Chapter Seventeen #2
Linnet sat down. She needed to think. She threw Isabelle an apple and they sat in silence for a few minutes, eating.
She couldn’t take her back, that would mean she took far too long to get to Bothal.
Could Isabelle find her own way back? Probably, but would she go?
If she were resolved to follow, it would be better to let her, or God knows what might happen.
She wondered whether the child would be missed back at the Priory.
Perhaps not, only if the Prior was looking for her and no one could find her.
‘All right. You can come with me. But you have to do what I say.’
Isabelle opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it.
‘We’ll be walking fast and I decide if we’re going to stay in inns and the like. When we meet the Lady you can be my serving girl.’
That last was too much for the child who laughed out loud.
‘I’m in earnest, Isabelle. The Lady isn’t going to be interested in why I’m travelling with a disobedient child. And what are you going to do with Pol?’
A child she could explain or could be overlooked. A child with a raven was going to be a lot harder.
‘Pol will fly back soon. He don’t like it on the mainland. He’ll be waiting for us when we get back.’
They started walking again. Linnet explained that walking too fast took longer than walking steady. All the old habits were coming back to her. It got dark too soon for the best walking but they could keep going if the moon was up and it was a clear night.
Isabelle began singing, little made-up songs, snatches of the island songs that she must have heard since she was a baby. Linnet hummed along a little. The noise felt comforting.
The last time she’d been travelling, she’d been by herself and kept away from all the main towns and villages. This time she should be safer. The child would divert any suspicion too. No one would think of Mary travelling with a child.
As it grew dark, they began to make their way back to the main track, the one by the sea. They’d made good progress. Isabelle liked it when the way was harder, going up hills or having to get through brambles. Easy walking made her whine and complain.
As they entered the town, it must be Beadnall, Linnet thought, they could hear people talking and laughing, and smell the fires and the dinners cooking. Isabelle gave Linnet a hopeful look. The money the Prior had given her wouldn’t go as far if she had to get food for two.
They walked into the inn and Linnet asked for half a bowl of pottage.
The woman serving looked motherly, and gave her a full bowl with two spoons, winking at the child.
Another unexpected advantage. She also offered them a place in the room overnight for another penny, which Linnet accepted.
She wrapped herself in her cloak, putting her bag underneath her – she’d be woken if anyone went digging through it.
Isabelle curled up next to her, like a cat. Pol had flown off a few miles back.
They slept through the late-night drinkers and their talk, but Linnet woke when she heard a voice she knew.
The pedlar was here, of course. This was the route he was taking.
He’d obviously been drinking all evening , boasting about the good sales he’d had, and how the monks at the Priory had paid too much for his wares, but he’d be offering them to these folks for good prices.
She thought that was unlikely, the Prior had a sharp eye for every coin spent, even if they were without a bursar at the moment.
Still, everyone liked to hear about the monks paying more.
One of the local men asked him about the masons. They’d come through here before arriving on the island and not made many friends. There was some laughter at a lad in the corner, he’d lost near all his money to them and was still sour about it, not joining in with their sport.
It turned to abuse and ever stronger curses on the masons. It was partly envy for those in such a good trade, she supposed.
‘The things I could tell you about them and their ’complices.’ The pedlar was full of his own importance, the centre of attention.
‘Go on then, man.’ It was the lad asking, sitting forward more eagerly.
‘Well, they were very interested in where they could find a released felon I know of.’
The barmaid shrieked with pretend fear and one of the older men promised to protect her, for a kiss. Linnet lay tense, ears straining.
Speaking over the laughter, the pedlar tried to gain attention again. ‘He wasn’t violent, a book-learnt man who’d not paid his debts, although he told me different, coming up from York, looking for his wife, who’d run off for some reason.’
Wife? Was that what he was saying? She’d never married him, she didn’t want to marry anyone.
They’d worked together, even if he’d always told everyone the scribing was his.
She became aware she was shaking slightly and Isabelle had woken too.
The child was lying still and breathing very quietly, aware as if by instinct of some unknown danger.
The men in the inn weren’t listening to the pedlar any more, he’d lost their interest. If he’d had a story about a murderer or a thief, they’d still be listening. Otherwise it was of no real consequence to them.
There was low talk then about the great men in London and what the King was up to, but that was of no interest to most, and the pedlar found no listeners to his tales.
The people in this area were wary of the squabbles of these Lords.
Henry had been King for ten years now, that felt like an eternity after all the battles and illnesses and skirmishes of the years before.
Linnet knew there were some who doubted his right to the throne, and she was sure if someone came along with a bigger army, that would be that.
An older man, sitting in the back, eventually held up his hand and hissed, ‘We’ll have none of that whispering here.
’ Linnet noticed the scars on his face and wondered which battles he’d been in and which side he’d been on.
His word was respected and the pedlar took the message and stopped trying to pass on the rumours he’d heard.
Linnet put a hand into her bag, feeling the leather pen pouch with some satisfaction. It had been a last-minute decision to take it and the pedlar had evidently not missed it yet.
The inn became quiet as the local folk finally made their way back home. The pedlar went upstairs to one of the good rooms. They would leave at first light tomorrow, best to keep out of his way in case he did discover it was gone and suspect who took it.