Read The Devil's Acolyte (2002) for Free Online Page B

of her smiling face made him pause and stand in the doorway for a long moment.
    Before moving here they had owned their own farm outside Sandford, near Crediton, where they had been content, and afterwards, when they had lived a short time in quarters at Lydford Castle
itself, neither had been happy. The grim stone block was cold and hideously uncomfortable, not at all like their old home, and because of her unhappiness Simon had searched for somewhere else. Soon
he found this little cottage with the enclosed garden and ample room for themselves and their servants. Although Meg had been pleased with their place near Sandford, this one had attracted her from
the first moment she saw it. Perhaps it was a reaction against the castle, or maybe it was her joy at giving birth to their first son Peterkin, who later died, to their joint despair, for she had
begun to plan for the improvement of it as soon as she had arisen from her bed.
    Seeing him, she had fussily hurried the two men from the place, and then stood before him smiling. ‘You wanted this?’
    He took the hammer from her.
    ‘I found it this morning as soon as the men moved the chest to paint the wall,’ she chuckled. ‘Will you be in trouble?’
    ‘Not if I get it back for tomorrow,’ he said. ‘If it’s late I could be fined. The last man forgot it once, I think, and he was fined three shillings.’
    The smile was wiped from Meg’s face at the thought of so much money being taken. ‘That’s terrible. Surely Abbot Robert wouldn’t do that to you?’
    ‘Forgetting it could have led to three hundred miners milling about in Tavistock, all demanding that their metal should be coined, all drinking steadily until they were of a mood to
riot,’ he said drily. ‘You haven’t seen the damage that ten happy miners can wreak after a few quarts of ale, so you can’t imagine a hundred angry miners on the rampage
after a couple of gallons each. It doesn’t bear thinking about! So yes, the Abbot will fleece me as best he might if I don’t get this to Tavistock quickly.’
    ‘You must have been very distressed,’ she murmured, putting her arms about him.
    ‘I was.’
    ‘And now you have to leave again. So sad.’
    She had turned her head from him, so that her cheek was against his breast, and he could smell the lavender in her hair. He stroked it, kissed her head and let his hands wander down her back to
her waist. A shiver ran through her body, and then she stood back and slowly began to undress. ‘You don’t have to leave immediately, do you?’
    It was while he was giving himself up to a pleasantly erotic recollection of the occasion, that the procession arrived.
    There was a sudden quietness among the bearded, scruffily dressed miners. Up until then Simon had been aware of the rumble of low voices and the clatter of pots and trenchers as the girls from
the local alehouse filled pots and served pastries. Not now. Suddenly the marketplace was silent, and when he looked up, he saw the Steward’s men roping off the centre, the crowds being
pushed back by servants.
    When a space was cleared, the King’s beam was brought out and adjusted, the Controller and Weigher carefully checking the machine with their standard weights, which were solemnly unsealed
from their box while the whole crowd watched intently, witnessing the fact that there could be no cheating here. It was in the interests of the miners that the metal should be fairly weighed. All
were to be taxed against the measured weight of the tin that they had brought, and until the miner paid the tax on his ingot, he could not sell the metal.
    When all was prepared, the Assay-master sat at his small anvil, his hammer and chisels ready, while the other officials took their seats facing the beam where they could have a clear view.
    The Receiver, a short, dark-haired man with the face and belly of a glutton, stood and called the crowd to witness the coining, and porters began bringing up the marked