The novice watched as she passed. Pietro saw him but ignored him: he was only another monk, and there were enough of them at fair-time in Tavistock, especially with the mendicants, who spent their time alternately preaching and begging; but Avice beamed at Peter as she swept by, and that simple recognition melted his heart.
Then two irritable men brushed him aside. One was Antonio, but he didn’t know Arthur Pole. In their train came Luke, who cursed him, and then he was alone once more. He was suddenly aware that the others must have moved on, and was about to set off after them when two more men hurried by, one of them a friar.
Peter didn’t care. His mind was fixed on the graceful creature who had smiled at him.
Luke felt a quick discomfort when he realized he had shoved a monk from his path. It hadn’t been intentional; he had thought it was just another cheaply dressed peasant. He’d only caught a glimpse of the robe before he elbowed the lad out of his way. By the time he’d spotted the tonsure it was too late.
But there was no time for regrets. Antonio da Cammino, his master, was displaying his annoyance by staying close behind his son and the girl, and Luke was hard pushed to keep up. The crowd that filled the alleys was bunched around particular stalls, and at each knot Antonio was slowed. As soon as he could, he forged ahead, trying to close the gap between himself and his son, and each time there was another delay for Luke, who was forced to batter his own way through. It was tiring – and more than a little ridiculous.
Luke set his jaw as he pushed through yet another group. Now they were entering a new lane, and here at last the passage was almost clear. He could breathe a little easier, and lengthened his stride.
The girl’s father appeared a self-important little man to the servant – strong, but soft with easy living. Antonio and Arthur Pole hardly glanced in each other’s direction, and Luke wasn’t surprised. In his experience parents were rarely eager when their children found their own companions. Fathers were keen to arrange alliances in which wealth could be married to wealth, but neither Antonio nor the girl’s father knew anything about the other. Their children had met and agreed to walk together almost before their parents had realized what was happening. Now they strolled side-by-side, neither one speaking but both greedily absorbing their children’s words in case of an indiscretion.
Luke sighed. It was no surprise that his master should be worried. The very last thing he needed was for his son to start an amorous affair. Especially if it became serious.
He gave Pietro a shrewd look. Luke had never known him to get attached to girls before. That he should do so now, and with the daughter of a burgess was surprising: Pietro knew how little time they had in Tavistock. But the servant had seen growing signs of rebellion for the last few months.
It was always the way. Sons would seek their own amusements, and Pietro had apparently decided that this girl was interesting – or possibly something of a challenge, Luke amended. The lad certainly seemed taken with her – he could hardly take his eyes off her. The servant eyed the girl appraisingly. Pietro had chosen well. She looked vulnerable, ready for a serious, mature attack from a worldly squire like Pietro. His stories of foreign travel, with his fashionable and expensive dress, should make his charms irresistible.
Luke had some experience of young and impressionable women. At one point he had married one, though he had left her behind when the French approached.
That was some years ago, when he had been living in the eastern marches of Gascony. He had scraped a decent enough living there, and if it hadn’t been for the French attacks and their capture of swathes of the English King’s territory, he would be there still. But the French were known to dislike those who had allied themselves to the English, and as soon as the first heralds appeared near his town, he had saddled his horse and escaped. Under the urge of homesickness, he had made for Bordeaux, to a place where he would hear English voices again, but the citizens of the town weren’t charitable, and for months he had been close to starvation, begging and trying to find work, before he had met Antonio and his son.
He looked at his master again, seeing the bristling anger in Antonio’s rigid shoulders, and shook his head. The girl might be worth a tumble, but he wondered if Pietro had realized how his father felt.
7
Peter caught up with Baldwin and the others near the leather-goods stalls. The next section included the poulterers and butchers. Will Ruby was there, and Baldwin saw that he watched the group with eyes that betrayed his anxiety.
Baldwin stood at the entrance of the lane where the cooks plied their trade and looked down the narrow way. There was an open space here where children ran, playing chasing games, while parents looked on indulgently. Rich and poor mixed together, all drinking or chewing their food.
Simon felt his purse. The smell of cooking was making his mouth water. Onions and garlic, pepper and meats of all kinds were boiling or roasting all round as he moved in among the stalls, and he eyed the offerings with an appreciative eye. It had been a long time since his breakfast.
Holcroft led the way. He walked quickly, but Simon could see that he was observing the people and wares on offer as he went, and the bailiff was impressed by his dedication. The man obviously took his responsibilities seriously, and was always on the lookout for an infringement of the fair’s rules.
Elias saw Holcroft appear and groaned to himself. He had been about to leave for a few minutes, to go and duck his head in the water trough in the cattle pens. His skull was a thick, dense boil of pain and he longed to lance it. With the blazing sun overhead being reflected from white tunics and bright awnings, he had to squint to try to lessen the agony.
“Hello, David,” he said, trying to sound cheery. “How are you today?”
“I’ll be better when I’ve got your money.”
“My money? But why’s that?”
“You know why. I warned you about the garbage.”
“Oh. Well, I tried to get it cleared, but you’ve got no idea how long it took. I wheeled ten loads over to the midden and then…”
“Quiet, Elias,” Holcroft rasped. “I’ll get the beadle to collect the money next week. I don’t care what your excuses are. Especially since…”
Baldwin smoothly interrupted him before he could give away any details of the dead body, pointing to a pie and asking, “What is in that one?”
Holcroft subsided while the cook reached over and picked up the golden crust and eulogized its filling of goose and ham.
“It sounds very good. I might take one. First, though…”
This time it was Baldwin’s turn to be interrupted. A heavy-set watchman broke through the crowd and went to the port-reeve. “There’s a deal being arranged between the King’s official and a horse-dealer. You’re needed to witness it.”
“Oh, God’s blood!” Holcroft muttered. As port-reeve, it was his duty to validate any large transactions. There were heavy fines for a trader who did not have him witness their business, for the Abbey’s portion depended on the port-reeve’s mark on the papers.
He threw a harassed look at Baldwin, who said understandingly, “Leave it to us. We can let you know what is happening later.”
The port-reeve nodded, his eyes going from Simon to Baldwin, while the watchman tapped his sword hilt irritably, then looked at Elias. “You tell these gentlemen the truth, Elias. They’re here on the Abbot’s authority. If I hear you’ve been talking rubbish, I’ll come and check all your stock for weights, understand? And for every pie that’s under you’ll get a day in the pillory.”
His mouth wide open with dismay, Elias stared as the port-reeve marched off with the watchman close behind. “What was that all about?”
“Elias, you have the shop next to Will Ruby’s, don’t you?”
The cook shut his mouth with a snap. Baldwin could see he was nervous, and his hands shook with the occasional twitch of the heavy drinker. That, the knight thought, would explain his pale complexion. Baldwin did not
