Blood Runs Thicker Sarah Hawkswood (great novels .TXT) 📖

stretched out before him, leaning forwards with his hands on his knees. He looked beaten and he looked in discomfort, but he no longer looked a man addled of wits. How much was down to the efficacy of the draught prepared by the girl Hild and how much to his own constitution was impossible to tell. He looked far more aware of his surroundings and could hardly fail to be aware of his carer, who was dabbing some preparation on his bare back, which made him wince at even her most delicate touch. Hild looked torn between knowing she was looked upon as a mere slip of a girl and that she held the position of Healer, which commanded respect and gave her authority. Having been nearly silent when she was the mere attendant, she was now voluble, using the phrases that her mentor had used. Hearing motherly advice issuing from such youthful lips was remarkably disconcerting, and Edgar looked ill-at-ease as well as aching of body as he was admonished and cosseted in equal measure.

‘If you feel pain, my friend, it is a good thing, for it shows you are fully in this world.’ Bradecote sounded cheering. ‘I am Hugh Bradecote, Undersheriff of Worcestershire, and I would ask questions of you, but know the answers will give you no blame. We need truth, that is all.’

‘And truth is what you will get from me, my lord, as best I can give it,’ the voice was stronger, ‘but I could not tell you sure if today was Tuesday or Friday, and that’s a fact.’

‘All we need is information about yesterday and your journey here to Lench. We know that you bought a red woollen hat from a beggar on the Evesham road. Can you tell me about that meeting?’

‘I did that, my lord. I knew him, o’ course, for all in Evesham know Alnoth the Handless who comes regular to the town. It was not that many a mile out of Evesham. He had that red hat and a cloak too.’ Edgar gave a small laugh that became a groan as his ribs hurt, and Hild shushed at him. ‘The sun shone bright, and there was sweat running down from his brow and I offered to buy the hat to give him ease. He asked tuppence for it and I gave him a penny ha’penny, which was a fair price to us both.’

‘There was nothing on the hat?’ enquired Catchpoll.

‘Only Alnoth’s sweat.’ Edgar swivelled his eyes towards him, keeping his body as still as possible.

‘Hmm.’ Something was niggling the serjeant, whose face was ruminative. He ignored the mild jest. ‘It’s an odd time to leave the manor, when harvest is coming in,’ he remarked.

‘Ah, I left it long ago, not days past, and was hoping to reach it afore the harvest were all gathered.’ Edgar sighed. ‘I left Flavel years back and was apprenticed to a wheelwright in Evesham as had married my aunt. The wheelwright in Flavel was young and strong and had no wish to take on a lad then. I served three years and then the pair of ’em upped and died one winter, of the green cough. I was newly a father, and thus a husband also, but thanks be that Evesham has a fair few wheelwrights and another took me on. Then, when I was a journeyman, the child died and my wife followed soon after. Took the spirit from me, that did, for a while. Eventually, well, I became full partner, but there was a fire, end of last month, and it is all gone and old Wulfram with it. No other wheelwright, nor craftsman of any sort, will work with me, for they say as I am cursed with misfortune. True enough that Evesham has brought me no joy for long. Mind you, after what has happened here, I wonders if I am not cursed wherever I go and ought to take up a pilgrim’s staff.’ He looked disconsolate. ‘I never liked the river much, so I doubt I dare cross a big water like sea, but there is St David’s, I suppose.’

‘I’d as soon take the sea,’ mumbled Catchpoll, who had never seen more than the estuary of the Severn above Gloucester. ‘There’s an awful lot of Wales to St David’s.’ He shook his head. ‘An awful lot.’

Nothing, thought Bradecote, would ever rid Catchpoll of his dislike of Wales, but this was not the time to dwell upon Edgar’s future plans. He opened his mouth to speak, but Edgar was before him.

‘Well, we shall see. Mayhap my path ends in Flavel, since I was given such a sign.’

‘A sign?’ Catchpoll snorted. He was largely dismissive of signs.

‘Aye, but to see my lord, and just when I was wondering if I ought to return, it being a time when all are of use, that made me sure.’

There was a silence, and the sheriff’s men stared at Edgar in stupefaction.

‘You met with the lord Raoul Parler? When?’ Bradecote spoke slowly, deliberately.

‘Why, but the day before … what day is this? No matter … well, the day before I met Alnoth on the road. I would not say as I met with him, not to speak to nor even make my bow to, but I saw him right enough. He was not cold sober, and the woman on his arm is known to half the shire, if you get me, but I had not seen him in Evesham these two years past. I took it as a sign.’

‘You are sure of this?’

‘Of course, my lord.’

‘And when in the day?’

‘The early eventide, my lord.’

‘Walkelin.’ Bradecote turned urgently to the serjeanting apprentice. ‘I know we said we did not need you to go to Worcester, but go now and do not dawdle. Find his woman, and find out when and for how long he was with her, if at all. How much of what he told us was lie or half-truth I do not know, but by