Frobisher's Savage (Joan and Matthew Stock Mystery Book 8) by Leonard Tourney

Author:Leonard Tourney [Tourney, Leonard]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2016-03-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

It was inevitable that William Dees should be chosen to go with them; he was strong and dependable, he had voiced strong opinions, and Matthew could trust him to be of a mind to go, since John Crookback had been his friend. Besides, Dees would be able to bring word to others, saving Matthew the trouble of tramping all over town with the hue and cry.

The wind had died sometime during the night but the snow was falling still, and rooftops, cobbles, and fields beyond were robed in a ghastly whiteness that struck Matthew to the quick of his soul when he saw it in the foredawn moonlight. There would be no need for torch or lantern, for his way would be clear enough. Matthew had made himself warm with as much clothing as he could put on his back; leather-gloved and muffled in the heaviest wool, he left only enough of his face exposed to be able to see. He had drunk long and deeply of the hot caudle, hoping it would warm his belly and protect him, but he was hardly ready for the appalling cold when he stepped forth into the street.

Joan had wept when she wished him Godspeed at the threshold. She had a fearful look in her eyes that had made his courage almost fail. He went out the door into the softly falling snow with a heavy heart and a fervent promise on his lips that if he ever came home again he would do so resolved to be a better man, if it killed him to be so.

He had been right about Dees, who was already up and about when Matthew, having trudged all the way to the end of the town, had knocked at his door. Smoke poured forth from his chimney, and standing on the doorstep Matthew could hear the voices of Dees’s wife and children within and he could smell something savory cooking for the family’s breakfast.

Matthew had to say who he was, given that so little of him showed forth from his garb, and then told the stonemason outright what was needed. In no time at all Dees was ready to go, encased in a cloak heavier than Matthew’s own and with a fur hat pulled down so as nearly to be one with his beard.

“Sir Thomas will provide us with horses,” Matthew said.

“Well he might,” Dees said. “It will make travel the easier in these drifts. It is the worst snow I can remember.” Dees had no sword but did possess, he said, a crossbow and six arrows with forked arrowheads, a knife as sharp as a razor, and an arm as strong as any man’s in Chelmsford. Matthew knew the claim was true. He had seen Dees shoot and knew that the stonemason had been suspected of poaching deer in the neighborhood. Matthew himself had brought no weapon beyond his knife. He had none in his house, not liking them very much and having no skill with bow, sword, or pistol.

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