The Weaver's Inheritance Read Free Page A

intention to seek shelter in one of the guest-halls of the Abbey, but the town was so crowded that I doubted if the monks would be able to accommodate us. But neither could the first two hostelries at which we applied. I was beginning to feel worried when a hand clapped me on the shoulder.
    ‘Well, fancy seeing you here, Chapman,’ said Timothy Plummer.

Chapter Two
    A harassed pot-boy brought two cups of wine, one for Timothy and one for myself, before hurrying away to serve other customers in the crowded ale-room.
    This inn was as full to overflowing as the others from which we had been turned away, and my travelling companion and I would have been hard-pressed to find any lodging for the night had we not fallen in with Timothy Plummer. But one word from him and a couple of young squires, sporting the Duke of Gloucester’s livery, had removed themselves from the merest cupboard of a room, which was now happily occupied by Adela and her son. As for myself, I was invited to share Timothy’s bed in an adjoining chamber.
    Timothy Plummer was the Duke of Gloucester’s Spy-Master, and he and I were old acquaintances. We had first met six years earlier, when I had been enquiring into the disappearance of Clement Weaver, the Alderman’s son; since then, our paths had crossed on two further occasions. Each time, through chance or force of circumstance, I had been able to render Duke Richard a signal service, and therefore I had Timothy Plummer’s trust.
    ‘Very well,’ I said, taking a gulp of wine in order to wash down a supper of rabbit stew, wheaten bread and cheese, ‘you know why I’m here, but why are you? Why is the town so crowded?’
    Timothy choked over his drink. ‘Where have you been these past few weeks? All right, all right! You’ve been walking to Hereford, I haven’t forgotten! But I should have thought you might have heard the news of Duchess Isabel’s death somewhere along the way. Indeed, she died on the twenty-second of December, before, according to you, you left home. Did no word of it reach you in Bristol?’
    I stared at him. ‘I’ve heard nothing. But … Duchess Isabel? Clarence’s wife? I saw her at Farleigh Castle only last summer. She looked tired, it’s true, but I thought that due to the fact that she was heavily pregnant. Did she die in childbirth?’
    ‘Shortly afterwards. The child died too. And yesterday was the day of her funeral. She’s been lying in state here for the past three weeks, before being buried in the Abbey. Duke George, as you may know, holds the Honour of Tewkesbury.’
    I didn’t know, but neither did I confess my ignorance. ‘Poor lady,’ I said. A fresh thought struck me. ‘Are the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester here? It must be a great blow to the Duchess to lose her only sister.’
    Timothy grimaced. ‘She’s not strong herself, and the news made her too ill to travel.’
    ‘So Duke Richard came alone?’
    ‘No, no!’ My companion was growing testy. ‘He sent his bastard son, Lord John, to represent him. That’s why I’m here – to watch over the boy and make sure he comes to no harm. Duke Richard has gone to London to consult with the King and to set a date for the convening of the Great Council, next month. Duke George rode to join them as soon as the funeral was over.’
    I was puzzled. ‘Why is a Great Council being called?’
    Timothy set down his empty cup and sighed. ‘You have been out of the world, Chapman, haven’t you? The Duke of Burgundy was killed while besieging the town of Nancy two weeks or more ago; before January was a few days old, at any rate.’
    I gaped, remembering Charles the Bold as I had seen him the year before last, in Calais; vibrant with life and putting up the backs of all around him. He was, or had been until so recently, brother-in-law to our own English Princes, having taken as his second wife their sister, the Princess Margaret, by whom he had hoped, no doubt, to have a son to succeed him. But there had