Sir Roger had promised that his sergeants would arrive at the New Inn this day by noon, and he was true to his word. I found the six dining upon a barley pottage, with the crumbs of numerous maslin loaves beneath their elbows.
Their officer, a man of commanding girth and a livid scar across one cheek from some earlier episode of law enforcement, recognized me from Sir Roger’s description and stood as I approached his table. He could surely hold his own in any scrap with miscreant squires, but if the culprits took to their heels some other man would need to chase them down. I noted two youthful sergeants at the table who seemed likely to show a good turn of speed, should pursuit be required.
The sergeants were appareled incognito, as I had requested, with no badge or tunic showing that they served Sir Roger de Elmerugg. I told the fellows to follow, and with Uctred beside me, I walked the short distance to Amice’s house in the bury. I had given her six pence of Lord Gilbert’s coin to purchase barley and pretend to set about her occupation, and when we passed her house I saw smoke rising from beneath a cauldron in the toft. The day was too cool for barley to malt properly unless the water it soaked in was warmed. Arthur leaned against Amabel Maunder’s empty dwelling across the street, and joined our group as we continued down the lane to the road from the direction of Marcham and Hanney.
There I assigned two men to begin the watch for Sir John Trillowe’s squires. I thought it unlikely that word of Amice’s return would reach East Hanney this day, but was not willing to take a chance of being wrong. A sergeant would prowl each end of the lane, occasionally exchanging positions during the day. Four others, and Arthur and Uctred, would conceal themselves in Amabel Maunder’s empty house, which they might enter from a narrow alley behind the row of houses that included the neighboring threadmaker’s dwelling. Two would watch while the others slept. I would remain in Amabel’s house catching what sleep I could while watching Amice’s house with the others.
There was the matter of food for nine men. I approached the threadmaker, told him as much as he needed to know of what was happening upon his street, and offered him three pence each day to feed us. This bid he gladly accepted.
There was but one more thing to do. I did not wish to be seen at Amice’s door, for I could not know who might be watching. I circled behind houses and came upon her as she poured barley into the cauldron of warm water. My approach startled her, even though she knew to expect my appearance.
I told her where guards were stationed, advised her that I would be in Amabel Maunder’s house with the watchers, and bid her continue her work so her actions would be unremarkable to any who observed her closely. I left her with a last admonition: if somehow her abductors should elude our watch and enter her house in the night, she should tell them what they wished to know — that John Thrale found his cache of coins and jewelry in a forest near to an ancient chapel east of Bampton.
Amice looked at me with wide eyes. “Did he so?”
“So I believe.”
“You have not found it?”
“Nay, but I believe the treasure to be somewhere there.”
Arthur, Uctred, the sergeants and I spent the next three days watching over Amice Thatcher. The sergeants thought this good sport, for watching Amice was a rewarding experience for any man. Each day that passed increased my expectation that felons would soon seek her and the knowledge they assumed she possessed.
I was confident that the men who had slain John Thrale, threatened Kate and Bessie, and held Amice captive would learn of her return. Somehow these squires of East Hanney had learned of her friendship with the chapman, and knew also when she was driven from the abbey guest hall. Whoso had told them of these things would not hesitate to inform the felons of her reappearance. I wished this talebearer would make haste. Days grew shorter and colder, but we dared not light a fire on Amabel’s hearthstone, for to do so might give away the ambush.
The third night we watched, one of the sergeants, peering through the ragged edge of the skin which covered one of Amabel’s windows, called for me to come to the window.
“There’s somethin’ movin’.”
All through the previous nights we had seen no man upon this lane, not even the beadle, who kept to more traveled streets.
I hastened to the window and watched for some sign of the movement the sergeant had seen. For several minutes I saw nothing, then, emerging from the shadows, a pale form came into view.
“’Tis a dog,” I told the sergeant.
While I watched a mongrel hound of chaotic ancestry followed its nose from one side of the lane to another, searching for something edible.
The animal’s search amused me, so I lingered at the window, watching as the scrawny beast ambled past my place. The dog had gone perhaps five or six paces beyond Amabel’s house, then, as I was about to turn away, the hound stiffened and turned to look behind. Some sound, perhaps, had alerted it to danger. I followed its gaze and studied the curving lane in the direction from which the beast had come.
I saw nothing, but the dog saw or heard something which caused it unease. It loped away, no longer interested in discovering a meal. I turned to study the lane and saw what had caused the dog to flee.
A lone figure slipped from one shadow to another, hurrying in careful fashion, toward me. Not two? Where was the second squire? Perhaps one remained where the lane joined the main street, as sentinel. I whispered loudly for Arthur, Uctred, and the sergeants to be alert; a man approached.
When the stealthy shape drew near, it hid for a moment in the shadow of the house beside Amice’s dwelling, then dashed across the lane and through the door of Amabel Maunder’s house. ’Twas the sergeant assigned to watch where the lane joined the main street.
“Three men,” he said, “just now halted their horses down there.” He pointed in the direction from which he had come. “One has remained with the horses, the others follow after me. I don’t think I was seen. They will be here anon.”
I told the sergeants to have their daggers ready and kept watch through the tattered skin of the window for a glimpse of the approaching squires. They did not appear.
All we who waited were tense and eager for the capture we expected. When no men appeared slinking about the lane, our taut alertness began to fade.
“You sure you seen ’em?” one of the sergeants whispered to his cohort.
“They was followin’ close behind me… moon is risin’, so I could see ’em plain.”
“Perhaps they are being cautious,” I said softly. “But we are ready for them.”
We were not, not totally. I watched and waited and grew increasingly uneasy. Arthur, Uctred, and the sergeants shared the emotion. I heard them shuffling feet upon the rushes and breathing heavily, anticipating a fracas and puzzled that it did not come.
I believed the sentry when he claimed to have seen two men enter the bury. Could it be they were about some other, lawful business? If so, why leave a third man with the horses? Such conduct spoke of a desire to make a hasty departure. Men who did no felony would have no need to violate curfew, nor would they be prepared for flight when they concluded their business. Sir John Trillowe’s squires were in the bury, of that I was certain, but where, and what did they intend?
I knew their intent: to seize Amice Thatcher again, or force from her the location of John Thrale’s treasure. I did not know how they intended to do this, and as time passed I became more and more fretful that somehow the squires had devised a way to approach Amice Thatcher’s house unseen.
The alley! Behind Amabel Maunder’s house was a narrow passage, weed-grown and rarely used, which gave access to the tofts behind each house. There was a similar alley behind Amice Thatcher’s house. My approach through the alley had startled her three days past.
The waning moon was now high enough that the pale tower of St. Nicholas’s Church was visible to the south above Abingdon’s rooftops. The added light meant that we could see our quarry, but they also could see us. I had no choice. Because of me, Amice’s safety was at risk. If the hidden felons saw us and fled, and my snare snapped shut empty, so be it.