Miriam Bibby - Mistress Meg 02 - Mistress Meg and the Silver Bell (32 page)

“Of
course, my dear,” said Richard. The two men rose to their feet and bowed
as she moved towards the door. Before resuming their places and their wine,
they exchanged a mutual warning glance behind her back. A glance that said
clearly, one to the other, “Say naught to Anne about
our
wager!”

As the door
closed behind her, their glasses clicked conspiratorially together.

The strange
events of the running horses would reverberate in Marcaster for days, if not
years to come, thought Zacharias. He delivered the coins back to Amiot with
some relief and watched with interest as Goldspink’s face and body shrank under
his burden again. He’d brought two young men with him, neighbour’s sons, to see
him safely back home. Yes, gold was a responsibility. The matter of the wagers
would take some clearing up, as this was an outcome that very few - if any -
could have foreseen. Widderis had effectively thrown the match; and Sir George
was disqualified, although there had been a lot of grumbling about it. Some had
said that further trials should have been run between the undersheriff’s lad
and Sir George. There had been quite a few fights on the night after and many
sore heads the following morning. Zacharias had heard shouts and arguments
going on for hours not far from his own house. The gentry probably knew naught
about it, having their own affairs to occupy them. Perhaps Goldspink would be
lucky and be able to return the gold quickly to those who had wagered it. They
might be pleased just to have their money back at all, under the circumstances
- and not look at it too closely.

Zacharias
had come to a decision in the past few days. He had reason to travel to York
and it seemed to him that it might be a good idea to put some time and distance
between himself and what had happened. He still had an uncomfortable feeling
about the coins. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that someone had entered his
house without him knowing, impossible though it was. There was also the strange
business of the woman who had visited his house, saying that she would come
back with a deposit for some jewellery. She hadn’t returned. She was certainly
an unusual and attractive woman and her knowledge of the curious history of
gems matched his own, but he did not believe she was a thief. He had only left
her alone for a very brief space of time. Still, there had been enough
opportunity for her to palm some of his jewellery and she had not done so. Then
there was the young man who had arrived with a sovereign for him to weigh. It
wasn’t unknown for people to do this but it was unusual. The sovereign was a
legal coin; there was naught amiss with it. Zacharias had been slightly
unnerved by the man’s request, but perhaps that was because of Goldspink.

Well,
whatever followed regarding the wagers was now the concern of Goldspink.
Zacharias made his preparations. Leaving the older of the two dogs with the
lads who watched his home for him, he made an early start, along with the
younger mastiff, in a little canvas-covered cart drawn by a nag hired from the
Blue Boar.

As he drove
along, it seemed to him that it had been a long time since he had seen the
spring. His craft, his workshop, the various Marcaster intrigues and factions;
these were things that had dominated his thoughts for a long time. His eyes
needed to adjust to the sunshine after hours spent crouched over his work. He
found pleasure in watching the nesting birds in the fresh green leaves and in
smelling the heady scent from the hedgerows and orchards. Even the nag seemed
glad to be ambling along. When he caught at leaves and grasses at the side of
the lane and continued on his way chomping contentedly, Zacharias did not chide
him. He was not in a hurry. Taking a roundabout route suited him well. He
looked round warily occasionally, just to make sure he was not being followed
by anyone. Everyone who travelled alone feared highway robbers. So far, he had
the tempting May morning all to himself.

When he saw
someone standing in the shade of a blossom-laden tree ahead of him, Zacharias
was instantly on guard. He felt for the blade that he carried under the seat
and called the young mastiff to alert. Not that there would be much chance
against a robber who carried a firearm. Best to just hand over any valuables.
Zacharias was prepared for this, with a selection of little items that could be
easily found and others that were secreted on the cart and in the horse’s
harness. Most robbers would be content with the readily found items and would
make off quickly, leaving the more valuable ones still hidden.

As he grew
closer, he saw that it was a woman. That didn’t allay his suspicions -
increased them, rather. It could be a trap … as he watched, she hid herself
on the far side of the trunk. There wasn’t room to turn the cart round and go
back the way he had come. Zacharias watched - and waited. He almost smiled as
he saw her peeping round the tree. If her confederates were as obvious …

“Get
on,” he said, quietly to the horse, giving it a gentle slap of the reins.
The cart creaked hesitantly forward, with Zacharias prepared for the worst.

By the time
he drew level with the tree, the woman had moved to stand behind it. Zacharias
glanced around, waiting for something, someone, to come out into the lane.
Eventually, he called out, quite gently, “Hey!”

Nothing
happened. He called again. “Hey! I know ye’re there. Come out where I can
see you. I’ll do you no harm.” As he said that, he still held the knife,
but he was increasingly sure he would not need it.

The woman
peered round the tree. He thought she mumbled something, but he didn’t hear it
properly. He said, “Are you in trouble? Has somebody robbed ye?”

At that,
she stepped out hesitantly to the side of the tree.

“Nooo
…” she said. They looked at each other with recognition. It was the
woman he’d seen whilst gathering wood. There was a long pause.

Eventually
Zacharias said, “What’re ye doing here? D’ye need assistance?” She
shook her head.

“No,
I’m just - waitin’ on … on …” Her voice tailed away.

“Oh,”
said Zacharias. “Will they be here soon? Your - friends?”

“Don’t
know,” said Ruby. “Soon, I believe …” She thought that they
would be here before long, the Frater, the Jingler, Moll and the Frog. She’d
sent a boy with a message for the Frater to say what road she’d meet them on
and left signs for them. She didn’t know if the message had reached Jack and
she didn’t expect Clink to be with them. Clink was for hanging, if not already
hanged, she was sure. She had a fleeting vision of Meg’s face with its unusual
hazel eyes, and heard her soothing voice. “You don’t know for a certainty
that he will hang.” How wrong she had been, the cunning-woman.

“Oh,”
said Zacharias again. Then, “I’m for York, if y’do want to travel with
me.”

“York,”
said Ruby, as though she’d never heard of the place. She didn’t really know
where she was going with the others. Another town, more pilfering and figging,
as purse cutting was known amongst them; more dreams and schemes from the
Jingler. And Moll, getting ready to bear another child.

“Aye,”
said Zacharias. “York. So ride along with me, if you like.”

He didn’t
know it, because it didn’t show in Ruby’s face; but there was a big struggle
going on in her heart. She was uncertain what to do, but she knew this was a
chance - a chance for something different. A different life. A possibility. Of
course - there could be danger. This man could be - dangerous. She didn’t know
him and she did know the others. But - when had there not been danger?

Zacharias,
sensing her hesitation, held out his hand to her and smiled. Ruby moved slowly
towards the cart. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Looking straight
into his face, she took his hand and he helped her up onto the wooden board
that was the seat of the cart.

* * * * *

Amiot
wondered who it could be knocking on his door so early in the day. His hand
flew to his mouth and he started to chew on a hangnail. Mother Garland wasn’t
here at present and he would have to open the door himself - or ignore it. But
that hammering had something peremptory about it. As he hesitated, it came
again, the sound of a hard, demanding fist on the timbers of his door.

“Amiot
Goldspink!” said a voice. “Be ye there, man?” The thumping
started again. It sounded as though they would stave the door in if he did not
answer it.

Amiot said
“Aye! Wait ye …” He found that his voice was quavering and he
cleared his throat nervously. He opened the door slowly and was quite surprised
to see a jovial face that he knew well. It was the ward constable. With him was
another man. It took Amiot a little while to place him, then he remembered; it
was the undersheriff’s house steward, whom he knew only by sight.

“Morning
to ye, Amiot,” said the constable, cheerfully. “Forgive me for
callin’ on ye so early in t’day, but there’s a matter or two we need to ask ye
about.”

“Come
in, come in,” mumbled Amiot. He felt as though they could see his face
turning from white to pink to scarlet and hear his heart thumping. He had not
had the courage to go back to the cunning-woman for another package of the
wonderful substance that she had given him; and he hadn’t yet taken his
morning’s dose of the daily decoction that still remained. The two men came and
sat down, the house steward on a high backed chair near the fireplace, the
constable on a bench under the window.

“Let
me find food and drink for ye …” began Amiot, but the house steward
shook his head.

“No
time, Goldspink,” he began. The constable agreed.

“Aye,
nae time, Amiot.”

“If
it’s about the coins,” said Amiot, hoping he didn’t sound as though he was
babbling, “I can explain all …”

His two
visitors looked at one another. Were their expressions sly, or simply confused?

“Coins?”
asked the house steward. “No, this is not about coins. It’s to do with the
match. Y’know of Master Davison’s win on Sir Garnett, no doubt. Were y’there
that day, Goldspink?

The memory
of his visit to the cunning-woman and the words she had said to him came
flooding back to Amiot. “A red stone - and a golden letter ‘G’”. He
had puzzled over this in the days that followed the match, eventually
concluding that the woman was just a charlatan. Now he understood. Not Grasset,
not Sir George, not Galingale. Not even Goldspink. Garnett. The name of the
Davison horse, which nobody had cared about. His eyes widened and he almost
laughed with shock; but the constable was waiting for his reply.

“I …
I …” began Amiot. “No, I was not there.” In the end he had
decided that he couldn’t face attending the event and had lurked at home until
it was all over. Afterwards he had to face the wrath of the many who had placed
wagers with one another and given those coins to him for safe keeping; as well
as those that he’d wagered with himself. He had managed to come to some
understanding with most of them.

Fortunately,
they were not angry with
him
- some had raged against the undersheriff,
others against Grasset or Philip Widderis, or Sir George Paston who had ridden
the Grasset horse. Some had even blamed the horses! They’d taken back their
wager money with some relief, or come to some agreement amongst themselves.
Some, of course, a fortunate few, a very small minority indeed, had backed the
undersheriff’s lad and against all the odds, won. Goldspink had heard some of
the arguments that had broken out afterwards in the street and imagined that
they’d had quite a lot of difficulty in coming to an agreement. All in all it
had been a relief when it was over - except, it appeared it wasn’t all over.

“We’ve
questions to ask of everyone who was there that day,” continued the house
steward. “As many as we can, that is …”

Amiot felt
slightly relieved. If they were questioning lots of people then perhaps he was
safe. Perhaps. “No, I was not there,” he repeated. “I was not
well that day and I kept myself at home.”

The
constable was looking at him curiously.

“That’s
well,” he said. “If y’can prove it.”

“I
can,” said Amiot, with more confidence. “I’ve a woman that cooks and
serves for me, and she was here that day. Mother Garland, y’know her?”

“Aye,”
said the constable. “I’ll speak with her. But …” He paused. Amiot
tried to look as unconcerned as he could.

“What
is it that y’need help with?” he asked.

“We’ll
come to that,” said the constable. Suddenly he leaned forward and looked
directly into Amiot’s face. “First though - what did y’mean about - the
coins? ‘If it’s about the coins’, that’s what y’said.”