Two Tales by Joyce Lionarons

Author:Joyce Lionarons [Lionarons, Joyce]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

12

By the time they arrived at Saint Martin’s Lane, both Cordwainer and Hugh were wet and cold. Cordwainer hung his damp cloak on its peg by the door as Hugh pushed Cordwainer’s cushioned chair closer to the fire, arranging the footstool so that twas close, but not too close, to the flames. Cordwainer sat with his scrip on his lap and his feet on the stool. Hugh knelt to take Cordwainer’s wet shoes from his feet, and Cordwainer leaned back in his chair with long sigh.

“Bring me a cup of hot wine,” he said, “And tell Agytha I need her.”

“Aye, Master,” said Hugh, rushing to obey. Only when Agytha had entered the front chamber did he step into his curtained alcove to dry himself and find warmer clothing.

Cordwainer pulled the knife from his scrip. “Agytha,” he said. “Do you – ”

“You found my carving knife!” Agytha exclaimed. “I left it t’other night in the kitchen at the Black Boar, but I did not realize it until today. I was certain twas gone for good!”

Cordwainer’s jaw dropped. “This is your knife?”

“Aye, Master.” Agytha took the knife from his hand and looked at it. “Oh,” she said, pointing at the blade. “Nay, tis not. Mine has a nick in it, just here.”

Cordwainer reached for the knife and took it. “This is the knife that killed Martin Lovecote,” he said.

Agytha crossed herself, then wiped her hands hastily on her apron as if touching the killer’s knife had contaminated them.

“If I have the right of it,” Cordwainer told her, “Mistress Rithe has your knife, for the one she showed me had a nick in it just where you pointed. God's teeth, how many of these knives are there?”

Agytha shook her head. “Every cook owns a carving knife, Master. And the best are those made by cutler Shute, like mine and like that one.”

Cordwainer snorted, remembering that Berta had said the same. “I want you to sit down and tell me every person you remember who was in the Black Boar kitchen that night. One of them took this knife and murdered Martin Lovecote.”

Agytha sat on the bench next to the fireplace, arranging her apron over her knees. “You say Mistress Rithe has my knife, Master? I did not see her there, but she may have loaned her knife to someone – with all the roast pork and bacon, we needed every carving knife we might find.”

“Aye,” said Cordwainer. “But who did you see?”

Agytha smoothed her apron as she thought. “The master of the Black Boar and his assistant cook, of course. And Berta and Gymi, and the cook from the White Hart tavern and his assistant. But then there were many folk bringing food from their own kitchens, all of which needed to be warmed over the fires before we might serve it. We used both the fire in the kitchen and the one in the tavern room. Master, I took no notice of who came and left; I just took the food they brought.

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