He noticed her at once, looked down before glancing up again to see if she had observed him and when he saw she had, he dropped his glance again and pulled up his hood. As he brushed past her he muttered from under it. ‘We must talk.’
Hildegard was acutely conscious of watchers in the crowd so she carried straight on without acknowledging him, out of the refectory, and into the cloisters. There she found a niche away from the main stream and sat down with her back against one of the purbeck pillars that separated the stone benches. She took out her ever useful beads and began to count them off.
It was only a few minutes later when Medford reappeared.
This time he strolled nonchalantly down to the far end of the cloister, turned and paced back. No-one seemed to be following him this time and, in fact, nobody seemed to pay him any heed at all.
When he came to the place where Hildegard was sitting he took up a position on the other side of the pillar with his back half-turned against her so that he should not appear to be speaking to her.
‘News from London,’ he murmured out of the side of his mouth. ‘Burley is still in the Tower. They cannot agree on a form of words by which to justify their charge of treason. King Richard’s allies continue to be hunted down and executed and - ’
He broke off as a monk trod slowly past. When he was out of earshot he continued. ‘And I hardly dare tell you this but I know you are loyal.’ He turned to fix her with a piercing look that reminded her of the Mr Medford of old when he was a power to be reckoned with.
‘Yes, you cannot surely doubt me,’ she agreed with asperity.
‘Forgive me for all that happened. But we must turn our thoughts to the plight of Sir Simon.’ He scarcely spoke above a whisper and in fact could have merely been muttering a prayer. ‘There is a plan to free him,’ he continued. ‘The Keeper of the Keys will smuggle him out of the Tower if he can be guaranteed anonymity.’
‘And his price?’
Medford gave a faint smile. ‘I see you have not lost your sense of reality. His price is the price at which he assesses his own life and that of the members of the Watch.’
‘A considerable sum then.’
‘Their heads will be at stake. Gold is being collected from the king’s supporters to be sent to London.’
He hesitated then lowered his voice even further. ‘There is a contact here in Salisbury who will ensure that the contribution from the south west reaches its destination. I dare not be seen meeting him.’
‘How do you communicate?’
‘We have a go-between. A fool who knows nothing.’ He leaned closer. ‘The gold has to be delivered to our man in the Tower. It is safest if it is sent by courier. They need not know what they are carrying. But our contact, who now has the full sum of what we have collected in order to save Burley, dare not be seen handing it over. We need someone unknown and unremembered.’
He paused and gave her a level glance, again quite like the Medford of old, and said, ‘I thought of you, domina, that he might approach you?’
‘To do what exactly?’ she asked, scarcely moving her lips.
‘To hand a package to the town courier with instructions to deliver it to the Keeper of the Keys at the Tower.’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘When shall we do this?’
‘Soon. My profound gratitude.’ He got up.
‘But Medford,’ she called softly as he began to walk away, ‘who is this contact?’
He did not look back but paced along the cloister, hands lost in his sleeves, his black gown soon merging with the many other similar ones as the brethren came and went in the great and echoing building.
‘And this is one of our guests, Hildegard of Meaux. She has suffered a loss of her own and understands your grief, Joan.’
‘The loss of a child cuts deeper into the soul than any other,’ Hildegard murmured. ‘I offer what precious little consolation I can.’
She had seen Robin’s mother before. It was when Idonea had slapped Frank’s face just after the body was found. She was a large, fair, pink-cheeked woman of forty or so. In better times she would have been one of those women who are always ready for a gossip and a joke or two.
Now she looked deflated. Her cheeks sagged and her glance scarcely bothered to take in the newcomers as they settled on stools in front of the hearth. Ashes were heaped up. Now and then a weak flame licked at a small log, giving off no warmth, but she paid the fire no heed. In the small cottage there was a sense that everything had contracted and time had stopped.
‘He was a good boy without a bad bone in his body. I know I would say that of my own - ’ She lifted one hand and let it fall. ‘It’s the truth, domina. Ask the sister here.’ She closed her eyes and seemed to shrink into her chair.
‘Come now, Joan, he was one of the best and we pray for him daily but we’re not here to sit idly by. Let us get your fire going and put some pottage onto heat. I’ll warrant you’ve not eaten a morsel since I was here yesterday.’
The woman sighed and made a shooing motion. ‘I’ll get by.’
Hildegard went to a basket with a few logs in it. ‘May I put some of these on the fire for you? The sister’s right. We haven’t come to sit by and do nothing.’
She placed the logs on the fire and gave it a stir with the poker until flames began to leap and shed a little warmth. Meanwhile Sister Elwis lifted from the basket she was carrying a crock from the priory kitchen. Hildegard put the trivet in place and the nun positioned the crock over the flames.
‘He was always of such good cheer, my lad,’ Mistress Treadwell said at last. ‘Forever an optimist no matter what disaster beset him. Some folk hated him for that. They saw him as unfairly blessed, despite his bad fortune, because he never let anything get the better of him.’
‘That’s true,’ agreed Elwis. ‘I never saw him frown nor did he utter a word in anger. He was the darling of everybody, you must remember that, Joan, and take strength from it.’
‘Some folk are jealous of other’s good nature,’ MistressTreadwell continued, half to herself. ‘They cannot allow anyone the solace of their own good humour. If my lad had changed his face to one of misery and joined in their moaning and groaning they would have had no quarrel with him. It’s my view somebody did him in, deliberately, with malice, because they couldn’t bear to see him bloody but still smiling. Take ‘im down a peg or two, that’s what was said that night. And so they did.’
‘Surely no-one meant to harm him - ’ Hildegard began but Mistress Treadwell interrupted.
‘You’re a stranger here. What do you know? No offence. You’re here to do good. You admit you can do little. I agree. No-one can do anything. No-one can bring him back. I know all that. But I have my views and I know those lads. I know how one or two especially hated his cheerfulness. Hated that nothing could ever beat him down. Until that night. Until then. And then they made sure of it.’
‘You say they,’ murmured Hildegard.
‘Them masons. Were they not heard shouting and making out it was all tomfoolery?’
‘Is it known they were masons?’
‘Who else would make that racket in the middle of the night? They know they’ll always get away with it.’
‘I heard it was so but then something went wrong. It does not betoken malice in their intentions - ’
‘Ah, that’s what that damn fool Master Gervase is trying to persuade us. Lying mankin. He won’t see what’s in front of his eyes. His men are his flock of sheep. Innocent my arse. They’re all guilty. Every man jack.’
‘Do you really believe anyone would have wanted to harm Robin?’ Hildegard began again.
‘Tell her, sister, tell her what they were like. Tell her about their jealousy because of Idonea. Tell her about their secret meetings.’
She began to sing in a wispy, rasping sort of voice but the words were clear. ‘And on that promise yet we stand, when one is harmed the harm befalls us all - ’ She broke off and fixed Hildegard with an ironic grimace.
‘You didn’t expect me to know that one, did you, domina? I can see it means something to you.’
‘It does indeed. The White Hart Brotherhood sings that same anthem in my part of the country too.’
Mistress Treadwell snapped her thumb and forefinger with contempt. ‘That’s what I give for their brotherhood.’
Sister Elwis stirred the pot in silence. Eventually it was done and she rose stiffly to her feet. ‘There you are, Joan. It’s ready when you are.’ She looked down at her neighbour. ‘I expect Idonea will be in to see you later, will she?’
‘The dear lass. She will.’
Mistress Treadwell seemed disinclined to say anything further so, with a promise to come in later to bring more logs from the priory, they let themselves out.
‘She’s not herself, of course,’ apologised Sister Elwis, ‘but he was a boy blessed with the gift of happiness. That is the only thing to lighten the darkness, that he relished life and lived it to the full.’
‘What were the blows he made so light of?’ asked Hildegard.
‘The death of two of his friends after the Salisbury parliament four years ago. He was too young to go to trial, not that he was guilty of anything but expressing his opinion, but there, we all know what the realm is coming to, now the king’s uncles are chafing at what they regard as their lowly status.’
She gave Hildegard a piercing glance. ‘I’ve said too much. Nothing here is straightforward. It’s a small town but hatreds run deep and last long. You’re just passing through. Best keep it that way and not get involved.’
‘I did nothing to persuade Mistress Treadwell that she might be best off in a nunnery,’ remarked Hildegard as they headed back inside the priory.
The porteress came forward when she saw Hildegard enter. ‘A message for you, my lady.’ She handed over a small scroll.
‘Who brought this, sister?’
‘The town courier.’
Puzzled, Hildegard took the scroll up to her chamber and opened it as soon as the door was closed behind her. She began to read:
‘I beg the honour of a meeting, my lady.
My suggestion is today before vespers at the door of the Chapter House. I will find you.’
It was unsigned.
Hildegard’s impulse was to throw it aside. She did not respond to anonymous messages.
But then something made her pause.
Medford had asked her if she would act as go-between in the plan to save Sir Simon Burley. He had said soon.
This must be a message from the contact here, from someone cautious enough not to give a name which might then be used to incriminate themselves and to rope in others involved in the plot. How could she not respond?