11 - The Lammas Feast by Kate Sedley Read Free Book Online Page A

kissing
her
cheek – another chaste peck – and set off home, more than ready for my delayed supper.
    The first thing I smelled when I entered the house was the delicious aroma of mutton stew, flavoured with cinnamon and saffron. The first thing – or, rather, person – I saw was Richard Manifold, sitting in
my
chair, eating from
my
bowl with
my
spoon. Adela was a worthy opponent: she could always teach me a salutary lesson. But, also, she knew when she had taken matters far enough.
    She came forward, smiling a welcome, and kissed me full on the lips. There was nothing chaste or sisterly about this kiss, and I noticed our guest’s squirm of embarrassment. That put me in a better mood, and I sat down opposite him, while Adela brought me a brimming plate of mutton stew and a slice of barley bread.
    ‘Well?’ I demanded. ‘What did you discover about those two ruffians, Richard? Why were they watching Baker Overbecks’s shop?’
    The sergeant’s manner became distinctly cagey.
    ‘Nothing of any moment,’ he said, answering my first question. ‘A couple of strangers just passing through.’ He added more positively, ‘They certainly weren’t spying on Master Overbecks.’
    ‘It looked like it to me,’ I argued stubbornly. ‘What’s more, the pockmarked one was looking for a quarrel. They had no respect at all for any upright local citizen who happened to get in their way.
    ‘Meaning you, I suppose?’
    ‘Meaning me.’
    ‘I can assure you, Roger, they are both innocent of doing anything wrong. It isn’t a civic offence to jostle someone, you know.’
    I bristled menacingly.
    ‘That’ll do, both of you!’ Adela rebuked us as she took her place at the table. ‘Stop squaring up to each other like a pair of fighting cocks. You’ll upset the children. I’ll have to ask you to leave, Richard, if you can’t behave.’
    ‘Then Roger will have to accept what I say. I know a felon when I see one.’
    ‘Roger?’ my wife queried sharply.
    ‘Oh, very well!’
    What else could I say? I had no proof that the men were villains. Indeed, I wasn’t sure that they were. I was certain, however, that Richard Manifold was holding something back; that he had gleaned some information about them that he wasn’t going to share with me. But the expression on Adela’s face warned me not to pursue the matter further. I should just have to contain my soul in patience and see what transpired.

Four
    I didn’t have long to wait; only until the next morning.
    It had been a disturbed night. Adam had wakened in the small hours, demanding to be fed in his inimitable, ear-splitting fashion. His cries had roused Elizabeth and Nicholas, who immediately wanted the chamber pot. As Adela was busy with our son, it fell to my lot to heave myself out of the cosy trough I had made in the goose-feather mattress I shared with her, in order to attend to their needs. After that, it had been a continuous trickle of requests and complaints – drinks of water, they were too hot, too cold, a dog was barking, an owl was hooting – until I roared at them in exasperation, thereby waking Adam once more and incurring the fury of Adela, who had just dropped off to sleep.
    By the time I had made my peace with her, the early summer dawn was rimming the shutters, and when I eventually fell into an uneasy doze, it was only to dream that I was vainly trying to warn John Overbecks of danger, but could find no way into the bakery. Every door was bolted, every window barred, and although I tried shouting, my voice was unable to make itself heard. Finally, I started to hammer on the bakery door, the blows sounding loud in the silence. Then someone began shaking me by the arm . . .
    ‘Wake up, Roger!’ Adela was saying. ‘Wake up! Someone’s knocking.’
    She was standing over me, her gown half-on, half-off, her dark hair still loose about her shoulders, her voice slurred with the dregs of sleep. The children, too, were beginning to stir, already mumbling