The Tavern in the Morning Read Online Free PDF

dead.’
    ‘I know,’ Josse said. ‘I’m very sorry.’
    There was a silence. The three Elys went on staring. Finally, Josse remembered the bag. ‘These belongings were his,’ he said, holding out the bag. The woman shot out a hand and grasped it, swiftly tucking it away inside some fold of whatever garment she was wearing in what looked like an automatic gesture. ‘They are Peter’s effects,’ he added. ‘Found on his – found on him.’
    ‘Aah,’ said the old man.
    ‘I’m ’aving ’em!’ the woman hissed, giving the old man a vicious dig in the ribs as if fending off an attempt to wrest her late husband’s possessions from her. ‘Anything ’e ’ad, it’s mine!’
    Nobody seemed to wish to dispute that.
    The four of them went on standing there for some time. Eventually Josse said, ‘Er – it appears Peter was poisoned. More than that I’m afraid I can’t tell you.’
    ‘Poisoned,’ echoed the old man.
    It was the only response any of the three made. And even then, it seemed more an observation than a grief-stricken moan.
    Despairing of them, Josse said curtly, ‘I’ll wish you farewell.’ mounted Horace, spurred him and hastened away.
    *   *   *
    It was clear he would have to put up at the inn overnight. For one thing, it was getting dark and, for another, he still had so much to find out.
    He hoped Goody Anne could offer an alternative guest chamber. Fortunately, after making a few hasty rearrangements, she could.
    After supper (mutton stew washed down with ale, and quite delicious), he was lingering by the fire in the tap room, reluctant to go up to a cold bed, when Goody Anne came hurrying in.
    He could tell from her face that she had something to tell him; giving her a quick grin, he said, ‘Well? What have you found out?’
    She smiled back. ‘T’isn’t me, it’s that wretch of a girl.’
    ‘Tilly?’
    ‘That’s the one. She’s – oh, you’d better come and see for yourself, no doubt it’ll be quicker in the long run.’ She took his mug from his hand, thumped it down and, grabbing his sleeve, hurried him out of the tap room, down the passage and into the kitchen. Tilly, face in her hands, seemed to be sobbing.
    ‘Come on, then, my girl!’ Anne said angrily. ‘You can tell the gentleman here what you just told me!’
    ‘Oh, no! ’ Tilly wailed.
    Anne folded her stout arms across her deep bosom. ‘Either you do or I shall,’ she said relentlessly.
    ‘Come, Tilly,’ Josse said, moving forward and crouching down beside the girl. ‘What can be so terrible?’ He tried a small laugh. ‘After all, you didn’t poison the old man, did you?’ He chuckled again. Very soon, he realised he was laughing alone; Anne was staring at him with a face like thunder and Tilly had broken into renewed wails.
    ‘Dear merciful God,’ Anne muttered. Then: ‘Tilly, you didn’t poison him, not really, and no one’s going to say you did, not while I’ve got life in my body. You mayn’t be much,’ she added, half under her breath, ‘but you’re better than nothing, and I won’t see you dragged off and accused of sommat you didn’t do.’
    Tilly, who seemed to find that slightly reassuring, had raised her head and was now looking at Josse out of pink-rimmed eyes. Her distress, he noticed, hadn’t done anything for her looks.
    ‘Tilly?’ he said gently.
    She took a deep, gulping breath, then said: ‘It were the last bit of pie, see. There was this man – handsome, he were, lovely black hair all glossy like an ’orse, he gave me such a nice smile and he said, what did I recommend? What was really tasty? And, what with it being the last bit, and him being so nice, I, well, I—’ She started weeping again.
    ‘You were serving a nice, friendly man,’ Josse said, trying to pick up the narrative, ‘and you were going to serve him the last slice of pie. Is that right?’
    Tilly nodded. ‘Aye. I was just putting the trencher together – bit of pie, gravy, stack of