The Ramage Hawk (Thomas the Falconer Mystery Series Book 3) by John Pilkington

Author:John Pilkington [Pilkington, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2019-11-26T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

The next day, Thomas recalled, was Friday the thirteenth and, though he had never been a highly superstitious man, he soon found that his travelling companions were of a different mind.

It was a grim-faced Judd Chalkhill who drove the rickety cart with Thomas seated on the wagon bed beside the propped-up figure of Edward Birch. And as they left East Everley, reached the crossroads and turned north towards Marlborough, the matter soon came to light.

‘Nan ‘ad a lucky green stone, that a swadder gave ‘er once,’ Judd said morosely. ‘I ought to ‘ave found ‘ee and took ‘ee with us, to ward off evil.’ He gazed beyond the ears of the plodding horse to the dusty road ahead. ‘I never asked what she did, for ‘ee to give it.’

Thomas sat facing backwards, watching the village roof-tops diminish behind them. Last night’s spontaneous search of the neighbourhood by lantern-light had proved fruitless, as he expected. Most went to their beds afterwards, and no doubt many nursed sore heads this morning, while mourning their empty pockets.

It was a good ten miles to Marlborough, by the straight road that ran through Savernake Forest. The sun was already up; he estimated it would be a four or five-hour journey - a journey in fact, that had almost not taken place. For when he had presented himself at Chilbourne the previous night and told of the events in the village, he had found few sympathetic ears. Sir Giles, alarmed at the continued presence in the area of the bogus Crown Purveyor and his savage servant, had at once sent word to Sir Henry Willoughby. It seemed a watch had now been set at Cracked Oak, but there had been no further sign of the two men. Sir Giles ordered a bad-tempered Richard Hawkes to assist by mounting a further search in the morning. Hawkes it was who had objected strongly to Thomas’s request to borrow a cart and take the injured Edward Birch to Marlborough, saying the man should look to his own family. But to Thomas’s surprise, Redmund Oakes the butler, in a rare use of his authority, over-ruled him, saying that the manor of Chilbourne owed much to the villagers of East Everley, and it would be wrong to deny one of the harvesters succour, especially in view of the circumstances. Sir Giles had finally agreed, saying the slaughterman could drive the cart, which would relieve them of his long face for a day, at least. The death of Nan Greenwood, it seemed, was of rapidly diminishing importance in view of the continued absence of Lady Jane - save for the fact that someone else would have to be hired to attend to the growing mountain of Chilbourne laundry.

Birch sat in silence as the little square tower of East Everley church disappeared in the morning haze. He half-turned to Thomas. ‘We’ve a long way to go, falconer,’ he said. ‘Shall we tell each other fanciful tales, like the pilgrims of old? Or talk of matters closer to hand?’

Thomas considered, feeling the warm sun in his face.

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