[Roger the Chapman 04] - The Holy Innocents Read Free

struggled to free my hands from the rope which bound my wrists behind my back, but discovered that although my bonds were lightly tied, they were nonetheless knotted fast. If I took to my heels, apart from breaking the rules and traditions of hocktide, I should have to abandon my pack and cudgel, which might then be considered the women's legitimate booty.
    Suddenly, one of them, who so far had stood a little apart from the others, smiling but not joining in their more vociferous merriment, came to my rescue. She moved between me and her companions, spreading wide her arms to protect me.
    'Enough!' she protested, laughing. 'Claim a forfeit and let the poor lad go! We've had our fun. Now, what's it to be? I think a kiss apiece would suffice, don't you agree? Granny Praule, in deference to your age, you can go first.' There were cries of 'Spoil sport, Grizelda!' but in general, the women seemed content with this solution. Granny Praule pressed her withered, dry lips to mine, and, in relief I gave her a smacking kiss which evoked another cackle and a pat on the arm.
    'My! My!' She gave a little skip. 'You're a good lad, Chapman! I haven't been kissed like that these thirty years! You've brought back memories of my youth I thought I'd forgotten. I was a pretty girl, though you might find it hard to believe nowadays. I had the men after me like bees round a honey-pot.'
    The rest of the women stepped forward, one by one, to claim their forfeit, some a little more boldly than the others, standing close to me as they placed their mouths on mine.
    My rescuer, the woman they had addressed as Grizelda, was last, and at close range, I could see that she was not as young as most of her companions. I judged her to be some thirty summers; a handsome woman, with strong features and very dark brown eyes. Her complexion, too, was dark, and had she been a man I might have been tempted to think of her as swarthy, but her skin was too soft and delicate for that. In colouring, she reminded me of Lillis, so I knew, without seeing it, that the hair neatly concealed beneath the snow-white coif and blue linen hood was black. But there the resemblance ended. In physique, Grizelda was taller and much stronger than my dead wife. There was also a maturity about her, unmatched in Lillis, who, despite her twenty summers, had been childlike.
    Two of the women, having unbound my wrists, proceeded to reset the trap for their next unwary victim, while the rest concealed themselves again amongst the bushes. All, that is, except Grizelda, who took her leave. When her friends protested, she laughed and shook her head.
    'I have work to do. Cheese to make and the hen to feed. The poor creature's not been let out of her coop this morning, I was up and about so early.' She turned to me. 'Master Chapman, if you care to accompany me as far as my holding, I'll protect you from any further hockers you might meet, and tell them that you've already paid your forfeit. My name,' she added, 'is Grizelda Harbourne.'
    'I'm called Roger,' I answered, 'and I accept your offer very willingly. I shouldn't care to fall into the hands of any of your sister hockers if they are anything like you and your companions.'
    There were shrieks of delight at this compliment before they were shushed by the youngest of the group - Janet by name, if I remembered rightly - with the information that another man was ascending the path. Hastily, I shouldered my pack and offered Grizelda Harbourne my arm.
    We skirted the tiny village of Ashprington and traversed a belt of trees, arriving finally at a clearing. Here, a low, one-storey cottage was set in the middle of a smallholding which consisted of a plot for growing a little corn and a few vegetables, a hen-coop, a pig-sty and a field where a cow was grazing. The cottage itself was furnished with a table on a pair of trestles, two benches, one covered with a piece of tapestry, which were ranged against the walls, and a central hearth surrounded by all