The Saltergate Psalter (10 page)

Just like so many lords, who never saw their property. John stood.

‘Thank you for your time, Father.'

‘May God go with you and help you.'

They left him in the shade, staring into the distance.

‘Are we going to see Christian now?' Walter asked as they strode back down the hill.

‘No,' John answered. ‘I doubt he'd be willing to tell us anything about Julian. Not if they're as close as people say. And we've already learned a lot.' He clapped the boy on the shoulder. ‘Let's go home. You must have messages to deliver.'

‘I like working with you.' The lad beamed.

‘We've finished for today. You might as well make some use of it.'

• • •

After the peace of the countryside, Chesterfield seemed dirty and crowded. He watched Walter run off, then turned on to Saltergate. Later he'd go to find the pedlar and hear his story. For now, though, he needed rest. His arm ached and his head seemed heavy; the morning had started too early.

The girls were working, spinning wool as Katherine watched them and mended a pile of linen. Up in the solar, stripped to his shirt and braies, John lay on the bed and closed his eyes. The window was open, the air warm and lulling. A few minutes later he felt her settle next to him.

‘The news is all over town,' she said. ‘Martha came and told me.' She giggled. ‘I think she was hoping you'd be here to get all the gossip.'

He smiled softly and felt sleep take him

He woke with a weight on his chest and the soft sound of purring. He opened his eyes to see a cat staring into his face, kneading his shirt softly with its paws. It was small, hardly more than a kitten, a tabby with dark stripes over the grey fur and a blaze of white on its nose. The rough little tongue licked his hand. Tenderly, he placed it on the blanket while he dressed, then went down to the hall with the animal cradled in his arm.

Martha and the girls were on the settle. They had their heads down as if they were concentrating on the slates in their laps. But their shoulders trembled a little, trying not to laugh.

‘Have any of you ladies lost a cat?' he asked, smiling.

It was Eleanor who giggled first, darting out and stretching her arms up for the kitten.

‘Oh, it's yours, is it?' John said.

‘And mine,' Janette told him. ‘Aunt Martha said we have to share it.'

‘Did she now?'

The woman looked up, contrite but smiling. ‘I thought it would be good for them to have something to look after.'

‘We're going to call it John,' Eleanor declared proudly. ‘Just like you.'

‘Won't that be confusing?' he asked. ‘You'll call him and I might come running.' He meowed and the girls began to laugh. ‘What does your sister say about it?'

‘Katherine says we can keep it if you say yes and we look after it.' The words gushed out from Eleanor.

He stroked his chin. ‘Then it seems as if the cat lives here now. Why don't the two of you put a little milk in a bowl for him? I've heard that cats like milk.'

‘I'm sorry,' Martha said over the noise from the buttery as the girls fed the kitten. ‘I found it in my garden this morning. I thought it would be perfect for them.'

He laughed. ‘Not to mention the mischief it'll cause?' He grinned as he sat next to her, moving the slates out of the way. Two of them had the first spidery attempts at letters made with tailor's chalk. On the third the alphabet was laid out in a neat, even hand, not that it meant anything to him. ‘You started the lessons.'

‘They're doing very well,' Martha said.

Who'd have thought it, that the girls would be able to read and write and count? And they'd pass on that learning to the child that was coming. Even if they never had the chance to use it, they'd still possess the skill.

‘Thank you,' he said.

‘Am I forgiven for the cat?' she asked, eyes twinkling.

‘As long as it doesn't do too much damage. But I don't know how I can pay you for everything you do for us.'

She slapped him lightly on the thigh. ‘Gossip is good currency. As if you didn't already know.' There was laughter in her eyes.

‘Maybe some details about what happened last night?'

‘That would be a good start.'

He told her what he'd learned, laying it all out as clearly as possible. It was for himself as much as for her. He wanted to see if there was any real reason for his suspicions, something he'd seen but not really noticed. But the only real mystery seemed to be the severed purse strings.

It was very little, but enough to gnaw away at him. Ample to send him to Dronfield and to carry on when the coroner said it was all over.

‘That should give you a few things to tell them at the market tomorrow.'

‘You know I never gossip,' Martha told him primly.

‘Mistress, my apologies.' But they were already grinning at each other.

‘This other man, Gilbert,' she began as he brought two mugs of ale.

‘I'm going to find out more about him tomorrow.'

‘Just be careful of Julian,' Martha warned. ‘He's–'

Before she could say more, the girls came racing back into the hall, skirts flying round their ankles. Janette was carrying the mewling kitten, a pouting Eleanor right behind her.

‘Elly says we have to call him John.'

He looked at Martha.

‘Why don't you just call him Kit,' she said seriously after a little thought. ‘That way everyone has their own name. Don't you think that would be better?'

Janette turned to her sister, sticking out her tongue and smirked as if she'd won some great victory. The cat slipped out of her arms and wandered away, stalking back into the buttery, the sisters in loud pursuit.

‘We're going to have all sorts of arguments now.' He sighed.

‘Just wait. It'll all be over by tomorrow,' Martha told him. ‘Sisters squabble, it's the way of the world. Now, tell me about Dronfield. My husband and I used to walk out near there years ago.'

He started to describe the village, the church, the inn, watching her old face light up and make her young once more. He'd barely finished when the door opened and Katherine came in, struggling with a heavy basket. She was flushed by the heat.

He jumped up and took the load from her. She'd been down to the river to wash the clothes. Wet linen, and a good weight even to him.

Wearily, Katherine sat by Martha and wiped the sweat off her face. ‘I swear someone's made that hill steeper.' She shook her head in amazement.

‘Things will be easier once the baby's born,' Martha advised her. ‘But harder still before that.'

‘I'm not sure that's a comfort.' Katherine chuckled and shook her head. John handed her his mug of ale and she drank deep.

‘It's worth it once they're here.' Martha squeezed her hand gently. ‘You'll see.'

‘That's what everyone keeps telling me,' Katherine said doubtfully.

‘That's because they're right,' the old woman said with kind firmness. ‘Come on, we'll lay this out so it can dry.'

• • •

The heat had built during the day, gathering close to the ground. Now it seemed to cling to him as he walked across the market square towards West Bar.

Gabriel's house stood just beyond the boundary marker, outside the town. It was a small place, carefully tended, with a large garden on the slope down towards the River Hipper. He looked like a capable man, strong and powerfully built, seeming younger then the lines that radiated out from his eyes. His head was completely bald, already brown from the sun. But a cloud of white beard covered his face, and a pair of intelligent blue eyes showed.

‘Good day, Master,' John said. ‘I'd like to see the pedlar if he's here.'

Gabriel studied him, then gave a brief nod. ‘I've seen you around. You're the carpenter, aren't you?'

‘I am, Master.'

‘I've been meaning to talk to you. There's a hinge broken on the back door and I can't mend it.'

‘I can look at it tomorrow,' he offered. Even with a bad arm he should be able to manage a small job like that.

‘Come on in.'

The hall was small but neat; the man looked after his things carefully. Everything was old, but the wood was polished and cushions rested on the settle. Gabriel's clothes were clean, carefully mended.

‘Luke!' the man called, his voice surprisingly loud. ‘You have a customer.' He winked and said, ‘He'll be out in a minute.'

It was no more than a few moments before a lanky young man strode in, rubbing at his eyes and yawning.

‘I'm sorry, Master,' he said. ‘I must have fallen asleep.' He grinned. ‘I had a long night.'

‘I heard about it.'

Luke was thin, but the legs in his hose were powerful from years of walking around the country, and his face was weatherbeaten. He was still young, looking innocent and hapless, with a ready smile, sturdy boots and an easy manner. But he'd need all that to wheedle his way into houses and sell his goods.

The man rubbed his hands together. ‘Now, Master, what can I do for you? I've got ribbons for your wife, or your mistress if you don't want your wife to know. Thread, needles, even a pot or a pan if you need those.'

‘I'm sorry. Gabriel misled you. I'm not here to buy,' John told him and saw the man's face fall. It couldn't be an easy life, always on the road, even during a good spring. It took a tongue like silver and a hide like leather. ‘I work for the coroner.'

Luke looked up sharply. ‘I've already paid my fine for finding the bodies.'

‘This is nothing to do with that. I just have a few questions.'

The man nodded warily.

‘One of the men was still alive when you found them?' John asked.

‘Yes.' He chewed his lip. ‘Barely. He was still breathing.'

‘Did he say anything?'

‘No.' Luke shook his head slowly. ‘I tried talking to him but I don't think he even heard me. I'm not sure he knew I was there.'

‘How closely did you look at them?'

‘Enough to see if they were dead.' The man looked at him cautiously. ‘Why?'

‘Did you notice if their purse strings were cut?'

‘No. As soon as I saw the smaller one was still breathing, I ran to town.'

John believed him. There was a sense of honesty about him. Maybe it was something he'd cultivated over the years, letting it grow like wheat. But this seemed genuine enough.

‘Did you notice anything else?'

Luke was silent for a long time, moments finally turning to a minute.

‘I don't think they'd been there long,' he said.

‘Why?'

‘When I touched the dead man he was still warm,' Luke answered, shuddering at the memory. ‘Just like you and me.'

So they'd probably only been there a few minutes when the pedlar came by, he thought.

‘Did you see anything else?' John asked. ‘Hear anything or see anyone?'

The man pushed his lips together and shook his head. ‘I hadn't seen a soul since I left Whittington.'

‘Wasn't it late to be on the road?'

Luke shrugged. ‘Not really. I've done it often enough before. There was a strong moon and I know the way. I thought it would give me more selling time here. I usually do good business in Chesterfield.'

‘Did you recognise either of the bodies?'

‘No. But, like I said, I didn't really look. I didn't think.'

‘It doesn't matter.' John smiled. ‘You said you had some ribbon?'

Katherine deserved a little something. He knew she was struggling with the pregnancy. She said nothing, but he could see the tiredness on her face, the fact that everything seemed like hard work. A little gift might raise her mood.

‘John!' she said as he held it up. A small length of scarlet ribbon. ‘It's lovely.' She looked at him and smiled. ‘Thank you.'

He tied it round her neck, watching her blush with pleasure. The girls were laughing and giggling, jumping up and down. Katherine stroked the soft material and began to cry. He put his arms around her, confused.

‘What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy.'

‘I am,' she told him, clumsily trying to wipe away her tears. ‘I am.'

The sun was already over the horizon when he stirred. As he stood, his body felt easier. The bruises from his beating and time in the river were beginning to fade, the muscles moving more freely. Even lifting his left arm was easier. Another day and he'd probably be able to work again.

John heard Katherine moving around downstairs, small feet following her around. Walter's bed was empty. He'd never heard any of them wake. Lazily, he stretched and eased into his clothes, washing his face and hands in a basin.

She was still wearing the ribbon, pinned to her dress now so it fluttered and billowed as she walked. Janette and Eleanor were fussing over the cat, stroking it as it tried to eat some chopped offal. Walter had already gone. Another day.

There were plenty of shoemakers on Soutergate. Five of them on the street. He'd never understood how they could all stay in business. Surely the town was too small? But they all seemed to flourish. He started at the top of the hill, asking for Edmund's shop.

‘Three doors down,' the man told him without raising his head.

‘Did you know Gilbert?'

‘The one who worked for him?' He didn't stop his labours as he talked, deftly sewing two piece of leather together with quick, even stitches. ‘I did.' The shoemaker kept his eyes on the shoe and needle. ‘Good at his job if he'd had any ambition.' He turned his head and spat. ‘I'd not have had him here, though.'

As he finished an apprentice staggered in from the back, carrying an armful of skins and lowering them gently on to a table.

‘Start cutting,' the shoemaker ordered him. The younger man rolled his eyes.