Free The Red Velvet Turnshoe by Cassandra Clark Page A

space until the real murderer is found?’
    He glanced up as a serving woman entered from the kitchens with a couple of bowls of pottage and two steins of the pale, strawcoloured ale made locally. When she left Ulf took a deep drink and replaced his stein with a frown.

    ‘What if he absconds?’ he objected. ‘I could walk upstairs into your chamber right now, clap him in irons and have him whisked back home to await due process of law. What’s to stop me doing that?’
    ‘Nothing at all,’ she agreed. ‘But wouldn’t it be on your conscience if he was innocent? Once back in England he’d be judged guilty by the mob at once due to the simple fact that you’d taken him back as a prisoner. But look at the facts, Ulf, why would he murder his benefactor? It doesn’t make sense.’
    ‘I can think of a multitude of reasons. A lovers’ tiff for one,’ he growled. ‘A hope to make away back to Kent with Reynard’s possessions for another.’
    ‘But if neither of those is true?’
    ‘Some other reason then. Consider, Hildegard. Who else could want the clerk out of the way?’
    ‘Maybe it was a simple argument with somebody down in the packing sheds,’ she suggested. ‘A drunken brawl?’
    ‘In the abbey precincts?’
    ‘Someone at the abbey with a grudge?’
    ‘What, one of the monks?’ He gave a derisive laugh. ‘And it can’t be one of the conversi either. They’re devout lads and never cause a moment’s trouble.’
    ‘At this stage I really have no ideas,’ she admitted. ‘All I have is a feeling that the boy should be given a chance. There’s something wrong – it makes him difficult to trust – and I don’t mean his love of men. There’s something else: sorrow, betrayal – something. It has destroyed his faith in people. He must be given a chance.’
    He narrowed his eyes. ‘So what do you propose?’

Chapter Seven
    H ILDEGARD WAS SHOWING signs of exasperation. ‘I know it’s irksome, Pierrekyn! But think about it. When we get you safely out of the town and into another jurisdiction we’ll think again. But maybe you have a better plan?’
    Pierrekyn threw her a baleful look from his chair by the window. ‘An esquire? Me?’ His lip curled. ‘So who is this knight who’s going to rescue me?’
    ‘He’s a tournament knight, resting until the season starts. He’s been hired as my escort on the road to Rome.’
    ‘I hope he doesn’t expect me to fetch and carry his armour about the place. And I suppose I’ll have to dress and undress him?’
    ‘That’s something for the two of you to decide,’ she replied tartly. ‘All I ask is that you remain within this chamber until we can get you safely away.’
    ‘I can’t see why the lord steward is taking such pains to keep me alive. What’s in it for him?’
    ‘There’s nothing in it for him. Just be thankful he’s agreeable. Do you have any further objections to what we propose?’
    He shook his head.
    ‘Well, then, do as you’re told.’ Couldn’t he see how much they were risking in order to save him from an ugly death at the hands of the mob?
    ‘I’m going out,’ she told him. ‘I’ll bring you something to eat when I return.’ She didn’t say when that would be. Let him learn patience and humility, she thought. It was a lesson long overdue.
    To her surprise when she turned at the door to give him one last warning, she saw tears streaming silently down his cheeks. She hurriedly closed the door and went over. ‘My dear child, what is it?’

    He turned his chair so she couldn’t see his face and appeared to be studying the window-blind. His dark russet hair curled boyishly in the nape of his neck. It had the unexpectedly tender appearance of a child’s downy locks. The sight moved her. It reminded her of her own son, now an esquire in the Bishop of Norwich’s army.
    ‘How old are you, Pierrekyn?’ she asked softly.
    ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ he muttered, unmoving.
    ‘I was just wondering how long