Kate Sedley - The Plymouth Cloak

Janet smiled. 'You're worn out, lad. Go and lie down. I'll send one of the girls to call you when it's time for supper.'

'I think I will,' I said. 'I've only just realized how tired I am. My throat still hurts as well.' I glanced around me. 'I left my cudgel here this morning, after breakfast. I thought I left it by the door, but it's not there now. Either I was mistaken or somebody's moved it.'

'I did,' Janet answered. 'It's there, in that corner. I kept falling over it where it was.' I noticed that she too was looking extremely tired and careworn. It had been a nightmarish day for all of us, and I was not surprised when she sat down at the kitchen table, fanning herself with her apron. She added: 'Perhaps you'd better leave it here for the time being. The Sheriff's officer may wish to see it. We've laid the knife beside the body in the great hall, but it's possible he might wish to inspect both the weapons used. I'll see that no one takes it by mistake. I know how highly a man prizes his own particular sword or cudgel.'

I thanked her and got to my feet. My limbs felt like lead, as they so often do at the prospect of ease after great labours.

Two little kitchen-maids, chatting and giggling to one another as they gathered together the bone-handled knives and stale trenchers of bread ready to lay the table for the evening meal, smiled shyly at me as I passed them. Their round, worshipping eyes told me that they regarded me as a hero who had unmasked a dangerous criminal, and I was too human not to find it pleasant, so I grinned and winked at them in return.

The courtyard was quiet now, the carter having departed with his wagon. John Groom was also invisible, but I could hear him whistling tunelessly inside the stable. A horse whinnied and I wondered if it were my rouncey or Philip's horse — now the property of Sir Peveril — who was missing his master. Luke was presumably still keeping watch inside the chapel, or else he had been relieved by James. Either way, there was no sign of them. From the bakery, I could smell the sweet aroma of newly-baked bread which would be eaten at supper. Tomorrow there would be a new batch for the breakfast table. The laundry was empty now, the laundress and her assistants gone to their homes in the village, the linen dried and folded in the big baskets, awaiting the smoothing irons to get rid of the creases.

I crossed to the great chamber and mounted the stairs to my room. Philip's and my belongings were still in a heap in the middle of the bed, just as they had been abandoned by Jeremiah Fletcher when I surprised him. Tonight I would pack everything into the saddle-bags, ready for my return to Plymouth on the morrow. But for now, I was too sleepy to do anything but let them lie where they were. I removed my jerkin, felt inside the lining, which I had never sewn up, to assure myself of the letter's safety, took off my boots and fell exhausted upon my truckle-bed. Moments later, I was sleeping soundly.

And moments after that, I was awake again, sitting bolt upright and staring, slack-mouthed, before me. Then I swung my legs to the floor and began pulling on my boots with hands that shook, shrugged on my jerkin and was out of the room, down the stairs and across the courtyard to the stables almost before I knew it. I glanced furtively towards the kitchen to see if Janet were anywhere in sight and slipped inside the stables to find John Groom.

He was busy hauling the bales of fodder up the ladder to the hay-loft above and did not immediately hear me call his name. There were a number of stalls facing me as I entered, only two of which were occupied at present, by the cob and Philip's flea-bitten grey. Of Sir Peveril's horses, one was being ridden to Launceston by the sawyer and the rest were presumably with him in London.

'John!' I exclaimed urgently, laying my hand on the ladder and shaking it as hard as I dared.

He paused in surprise and then looked down, his face red with exertion. 'Oh, it's you,' he said. 'Give me a hand with the rest of the bales, will you? The carter should by rights have done it, but he was anxious to be away. He was too ashamed to stay any longer after that stupid trick he played.'

'I can't,' I answered. 'I must catch up with Silas Bywater. I need my horse now.'

He grumbled and swore a great deal, but then his better nature overcame his ill-humour. He deposited his burden in the loft and descended once more to saddle the cob. He was a slow, thorough man and I had to curb my impatience, expecting every moment to hear Janet Overy beating spoon against skillet as a signal that supper was almost ready. At last, however, I was up and away, the rouncey frisking under me, delighted to renew our acquaintance. As I rode into the courtyard, Edgar Warden and his assistants appeared through the archway, having finished their day's work and eager now for their evening meal. The bailiff scowled at me as I passed, but offered no other sign of hostility, even managing to look a little ashamed of himself if the truth were told. I wondered if he and Colin and Ned had heard of the aftemoon's events, if the news had as yet spread to all parts of the manor, or if they had still to be told of them, and what they would make of them when they knew.

But the thought was fleeting. I had too much else on my mind, not least the necessity of overtaking Silas Bywater and forcing him to tell me what it was that I needed to know. I felt sure that only he and one other held the key to the riddle of Philip Underdown's death. I knew beyond doubt now who the real murderer was, but was uncertain as to the reason. As I rode, I went back over the events of the past two days, since our arrival at Trenowth the previous morning, and began to see more clearly a pattern emerging. Things had been said and done which by themselves meant nothing, but put together started to form a picture. And I could go even further back, to one of my early conversations with Philip, and also to something which John Penryn had said.

'There are always the cellars,' he had told Philip. 'No ghosts. Just the best ale and wine this side of the Tavy. ' Philip's own voice echoed through my head. 'I cannot bear to be cooped up. It frets me to be in a confined space for very long.'

And he had confessed to having nightmares about being chained up in the dark.

I stopped briefly in the village to make certain that Silas had not delayed his journey by a visit to the inn, but the landlord had not seen him. The landlord's wife, however, was more helpful.

'I met him just beyond the manor pale not an hour since, walking south. Said the murderer had been taken and he was free to return to Plymouth. Heading for the ferry, I reckon.' I thanked her and rode on, letting the rouncey have his head as much as I dared in view of the roughness of the tracks thereabouts and my inexpert horsemanship. I recognized very little of the country through which I passed, it having been dark when Philip and I traversed it, going in the opposite direction, in the pre-dawn hours of yesterday morning. The weather had cleared even more as the afternoon shadows lengthened, and there was now no sign of the morning's threatened storm. A very fine evening was promised and the distant hills were lost in a shimmering amber haze.

I seemed to have been riding for a long time, and was just beginning to worry lest Silas Bywater should for some reason or another have turned aside into one of the neighbouring villages, when, to my great relief, I emerged from a grove of trees and saw him four or five furrows' length ahead of me. I shouted to him to stop as loudly as I could and dug my heels into the cob's side, spurring him forward and soon overtaking my quarry.

Silas had turned in alarm at the sound of his name and was plainly considering the possibility of making a run for it. But in the end he decided to stand his ground and showed me a defiant face as I came abreast of him.