A Spy for the Redeemer Read Online Free PDF

Sir Robert brought Lucie’s mother to Freythorpe Hadden, Amélie had no wish to wrest control from Phillippa. For forty-five years Phillippa had ruled the manor. And if she wished, and was able, Lucie thought to leave it that way. She had no intention of giving up her apothecary or her house in the city to live at Freythorpe, and her son Hugh, heir to the property, was but a baby.
    Indeed, Lucie hoped her aunt would choose to continue acting as mistress of Freythorpe. It would be difficult to find another she could trust so completely. But Lucie would accept whatever decision her aunt made. She had much to thank Phillippa for, including her life in York. Phillippa had encouraged Lucie’s marriage to the apothecary Nicholas Wilton, believing that the wife of a respected member of a York guild, trained to assist her husband in the shop, would have a more secure widowhood than would the wife of a knight, which would more properly have been Lucie’s lot.
    Wrapped in melancholy, Lucie watched Harold ride forward, bend close to speak to Tildy. He was a thoughtful man. Roger Moreton had chosen wisely.
    Shortly before the company passed on to the demesne lands, Brother Michaelo asked whether Lucie needed to rest and refresh herself. She declined, eager to reach the manor house.
    Brother Michaelo glanced over at Harold. ‘What do you know of that man?’
    ‘No more than that Roger Moreton has hired him as household steward on the recommendation of John Gisburne.’
    ‘John Gisburne? The man who believes a man should be judged by his deeds, not his family connections? So he has seen this man at work?’
    Gisburne was a member of the class of rich merchants in York trying to wrest the governance of the city from the old ruling families. It was proving to be a long struggle. Thirteen years ago Gisburne’s election to bailiff had been overturned by the mayor, John Langton, a member of the old families. The animosity between the two groups grew, occasionally spilling out into the streets, often ending in violence. With each outburst the two sides became more rigid in their positions. Gisburne’s party preached that a man should be judged by what he did, not by whom he knew or to whom he was related, for obvious reasons. ‘I assume that John Gisburne lives by his professed creed,’ Lucie said.
    Michaelo looked doubtful. ‘For all his talk of the common man, Gisburne prefers to dine with nobles and influential clerics. He hopes to be mayor, you know.’
    ‘I had heard.’
    ‘Let us pray that he does judge men by their deeds. For once it would be useful.’
    ‘You find something in Harold Galfrey to distrust?’
    ‘It is perhaps a petty complaint – but he does not look like a steward. I should have taken him for a soldier.’
    ‘All the better for our purposes.’
    ‘You are right, of course. But watch him on your return to the city, when I am not with you.’
    ‘Did my father ask you to watch over me?’
    ‘He would have wished me to voice my concern.’
    ‘I am grateful. But I assure you that Master Moreton’s opinion is to be trusted.’
    ‘Forgive me, I did not mean to cast doubt on Roger Moreton’s judgement.’
    By the time the company reached the gatehouse of Freythorpe Hadden the steward, Daimon, had been alerted and stood ready to challenge or receive the four. The relief on his young, barely bearded face alarmed Lucie.
    ‘You expect trouble?’
    He mentioned recent trouble at a nearby farm – a band of outlaws, a theft, injuries.
    ‘ Deus juva me ,’ Michaelo muttered, crossing himself.
    ‘I might not be so wary,’ said Daimon, ‘but that two days ago some workers in the field spied a man in a tree, watching the hall. He took flight when he knew himself discovered. Had a fast horse tethered near. Aye, I do expect trouble, Mistress Wilton.’ Daimon’s pleasant face did not lend itself to a threatening look, but he was well-muscled and held the sword in his hand with an air of fierce assurance. He