The Colour of Rubies: A Sebastian Foxley Medieval Murder Mystery (Sebastian Foxley Medieval Mystery Book 10) by Toni Mount

Author:Toni Mount [Mount, Toni]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MadeGlobal Publishing
Published: 2022-05-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Tuesday, the seventh day of February

Westminster

Next morn, with the sun making a valiant effort to disperse yesterday’s louring clouds, Seb shrugged off his fears of last night like a worn-out cloak and put a smile upon his face. Of course Hal was not the espier. The meeting in the privy garden was of no significance at all – just Sir Nicholas sending some fellow upon his way who had taken a wrongful turn in the coney warren that was the Palace of Westminster. Seb had become lost himself more than once since coming to work here.

Having broken his fast in the hall with his colleagues, he made for the house of easement across the Outer Court, as usual. His visits were always as brief as possible for the stink was no better, even with the conduit now free of ice. Still, he refused to disrespect the royal abode as others did, relieving themselves in any convenient corner or alcove. Did those guilty parties behave in like manner in their own homes? If they did, he would not care to visit them in their filthy dwellings.

His return across the courtyard removed all unsavoury thoughts for the birds in the trees and bushes of Green Yard were carolling right joyously and Seb paused to harken to their anthems. A speckled thrush repeated his couplets of song; the wren rolled his rrrs in the midst of each chorus and a redbreast gave voice to his sweetest melody. A heavenly choir indeed and Seb was content to listen.

‘Hey! Are you going to work with us this morning or stand there like a moonstruck noddlehead, getting in everyone’s way?’ Lawrence Duffield appeared at Seb’s shoulder and nudged him towards the doorway to the offices in the Exchequer building.

‘Oh, I beg pardon. I was listening to the birdsong.’ Seb stepped aside to let Lawrence pass within.

‘Wasting time more like.’ Well, here was one who took no pleasure in the sunshine and musick of spring. What was amiss with Lawrence? He was not cross-grained by nature most mornings.

Seb noticed that Lawrence carried a few green ribbons and a square of beeswax of the kind tailors used to draw their threads through to keep them from tangling. Mayhap a pedlar had come by. Indeed, Lawrence also had a blue paper of pins. It must be that same pedlar from whom Seb had purchased the braid for Rose by Charing Cross. What was the fellow’s name? He said he often came to Westminster. Seb could not recall the name, if it had e’er been mentioned. He wondered for whom Lawrence had brought the ribbons.

Within the secretary’s office, confusion reigned when Seb entered. Barnabas was cursing and flailing his arms like a windmill.

‘Be gone, accursed bird!’ he shouted, flapping his hands in the direction of a panicked ball of feathers. ‘Away with you, I say.’

Andre le Clerc and Eustace Dane joined in, attempting to harass the little creature into flying out of the door. But it flew in the wrong direction, collided with the window and fell, stunned, behind a coffer.

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