[Roger the Chapman 05] - Eve of Saint Hyacinth Read Online Free PDF Page A

fair price?' I named the sum and she seemed satisfied. 'More than sufficient. Very well! What will you ask of me, if I decide to buy?'
    We haggled a little, but in the end she professed herself happy to accede to my price. She rang the small bell at her elbow and, when Jennet appeared, instructed her to conduct me to the counting-house and tell the treasurer to pay me. And while I put the rest of my goods back into my pack Lady Wardroper picked up the gloves and put them on, holding her hands away from her so that she could admire the effect. At the same time she hummed a snatch of song, finally breaking into verse with the words, 'It is the end. No matter what is said, I must love.' She gave me a coquettish glance and asked, 'Do you like music, chapman?' adding regretfully, 'I know no man who does.'  
    'Unhappily, my lady, I've no ear for it at all, but the words sounded ... sad,' I finished lamely, unable to offer any greater appreciation.
    She laughed. 'It's beautiful. French. A Trouvère song and, as you say, rather sad. It's called C'est la fin , and if accompanied by the Breton bombardt, very affecting.'  
    When the door had closed between us Jennet let out a snort of laughter. 'Full of airs and graces, she is! You'd think she'd be past all that nonsense at her age, wouldn't you?’
    ‘How old is Lady Wardroper?' I asked, mildly curious.
    Jennet tossed her head. 'With a son of seventeen years she can't be that young, can she? It stands to reason. Besides, you can see it by the wrinkles on her neck and the backs of her hands. Mind you, I don't say she was much more'n sixteen when Master Matthew was born. Or so I've been told. I'm too young to remember.'
    'But Sir Cedric's much older?'
    'By twenty-five year I'd reckon. He dotes on her, but strangely enough he don't get on that well with Master Matthew.' She led me down a narrow, twisting stair to a small, dark landing at the back of the house. 'And yet,' Jennet went on, 'the young Master's the spit and image of his mother. To look at, anyway. And he seems to have her sunny, happy-go-lucky nature. Not that I've seen that much of him, mind you. Only these past few months since he returned from up-country. Somewhere near Leicester.'  
    'So I was told,' I answered. 'But I suppose what appeals in the wife doesn't necessarily recommend the son. Sir Cedric probably hoped that his only child would be more in his own mould than his mother's.'
    'That's possible,' Jennet agreed, coming to a halt a foot or two distant from a curtained archway. 'The Master's a bluff, hard-drinking man who would wish his son to be the same.' She indicated the leather curtain. 'Through there's the counting-house.' She laid a hand on my sleeve. 'It's getting late. Do you need a bed for the night? I could persuade Cook, I dare say, to find you a corner in the kitchen.'
    'I should be very grateful,' I told her, smiling. 'I had hoped that I might find a billet here. And if you could speak for me...'
    'Consider it as good as done,' Jennet replied demurely.

Chapter Three

    At cockcrow the following morning, I sat up quietly on the pile of straw which had been allocated to me in the still warm kitchen and glanced down at the figure lying beside me.
    Jennet remained asleep, the long lashes making two half-moons of reddish gold on her creamy cheeks. Her hair, of the same colour as the lashes and now unbound, streamed across the makeshift pillow of my pack, almost concealing her face. One softly rounded arm was thrown clear of the rough grey blanket which covered us both, and which she had brought with her from the truckle-bed she had abandoned in her mistress's antechamber.
    It had been no surprise when, in the small hours of the chilly June morning, Jennet had crept into the kitchen and snuggled down by my side. Her glances, the previous evening, had half-promised such a visit and she knew that the kitchen would be occupied by no one but myself. No other traveller had disturbed Chilworth's peace that day