Read [Roger the Chapman 06] - The Wicked Winter for Free Online

Lynom Hall.
    And so it proved. A moated, stone-built house with a large undercroft and surrounded by bakery, dairy and laundry, chapel, stables and byre could be no other. A wooden drawbridge, wide enough for the passage of a large wagon, spanned a moat which I discovered to be very deep and filled with brackish water. Two men, who were busy carrying hay from the undercroft to the stables, gave me a cursory glance as I crossed it.
    'Is your mistress at home?' I called.
    One said, 'She is, but you'd best not disturb her, Chapman, at this present,' and looked at his companion and sniggered.
    There was plainly some significance in the remark.
    'Then maybe I can see the housekeeper or the cook or one of the maids,' I suggested. 'Any woman of the household will do. I've plenty still in my pack to interest her.' The man who had so far not spoken put down the sheaf of straw he was humping.
    'I daresay the old lady 'ud be glad to see you,' he admitted, and his fellow nodded in agreement.
    'Always glad to see anyone, she is. Finds the days hang heavy. Well, they do when you're old and confined to the house I reckon.' He eyed me up and down, his head tilted consideringly to one side. Wisps of red hair protruded from beneath his hood. 'You're a big, stout-looking lad. Give us a hand with this hay and we'll introduce you to the housekeeper ourselves, with a recommendation that she takes you up to see Dame Judith. What's your name?' I told them, and in return learned that the red-haired man was called Hamon and the other Jasper. I laid down my pack and stick, seized a bale of hay and carried it easily enough into the stables. A fine red chestnut with a pale mane and tail fixed me with a beady eye and blew gustily through its nostrils as I entered.
    'Better leave Belle Amie to us,' Hamon said over his shoulder. 'The mare's Mistress Lynom's pride and joy, but to my mind she's a nasty nature. Feed the cob and Jessamine there.' He indicated a raw-boned grey. 'They're both quiet and gentle.'
    'What about him?' Jasper demanded with a jerk of his head towards a big handsome black with white stockings and a white blaze on its forehead. 'Did we ought perhaps–?'
    'Nab!' Hamon interrupted decisively. 'Why should we waste our winter fodder on a stranger? He'll have hay enough waiting for him in his own stable. Great overfed brute!'  
    'The mistress might expect it,' Jasper demurred. 'How long's he going to be here?'
    Hamon gave a ribald chuckle. 'How do I know? As long as his master, and how long's that? In such circumstances, there's no saying.' And they both laughed immoderately, nudging one another in the ribs.
    I made no inquiries as to their meaning, judging it wisest to remain ignorant, but half guessing at the truth. Had not Joanna Miller informed me that I might meet Sir Hugh Cederwell at Lynom Hall? 'Gossip has it that the widow is his mistress.' But if that were indeed the case, the less I knew about this illicit liaison the better. I hoped, the weather holding, to travel as far as Cederwell Manor.
    When the horses had been fed, Jasper dropping a little hay into the black's manger while his companion wasn't looking, and I had again taken up my pack and cudgel, the two men led me around to the back of the house and into the kitchen. In contrast to the extreme cold outside, the heat in there was almost overpowering, emanating from a huge fire on the central hearth and a number of ovens set into the thick stone walls. A big woman in a gown of grey burrel and a linen coif and apron, wielding a large ladle as if it were her wand of office, as in a way I suppose it was, dominated the room and sent the kitchen-maids scurrying in all directions to carry out her orders.
    'What are you two great oafs doing in my kitchen?' she demanded, when she saw Hamon and Jasper. 'Out, before you carry the muck from the yard and stables all over my swept and scrubbed floor!'
    'Here's a chapman,' Hamon said sulkily, 'come hawking his wares. We thought the old