, not by a long shot." He grinned and pricked Elias on his skinny shank. "I'll have that flitch o' bacon too, what's hanging from the rafter, and I dare say ye know where white bread be stored. I've a fancy to taste white bread at last."
While Cob made himself comfortable in the kitchen, Katherine found her way to the chamber loft. The two great beds and the sliding truckle were all neatly made and covered with down quilts. She lay down on the bed which she had once shared with Hawise. Always when she lay down to rest her longing prayers turned to the Duke. Now for a moment she saw his face but it was far away, tiny; then a hand holding a threatening crucifix thrust up as barrier before John's face, blocking it off. Her head throbbed agonizingly. She moaned a little, and closed her eyes.
When Master Guy returned home, it was near to sundown and the grave issues of the rebellion so perturbed him that he gave scant attention to the presence of a ragged little knave in his kitchen, or to old Elias' stammered excuses.
When he understood from Cob that Lady Swynford was sleeping upstairs, having taken refuge here after the burning of the Savoy, Master Guy banged his pudgy hand on the table in exasperation, crying, "By God - why must she come here!" But when Cob had tried to go on and tell him of the gruesome happenings in the Savoy and the dangers they had run in London streets to get here, Master Guy interrupted, shaking his fat jowls impatiently. "Ay - ay, I know there's been hideous deeds everywhere this day. Well - let her be - let her be - but I canna concern mesel' wi' her, one way or t'other. Nor ye neither," he said to Cob. "Ye can rest a bit, then out ye go. I want none o' the rebels in here."
Today at the distress meeting in Fishmongers' Hall, first, Mayor Walworth had come to tell his fellow fishmongers that all loyal citizens were to be alerted - here he had glanced frowning at the empty chairs of the aldermen who had opened the Bridge and joined the rebels - that since Wat Tyler's early promises of good behaviour and no violence had not been kept, and since the rebels were now most threateningly encamped around the Tower and besieging the King, a fierce and sudden counter-attack was being planned.
The King's regiment within the Tower would be joined by Sir Robert Knolles' huge force of retainers who were quartered in his inn this side of Tower Hill, while all the Londoners who wished to rid their city of the insurrectionists must arm and strike at the same time. It had seemed a good plan to the anxious fishmongers and they had started to organise the runners who would alert the other guilds and burghers while Walworth returned to the Tower.
But no sooner started than the whole scheme had been countermanded. A panting King's messenger arrived at Fishmongers' Hall bearing an official missive. There was to be no attack made on the rebels after all, conciliation was to be tried first. The messenger had been present at the King's Council and amplified his document. He told the fishmongers that the King had ordered the rebel army to meet him at seven in the morning for conference at Mile End, a meadow two miles to the east of town. This would give opportunity for the archbishop and treasurer to escape by boat while the savage mob who howled for their blood were drawn off to parley with the King.
Master Guy lumbered up to look to the fastenings of his house before going to bed, and was reminded of Cob, who lay curled up snoring on a bench. "Out wi' ye - now," he cried, shaking him.
Cob did not protest, for the huge fishmonger was fully armed; besides Cob was rested now and full of food, and not ungrateful. "Ay - I'll be off, thank 'e, sir." He yawned and bowed and docilely went out upon Thames Street while Master Guy barred his door behind him.
Cob finished out his sleep on a stone bench in St. Magnus' church porch and awakened when its bells rang out for Prime. This Friday, June 14, was another fair warm day, and Cob felt revived interest in the great cause which had brought him into London. He munched on the delicious white bread and bacon with which he had prudently stuffed his pockets, and glanced towards the fishmonger's house where Lady Swynford slept, devoutly glad that he was rid of her and wondering that he had taken so much pains to care for her yesterday. Her and her purse full of jewels and gold! A murrain on her and all her kind, thought Cob, bitterly regretting that he had not taken opportunity to steal upstairs and relieve her of that purse before Master Guy came home.