The Lord Bishop's Clerk by Sarah Hawkswood

Author:Sarah Hawkswood
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780750958899
Publisher: The History Press
Published: 2014-10-13T16:00:00+00:00

Hugh Bradecote returned to the guest hall after personally checking the guards set to duty. He went first to Messire FitzHugh’s chamber, which was nearest the entrance. He knocked, but there was no answer. He was about to pass on when a suspicion crossed his mind, and so he raised the latch and eased open the door. The room was scarcely bigger than a cell, and FitzHugh lay already beneath his blanket, a vague covered figure in the dimness. Bradecote began to withdraw softly, as the young man sat bolt upright, challenging whoever stood in the dark in a voice not quite steady.

‘I am sorry, messire. I had not thought you would be asleep as yet. I have been warning the guests that if they discover anything, or have suspicions, they must reveal them only to myself or Serjeant Catchpoll.’

‘You think the killer will strike again?’

‘It cannot be ruled out. If they feel threatened, yes. Having killed once, killing again becomes easier.’

‘Yet you incarcerate us here, expose us to the threat.’

‘I keep you all here, messire, because one of you is a murderer. I give you good night. Sleep well.’ His last words were delivered in a sepulchral tone.

Bradecote was not impressed by the squire’s nervousness, and still surprised at his taking to his bed before it was even dusk. He next knocked at the door of the chamber occupied by the lady d’Achelie, but resolved not to enter if there was no response.

A soft voice bade him enter, and he opened the door to find the lady seated upon her bed, with her tirewoman combing out her long brown hair. A pair of best beeswax candles illuminated the scene and gave her hair a rich lustre. Ladies did not display their hair loose in public, it was not seemly, but she seemed unabashed at being found in such a state. Bradecote was embarrassed and dropped his gaze for a moment, flushing, but could not resist raising his eyes to observe her. She smiled, but there was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. He felt that she had been anticipating the arrival of a different male visitor.

‘I am sorry to disturb you, my lady.’

She gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment and feigned coyness. In truth, he was not altogether dissimilar from her lover; a little taller and leaner, younger certainly, but a paler version; not so dark of visage, without the lines of dissipation and with blue grey eyes that lacked the look of the calculating hunter that entranced her in de Grismont – there was a man who always stood out, attracting attention merely by his existence. This sheriff’s officer had shown he could be commanding, but she felt that, if he chose, he could be perfectly anonymous despite his inches. Here, she decided, was an earnest man whose passions, if any, were too mild for her taste. Putting him out of countenance, however, would be enjoyable.

‘Indeed, my lord, you choose your time and place for questions most oddly.

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