Read The Red Velvet Turnshoe Online
Authors: Cassandra Clark
The Red Velvet Turnshoe (7 page)
‘What, one of the monks?’ He gave a derisive laugh. ‘And it can’t be one of the conversi either. They’re devout lads and never cause a moment’s trouble.’
‘At this stage I really have no ideas,’ she admitted. ‘All I have is a feeling that the boy should be given a chance. There’s something wrong – it makes him difficult to trust – and I don’t mean his love of men. There’s something else: sorrow, betrayal – something. It has destroyed his faith in people. He must be given a chance.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘So what do you propose?’
H
ILDEGARD WAS SHOWING signs of exasperation. ‘I know it’s irksome, Pierrekyn! But think about it. When we get you safely out of the town and into another jurisdiction we’ll think again. But maybe you have a better plan?’
ILDEGARD WAS SHOWING signs of exasperation. ‘I know it’s irksome, Pierrekyn! But think about it. When we get you safely out of the town and into another jurisdiction we’ll think again. But maybe you have a better plan?’
Pierrekyn threw her a baleful look from his chair by the window. ‘An esquire? Me?’ His lip curled. ‘So who is this knight who’s going to rescue me?’
‘He’s a tournament knight, resting until the season starts. He’s been hired as my escort on the road to Rome.’
‘I hope he doesn’t expect me to fetch and carry his armour about the place. And I suppose I’ll have to dress and undress him?’
‘That’s something for the two of you to decide,’ she replied tartly. ‘All I ask is that you remain within this chamber until we can get you safely away.’
‘I can’t see why the lord steward is taking such pains to keep me alive. What’s in it for him?’
‘There’s nothing in it for him. Just be thankful he’s agreeable. Do you have any further objections to what we propose?’
He shook his head.
‘Well, then, do as you’re told.’ Couldn’t he see how much they were risking in order to save him from an ugly death at the hands of the mob?
‘I’m going out,’ she told him. ‘I’ll bring you something to eat when I return.’ She didn’t say when that would be. Let him learn patience and humility, she thought. It was a lesson long overdue.
To her surprise when she turned at the door to give him one last warning, she saw tears streaming silently down his cheeks. She hurriedly closed the door and went over. ‘My dear child, what is it?’
He turned his chair so she couldn’t see his face and appeared to be studying the window-blind. His dark russet hair curled boyishly in the nape of his neck. It had the unexpectedly tender appearance of a child’s downy locks. The sight moved her. It reminded her of her own son, now an esquire in the Bishop of Norwich’s army.
‘How old are you, Pierrekyn?’ she asked softly.
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ he muttered, unmoving.
‘I was just wondering how long you’ve had to fend for yourself.’
‘Long enough,’ he said. Then he turned his young, world-weary face towards her. ‘I can’t believe he’s dead.’ He tried to blink away his tears but they stood on his lashes like drops of crystal. His voice became gruff. ‘They’ll torture me when they get me, won’t they?’
‘They won’t get you. Not if you do as the steward and I suggest. Answer my question,’ she prompted gently.
‘I’m sixteen.’
She gave him a long look. Fourteen or fifteen then. ‘And—?’
‘And what?’ he asked, staring at the floor.
‘And the more you tell me the easier it’s going to be to defend you.’
‘Why should you bother?’
‘God knows!’ she replied, ‘But I’m your only chance. Think on it.’
Wiping his eyes on the back of his hand he offered a ghost of a smile. ‘You’re the strangest nun I’ve ever met.’
‘Have you met many?’
‘I’ve met enough churchmen to last a lifetime.’ He bit his lip as if he’d said enough.
‘Go on.’ She came to sit beside him.
He didn’t look at her. ‘I know you people. Say one thing and do another. Power is what you want. Gold. Not after you’re dead – but now, in this world. How strange is that when you’re supposed to believe in an afterlife in which everyone gets their just deserts?’
‘That’s human nature. I don’t condone it.’ She paused to invite him to continue.
Eventually he said, ‘I was introduced to the secret life of the Church when I was seven years old. I’d had precious little kindness till then. And there it was – for a price, of course.’
Hildegard was silent but when he didn’t elaborate she asked, ‘And is that when you were taught to play the lute?’
He shook his head. ‘That came afterwards. It was my singing they wanted me for, as well as—’ His mouth twisted and he shrugged. ‘When my voice broke, I wasn’t much use as a chorister. And especially not with the sort of voice I learned on the streets. I was taught to play this,’ he ran a finger over the curve of the lute, ‘by a minstrel from Provence. Then he moved on, as they do, and I was taken up by another master. A tavern-keeper. Big as a barn. A real brute. He certainly knew a golden goose when he saw one.’ He flexed his fingers and stared at them as if they reminded him of something. ‘At least I can still play,’ he said almost to himself.
‘You play and sing wonderfully. You could have a glittering future. Talented minstrels are always wanted.’
‘That’s what I’ve been thinking,’ he said with a sudden lift in his voice and although his expression was still bleak, he added, ‘Reynard said I should find a way to join the guild and be taken up by some rich lord and become a court musician.’ His eyes flashed before clouding over again. ‘It’s a pity Lord Roger is tone deaf.’
‘I’m sure you can make a good life for yourself somewhere.’ She rested a hand on his sleeve. ‘Just lie low until we can get you out of here. Be patient, Pierrekyn. Let’s see what fortune has in store.’
‘Fortune? Don’t you mean the blessed Mary and all her saints?’
‘Have I your word?’
He nodded, then the light in his eyes went out. ‘What choice do I have? I’m finished.’
Ulf eventually agreed with Hildegard. He would not arrest Pierrekyn at this stage. There was nothing substantial to link the boy to the death of the clerk. They would need evidence if they were to bring him to court. Ulf was also relieved not to have to delay his journey down the Rhine. He told her he would leave a man in Bruges while the lawyers made up their minds what to do with the body.
‘I’ll keep an eye on Pierrekyn,’ Hildegard promised. ‘If I discover anything linking him to the murder I’ll inform the authorities at once. And then it’ll be up to you.’
Together they had hit on the ruse for getting Pierrekyn safely out of the city. Hildegard had countered Ulf’s initial idea of trying to pass him off as her servant and then they remembered that as yet no one knew anything about Sir Talbot. Nothing could be more natural than for him to be accompanied by an esquire to attend to his armour.
‘We’ll have to make sure Pierrekyn hides that hair of his inside a cap,’ Hildegard observed.
Fortunately none of the travellers at the inn was going south and if a description of the hunted boy ever got out she would warn him to go well disguised until he was safely outside the jurisdiction of the Count of Male.
‘I hope my escort is agreeable,’ she added, ‘and can invent a story to explain two esquires.’
‘He won’t need to,’ Ulf replied. ‘Whoever gave him instructions made it clear he should travel alone.’
Shortly before supper that evening Hildegard was sitting in the refectory with a group of Suffolk pilgrims who were staying there for a few days before returning north. When they discovered she was travelling in that direction they were eager to tell her about their recent visit to Rome, but although she was avid for information, she could not prevent her gaze from continually straying towards the door.
Eventually a crop-haired stranger came in and after a brief scrutiny of the rows of diners he noticed Hildegard. His eyes narrowed. A moment later the ale-master’s boy came over and, in a miasma of raw onion, whispered a message into her ear, ‘The square before vespers, Sister.’
After a moment or two Hildegard offered her excuses to the pilgrims and went outside.
The square resounded to the tolling of bells summoning worshippers to church while the ungodly loitered by the dozen round the fortune-tellers and other entertaining tricksters. Hildegard paced thoughtfully under the portico where she had an unobstructed view.
In a moment the stranger materialised at her side. ‘Sister Hildegard?’
She nodded.
‘Sir Talbot at your service.’
‘We’d have more privacy to discuss this matter in my chamber.’ Explaining where to find it she moved away.
If she had wondered how he would make contact when he arrived she was amply reassured now. But why the secrecy? She supposed it was because less attention would be drawn to her – and to the secret purpose of her journey – if she was seen to be nothing more than a lowly nun travelling alone. There could be no doubt he was a tournament knight.
It was a fact, observed Hildegard, that his rough wool cloak concealed everything about him but his athletic physique.
On returning to the inn and going up to her chamber, she found the door jammed. ‘Pierrekyn, open up,’ she whispered. There was a rustle from within but the door remained shut. ‘Open it!’ she urged. Eventually it inched open to reveal Pierrekyn’s frightened face in the gap. When he saw Hildegard he drew it ajar enough to allow her to slip inside and then shut it quickly behind her. Evidently he had imagined a dozen armed constables standing in the passage.
‘I shall be glad to get away from this festering town,’ he whispered. ‘How far is it out of the court’s jurisdiction into safe territory?’
‘Some way.’
With the chair wedged against the door again, she said, ‘My escort has arrived. I’ve asked him to come up here as it’s the only place we can meet without people prying into our business.’
‘This won’t work!’ Pierrekyn flung himself down on the bed and put his hands over his eyes. ‘I’m done for, Sister. I may as well go out and face the mob. Let them hack me to pieces!’
Hildegard tutted as she removed her cloak and hung it on a hook. When Sir Talbot approached the chamber a moment or two later he did so with such stealth she was unaware of his presence until she saw the chair legs bend with the pressure of someone trying to force their way in. Wedging a foot behind the door she opened it a crack.
‘No one saw me come up, Sister.’ He entered instantly and strode about with his head bent to avoid the beams. Close up, he was as striking as when she had first noticed him.
Ruddy-cheeked, with a square, handsome face and dancing blue eyes, he seemed to glow with vitality. His nose had been broken several times but it only added to his cheerful good looks. Light-brown hair cropped short to fit under the helmet he carried under one arm gave him a clean-cut, military look. His shoulders were broad and his neck corded with muscle. He moved in a poised, contained manner suggesting strength and speed beyond the usual. His sheer physical exuberance filled the chamber. Hildegard at once felt safe.
After giving the place a thorough inspection he turned to her. ‘So who’s this fellow?’
‘I’ll explain the situation about the minstrel here in a moment,’ she began. ‘But first, can you tell me who retains you?’
He shook his head. ‘No idea. Somebody powerful. My instructions came through a third party.’ He glanced at Pierrekyn. ‘We can only surmise who instructed them,’ he added meaningfully.
She would get to the bottom of this later, she decided. Meanwhile she selected the barest details about the previous night’s events, telling him that for reasons there was no time to reveal, the boy had to be smuggled out of the town in the guise of the knight’s squire.
When she finished Sir Talbot chuckled. ‘I’m game for that. It’s going to be more fun than I imagined. There might even be chance for a bit of a scrap after all!’ He gave Pierrekyn an assessing glance. ‘Know anything about the code of chivalry, lad?’
Pierrekyn snorted in derision.
They decided to leave as soon as the town gates opened just after prime next morning. Ulf and his men had left for the Rhine. Ludovico was lodged with the consul according to instructions from his patron. Their own bags were packed. Now all they could do was wait out the rest of the day.
Hildegard went down later to look to her hounds and Sir Talbot tracked her to the kennels. After admiring the animals and lamenting the fact that he had been instructed to leave his own hounds behind, he said, ‘Sister, I have something to give you in private.’
With a covert glance over his shoulder, he drew a sealed letter from inside his tunic and handed it over.
He said, ‘I’m told your cover is that you’re on pilgrimage. But I deduce from the fee they’re paying me that you’re on Church business of some magnitude and,’ he lowered his voice, ‘some danger?’
‘It seems so,’ she agreed.
He stood to attention. ‘You can trust me, Sister. My word is my bond.’ With a nod towards the letter he had just given her, he tactfully withdrew.
When he left, Hildegard’s immediate feeling was to trust him but, remembering he was a hired man, she decided she would remain watchful until she found out who maintained him.
Bermonda pushed her wet nose into the parchment as Hildegard prised open the wax seal. It was one she recognised as belonging to her priory at Swyne. Holding the letter out of reach of the inquisitive kennet hound, she began to read. The message was in the angular hand of her prioress. When she finished she could only stare at the words in astonishment.
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