[Roger the Chapman 06] - The Wicked Winter by Kate Sedley

sniggers which the mention of Cederwell Manor had prompted, one eye on the cook as if fearful that she might admonish them. But although she failed to join in their general merriment, she did no more than remain aloof.
    'You'd better get started as soon as you've eaten, Chapman,' she advised. 'It'll take you more'n an hour at a steady pace, and the ground's treacherous at this season. Moreover, snow's been threatening all day and I reckon it'll start to fall before evening.' She went to the kitchen door and stared out. 'Sky's full of it. Grey as a shroud. When it does come, it's going to be heavy.'
    'How do I get there? To Cederwell Manor?'  
    'Where'd you come from? North from Woodspring? This is the Woodspring road.'
    I shook my head. 'No, south from the main pack-horse track which runs along the high ground from Bristol to the mouth of the Severn.'
    Jane Cook came back and sat down again at the kitchen table.
    'Then retrace your steps to the junction of the two roads and turn westwards when you get there. Keep walking and you're bound, sooner or later, to arrive at the manor. But a word of warning.' She cupped her chin in her hands. 'Don't ask for Lady Cederwell. She'll not be interested in any fripperies you might be hoping to sell. I'm told she wears a plain wooden cross on a string about her neck and that is her only adornment. As for household necessaries, you might as well deal directly with Sir Hugh's housekeeper, Phillipa Talke, who's run the manor for him since Master Maurice was born and left motherless, the poor little lamb.' Bet sucked her fingers clean of the last vestiges of food.
    'My cousin, Audrey Lambspringe - who's maid to Lady Cederwell,' she added for my benefit, ' - says Mistress Talke was hoping to marry Sir Hugh herself one day.' Jane Cook snorted but, somewhat to my surprise, did not discourage this idle chatter. But then she, too, I supposed, must find winter in such an isolated homestead as dull as everyone else.
    One of the other kitchen-maids observed with a giggle, 'She's waited a mighty long time then with nothin' t' show fer it. An' now 'e's married again.' She lowered her voice and glanced furtively over her shoulder to make sure that none of the upper servants was within earshot. 'An' what about our own mistress? If anythin' were to 'appen to Lady Cederwell, I reckon she'd 'ave first bite o' the cherry, not Mistress Talke.'
    'She's 'avin' more'n 'er fair share o' bites already,' the pot-boy put in, reducing them all, including Jane Cook, to helpless laughter.
    I decided it was time to be on my way if I was to arrive at Cederwell Manor before darkness fell, and which at that time of year descended in mid-afternoon. The female servants had chosen what they wanted from my pack before the meal, so there was nothing further to detain me. I therefore said my farewells and left. Passing the stables on my way out, I paused to glance inside, hoping to wish Hamon and Jasper goodbye, but they were nowhere to be seen. Nor, now I came to think of it, had they been at dinner. I reflected that perhaps they were permanently banned by Jane Cook from eating indoors because, as she had pointed out earlier, they smelled too much of horses. But as I was about to set foot on the drawbridge, I was forced to beat a hurried retreat in order to avoid Hamon, mounted on Jessamine, the raw-boned grey. Horse and rider came clattering across the wooden slats as though Old Scratch himself were after them, and both, by their appearance, in a lather. At the same moment, Jasper materialised from somewhere behind the stables, inquiring in a whisper, 'Did all go well?'
    Hamon was already sliding from the saddle, tossing the mare's reins to his fellow groom as he did so.
    'Here, stable her and rub her down. I must go speak to my lady.'
    He ran towards the house, almost tripping over his feet in his hurry.
    Jasper stared after him with a thoughtful look, which gradually settled into one of avid and ill-contained curiosity.
    My