Mel Starr - A Trail of Ink

"Amiss, m'lord?"

"Aye." Lady Petronilla laid her work in her lap and spoke. "You were laughing and in good spirit when you departed for Oxford Monday. But since your return you are morose. I have watched you at table… you eat but little. I told m'lord, `Some mishap has overtaken Master Hugh while at Oxford."'

"M'lady," Lord Gilbert interjected, "has a meddlesome imagination."

"Meddlesome I am not," Lady Petronilla barked. "I am… observant."

"Aye," Lord Gilbert chuckled and nodded toward me. "She is that."

"I told m'lord 'tis not good for a young man, so full of life and joy one day, to be so glum the next."

"And I told her this was not our concern." He paused. "She disagreed."

Lady Petronilla nodded and pursed her lips.

"So I have called you here to learn what has gone amiss in Oxford. Or," he hesitated, "to learn if my wife's imagination has…"

"'Tis no imagining," Lady Petronilla rejoined.

Lord Gilbert was to my right hand, Lady Petronilla to my left. Their dispute caused my head to swivel. I made no reply to Lady Petronilla's assertion, but she would not accept my silence.

"Come, Master Hugh. When a young man cannot finish a tasty game pie for his supper, or salmon in syrup, then something is much awry."

"Hmm," Lord Gilbert muttered, pulling at his beard. "This is true? You did not finish your salmon?"

"He did not."

"I have never known you to reject a salmon. M'lady speaks true… What troubles you, Hugh?"

I dislike encumbering others with my own misfortune. And I have observed that, on most occasions, others prefer not to share the burden anyway. I hesitated to reply.

Lady Petronilla understood what my silence implied.

"You do not protest, Master Hugh. So 'tis true. Were it not so, you would be quick to object."

"It is a matter for my own concern," I finally replied. "I do not wish to vex others."

"I toldyou'twas so," Lady Petronilla said triumphantly to her husband. Lord Gilbert raised one eyebrow and went to pulling at his beard. These mannerisms I knew well. He stroked his chin when deep in thought, and raised an eyebrow when puzzled. This last expression I had tried to emulate. Unsuccessfully.

"It is not good for a man to carry his worries alone," Lord Gilbert remarked. "You have no wife to share your sorrows.

"Or joys," Lady Petronilla smiled.

"'Tis more difficult for you, of course… finding a wife. You must search her out for yourself. Our fathers," Lord Gilbert smiled at his wife, "placed us together. For the which I am grateful, as is, I trust, m'lady."

Lady Petronilla beamed in reply. This conversation had somehow got around to wives and marriage. Perhaps Lord Gilbert had an intuition that a young man's woe might have to do with a lass.

"I would be much pleased to find a good wife," I agreed. "I know that marriage may bring sorrow, but bachelorhood brings little joy."

"Well," Lord Gilbert chuckled, "you had best get you back to Oxford. You will not find her in Bampton Castle… nor anywhere in the town, I think."

"But I have duties here."

"What? Michaelmas is long past. The harvest is in, and John Holcutt has matters well in hand for winter. You are at leisure to pursue your own ends and seek a wife. A prosperous burgher's daughter, I think, or, with luck, the only child of a knight, with lands she might bring with her."

Lady Petronilla nodded agreement. Gentlemen and their ladies are much alike. Get land; this is nearly all they think on. Kate Caxton will have small dowry, I think. Her father is a burgher, but I am not privy to the depth of his purse. Knowing Lord Gilbert as I do, however, should he lay eyes on Kate, he will approve my choice.

My choice. Little good my decision would do me now, with the handsome Sir Simon Trillowe in pursuit of Kate.

"You have friends in Oxford," Lord Gilbert continued. "Surely some will know of a suitable lass."

"Perhaps more than one might suit," Lady Petronilla smiled. "'Tis always good to have a choice in such matters."

Lord Gilbert frowned at this remark. "You would have preferred a choice?"

"You think I did not have one?" she rejoined. "Our fathers placed us together, 'tis true, but my father would not match me with a man I rejected."

"So you…"

"Aye," Lady Petronilla smiled. "My father knew who I would have and who I would not."

"There were others you would have accepted? Who?"

"I will say no more," she laughed, "but that choice of a spouse is good. Neither you nor Master Hugh need know more."

"Master Wyclif is a friend, is he not?" Lord Gilbert returned to his subject. "You should seek him and learn if he knows of suitable maids about Oxford."

"But m'lord," Lady Petronilla scoffed, "Master John is a bachelor scholar. What will he know of marriageable maids?"

"He has lived in Oxford many years, and even scholars, with their noses pressed to their books, have two eyes and can appreciate a comely lass, and two ears and can hear of virtue."

Lady Petronilla had no reply to this logic, so returned to her needle. I decided to speak plainly to Lord Gilbert.

"I visited Master John Monday eve. He is much distressed. Some thief has stolen his books."

Lord Gilbert raised both eyebrows. "Indeed? He has told the sheriff of the loss?"

"Aye. Sir John Trillowe is newly appointed High Sheriff of Oxford. He seems little interested in seeking stolen books."

Lord Gilbert's eyes narrowed and his lips compressed to a fine line. "He would not."

"You know Sir John?"

"I do."

I awaited an explanation of Lord Gilbert's expression when he heard the name. None was forthcoming, but I knew my employer well enough to know that he must think little of this new sheriff. In the past two years I had found Lord Gilbert's estimation of other men to be fair, so was prepared to think little of a man I had never met. I had met his son. An acorn does not fall far from the oak. But I am prejudiced.

"Master Wyclif has no clue as to who has taken his books?" Lord Gilbert continued.

"None."

He raised an eyebrow and went to tugging at his chin, but it was Lady Petronilla who spoke: "Is not Master Wyclif a favorite of Duke John?"

"Aye," Lord Gilbert replied. "The Duke of Lancaster is Master Wyclif's patron. The scholar comes from lands in Yorkshire which are in the Duke's gift."

"I wonder," Lady Petronilla laid her needlework in her lap and looked up, "that Master Wyclif does not seek help from Duke John. Surely the king's son should have ways and means to find stolen books."

"The Duke will be in London, enjoying his palace, or at Pontefract. I think he cares little for books… although he might be pleased did another discover the thief and return the books to his favorite." As he said this Lord Gilbert went to pulling at his chin again.

"Master Hugh, you have few duties now 'til hallmote. And you are proven adept at solving mysteries. Perhaps you should return to Oxford and seek Master Wyclif's books."

"And while he is there," Lady Petronilla added, "he might also seek a wife. I cannot tell which may be easier to discover."

Before I could think of an objection Lord Gilbert spoke again, and my fate was sealed. "I think John of Gaunt would be much pleased to learn 'twas my bailiff who discovered the thief who stole his favorite's books."

Lord Gilbert, Third Baron Talbot, is one of the most powerful nobles in the realm. But even he would like the good will of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, son of the King Edward that now is, and brother of the King Edward to be, the fourth of that name, the Black Prince.

In matter of fact, with the old king ill, and the Black Prince often waging war in France, it is Duke John who runs the kingdom. So some say. But not where others may hear.

"John Holcutt is competent to deal with the manor. And I will remain until St Catherine's Day. So that's settled, then. Nothing to keep you. You may be off tomorrow. Take Arthur, if you wish. Might be well to have an assistant along. Arthur's no fool, and worth three in a fray, should you find the felons and they not wish to surrender their loot."