‘And he couldn’t bark,’ Adam reiterated, banging his spoon in ecstasy on the table, ‘’cause his mouth was full up with sosinges.’
‘The dog was played by Master Chorley,’ my daughter added. ‘You can always tell it’s him by his missing fingers.’
‘And Mistress Tabitha was the Cook and Tobias was the Sultan,’ my stepson said, passing his plate for a second helping of dumpling. ‘Master Monkton wasn’t there today. I expect he’d drunk too much and was having a rest.’
This idea made us all laugh, and the subject of the mummers and their plays lasted us very well until bedtime. Adela insisted we all retired together.
‘For thanks to your foolhardiness,’ she told me, ‘in agreeing to this jaunt, you’ve a tiring few days ahead of you.’
FIFTEEN
In the chill, grey dawn of the following morning, just as the wintry sun rose like a smoking orb over the city rooftops, I approached the Bell Lane stables. I strode out freely, unencumbered by my pack, it having been agreed between Adela and myself that I would simply ride to Nibley Green, make my enquiries and return immediately whatever the outcome. I would waste no time trying to sell my wares, but make all haste home in time for Twelfth Night Eve, my daughter having added her voice to her stepmother’s in demanding my presence for this culmination of the Christmas festivities.
Adam, too, had added his mite. ‘If you don’t come home you’ll be a Bad Man and I shan’t love you any more.’
It was small wonder, I reflected, that friends and acquaintances regarded me as too lenient a father. Most of the men I knew ruled the roost in their own households. I never seemed to have mastered the art.
As I neared the recently opened gates of the stable yard, I saw a recognizable figure approaching from the opposite direction, emerging into Bell Lane from the narrow alleyway leading from the castle. I touched my cap and called out, ‘Good morning, Mistress Warrener. You’re abroad early.’
Tabitha was dressed very much as she always was when not performing. The same wide strip of faded cloth was tied around her head, wisps of grey hair escaping from beneath it. The nondescript skirt was kilted about her knees revealing a pair of strong, manly-looking legs in woollen hose and two large feet in wooden clogs. A thick shawl draped around her broad shoulders was her only concession to the biting cold and her raw, red hands were deformed with chilblains.
She nodded as soon as she realized who it was had hailed her and bade me, ‘Good day.’
I followed her into the stables, where she was greeted by the head stable man.
‘Master Monkton saddled you with the task of visiting the horses today, then?’ He grinned as he uttered the word ‘saddled’, proud of what he considered to be a witticism. (He was a simple man, easily pleased.)
Tabitha grunted, not seeing the joke. ‘Arthur’s hurt his hand,’ she said. ‘He needs some salve, so I’ll trouble you for an apothecary’s direction as soon as I’ve looked at the animals. They’re going on all right, I suppose? There’s no need for this daily visit as far as I can see, but Arthur insists on doing it. I don’t know if he told you, but we’ll be leaving on Twelfth Night. We’re giving our last performance on Twelfth Night Eve, then we’ll join in the first-footing and the wassailing round the castle orchard before getting underway first thing next morning. I’ll settle up with you the previous day. Mind you render your account to me as I’m the only one of ’em as can read and write.’
The stable man nodded. ‘Don’t fret yourself, Mother. Master Monkton’s explained everything to me already. What’s he done to his hand?’ Before Tabitha could reply, however, he turned to me. ‘Your mount’s ready and paid for, Roger. I’ve given you that same brown cob as last time.’ He grinned broadly. ‘He shouldn’t prove too much for you, but if he does, my advice would be get off and let him ride you instead. It’ll probably be quicker.’
The stable boys were sniggering fit to burst their laces. I gave my most long-suffering smile, but resisted the temptation of a riposte. (This was just as well, as it happened, as I was unable to think of one.) Instead, I addressed Tabitha Warrener.
‘You’re off, then, next Tuesday, mistress? We shall miss you.’
She twitched a straw from one of the mangers and began to chew on it. ‘Aye, we’re off,’ she agreed. ‘It’s Sweetwater Manor and winter quarters for us before the worst of the weather sets in. And Dorcas is getting near her time.’ She bit off the end of the straw and spat it out. ‘Before you go, are they true, all these rumours about the knight that’s been murdered? That the body was mutilated by someone carving letters into his chest?’
‘Yes, quite true,’ I said. ‘Sir George’s grandson and I found the body.’ The head stable man and stable boys had stopped making jokes at my expense and drawn closer in order to hear the better. ‘His throat had been viciously slashed and the word “DIE” cut into his right breast. Also, his eyes had been gouged out.’
The stable boys looked slightly green about the gills. Even the stable man swallowed rather hard. Only Tabitha showed no emotion.
‘Why “DIE”,’ she asked, ‘when he was already dead?’
I shrugged. ‘Nobody knows. There seems to be no answer to that question.’
I wasn’t about to proffer my own pet theory. For the moment, that was a secret between James Marvell and me.
Tabitha didn’t labour the point, merely jerking her head in the cob’s direction. ‘You don’t usually ride,’ she said. I made no answer. ‘Although,’ she went on, ‘I can see you haven’t your pack with you, so I would hazard a guess it’s private business that you’re on.’
I grunted, which she could take as a yea or nay as she pleased, and climbed awkwardly into the saddle, disposing of my few necessities in one of the saddle-bags. There then followed the usual difficulty of arranging my cudgel, one of the stable boys eventually solving the problem by couching it, like a lance, at my side. I thanked him and gave him a groat, which he had the impudence to bite just to make sure it was good. Finally, with everyone grinning like idiots, I dug my heels into the animal’s sides and the horse started forward with a jerk which nearly unseated me. As I rode out of the stable yard into Bell Lane, I didn’t dare look behind me. I didn’t need to. Their shouts of merriment pursued me all the way to the Frome Bridge.
Once free of the surrounding hills, I felt bold enough to urge the cob to a canter. I was feeling more nervous than I would admit, facing the realization that I had rarely ridden a horse on my own before. Nearly always in the past, I had had a companion who could come to my rescue if necessary. Furthermore, it was winter and the ground in many places hard as iron. There had also been a frost overnight and treacherous patches of ice occasionally made the cob almost lose its footing. I cursed myself roundly for having agreed to the expedition.
As the day wore on, however, it grew a little warmer and the sun rose higher in the heavens, sparkling on meadow and forest and streams alike, turning everything into a world of faery. When my stomach told me it was dinnertime, I stopped on the edge of some woodland at a charcoal burner’s cottage and persuaded the goodwife to sell me bread and cheese and ale. Afterwards, much refreshed, I continued my journey in better heart, even spurring my sluggish mount to a short gallop on a stretch of flat, open ground between two belts of trees. But for the most part, we went at a comfortable canter.
Nibley Green lies north of Bristol by some fifteen to twenty miles and so, on horseback, could be reached in the better part of a day. Nevertheless, it was growing dark when, following a friendly shepherd’s careful directions, I reached the scatter of outlying cottages leading to the main street and the village green. Many of them still bore evidence of the battle fought in the area some thirteen years earlier when the Berkeleys fought the Talbots in a private dispute over land. There was one ale-house with a bush of holly outside that looked clean and seemed not too rowdy and, moreover, had an outhouse where I could stable the cob. I dismounted, unhitched my saddle-bag and cudgel and went inside.