Free The Christmas Wassail by Kate Sedley Page A

cradle’s rocker as Luke was now fast asleep. ‘He must have known that his sister wouldn’t thank him for it.’
    Margaret shrugged. ‘Of course he knew. But she is eighty-five now and bound to be getting senile. His conscience may have pricked him. Perhaps he felt she needed caring for. And after the affair of three years ago, maybe he thought he should keep a closer eye on her in case madness seized her again. After all, Sir George has young Bartholomew to provide for as well as Cyprian. He won’t want Drusilla’s fortune falling into anyone’s hands but his own.’ She leant back in her chair – the one usually occupied by Adela, opposite my own – and regarded me shrewdly through half-closed eyes. ‘You’ve suddenly gone broody, Roger. Something’s bothering you. What is it? What do you know?’
    â€˜Know? Why, nothing,’ I denied hastily.
    But she wasn’t fooled. ‘There’s something going on in that head of yours,’ she accused me. After a few moments’ silence, she added with a sigh, ‘But you’re not going to tell me, are you?’
    â€˜I was just mulling over what you’ve been telling us,’ I protested feebly. ‘An interesting story.’
    She glanced at Adela, looking for support, but my wife was almost asleep, her head fallen forward on her breast, worn out by the exigencies of the morning and lulled by the warmth and the intoxicating effects of the ‘lamb’s wool’.
    I leant back in my own chair and smiled sleepily at Margaret. ‘I know nothing,’ I lied, closing my eyes.
    She didn’t believe me.
    She knew me too well.

FIVE
    A fter supper – another rich meal, but one which the children especially had been almost too tired to enjoy – I escorted Margaret home to Redcliffe.
    Although it was growing dark and the curfew bell had sounded, there were plenty of revellers still abroad in the streets, quite a few wearing the animal and bird masks brought out of cupboards and attics at this season of the year, and not necessarily for festive purposes. Some of the more stupid or malicious youths thought it great fun to lurk in the shadows of overhanging houses and street corners in order to jump out on unsuspecting passers-by, giving them the fright of their lives. The previous Christmas, at least two little old ladies, returning home unattended from supping with their families, had been reduced to hysterics by such antics. This year, on the orders of the sheriff, the numbers of the Watch had been increased, but I was taking no chances. My former mother-in-law was a strong-minded woman and not easily frightened, but she accepted my company without demur and even seemed glad of it.
    We encountered no trouble, in spite of seeing a number of masked figures, but then at thirty-one I was an even more impressive figure than I had been at eighteen. Then, it was true, I had had youth on my side, but if I was somewhat slower on my feet than I used to be, I now had weight as well as height – as my womenfolk were never tired of pointing out to me, my girth had increased – and I still swung a pretty cudgel. This was an impressive weapon, half as tall as I was and weighted with lead at one end.
    I saw Margaret safely into her cottage by St Thomas’s Church, kissed her a dutiful goodnight and issued strict instructions that she must open the door to no one during the hours of darkness. Then I waited outside until I heard her shoot the top and bottom bolts into their wards. Satisfied that I had done my duty, I turned to retrace my steps before deciding on a sudden impulse to walk down St Thomas’s Street to Redcliffe Street and so, by way of one of the little alleys, out on to Redcliffe Wharf.
    It was a cold night, frosty, and the stars rode clear and high in a cloudless sky. There was a three-quarter moon and the shadows from the houses were deep and black, lying like ink stains