The Midsummer Crown by Kate Sedley Read Free Book Online

called.
    It was a quiet meal. The children, adept at reading my face, knew at once from my hangdog expression that if I had not already reneged on my promise, I was about to do so. They pointedly ignored me and treated all the visitor’s attempts to engage them in conversation with scorn, addressing such remarks as they did make either to one another or to Adela. Adela herself was meticulously polite to her guest, but her tone of voice was frosty. Eventually Timothy felt himself bound to reassure her.
    â€˜His Grace will, as always, make sure that neither you nor the children are in want during Roger’s absence.’ He once again rummaged in his pouch, this time producing a couple of gold coins which he placed on the table before her.
    My wife eyed them dispassionately. ‘I’d rather have my husband’s company,’ she said at last, ‘as probably the duke well knows.’
    â€˜Quite possibly,’ Timothy conceded gracefully. ‘Unfortunately, my lord has need of Roger’s extraordinary talent for unraveling mysteries.’
    â€˜Not again!’ I groaned. ‘Doesn’t the duke know someone other than myself who’s able to use his brains to good effect in these matters? It’s not so difficult. Just follow William of Occam’s rule – his Razor as it’s known – that the obvious answer is generally the correct one.’
    â€˜But not always,’ Timothy countered swiftly. ‘You’re too modest, Roger. No one knows as well as you do that Occam’s Razor does not invariably apply. And on those occasions we have need of your especial gift.’
    Amusement lit Adela’s eyes. ‘You’re a shrewder man than you look, Master Plummer.’ The spymaster looked unsure whether to take this as an insult or a compliment and smiled uncertainly. My wife added sweetly, ‘You understand that your fellow men are rarely proof against flattery.’
    He made no comment, merely passing his bowl for a second helping of rabbit stew while I recharged his beaker with Adela’s home-brewed ale. There was, I reflected, nothing to be gained by being unpleasant to Timothy: he was merely the messenger. Besides, if the truth be told, my ready curiosity had been aroused at the mention of a mystery, and I found myself more than a little eager to hear what he had to say.
    As soon as we had finished eating, therefore, he and I retired once more to the parlour, leaving Adela to clear the table and wash the dirty dishes, while the children huddled together deciding which of their many games to play before being forced up to bed.
    â€˜Well?’ I asked once we were again settled, the difference being that this time I was sitting in my own chair and my companion in the window embrasure, a little less comfortable than he had been before supper. ‘What’s happened? What sort of occurrence that the duke thinks it necessary to send you all the way to Bristol in order to drag me back to London against my will?’
    â€˜Murder and abduction,’ was the succinct answer. Timothy scrutinized me closely as he waited for my reaction.
    â€˜Shit!’ I said loudly, which was perhaps not the one he had been expecting.
    â€˜It’s serious,’ he said. ‘The boy who’s been taken is a ward of Francis Lovell. You know who he is, I suppose?’
    â€˜Of course I know who he is, you fool. Quite apart from the fact that he’s one of the duke’s – the Protector’s I suppose I should say – best friends, and has been ever since they were boys together in the Earl of Warwick’s household, I was with the army in Scotland last year, in case you’ve forgotten. And not as one of the poor bloody foot soldiers, either. As a member of Albany’s entourage – and that was another perfectly safe and simple little job that nearly cost me my life, I might remind you – I was within daily sight and sound of most