I was following, as always, the course of the Draco, climbing upwards as it lisped and rippled downhill to the village below. The noonday sky was growing stormy, torn into rags of cloud by a rising wind. Glancing behind me, I saw bigger, greyer clouds shouldering their way across the hills on the opposite side of the valley; hills that stood surly and black, humping their backs against the approaching rain until, suddenly, they were completely blotted out. And here came the rain, marching across the valley, trailing and swishing its long, transparent skirts with the fury of a woman scorned. Then it was falling all around me, doing its best to soak me to the skin.
I was by this time on a level with Dragonswick Farm, some quarter-mile away to my left across the sheep-bitten pasture, and I made a dash for it, telling myself that it was only sensible to seek shelter. (In the far distance, I glimpsed Billy Tyrrell running for the little shepherd’s hut, higher up the hill.) I made my sodden way to the back of the farmhouse, knocked on the kitchen door and let myself in without waiting for an invitation.
Ruth Hodges was alone, boiling water over the fire preparatory to washing the dirty dinner dishes stacked on the table. She glanced up enquiringly as I entered.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, shrugging her thin shoulders.
‘Can I stay here until the storm’s past?’ I asked, shaking myself like a dog and stripping off my wet cloak, which I flung over a stool near the hearth.
‘If you want,’ she answered indifferently, making it plain that she was a girl on whom my famous charm and dazzling good looks had no effect whatsoever. (Sadly, there were far too many of those in the world.)
‘Dinner’s over, then.’ I nodded towards the pile of wooden platters and a line of cups and mazers.
‘It’s midday,’ she answered scornfully. ‘Course dinner’s over. Supper’s not more’n four hours away.’ For the first time since my arrival, she gave me her full attention. ‘You’re wet,’ she discovered. ‘Is it raining?’
‘Lashing down,’ I said, gallantly suppressing a ruder retort. ‘But I don’t think it’ll last long. It’s too heavy to be prolonged.’
She poured hot water into a bowl, added a jug of cold from the barrel in the corner, found a cloth and a bunch of twigs for scouring the dirtier pots and set about her task, if not with a will, then at least with resignation.
I waited a minute or two, warming myself by the fire, before saying abruptly, and making it a statement, not a question, ‘I hear Master Tom’s returned.’
She was caught off guard. ‘How d’you know that?’ she asked involuntarily, then broke off, staring at me in round-eyed dismay. ‘It’s s’posed to be a secret. Master Ned’ll kill me if he thinks I’ve said ’nything.’
‘Rob Pomphrey knows. He says he got the information from Billy Tyrrell.’
‘Billy ain’t got the sense he was born with.’ Ruth was dismissive.
‘But it is true?’
‘I didn’t say so. Not in so many words, anyway.’
‘Lying low in the house, is he?’
‘I’m not telling.’ She up-ended two mazers on the table, using them as props for the bowls and platters that she set to drain.
‘And what does Master Ned say about it?’ I enquired.
‘What do I say about what?’ asked a voice, and there was Ned Rawbone framed in the kitchen doorway.
Ruth screamed and dropped a pot which rolled around the stone-paved floor with an almighty clatter. Even I jumped, not having heard the door open.
Ned came forward and put two more dirty beakers on the table.
‘You forgot these,’ he said to Ruth, before turning once again to me. ‘Master Chapman, I thought you were on your way back to Bristol.’
Now, what had given him that idea? I wondered. Then I recalled the look I had seen pass between him and Maud Lilywhite in church that morning, and it struck me that perhaps she was acting on his instructions. He was the one who wanted me and my prying nose gone before I discovered that Tom had returned to Dragonswick. I now felt convinced that my original guess was the correct one; it was he, not Tom, who had been Maud’s midnight visitor.
‘I leave tomorrow,’ I told him. ‘My journey’s not so urgent as to warrant travelling on a Sunday. I’ve taken shelter here from the storm. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘And where are you off to now?’ He eyed me suspiciously, his body tense, as wary as an animal guarding its lair.
‘Upper Brockhurst woods. I promised Theresa Lilywhite that I’d take another look at the well before I leave tomorrow.’ It wasn’t quite the truth, but no matter. I had no wish to hold myself up to ridicule by admitting my own inexplicable feelings about the place.
‘You won’t find anything!’ He was scornful. ‘When Eris disappeared, the first thought in everyone’s mind was that she might have fallen down the well. She hadn’t, as I’m sure you must know by now. It was empty.’ He echoed Maud. ‘You’re wasting your time. By the way, you haven’t answered my first question. What do I say about what?’
I thought quickly. I saw Ruth’s beseeching glance. Moreover, I had no desire to get Billy Tyrrell into trouble.
‘I’m afraid we were discussing the attacks on Sir Anselm and Lambert Miller,’ I said with apparent frankness. ‘I wondered what your thoughts were on the subject, that’s all.’
How he might have answered me, I have no idea because, just at that moment, Tom Rawbone sauntered into the kitchen.
‘I’m damned thirsty,’ he said. ‘Ruth, my child, get me another stoup of ale.’
Ned cursed fluently before unceremoniously bundling his brother out of the room. He returned almost immediately to demand my silence, a demand that had a quiet but unmistakable undertone of menace to it.
I gave him my word that no one would hear of Tom’s return from me, although I again failed to mention that the news had already leaked out. I silently wondered for how long Rob Pomphrey would be able to keep what he knew to himself.
‘All the same, you won’t be able to hide your brother for ever,’ I said, pointing out the obvious.
My remark, though kindly meant, was not well received.
‘I know that,’ Ned snarled. ‘Do you think I’m an idiot? I just want time to persuade Tom to go away again.’ He thumped the table viciously, making Ruth jump a second time and drop another pot with an even bigger clatter. ‘What does he think he’s doing, coming back here and putting all our good reputations in jeopardy?’ Ned’s eyes had glazed over and I could see that he was really talking to himself. For the moment, he had forgotten my existence. ‘I got him away safely once. The stupid bastard might not be so lucky next time.’
‘Why has he decided to risk it?’ I asked.
Ned gave a nervous start. ‘What …? Oh … Swears he didn’t attack anyone. Insists he wants to clear his name. Not that it’s any of your business, chapman! Can’t keep that great nose of yours out of anybody’s business, can you? It’ll get you into serious trouble one of these days.’
‘Oh, it has, on more than one occasion,’ I answered cheerfully. ‘Unfortunately, I never seem able to learn my lesson.’
Ned crossed to the back door and opened it, peering outside.
‘The rain’s almost stopped,’ he said pointedly. ‘But I don’t think it’s going to hold off for much longer. So, if I were you, I’d get back to the Lilywhites’ while you can and stay in the dry for the rest of the day. You’ll have enough to put up with for the next few weeks.’
I laughed. ‘A bit of rain doesn’t bother me. I’m used to being out in all weathers. I’m a pedlar, remember? However,’ I added, as though deciding to humour him, ‘maybe you’re right. It’s a long walk to Bristol.’ I held out my hand. ‘I doubt, then, we’ll be seeing one another again, Master Rawbone, so I’ll wish you goodbye.’