‘We are just returned from France,’ her father said.
As he spoke, telling her about travelling with the bishop all the way to Paris to protect the king’s heir, and their dangerous adventures while over there, Edith sat and listened attentively.
It was good. She hadn’t seen her father since May, when she had been married, and now, perhaps for the first time, she felt as though she was being treated as an adult, equal in maturity with him. Always before she had felt that Simon was humouring her, as any father would, but not now. With her marriage, she had crossed a great gulf, and where before she was a child, now she was a woman. Patting her belly, she knew how true that was.
Simon didn’t notice, but she saw Baldwin’s dark eyes flash towards her. He was always so understanding, she thought. He had a quick intuition that was almost feminine. Now she said nothing, but merely smiled. It would be wrong for her to tell Sir Baldwin before her mother.
‘So you are on your way home again now?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Simon said with a quiet stillness that she understood only too well.
She leaned forward and rested her hand on his. ‘Father, I know it was awful the way that man behaved, but you are better at Sandford anyway. I’m happy to know that you are nearer us.’
‘It was just the thought that he could evict me so easily, without any compunction,’ Simon said.
Baldwin shot a look at Edith. ‘It is the way of such men, Simon. You have to appreciate that there is no safety for any man in the realm while Despenser holds so much power. At least now he has done all he intends, so far as we can tell. Go home to Sandford, run your farm and enjoy life.’
‘Sir Baldwin is right, Father. And the good thing for me is that I can visit you sometimes. It’s only half a day’s journey from here, and it will be very pleasant to see you and Mother more often.’
‘Have you seen Meg?’ Simon asked.
‘She is fine, Father. If anything, I think she is happier now than she has been for a long time.’
‘Yes. I can imagine that,’ Simon said quietly.
‘And I am happier,’ Edith repeated. ‘I know that while you are closer to us here, we can help you if you need anything.’
‘I don’t think you need any help anyway,’ Simon said with a smile, turning the goblet over in his hand.
Edith smiled. ‘My husband is a good man,’ she said with quiet certainty.
Fourth Friday after the Feast of the Archangel Michael*
Sandford Barton, Sandford
Simon saw the smoke rising from the chimney as he breasted the hill and could stare down at the house.
‘A goodly home,’ Sir Richard said.
‘But what is that for?’ Simon said.
‘It is a house, Simon,’ the coroner said with some surprise. ‘What else is it for but to help old devils like you and me to rest weary bones in front of a fire. What do you mean?’
‘That thing! The chimney!’ When he had last been here to his old home, it had been a simple longhouse, with the stable block at the eastern end, living accommodation on the western, and the happy sight of smoke billowing from the eaves at either end. Now it appeared to have sprouted a large red sandstone chimney. ‘I don’t understand it. What was she thinking of?’
‘Does it matter? So long as there is some ale down there, and a bite for lunch, I don’t care about the position of a chimney, old friend,’ the coroner said pragmatically.
‘No, of course,’ Simon said, smiling, and spurred his mount down the road towards his home.
His feelings had nothing to do with the chimney, if he was honest. It was the unsettled feeling he had had since leaving Exeter. Somehow all the while on the journey here from London, his problems had seemed to be fading. All he had been aware of was the sense of relief that he would soon be reunited with his wife. And the fact that Sir Hugh le Despenser was more than a hundred miles to the east. There was no escaping the fact that Simon felt the poisonous fellow was the source of all his woes and hardship.
But now, almost home again, he was aware of a sudden increased anxiety. It was almost as though the realisation had hit him that this house was no more safe from Despenser than his last one. Could Despenser have taken over here and installed a chimney for his own comfort, leaving Simon nowhere to go?
It was terrifying to feel this panic at the mere sight of his old home. Coming here again should have been a delight. He had spent so many years here — happy years. It was where he had brought his wife when they were married; it was where his daughter had been born, and where he had been told that he was to be made a bailiff on Dartmoor to protect the Stannaries, the ancient tin mines where the king controlled all production. But as soon as he had been given that post, he had been forced to move from this happy hillside and go to Lydford, so that he could be closer to the moors where he was to earn his living.
‘You all right there, Bailiff?’
Simon felt the coroner’s shrewd eyes on him. He tried to clear his mind, to explain a little of his trepidation. ‘She truly enjoyed living at Lydford at first, you know,’ he said, his body rocking with the motion of the horse as it walked cautiously down the steep incline. His house was set on the northern side of a natural bowl, and they must ride down this, the southern side, and then up to the house on the opposite slope. ‘It was only when I was moved that life grew more difficult.’
‘Eh?’
‘The Abbot of Tavistock wanted to elevate me, because I had done so well for him. So he gave me a new post — that of his officer in Dartmouth. But to go there would have meant uprooting the whole family. Edith was not happy to be taken away from her friends, and Meg herself was unhappy at the thought of moving so far from all that she knew — and didn’t want our son to grow up surrounded by sailors. They aren’t the best of companions to a well-bred lad.’
‘I can imagine that. I still remember my first exposure to the folk of Dartmouth,’ Sir Richard reminisced with a smile of contentment.
He had already told Simon about his affection for women of loose morals, and Simon suspected that the reason for the grin on his face was not one that should be discussed with his wife. ‘Yes, well, that was why I had to move there all alone,’ he said. ‘Meg had to stay back at Lydford. And then we had the house taken away from us.’
‘Well, Bailiff, perhaps it is all for the good. At least now you and I are free of political troubles. Hopefully Baldwin too. Wonder how he’s getting on.’
‘He should be home by now as well,’ Simon said. ‘Furnshill is about the same distance from Exeter as Sandford is.’
They had reached the bottom of the hill now, and clattered through the small stream that ran along the bottom.
‘You know, it’s been such a miserable year or two, and I hardly feel I know my wife any more,’ Simon said.
‘You know her well enough, man,’ Sir Richard declared. ‘It’ll be easier to remember her when you’re near her, though. Come on!’
He spurred his beast on, and the great horse sprang up the hill like a pony with a child on its back, rather than the prodigious weight of Sir Richard.
Simon grinned to himself. It was good to be travelling with the Coroner of Lifton. The man was loud, rumbustious, a perfect danger to a man when it came to drinking, but for all that, he was a fellow who inspired loyalty in a man. He was generous and kindly, and provided he did not feel as though he was being insulted, he was as affable as Wolf.
Simon clapped his heels to his own beast’s flanks, and felt the surge of power as he was thrown forward by the first explosive movement, but already he had his balance and could lean down over his mount’s neck, and he grinned as he felt the cool air wash over his face.
Road outside Bow, Devon
As he jogged along the trail, Stephen of Shoreditch looked about him with ever-increasing anxiety.