Candace Robb - A Spy For The Redeemer

Michaelo relaxed. ‘You have sent for the captain, Your Grace?’

‘Can you think of a worse time for him to be away from his family?’

‘He hoped to be on his way home by now.’

‘Excellent. He should be here.’

Michaelo tilted his head, as if considering. ‘That is kind of you.’

‘Kindness has nothing to do with it.’ Thoresby moved ahead. ‘What of this Harold Galfrey? You say he has been a steward. Of such extensive lands? Freythorpe Hadden is a great responsibility. The steward must play far more roles than Archer plays as my steward. Is this man competent?’

‘I know little about him, Your Grace. A respected merchant of York, Roger Moreton, hired him as his steward, on the recommendation of John Gisburne.’

‘Gisburne. His recommendation carries no weight with me. Quite the opposite, truth be told.’

‘I have heard the rumours regarding Gisburne. But Mistress Wilton trusts Master Moreton’s opinion. He truly is well respected.’

‘Perhaps he is, but if he takes Gisburne’s recommendation, he is likely to be a fool when it comes to hiring men. It does not sound to me as if Mistress Wilton asked sufficient questions. I must enquire about Harold Galfrey.’

Michaelo looked pained.

‘What is it?’

‘It was I who urged Mistress Wilton to consider Galfrey as temporary steward, Your Grace. It is I who asks too few questions.’

‘A pretty courtesy, Michaelo. Let us eat, then see to the letters.’

The morning brought chaos to Lucie’s house. Gwenllian feared that Lucie meant to disappear for another few days and clung to her skirts when she would leave the house for her appointment with the High Sheriff. Phillippa chided Lucie for not taking a switch to the child. Jasper belatedly announced that the guild master had called while Lucie was away, wishing to discuss Alice Baker’s accusations. He wished to see Lucie as soon as possible. Harold arrived at the door while Lucie sat in the kitchen trying to get Jasper to repeat everything the guild master had said. Phillippa said that the boy was merely trying to protect her from gossip. Jasper insisted that he was not keeping anything from her, he just could not remember all that Guild Master Thorpe had said. Harold took Gwenllian out into the garden.

When at last Lucie joined them there, Gwenllian was merrily teasing Crowder with a string on which she had tied a sprig of catmint. Harold lounged on a bench, trying to do a cat’s cradle. He looked rested and cheerful.

Lucie tried not to notice the warmth in his startling blue eyes as she sank down beside him. ‘I think I shall go mad before sunset,’ she said.

‘I have seen the baker’s wife and heard the gossip,’ said Harold. ‘No one believes you are in the wrong. They all know Alice Baker thinks herself an alchemist.’

‘What matters is what the guild believes. There are members who think I never should have been accepted, and for certain do not deserve the honour of “master”. It is not enough for them that being a woman I am left out of the ceremonies, the meetings …’ And why was she confiding in her steward? Lucie stood up, shook out her skirt. ‘Shall we attend the High Sheriff?’ She was halfway to the house when she realised Harold had not followed her. She turned back, found him standing by the bench, his hands behind his back, watching her with an uncertain air. Lucie retraced her steps. ‘What is it?’

Looking uncomfortable, not meeting her eye, he said, ‘I pray I do not offend you, but I have asked Master Moreton to carry a letter to the High Sheriff from me. He awaits word that you agree.’

Did Harold wish to avoid her? She felt her face grow hot and was glad he did not see. Could he tell she had dressed with care, for him? That she had looked forward to the walk across the city, with him? ‘Why?’ she asked, her voice an inappropriate whisper.

Now he met her eyes. ‘I wish to leave at once for Freythorpe Hadden. I am uneasy … I woke with a feeling that I should return as soon as I could.’

Lucie searched his face for dissimulation. He looked sincere, which chilled her. ‘What do you fear has happened in our absence?’

‘I pray nothing more has happened, but that I am belatedly realising the danger we faced. I had little time to think about it until last night. And then — ’ He raked his hand through his hair. ‘I thought of what might have been, do you see? If the gatekeeper and his family had been in the gatehouse when the outlaws set the fire.’

‘Where were Walter and his family?’

‘In the kitchen, having their evening meal.’

‘God watched over them.’

‘Think how those left behind feel today. Every noise must be investigated with pounding heart.’

‘You must go, of course. I — ’ Lucie touched his hand, moved by his concern. ‘I thank you.’

He put his other hand over hers, pressed it, stepped closer, lifted her hand and kissed it, all the while looking deep into her eyes.

The warmth that infused Lucie’s body with Harold’s kiss warned her to step back, remember where she was, who she was. She withdrew her hand.

‘And that is the other reason I should depart quickly,’ Harold said. ‘Forgive me.’ He turned towards Gwenllian, calling to her.

The child came rushing over. Harold scooped her into the air and twirled her about, making her dark curls dance. She hugged him as he lowered her to the ground.

‘I shall be off, my little love. Your mother has ordered me to ride off in defence of her castle.’

‘What castle?’

‘Freythorpe Hadden. It is as large as a castle.’

Gwenllian looked disappointed. ‘Will you be back?’

‘Of course I will!’

Lucie pulled Gwenllian close, hugging her as she watched Harold leave the garden, reminding herself that the man was no match for Owen.

Roger Moreton appeared moments later, dressed in the livery of his guild — to impress the High Sheriff with his standing, Lucie guessed. In the end, he might be of more help to her than Harold would have been. Perhaps more important, she did not have to watch her behaviour towards Roger.

‘You do not mind the change in plans?’ Roger asked, obviously reading something in Lucie’s expression.

‘Not at all.’ With one last hug and a kiss, Lucie let go of Gwenllian, who skipped away to search for Crowder. Lucie rose, smiling. ‘It is good of you to leave your work to escort me.’

‘I am glad to do it.’ He drew a letter from his scrip. ‘Harold wrote down what he had noted, things you did not see. He hoped that it would be of use.’

‘Then we are well prepared. Shall we depart?’

They said little as they passed through the crowds in Thursday Market, down Feasegate, across Coney and over Ousegate into Nessgate. Lucie worried about Phillippa — she had seemed lucid earlier, but just now she had been pacing the hall, muttering to herself, oblivious of Lucie’s or Roger’s presence. Had this deterioration worsened with the shock of recent events, or had she been this distracted all winter? She had received no clear picture from the servants.

‘It sounds as if Harold was of great service to you,’ Roger said, glancing over at Lucie with an odd expression. Worry? Could he read her mind?

‘He was indeed. God bless you for proposing him.’

‘Um.’

What was he thinking? Could he tell how she felt? How Harold felt? She must know. ‘You are far away.’

‘Forgive me, I am — ’ Roger stopped in the middle of Nessgate. ‘I hope you are not offended, but I took it upon myself to have a word with Camden Thorpe about Alice Baker’s accusations.’

His admission was so far from what Lucie had feared that she was silent a moment, absorbing it. Anger quickly replaced concern. ‘You spoke to my guild master?’ Two men walking past glanced over. Lucie realised how loud she had been and lowered her voice. ‘What right had you? Do you think me a child who cannot speak for herself?’