Free The Pardoner's Crime by Keith Souter Page A

doors opened and a team of servants filed in led by a butler who began directing his subordinates with almost military precision. A pantler and his assistants began serving trenchers for all, and finger bowls for every two people. A stream of serving women followed with salvers of cut meats, steaming pots and jugs of wine and ale. On the third ring, the castle cook himself entered, a merry-looking, round-faced fellow with a shock of ginger hair protruding from beneath a prodigious white cap. He walked with a marked limp, for one leg had clearly been broken and set badly in his youth. He carried a tray upon which was a roast boar’s head surrounded by a ring of apples and with a crown of greenery. To his obvious delight the assembled guests applauded as he made his way towards the high table.
    â€˜I have heard that your cook is a rare artist,’ Richard said. ‘My assistant has tasted his pigeon pie and said it was delicious .’
    The cook placed the tray in front of Sir Thomas and stood grinning at Richard. ‘I have one great secret which I willingly tell all who would like to produce fresh meat,’ he said, his voice booming and jolly, as if he was on the verge of laughter most of the time.
    â€˜Tell me your secret then, good master cook,’ said Richard.
    â€˜Why, sir, it is simple. I only use the freshest of meat, fowl and fish, because I let them live until they are ready to be cooked. It is my mission on earth to cook and to feed all who will eat their fill,’ he said.
    â€˜Aye, but not always at my expense,’ growled Sir Thomas. ‘You may have guessed, Sir Richard, that he is a man given to over-zealousness.’ Then, turning his gruff eye on the cook, ‘This looks adequate; you may go Gideon Kitchen.’
    â€˜May you all be blessed with an appetite to match this small repast,’ said Gideon Kitchen as he retreated backwards, still grinning from ear to ear, despite his master’s attempt to deflate him.  
    Richard felt his stomach juices go wild at the mixed aroma of roast chicken, venison and boar. He looked around the hall, his eye falling upon Emma Oldthorpe, the apothecary’s wife. She smiled at him demurely and he felt strange warmth come over him. And in the corner of his vision he was all too aware of the pleasing perfume and charms of the Lady Wilhelmina sitting beside him.  
    â€˜What think you of our little welcoming feast, Sir Richard, Sergeant-at-Law?’ asked Sir Thomas, leaning past his wife.  
    â€˜Succulent!’ Richard uttered without thinking. It was the word that was already in his mind, although he had not exactly been thinking of food.
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    After taking care of his master’s belongings, Hubert had left Richard to slumber and made his way up to the battlements by an inner staircase on the far side of the bailey bakehouse. Evening was approaching and with it a glorious sunset had draped the sky with crimson and pink clouds. He strolled along and immediately engaged the first male-clad guard in conversation. He had recognized him straight away, since he had directed him to the kitchen that afternoon. They rapidly fell into the easy conversation of one soldier to another, for both Hubert of Loxley and Adam Crigg had done service as foot soldiers in wars; Hubert in England, Wales and Scotland and Adam in those as well as a time in Ireland, for he was a good ten years Hubert’s senior.  
    â€˜I remember how dull it is to patrol around a castle rampart,’ said Hubert sympathetically. ‘Especially when our masters are feasting and drinking until late in the evening.’  
    Adam’s weather-beaten face creased into a wrinkled, lopsided grin, on account of an old battle scar which prevented one side of his mouth from moving fully. ‘I know that you haveone master, so I hope that he is good to you. As for me, I have to be honest when I tell you that I don’t rightly care much for any