The Burgundian's tale

I don’t know what might have happened next had the door not opened just at that moment, and a small, self-important page announced, ‘The Earl of Lincoln.’

I judged the King’s nephew to be about seventeen or eighteen years of age, a very handsome lad of great grace and charm. He must have sensed the tension in the atmosphere, but he ignored it, as he did the spilled wine, smiling gaily at Timothy and clapping me on the shoulder in the friendliest manner possible.

‘So! You must be the famous chapman of whom my Uncle Gloucester speaks with such admiration and fondness. Our worthy spymaster has told you, I suppose, that we need you in London to help solve a crime. I’ve ridden with him from the capital to add my entreaties to his request and also — I must be honest — because I was curious to meet you.’ He grinned broadly, joyously. ‘And now I have.’

‘Your — Your Highness is very kind,’ I stammered. ‘But I can hardly believe the King’s nephew would be eager to meet a common p-pedlar.’

He gave a great roar of laughter at that and once again smote me on the shoulder.

‘Good God, man, if we’re to talk of being common, there’s plenty of plebeian blood on the spear side of my family.’ (His father was the Duke of Suffolk, his mother the King’s sister, Elizabeth.) ‘Why, the founder of our family’s fortunes, William de la Pole, was a moneylender from Hull, in Yorkshire. My great-great-grandfather, Geoffrey Chaucer, was the son of a London wine merchant — and if you’ve ever read any of those tales of his about pilgrims riding to Canterbury, you’ll know that he had a truly bawdy sense of humour. His wife, my great-great-grandmother Chaucer, was the daughter of a Picardy herald, one Payne de Roet.’ He broke off, aware, perhaps, that he might have denied his royal blood a trifle too enthusiastically. ‘Of course,’ he added with a self-conscious laugh, ‘on my mother’s side, the Plantagenets can claim descent from both Alfred the Great and from Charlemagne.’

I gave a brief bow. ‘Which proves my point.’

‘No, no! Timothy, you’ve explained our dilemma to Master Chapman?’

The spy had regained his composure. ‘Not yet, Your Highness. Roger hasn’t long arrived. But he has expressed his willingness to accompany us back to London and to give us the benefit of his extraordinary talent.’

‘Splendid!’ The earl beamed at us both and I was afraid for a moment that he was going to thump my shoulder for a third time. (I could feel the bruise forming already.) Fortunately, he restrained himself. ‘You can explain everything to him during dinner. I’ve promised to dine with the Constable, and places have been reserved for the pair of you at one of the lower tables.’

‘Unnecessary, My Lord,’ Timothy answered suavely. ‘Roger has invited me to eat with him and his family, but we shall be ready to leave with you and your cavalcade at noon.’

I choked, but no one seemed to notice.

‘Good! Good! You’ll have more privacy.’ Lincoln swung on his heel while his page scrambled to open the door. ‘Master Chapman, many thanks. My Uncle Gloucester is looking forward, I know, to meeting you again.’

Adela was relieved to get me back safe and sound, but unhappy at seeing my companion, whom she rightly regarded as trouble.

She and I held conference in the kitchen, while the two elder children entertained Timothy in the parlour, where he proved himself surprisingly adept at playing fivestones, a game at which Elizabeth and Nicholas normally excelled.

‘I was going on my travels, anyway,’ I argued. ‘I might just as well go to London as elsewhere.’

‘But you won’t be earning any money,’ my practically minded wife pointed out. ‘And working for the Duke has often proved hazardous. If anything happened, how should I manage without you? I think you should refuse.’

‘I can’t,’ I said and explained why.

Adela was horrified. ‘Timothy wouldn’t do that to you! He’s your friend.’

I shook my head. ‘He’s a servant of the state first and my friend a very poor second. Don’t underestimate him, sweetheart. He’s a ruthless man. He couldn’t do his job properly if he weren’t. I’ve no choice but to go with him. And it’s my own foolish fault that I’m in that position. However, I shall take my pack with me. It’s often proved useful for getting my foot inside a stranger’s door, and I might make some money as well. Now, shall we eat? It must be nearly ten o’clock.’