Feeling that Peter was now in good hands, I picked up my pack and cudgel.
‘I must be going,’ I said. ‘I have things to do.’
Granny sighed. ‘You’ll be away from here, I suppose. You’ve your living to earn.’ She proffered me her wrinkled lips to kiss. ‘Take care of yourself, lad. It’s dangerous out there, on the roads. Where are you bound for?’
‘London,’ I answered. ‘There’s someone there I need to talk to. A woman.’ Granny snorted derisively. ‘You mistake,’ t told her. ‘Neither a sweetheart nor a leman. In truth, I’ve never set eyes on the lady. I shall be gone some weeks, but I’ll be back. That, however, is for your ears only. If anyone should ask, anyone at all, you understand, I have left Totnes and resumed my travels.’
Granny Praule regarded me with bright, shrewd eyes.
‘You can trust me,’ she promised. ‘But you’re up to something, and you can’t tell me otherwise. Go on, get along with you, but remember what I said. Take care!’
Chapter Seventeen
Before leaving Totnes, I again made my way uphill to the East Gate. The gatekeeper assumed a resigned expression when he saw me.
‘What is it this time?’ he sighed. ‘Or do I wrong you, and you’ve finished asking questions?’
‘My mother always said I had the longest and most inquisitive nose in Christendom,’ I apologized. ‘One more answer, if you will, and then I’m done.’
He shrugged. ‘If I know it. Very well.’
‘When the Sheriff and his men arrived last night, the mummers and I were just leaving the town.’ The gatekeeper nodded in agreement. ‘I would have sworn we were the last ones out before the gates were shut, but I have to confess I didn’t glance behind me. Did anyone else follow in our wake?’
‘Now that I really couldn’t say.’ The man pursed his lips. ‘I remember your departure, because a cart’s a cumbersome thing, however small and light, and sticks in the memory. I closed the main gates after you, but someone could have sipped through the postern without me noticing. It was a good few minutes later I secured that door. Yes, it’s possible someone might have gone out on foot without being seen.’
‘Thank you.’ I doffed my hat. ‘I shall pray for you and yours. And now I’m off on the road again to sell my wares.’
‘Leaving us, are you?’ The gatekeeper pulled down the corners of his mouth. ‘Can’t say I blame you. Things are growing too dangerous around here for those who don’t have to stay, to linger. I’d not stop if I were a stranger. First, those two innocent children murdered, then Grizelda Harbourne’s cottage burned down and some poor woodsman charred to a cinder, and now two lads with their throats cut while they slept! These are wild times, I grant you, with our betters squabbling like stray curs over who wears the crown, but this has always been a law-abiding township, and now three slayings in as many months, and the last right on our doorstep. Yes indeed, I’d be on my way if I were you. Let’s pray that the lord Sheriff and his posse can track these wolf-heads to their lair and smoke them out!’
I heartily endorsed this sentiment, thanked the man once more for his patience and settled my pack on my back, shifting its weight a little from left to right. I then set out, taking the Exeter road, which I had travelled yesterday and which skirted the grounds of the Priory and the edges of the tidal marsh.
It was by now the middle of a morning which had fulfilled its promise of a sweet, warm day. All about me were signs that spring was blossoming into an early summer, but it would need only one sharp frost to blacken the burgeoning shoots and shrivel them into nothing. Too much sun too soon in the year could prove a mixed blessing.
As I walked, swinging along with an easy stride, the words of the gatekeeper went round and round in my head. ‘Two innocent children murdered… cottage burned down… woodsman charred to a cinder… throats cut while they slept …’ And all three crimes attributed, without hesitation, to the outlaws. Yet the first two were linked, however tenuously, in the person of Grizelda Harbourne, and each time she had suffered great loss and distress. She had been deprived of two people she loved, and then of her home and livelihood.
The last murder, the wanton slaying of Martin Fletcher and Luke Hollis, seemed, at first sight, to be unconnected, and yet… and yet… Was I foolish to believe that I could see a link between it and the others? Well, foolish or not, that conviction had set my feet on the road to London. If I was right, I should return to Totnes in two or three weeks, if not, I would have to let things be and make my way home to Bristol.
In the latter case, it was unlikely that I should ever set eyes on Grizelda Harbourne again. I felt a tug of the heartstrings and a profound regret that we had not parted the best of friends, but at the same time, a sense of regained freedom surged through me. As I had told myself on several occasions, it was far too soon after Lillis’s death to think seriously of another wife, and I did not believe that Grizelda would allow herself to be wantonly seduced. There was too much dignity, too much sense of destiny, about her to permit of her giving herself lightly to any man. She had been right when she said, last night, that she was not the woman for me, that we should not suit. Yet, on her own admission, she had considered the idea, and only dismissed it after much careful thought. She had felt, as I had, the pull of attraction between us: the older woman, the younger man – very often the recipe for a sound and settled marriage. (Had it not proved so in the King’s case, when he wed the widowed Lady Grey, five years his senior?) But in the end, Grizelda had recognized, as I had, that I was not ready again for such a tie, that I needed to be my own man a while longer. If nothing else, my childish display of temper the previous day, my inability to be laughed at, must have dispelled any lingering doubts she might have harboured. She could not be doing with someone so immature. It was time we parted.
But supposing I did return to Totnes, that I was able to prove to her that her suspicions and her dislike of Eudo Colet were well-founded, what then? Might not some spark be rekindled between us? On the other hand, was that what either of us really wanted? How could I possibly tell, here and now, with the outcome of my pilgrimage still uncertain? Only God and time could give the answer.
The afternoon was already some way advanced when I heard the rumble of wagon wheels on the track behind me. The circumstance reminded me so forcibly of the previous day’s events, that I hesitated for a moment to look over my shoulder, lest I should behold a phantom. But when a voice hailed me in familiar tones, I turned with a smile to greet Jack Carter.
‘Leaving us, are you?’ he asked, echoing the gatekeeper’s words. ‘Very wise, too. I’m off to Exeter myself with this load of wool bales. If you care to ride with me that far, I don’t deny I’ll be glad of the company. But don’t let me prevent you from peddling your wares.’
‘I’ll be happy to join you,’ I said. ‘I shan’t stop to do any selling today, and I’d be thankful to find myself in a safe haven by nightfall. Moreover, I need to replenish my stock, which I can do tomorrow, in Exeter market.’
The cart drew to a halt beside me. I threw my pack and stick in among the bales of wool and clambered up beside Jack Carter. He jerked the reins and the grey mare resumed her plodding gait.