30 - King's Gold by Michael Jecks Read Free Book Online

in front of all the way.
    He had no other defence. If there was danger, this boy would be his shield.

 

CHAPTER FOUR
    House of Bardi, London
    Alured had returned here two days ago to see how bad the damage was, and the sight was chilling.
    The door had been broken in, and hung from the lower hinge only. Shards of pottery and splinters of wood lay underfoot. Some were from goblets and mazers, and when he sifted a handful, he saw the gleam of gold. The wood about it was marked with a knife’s blade, and he assumed that here a decorative band of gold had been hacked from a mazer.
    It was enough to make a man weep, he thought. This had been a great house, filled with glorious items of beauty, and now the rifflers had been through it like rats through a larder, destroying all they couldn’t eat or carry away.
    He entered, carefully stepping over the leaning door. In the passageway was a mess of broken barrels and pottery. Staves poked up like the breastbones of some strange beast, and there was a thick blanket of tapestry that had been dropped in a foul heap. He would have opened it out to view the pictures, but a warning odour of faeces deterred him. Instead he walked into the hall itself. It was a scene of destruction. The rifflers had not known the value of the items they carelessly tossed aside to smash on the ground. Glass crunched beneath his boots as he made his way to the middle of the room and stared about him.
    A huge table had been overturned, and one leg wrenched from it, probably to build a fire to destroy the building, but for some reason the rest of the table was intact. Alured assumed that the strength of the timbers had deterred the rifflers. They had gone in search of easier fuel. Chairs had been thrown over, their legs snapped away. Cushions had been disembowelled, while men had pissed and vomited everywhere as a sign of their contempt for those who lived here.
    All the doors had been tested, and those that were locked, broken open. If there had been money or gold here, it was gone, he saw as he investigated further into the house. They had enjoyed their time here, obviously, from the smell of sour ale and wine about the place. It was a relief that there were no bodies. By now, they would have grown smelly, he reckoned.
    Alured walked from the house and stared at the door. He would have liked to shut up the house before leaving. He tried to lift it, but it was heavy oak and would not budge. He was standing, scratching at his head, his hat in his hand, when he heard steps.
    ‘What has happened here?’ Dolwyn asked, staring about him with horror in his eyes.
    ‘The rifflers came to visit,’ Alured said shortly. This fellow had the look of a felon himself, from his filthy clothes and lack of a weapon. He could well be another draw latch come here to try his fortune at a despoiled house. ‘Do you know who used to live here?’
    ‘I worked for them – the Bardi. My master was the youngest brother, a man called Matteo. But I left him here some days ago . . . Were they all killed?’
    ‘No, not all.’ Alured eyed Dolwyn with a speculative eye. ‘Where were you?’
    ‘I was sent away with a message.’
    ‘Where? In London?’
    ‘Yes, over towards the River,’ Dolwyn lied. ‘Why?’
    Alured looked away. ‘Nothing. There were so many murders that day, and afterwards.’
    ‘I wasn’t here,’ Dolwyn said firmly. He glanced about the ravaged hall. ‘They did this place well, didn’t they?’
    ‘This man you worked for,’ Alured said. ‘What did he look like?’
    ‘A thin man, pale,’ Dolwyn said, and went on to describe his master, including the clothes he had been wearing on the last day Dolwyn saw him.
    ‘I think you may be in luck,’ Alured said. He had tested the man, and it seemed that he was genuine. ‘Here, help me with this door and we can stop any more pillagers.’
    With Dolwyn’s help, they managed to lift the door, the remaining hinge protesting loudly, and lean it against the