The Sempster's Tale Read Online Free PDF

difficulty this Master Grene had considered aforetime. Supposing he was Alice’s agent. But who else in London was likely to seek her out?
     
    At any rate, Raulyn Grene was a comely man in his early middle years and undoubtedly a prospering merchant of some sort, confident of bearing and his dark blue, three-quarter-length over-gown soberly cut but of a silken-finished worsted with the standing collar lined with green velvet, his black hosen close-fitted, his low-cut shoes of fine leather, and a pearl hung from the silver brooch on the rolled brim of his round-crowned hat that he removed as he bowed to her. He would have less by which to judge her, she knew, gowned as she was to her feet in the several layers and full skirts of black Benedictine habit, with her face encircled by a white wimple under a black veil, so that all of her that showed were her hands folded together at her waist and her face, which she was fairly sure betrayed nothing of her thoughts as Master Grene said, “My lady, it’s my pleasure to meet you. Her grace of Suffolk has asked I be her agent and of service to you in this matter of vestments.”
     
    ‘It’s equally my pleasure, Master Grene,“ Frevisse said as graciously back to him. ”Although I hope you know more of the business than I do.“
     
    ‘I have my lady’s commission in full. If you would care to sit?“ He gestured to two chairs well away from the door, set either side of a small table where two goblets and a small plate of crisp cakes awaited them. As he led Frevisse to one of the chairs, Master Grene asked, ”I hope your journey went quietly?“
     
    ‘Quite quietly, save that we heard about the Kentish rebels only after we were on our way. Master Naylor kept us a day more in Oxford, until we heard they had drawn off.“
     
    ‘Master Naylor?“
     
    ‘Our nunnery’s steward.“ Frevisse sat and gestured for Master Grene to do the same. ”He and his son saw Dame Juliana and me to London.“
     
    ‘He did well to be careful.“ Master Grene handed her one of the goblets, sat himself, and took up the other. ”But London itself was always safe enough. The bridge can be kept against them easily enough.“
     
    It was courteous, shallow talk, the sort made between two people before setting to business. Here it was probably as much for the nun across the room as for themselves, and Frevisse kept it going with, “There’s some wondering, I gather, that the king did not do more against the rebels.”
     
    What she had truly heard was outright anger at King Henry, but Master Grene said moderately enough, “He’s a man of peace, our king.”
     
    Frevisse held back from saying tartly that if he were truly a man of peace, he would have seen to the truce with France being kept last year rather than letting it be stupidly broken and the French war flare out again. But about that she knew too much, held silent, and took a drink of the wine while Master Grene went on, “It does seem that he’s going to have to deal with them after all, though. There’s report that they’re moving this way again.”
     
    ‘True report?“ She felt no particular alarm. As Master Grene said, London bridge could be easily held against them. But Master Naylor would be unhappy at the news. Even more unhappy that he had been in Oxford at her insistence they go onward to London when he would rather have waited longer.
     
    ‘Who knows, these days?“ Master Grene said lightly. ”Even if it is true, they’ll still be on the wrong side of the Thames. Or, rather, on the right side for us. With the bridge shut against them, there’s nothing they can do.“
     
    Except to Southwark at the bridge’s other end and unprotected, Frevisse thought but did not say.
     
    ‘But to business, shall we?“ Master Grene shifted aside his goblet and the plate of untouched cakes, brought out several pages of paper from the finely worked leather pouch at his belt, unfolded them, and laid them on the table. ”Here