Read The Tintern Treasure Online

Authors: Kate Sedley

Tags: #Suspense

The Tintern Treasure (36 page)

But I was spared the decision.

‘Mother,' Martin said quietly, although his voice shook, ‘we can't be responsible for a child's death. I must tell Master Chapman where the boy is hidden.'

‘No!' Mistress Callowhill's voice rose hysterically. ‘If he finds him, he'll inform Sergeant Manifold immediately and your father will have lost any chance of getting away. And you know what will happen to him! You know how traitors die!' The lad shuddered as his mother went on more quietly, ‘There's every chance your father and the other two will reach Cornwall in a day or so. If he sends back word at once to Master Chapman there's a possibility that the boy might still be alive.'

I saw Martin hesitate and indecision flicker in his eyes.

‘Martin, if you know where Adam's hidden, I beg you to tell me,' I said hoarsely. ‘He's five years old and must be terrified, waking up alone in the dark, not knowing where he is or what's happened to him.'

‘If you tell him, Martin,' Mistress Callowhill said slowly, ‘I shall never forgive you. From henceforward, you will be no son of mine.'

Another moment stretched into eternity and the boy's hand crept up to his mouth, his gaze flickering between the two of us. Then he said, ‘I'm sorry, Mother.' My legs almost gave way with relief and it was a second or two before I realized that Martin was addressing me. ‘We'll have to go to Master Foliot's house to get his keys.'

I could have wept with joy.

‘I already have them,' I gasped, pulling them out of my pouch. ‘I thought Adam might be in the goldsmith's strongroom, but he wasn't there.'

Martin gave a quick nod as though that somehow settled matters. ‘Follow me then,' he said.

‘Martin!' Mistress Callowhill's voice was now as cold as ice. I felt as if melt water were trickling down my spine. ‘If you do this thing, don't come back.'

He looked at her pityingly, speaking with a composure far beyond his years. ‘I shall come back, Mother. You and the children will need looking after.' He turned and left the room.

I followed him out into the street. It was still raining, but the wind, though strong, had eased a little.‘Where are we going?' I asked.

‘To St Peter's Church.' When I exclaimed in surprise, he went on, ‘Do you know the story of how the citizens of Bristol built a wall between the town and the castle during the reign of Edward II?' I nodded, at the same time forcing him to quicken his pace. ‘Well,' he continued, ‘according to Master Foliot, the constable of the castle ordered that a tunnel should be dug underneath the wall so that his soldiers could take the people by surprise. Unfortunately for the tunnellers, they broke through in the crypt of St Peter's Church where members of the patrol who manned the wall every night were warming themselves before going outside again. They immediately drove the intruders back, killing a couple for good measure, then one of them ran to ring the common bell, alerting the whole city to the danger. Lord Berkeley never tried anything of the sort again, and in commemoration of their victory the tunnel was preserved. Master Foliot showed it to me the day he took us around the church. In later years, a door was put at the crypt end and always kept locked for safety‘s sake.'

‘And you think Adam's there?'

‘I know he is. My father told me so before he left.'

And he was, terrified, sobbing, crouched against the wall halfway along the tunnel which I saw to my horror might well have collapsed, suffocating him. After well over a century and a half, the timbers with which it had been shored up were beginning to rot and the roof was in danger of caving in. I think Martin saw it, too, and it was some comfort to him to know that he had prevented a child's death, even if he had risked his father's life to do so.

For the four men – Henry Callowhill, Gilbert Foliot, Sir Lionel and Henry Tudor's loyal adherent, Reynold Bray – all escaped to Brittany. The talk of Cornwall had been a blind. Wales had been their true destination where a ship had been waiting to take Bray on board at Milford Haven. And the Capet diamonds undoubtedly helped to pay the mercenaries who were responsible for Henry's triumph two years later . . .

But that's to look forward to an event which, in that late autumn of 1483, seemed inconceivable to any of us. King Richard III ruled the country with justice and mercy and all was well with our world.

Adam recovered from his ordeal faster than either Adela or I would have thought possible, as children do. There were nightmares at first, but they gradually ceased, as did his tendency hang around Adela's skirts all the time. He was very quiet for about two weeks, which worried us, but then his voice came back and our peace was shattered. Luke loved him and screamed with laughter at his antics, a devotion which annoyed Hercules so much that he returned to his old loyalties and became my dog once again. (I tried not to feel too pleased, but human nature being what it is I didn't quite succeed.)

Mistress Callowhill and her children left the house in Wine Street and went no one knew where. The house in St Peter's Street also stood empty. Ursula went to live with a distant relative in Malmesbury and Margery Dawes with Lawyer Heathersett and his mother.

One night towards the end of November, as I climbed into bed with Adela, I said, ‘I'm really looking forward to Christmas.'

As she slid into my embrace, she laughed. ‘That's a bad sign. When you look forward to something, it invariably goes awry.'

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