“We walked the horses from the stables behind our inn, and once we were outside the town, rode off. Some twenty or so miles farther on, there was another inn, and we rested there for a morning before setting off again, but before we had gone far, there was a sound of charging horses behind us, and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw a knight and others racing along. Antonio saw them at the same time, and cried to us to whip up.
“I didn’t know what was going on, but if they were after us, whether they were outlaws or lawful posse, I didn’t care: I didn’t want to be caught by so many warlike men miles from anywhere. Just like the others, I clapped spurs to my mount and tried to escape. But the pony was a heavy burden. Its load was too heavy for it to hurry, and the men were gaining on us. I tried whipping it, but although I cut its hide in many places, it couldn’t keep up. In the end I let it go.”
“And?”
Baldwin’s voice was quiet, but it shattered the silence like a mace hitting glass. The servant looked up again. “Sir, when Antonio saw what I had done, he was in a towering rage. He said, ‘What was the point of stealing all that pewter if you’re going to let them take it all back?’ I was horrified: I’d had no idea he was stealing it. Maybe there are some things I’ve done in my life I’m not proud of, but I’m no thief, and the thought of robbing so many, and all under the Abbot’s guarantee…It was like stealing from the Abbot himself.
“We carried on, and Antonio managed to trade a few items and keep us from starving, and I had thought when we came here to Tavistock, it was so that he could start to rebuild his business. When he came in this morning, just like he had in Bayonne, I realized he was doing something wrong again, and I decided to leave them. If they want a hemp necklace, they’re welcome. I don’t!”
“And,” Baldwin prompted, “what else? Come, we know so much already.”
Edgar was standing at the door, and through it he could see the hounds milling in the court. Men were arriving; the mounted watchmen placed around the fair to protect travellers had been called to form the posse. He considered telling his master, but seeing Baldwin’s concentration, he remained silent.
“Sir, Pietro met this girl, Avice, and fell in love with her-and, I think, she with him. He arranged to meet her in the tavern, so that he and she could allow their fathers to talk and discuss business, with the hope that both would find the other amenable to their marriage, but to Pietro’s disgust, his father insisted that we should leave. Sir, while we were in Bayonne, there was a merchant we saw several times. He was in the tavern that night too. When Antonio saw him, he rushed out, almost knocking down a man coming in, and Pietro all but drew his dagger to strike the man down; it was only me holding his arm that stopped him. Outside, Antonio told us that he’d seen the merchant from Bayonne. Pietro hadn’t, but Antonio was absolutely certain, and he told us to avoid the tavern in future so that we could not be recognized. Then he and I returned to the Abbey.”
“And Pietro?”
“He remained: he said he wanted to wait for his girl and parents, hoping he would be able to talk to her or persuade them to go to another tavern.”
“So it was him,” Simon breathed.
Baldwin scratched his chin reflectively. “What else?”
Luke was committed now. He closed his eyes briefly, then held Baldwin’s steadily as he completed his story. “Sir, this morning Pietro was in a rage about a monk who had been ‘pestering,’ as he called it, his woman. He went out to see her, and when he came back, like I say, he was pale and anxious. I didn’t want to question him-I know what he’s capable of. He can have an evil temper. Now I hear the monk’s dead.”
“And you have formed your own conclusion, obviously,” Baldwin said, and stood. “Very well, Edgar, I can hear them; there’s no need to wave like that. Luke, you will remain here until we return. Come along, Simon, what are you waiting for? We have men to catch.”
In the court they found the Abbot talking to the berner with men cursing and swearing at the hounds, which slavered and slobbered at the horses’ hooves. Abbot Champeaux himself seemed unaware of the mayhem, and Baldwin assumed that he was so used to hunting and the din created by his harriers that this was an almost relaxing sound to him. The knight asked the Abbot to see to it that Luke was held, then prepared to mount his horse.
The knight was pleased to note, as he swung his leg over the back of his Arab mare, that the hounds all appeared to be from good stock. They were of a good tan color, and larger than his own, with wide nostrils set in long muzzles, and all had powerful chests with strong shoulders and hips that pointed not only to their being able to maintain a steady speed, but also to their ability to bring down heavy game. Baldwin did not miss the heavy hunting collars, all of thick engraved leather, that the Abbot had invested in for his pack. The collars were not overly ostentatious, they weren’t studded with silver or even iron, but the knight could see that they were expensive, and the sight made him give a grin. The Abbot was proud of his harriers.
Baldwin hoped that his pride would today be justified.
“You will send these to the Abbey for us,” Margaret stated, preferring to assume the man’s compliance than offer him an opportunity to refuse. Miserably, he nodded. He had already been forced to bargain away more than he had intended, and it was worth agreeing just to dispose of the harpy.
Jeanne kept a straight face as Margaret sternly instructed the man, but as soon as they had gone a little way along the alley, she began to giggle. “The poor devil was glad to see the back of you.”
“I’d have been worried if he wasn’t,” said Margaret complacently. “That could only mean he thought he had the better of the deal, and I wouldn’t want him to make too much profit from me. I haven’t been too hard on him-he was happy enough to agree to my conditions in the end.”
“Of course, my lady,” Jeanne said, giving her a mock curtsey. “He should be grateful that you deigned to visit his stall, let alone graced him with your business.”
“The cloth will suit my sideboard.”
“Yes, and the other will look good on you,” Jeanne said.
Margaret laughed. She had convinced the man that dealing with the bailiff of Lydford’s wife was potentially good for his business, and he had initially scrambled to show her the choicest materials he had, but his enthusiasm for the talk had waned when he realized that her aim was to win the best cloth for the price of the cheapest. “It’s not my fault,” she said. “I was raised as a farmer’s daughter, and we were taught to bargain and save as much money as we could. My mother would have been horrified to see me throwing away good money just because I couldn’t be bothered to haggle a bit.”
“If she was like my uncle’s wife in Burgundy, she’d be just as shocked to see you spending so much on a few choice materials.”
Margaret ignored the tone of mild reproof, her interest fired by the comment. “Your aunt and uncle raised you?”
“Yes, after my parents died, they took me with them.”
“It must have been a great adventure to go so far,” Margaret said, with a trace of jealousy. The furthest she had travelled was to Tiverton.
“Not for a girl of only three years. I had no idea what my home was like, I hardly remembered the house, and within a short space I had forgotten what my mother looked like.”
“Surely not!”