suitable ambassador for the Cathedral and who could be relied upon not to cause too much upset in the city when he proceeded along the roads with his retinue. Luke had the carriage, the education, the courteous manners, the suave accent. He was perfect.
Gervase reached his hall and entered, pushing the door shut and leaning against the worn timbers.
But the monsters had picked Henry. It was no surprise really, not if, like Gervase, you knew the boys. As he often told himself, boys of this age could be contrary little brutes at the best of times. Perhaps that was why they had elected Henry. The Choristers had ignored the clear and obvious wishes of the Canons; they wanted a leader who could make their day of freedom
fun
.
It was also possible that Henry had offered them bribes. Gervase recalled whispered conversations between Henry and others over the last few weeks. However, Gervase was more persuaded by the argument that his charges had selected a candidate with the sole intention of putting the collective noses of the Canons out of joint.
Children today just weren’t as well-behaved as they had been in his youth, he told himself sadly. God alone knew what horrors they would get up to on Holy Innocents’ Day. He pictured Henry: tousled, scruffy, trying to look innocent while holding his hands behind his back to conceal a sling, a beetle, or something equally repellent. Gervase tried to put that grubby figure into the silk robes of the boy-Bishop. It wasn’t easy. The child would ruin the fine clothes. And as for what he could get up to as the Bishop, well! Gervase’s mind boggled.
And then, unaccountably, he felt himself start to chuckle.
Chapter Four
It was two days later, on twenty-third December, that Sir Baldwin de Furnshill drew near to the city. Sitting on his favourite rounsey, he gave his wife a twisted smile and then returned to surveying the River Exe on their left side and warily eyeing the trees on their right. He was always looking for danger. Outlaws were everywhere nowadays.
‘I know, my love. And I am glad, too, that we shall not be forced to remain here overly long,’ he said.
His wife gave a longsuffering sigh. ‘All I said was, I am glad it was not
my
fault we were invited, Baldwin. It should be enjoyable – I don’t understand why you are so glum.’
‘I do not like to have to travel. Especially over the feast of Christmas. It is a time to be at home, to celebrate in our own church.’
The knight had travelled extensively when he was one of the Poor Fellow Soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon – a Knight Templar – but since settling once more in his family’s estate at Furnshill near Cadbury and marrying Lady Jeanne de Liddinstone, the tall, grave man had thought that he would no longer be forced nor expected to journey far and wide.
Sir Baldwin was Keeper of the King’s Peace in Crediton, a job with some responsibility, but which required limited effort since few crimes plagued the small country town, nor were they generally violent in nature. He rarely suffered the difficulties of enquiring after murders and when there was such a case, it could normally be speedily resolved since the perpetrator was commonly still standing over the victim with a knife or rope in his hand when the Hue and Cry arrived. Many criminals surrendered themselves quietly, accepting that they had done wrong and must pay. Since becoming the King’s Keeper of the Peace five years ago, Baldwin had only been forced to seek four murderers in Crediton itself.
But this was not Crediton, Sir Baldwin told himself, looking past the weir towards the stonework of the city of Exeter.
The small city was a pretty red sandstone marker in the green of the fields all about. There were few solid buildings outside the walls, for all those who could afford to would buy a small house within their safety. Only a few timber buildings leaned against the outside of the walls. Looming over all was the castle, a
Gervase reached his hall and entered, pushing the door shut and leaning against the worn timbers.
But the monsters had picked Henry. It was no surprise really, not if, like Gervase, you knew the boys. As he often told himself, boys of this age could be contrary little brutes at the best of times. Perhaps that was why they had elected Henry. The Choristers had ignored the clear and obvious wishes of the Canons; they wanted a leader who could make their day of freedom
fun
.
It was also possible that Henry had offered them bribes. Gervase recalled whispered conversations between Henry and others over the last few weeks. However, Gervase was more persuaded by the argument that his charges had selected a candidate with the sole intention of putting the collective noses of the Canons out of joint.
Children today just weren’t as well-behaved as they had been in his youth, he told himself sadly. God alone knew what horrors they would get up to on Holy Innocents’ Day. He pictured Henry: tousled, scruffy, trying to look innocent while holding his hands behind his back to conceal a sling, a beetle, or something equally repellent. Gervase tried to put that grubby figure into the silk robes of the boy-Bishop. It wasn’t easy. The child would ruin the fine clothes. And as for what he could get up to as the Bishop, well! Gervase’s mind boggled.
And then, unaccountably, he felt himself start to chuckle.
Chapter Four
It was two days later, on twenty-third December, that Sir Baldwin de Furnshill drew near to the city. Sitting on his favourite rounsey, he gave his wife a twisted smile and then returned to surveying the River Exe on their left side and warily eyeing the trees on their right. He was always looking for danger. Outlaws were everywhere nowadays.
‘I know, my love. And I am glad, too, that we shall not be forced to remain here overly long,’ he said.
His wife gave a longsuffering sigh. ‘All I said was, I am glad it was not
my
fault we were invited, Baldwin. It should be enjoyable – I don’t understand why you are so glum.’
‘I do not like to have to travel. Especially over the feast of Christmas. It is a time to be at home, to celebrate in our own church.’
The knight had travelled extensively when he was one of the Poor Fellow Soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon – a Knight Templar – but since settling once more in his family’s estate at Furnshill near Cadbury and marrying Lady Jeanne de Liddinstone, the tall, grave man had thought that he would no longer be forced nor expected to journey far and wide.
Sir Baldwin was Keeper of the King’s Peace in Crediton, a job with some responsibility, but which required limited effort since few crimes plagued the small country town, nor were they generally violent in nature. He rarely suffered the difficulties of enquiring after murders and when there was such a case, it could normally be speedily resolved since the perpetrator was commonly still standing over the victim with a knife or rope in his hand when the Hue and Cry arrived. Many criminals surrendered themselves quietly, accepting that they had done wrong and must pay. Since becoming the King’s Keeper of the Peace five years ago, Baldwin had only been forced to seek four murderers in Crediton itself.
But this was not Crediton, Sir Baldwin told himself, looking past the weir towards the stonework of the city of Exeter.
The small city was a pretty red sandstone marker in the green of the fields all about. There were few solid buildings outside the walls, for all those who could afford to would buy a small house within their safety. Only a few timber buildings leaned against the outside of the walls. Looming over all was the castle, a
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