[Roger the Chapman 05] - Eve of Saint Hyacinth Read Free Page B

a moment and turned to face me. 'My cottage is close by here. Before you go on to the Manor House, do you have time to visit my wife? She was complaining only yesterday that we've had no pedlar pass this way for several weeks, and as a consequence she's short of various items. She's broken the blade of her kitchen knife and she's also in need of a pair of good, stout laces, if you've such a thing in your pack.'
    'I have and will willingly sell them to her if you'll give me more precise directions.'
    'The boy can show you,' was the answer. 'There's only these two old tups left to wash and I can handle them well enough on my own. Jed, take the chapman to my cottage, there's a good lad. But mind you return here afterwards,' he continued on a minatory note, as the boy abandoned his job with an alacrity which his master plainly found ominous.
    “’These beasts will need careful watching until their fleeces are dry and the yolk gets back into the wool. The natural grease,' he added for my benefit, noting my puzzled look.
    I followed my guide along a narrow track which led upwards to higher ground, where the close-cropped turf would have indicated the presence of sheep even had I not already known of it. The shepherd's cottage, a rough, stone-built, one-storey dwelling, stood in the lee of a clump of trees, all now wearing their delicate, early-summer green.
    'That's where Jack Shepherd lives,' the boy told me, dragging his feet at the prospect of returning to his work once his errand was done. Inspiration struck him. 'I'd best come and make you known to the goodwife, you being a stranger hereabouts.'
    I placed a hand on his shoulder. 'My pack will speak for itself. You'd best run along before Master Shepherd accuses you of skiving and recommends to Sir Cedric Wardroper that he employ a new boy.'
    The lad looked sullen, but finally, with a heart-wrenching sigh, thought better of any gesture of defiance which might cost him his place. He set off down the slope again and vanished from sight, with just one last, yearning glance over his shoulder. I went forward and rapped on the cottage door.
    My knock was answered by a sharp-featured, middle-aged woman, wearing a dress of grey brocella, together with an apron and hood of coarse, unbleached linen. My first impression was of someone of a slightly sour disposition; which only served to demonstrate how deceptive appearances can sometimes be. For on closer acquaintance the shepherd's wife proved to be a pleasantly spoken, friendly woman about the same age as her husband, who welcomed me in with a smile.
    When I had told her of my conversation with her man she urged me to one of the two seats in the room, a three-legged stool uncomfortably close to the hearth, and pressed me to take refreshment.
    'I've just this moment finished baking a fresh oatcake,' she said and began scraping away the hot ashes from around an upturned pot. When she had removed the pot, she took a clean cloth and lifted the cake from the hearth-tiles, placing it carefully on the table. Then she produced butter, wrapped in dock leaves to keep it cool, filled a wooden cup with ale from the barrel in one corner and bade me draw up my stool and eat.
    'And while you do so,' she said, 'if it's acceptable to you, I'll look through your pack.'
    I readily agreed and spread out its contents on the other end of the table, just as I had done that morning for Mistress Gentle. The shepherd's wife, too, fondled the soft leather gloves with the same mixture of longing and regret.
    ‘I was advised to show them to Lady Wardroper,' I said, and the woman nodded.
    'Ay, she'll buy them, no doubt, and be glad of the chance, for she likes fine things and we've had no pedlar this this way for weeks and weeks, as my husband told you. But we're off the beaten track a little here and can easily be missed by travellers. That's not to say that no one penetrates as far as Chilworth. We had a travelling musician here only last month, who entertained