The Fifth Knight(52)
She stared at the money in her hand. Of course. The man. Why he seemed familiar. The pictures in her manuscripts. She glared at Benedict. “That man. He was a Jew, was he not? You have borrowed from a moneylender.”
“If you say so.” Benedict gave an impatient pat to her shoulder as the horse trader brought the animal before him. “Now, be quick. Food, all right? It’s a simple task. Just get it done.”
Containment. Theodosia bit down a reply at this fresh order as he turned to the horse trader. She walked rapidly back to where she’d seen food stalls. The coins she held might as well be burning through her palm, hot with the sin of usury. A sin that did not appear to bother the knight a whit.
Stallholders were closing up with haste, keen to leave with the threat of fire. The smell of smoke came stronger now, and men and boys rushed to and fro with leather buckets.
Her eye lit upon a barrow where two squat women packed away a selection of raw meat. Would that do? She looked back to where Benedict and the horse trader had an arm each on the animal’s side, deep in studied argument.
Obviously far more important than her simple task. Jaw set in irritation, she approached the women. Food was food. He could figure out how to cook it, and unless she hurried, they’d have nothing.
“Afraid we’re closed, mistress,” said one, with a kick out at a thin dog skulking at her skirts. “We have to be off.”
Her friend nodded, hurling gobbets into a wooden pail.
“Could I not have what’s left, then you wouldn’t have to pack it away?” Theodosia held out her coins. “See, I have my money ready.”
The first woman raised her eyebrows to her companion. “Good idea. I’ll even put it in a cloth for you, mistress.” Her swift actions matched her words. “Cockscombs, sheep’s lights.” She tossed in a frightful jellied lump. “Lovely bit of pig’s liver.”
Theodosia kept her expression polite. It all appeared a gristly, blood-soaked mess to her. The smell of it was none too fresh either, and her stomach rebelled. She nodded at her money on her open palm. “Will this be enough?”
“That’ll cover it.” The woman scooped the coins into her own hand and shoved the bundle at Theodosia. “I’m afraid we’re closed now. We have to be off.”
Her friend’s smirk told Theodosia of her own naiveté.
Theodosia went to object, but the woman started to push her loaded barrow away. “I wouldn’t hang around if I were you, mistress. This whole place could go up.”
Seething at their dishonesty, Theodosia started to make her way back toward Benedict. She could hardly make a fuss. What’s more, neither could he. His money was tainted, so serve him right. She stepped aside to let yet another cart hasten past with more water.
A couple of streets away, the flames now licked high enough to show in the sky. Gathered outside the inns were their large numbers of customers, as people had run outside to point and exclaim at the sight. She saw the knight shake hands with the horse dealer and increased her pace, squeezing past three portly male pilgrims. “I beg your pardon, good sirs.”
They looked at her, eyes flicking over her.
“No need to beg anything, chicken,” said one, a leer on his fat face and a full jug of ale in one hand. “D’you need aught? You look a bit lost.”
Her mouth tightened in disapproval. Holy men should not behave so. She went to move on. Wait. They might know. If Polesworth Abbey was a holy place, they may well have been there.
“As a matter a fact, I do,” she said. “I have an enquiry from my husband.” She emphasized the word and indicated to Benedict. The men followed her point. Benedict would stand head and shoulders over them.
Backs straightening, they became instantly polite.
“We have heard of a place called Polesworth Abbey,” she said. “Have you been there on your blessed travels?”
One man preened. “’Course we have, mistress. It’s near Warwick. A very holy place.”
An innkeeper came to the door. “Sirs! Your meal is ready.”
They tipped their hats with a cautious look at a glowering Benedict.
Theodosia went back to him as he adjusted the stirrups on their newly purchased mount.
“I told you to hurry,” he said. “We need food, not idle gossip.”
“I did not waste my time in gossip. I used my wits to get the information we needed.” She thrust the bundle of raw meat at him with a triumphant look. “Here’s your precious food. But I’ve also found out where Polesworth is.”
Benedict did not share her triumph, casting around the crowd instead with an uneasy air. “In future, ask me before you use your wits. Do you hear me?”