The Wicked and the Just by J. Anderson Coats Read Free Book Online Page A

doors from my own.
    Nicholas is my shadow till we arrive, then he mutters something about bringing my father and disappears like an angry ghost.
    Justice Court is lit by braziers and two big windows with ornate shutters. There are lecterns and rustling clerks and the moldy smell of damp parchment. I’m sat on a bench and told to keep still. The bailiff barks at me whenever I so much as shift.
    My backside is sore. I could do with a cup of wine.
    My father arrives, Nicholas on his heels. I leap up and move to throw my arms about my father, but he curtly bids me sit and pulls Pluver and the bailiff into the corner. They mutter like conspirators.
    I sit. My father will demand they apologize for the rough way they treated me. For putting hands on me right in the street like they might some red-handed felon.
    It’s several Aves ere my father returns with the bailiff and Pluver. I rise, brush dirt from my gown, and prepare to receive my apology with grace and dignity.
    â€œ. . . appreciate your discretion and understanding in this matter,” my father is saying to the bailiff. “You have my word it’ll not happen again.”
    I smooth my hair and glare at Pluver.
    â€œAs soon as your daughter has begged my pardon,” Pluver says to my father, “she can be quit of this place. Doubtless you of all men have no desire to see the inside of Justice Court right now.”
    Nicholas will explain. He’ll tell my father how I was goaded into defending him and ill-served as a result.
    But Nicholas won’t even look at me. His back is turned. Like everyone else’s.
    â€œPapa, I—”
    My father squeezes my elbow and fixes me with such a look that I grit my teeth and mutter to my toes, “Begging your pardon, my lord.”
    The words taste of sulfur.
    Pluver has agreed to forgive the amercement for trading on an unlawful day since no trade was actually made, but I am being amerced a half-penny for calling an official of the borough a filthy swine. It’s been entered into the
rotuli
and everything, and I will be required to present myself at Court Baron to answer for it.
    Now in the sight of God and Crown, I’m a slanderer. I will die an old maid surrounded by twenty cats.
    My father steers me out of Justice Court by the elbow and propels me up Shire Hall Street. “What were you thinking? Haven’t you the sense God gave a goat?”
    â€œPapa, I—”
    â€œDo you realize the weight of this matter? How will this look to the
honesti
who vouch for my good name before mayor and community?”
    â€œIt’s not my fault!”
    â€œAnd whose fault is it?” My father is turning purple. It’s most unflattering. “Christ, Cecily, that levelooker was ready to bring
Nicholas
in! Nicholas, who taxed the goodwill of his lord to safely bring our belongings all the way out here!”
    I pull my arm free. He’s hurting me. “How was I to know? How could you let them treat me like one of the Welsh? Amercing me for
trading.
”
    â€œThat half-penny is coming out of your clothing allowance, Cecily, and going right to alms for the poor. And you’ll stay in the house a solid se’ennight.”
    â€œThat’s fine!” I shout back. “Because I don’t want to even look upon you for
twice
that long!”
    I’m in my chamber ere I recall that the wretched merchant still has my altar cloth.
Our
altar cloth. And God only knows how I’ll get it back now.
    Â 
    I cannot bear to stay housebound for a whole se’ennight, so at cockcrow I busy myself with things that will put my father in a kind and favorable mood. I air all his linen and replace the birdlime flea-traps in his chamber. I make a whole pottle of the sage wine he favors, then I brush all the snarls out of Salvo’s tail.
    When my father comes in for supper, the trestle is perfectly laid. The pewterware shines. The pottage is still steaming. There’s