Kate Sedley - The Plymouth Cloak

A sharp knock at the bedchamber door made us both jump, such was the state of our nerves after the events of the previous night. But it was only John Penryn.

'There's a man downstairs, asking for you by name,' he said to Philip. 'He said to give you this.'

Philip took the silver disc which the landlord held out to him and laid it down on his bed with a sigh of relief. I could just make out from where I was sitting that it was engraved with a coat-of-arms.

'Let him come up,' he said. 'He's a King's Messenger, like me.'

I stood up. 'We'll come down, if you can find us a comer of the ale-room where we shan't be overheard or disturbed.' I met Philip's furious gaze calmly. 'There will be safety in numbers. I don't suppose it's impossible to steal one of those tokens, or to obtain it by other nefarious means. If the landlord here and a couple of his men will stay within call, I shall feel safer.'

John Penryn gave me his backing, but in the event our caution was unnecessary. No sooner did Philip clap eyes on the other man than he hailed him by name.

'Simon Whitehead, what brings you to Plymouth?' The newcomer, a short, sturdy man whose hair was so fair as to be nearly white, and whose eyelashes were almost invisible, motioned us both to sit opposite him at a table in the furthest comer of the ale-room from the door, where the landlord had placed him. Three mazers of ale stood ready for us, together with a dish of oatcakes. John Penryn and the two tapsters with him were waved away, and, satisfied that no danger threatened, they departed about the morning's business.

Simon Whitehead nodded at me. 'Who's he?' he asked suspiciously.

'It's all right. He's the Duke of Gloucester's man," Philip answered, feeling, no doubt, that any other explanation would take too long. 'You can talk in front of him. Where have you come from and how did you know I was here? You've obviously come to find me.'

'I was on the King's business in Falmouth when news arrived that the Earl of Oxford has invested St Michael's Mount. Three days ago, on the last day of September.' Ignoring our exclamations of astonishment and horror, Simon Whitehead recruited his strength with a gulp of ale and continued: 'Apparently he'd anchored in Mount's Bay, and then he and his followers — not above a hundred men in all, so I've been reliably informed- disguised themselves as pilgrims, with cloaks and broad-brimmed hats, waited for low tide and walked across the causeway as bold as you please. Said they were a group of palmers who had arrived by sea — true enough, I suppose — to make their offering at the shrine.' Simon snorted in exasperation.' They were admitted without any questions being asked, and on reaching the upper court, threw off their cloaks, drew their swords — and that was that. They've expelled the monks and the garrison, and sent out raiding parties into the neighbouring villages for food. It goes without saying that they'll try to stir up insurrection, but I'll be surprised if they succeed. A few disaffected men perhaps, but no great numbers. Nevertheless, Sir Henry Bodrugan and the Sheriff, Sir John Arundel, have ordered all ships in the area to remain where they are for the time being, while messengers are despatched to London to inform the King of what has happened, and to receive his instructions. This, of course, includes the Falcon , which on Thursday was anchored in Falmouth roads. Is indeed still anchored there, awaiting developments. Fortunately, the Master knew me to be lodged in the town and had himself rowed ashore the following day in order to ask me to carry an urgent message, letting you know of the delay. Like me, he believes that King Edward will issue pressing orders for him to continue with his mission, but until these orders are actually received, the Master dare not disobey Sir Henry or Sir John.'

'And in the meantime?' Philip Underdown's tones were clipped; his eyes held fear.

Simon Whitehead took a swig of ale and helped himself to another oatcake.

'You stay here.' He shrugged. 'The Turk's Head offers a comfortable enough billet. John Penryn will ask no questions.

It will probably be only a matter of days.'

'No.' Philip slammed his empty mazer down on the table with a ferocity that made the other man jump. 'I'll not stay here. There have been two attempts on my life the past two nights, and I'll not remain tamely waiting for a third.' The landlord, who was attending to our wants himself, overheard the last remark as he approached our table with a second jug of ale.

'There are always the cellars,' he reminded Philip quietly. When the other man shook his head vehemently, he added: 'No ghosts. Just the best ale and wine this side of the Tavy.'

'And the duty not paid on any of it, I'll be bound,' Simon Whitehead said, grinning.

John Penryn gave an answering grin, but made no comment, merely glancing in inquiry at Philip.

My companion was adamant. 'No, I tell you! I'll not be mewed up down there.' And he gave a slight, almost imperceptible shiver. 'Why should I endure such discomfort?' 'Then we stay in our room,' I said, 'until such time as the Falcon drops anchor in the Cattewater. We can drag one bed across the door, as we did last night, and answer it to no one but Master Penryn or Moll. We should be sufficiently safe to guard against any intruder.' But I have to admit that my heart sank as I made the suggestion. Five, possibly six, days of Philip Underdown's company in what would virtually be a prison was more than I could contemplate with any equanimity. And it would be all of that before the Sheriff's messengers could get to London and the King, even riding day and night, and bear his answer back again. And even when that was accomplished, the Falcon had still to sail up the coast to Plymouth.

It was almost with relief that I heard Philip say: 'No! I’ll not put up with it!' He looked at Simon Whitehead. 'Are you returning to Falmouth?'

The other man glanced obliquely at the landlord, who circumspectly withdrew leaving the jug of ale on the table.

Simon refilled his mazer and answered: 'I must. I have unfinished business there. Why? What is it you want me to do?'

'Get a message to the Master of the Falcon . Tell him I shall be in Plymouth again a week from today. Until then, I intend to lie up at Trenowth Manor, across the Tamar. Roger and I will leave tonight and cross by the ferry. After that, we ride northward under cover of darkness, arriving at Trenowth in time for breakfast.'

I knit my brows. 'And what tale do you tell the goodman of the house for wishing to remain a sennight under his roof?. The weather is not yet severe enough to provide excuse.'

'I shall tell Sir Peveril the truth. He and his lady are sworn supporters of the House of York. They'll not fail us.' Simon Whitehead chewed his lower lip. 'I happen to know that Sir Peveril and Lady Trenowth have been in London since August, and mean to stay there until the winter.'

'All the better. We can think of a story to satisfy the servants, and in any case they won't ask too many questions.

This time of year, when the travelling minstrels and jugglers and acrobats are all settling into their winter quarters, life on the manor starts to get boring. They'll be glad of any distraction, and the women will be particularly pleased to see a fine young fellow like Roger here.' Philip smiled suddenly, his teeth showing whitely against his tanned skin. 'And of course, I shall be delighted to make any woman free of my company, whatever her age.'

'You're familiar with Trenowth Manor?' I asked, not at all happy with the prospect thus sketched out for me. It seemed a foolish risk to take, when we might be reasonably safe at the Turk's Head. On the other hand, recalling my misgivings of a few minutes earlier, I realized that I was not so averse to the idea as I had at first thought.