12 - Nine Men Dancing Read Online Free PDF

surrounded the disappearance of this girl, Eris Lilywhite, had already cast their magic spell. I had to find out more.
    But, having agreed to remain in Brockhurst for another day at least, and to act as one of her ‘counters’ in the following evening’s game, the next question I put to the fair Rosamund had nothing to do with the puzzle that was uppermost in my thoughts.
    ‘Why is this alehouse called the Roman Sandal?’ I enquired.
    Someone must once have told her that she looked pretty when she pouted, because Rosamund did it again, pulling down the corners of her rosebud mouth in an exaggerated moue of protestation at my lack of continuing interest in her and her affairs. But I soon realized that she was neither as flighty nor as empty-headed as she would have people think her, and after a word or two of explanation, she even warmed to her theme.
    ‘It wasn’t called so originally. It was just known as “the alehouse”. Well, in a village this size, that’s what you’d expect. There’s not another inn for miles around. However, some time ago–’ she paused and her lovely eyes glinted wickedly as they encouraged me to join in the joke – ‘
some year back
, as my parents and everyone else in these parts would say, Father found an ancient Roman sandal under a loose flagstone in the cellar. It was falling apart, of course. The leather straps were crumbling and the buckles had turned green, but you could see what it was. Father Anselm – he’s the priest at Saint Walburga’s church – says the Romans were all over this part of the country in centuries gone by. Cirencester was one of their most important towns.’
    I nodded. ‘Corinium Dobunnorum.’ She stared at me doubtfully. ‘The Latin name for Cirencester,’ I explained. ‘They called Gloucester Glevum.’
    ‘Oh.’ I could see her storing the information away in her memory for future use. The fair Rosa Mundi was most certainly more intelligent than she liked to be thought. She repeated her habit of cocking her pretty head to one side. (Something else someone had told her was an endearing trait?) ‘You know a lot for a chapman.’
    It was an accusation I was used to, having encountered it regularly for the past seven or eight years of my life.
    ‘I was educated by the monks at Glastonbury. My mother intended me for the monastic life. But it wasn’t what I wanted, so when she died before I’d taken my vows, I quit – with my abbot’s blessing, I might add. I fancied the freedom of the open road, being my own master, sleeping under the stars in summer and in warm haylofts in winter, no responsibilities, going to sleep and getting up when I chose—’
    She interrupted me with a laugh. ‘So now you’re married with three children!’
    I sighed. ‘Life eventually catches up with us all. Fortunately, I have a very understanding and long-suffering wife. She allows me to escape now and then.’
    ‘I wouldn’t let you escape if you were mine,’ Rosamund said fiercely. ‘I wouldn’t willingly let any man I’d set my heart on escape me. And if he did, I’d make him pay!’ The delicate mouth thinned to a hard, unlovely line, the blue eyes took on the harsh glint of sapphires.
    ‘And how did you make Tom Rawbone pay?’
    She was plainly taken aback by my question. She had forgotten telling me of her betrothal to him. She gave a nervous laugh, which she managed to turn into an unconvincing giggle as she dug me in the ribs.
    ‘You mustn’t take what I say so seriously. You saw for yourself that I’ve done nothing to harm him.’
    She was right: the young man was whole and fit and well. But what about the girl he had jilted her for? What about the missing Eris Lilywhite? What had happened to her?

Three
    The musicians had started up for a third time, but my ears were now so attuned to their playing that I failed to notice. It was first brought to my attention when Lambert Miller rose from his seat and came across to Rosamund, trying to look