The Saltergate Psalter Read Online Free Page B

‘To Katherine.’
    ‘I know her. God wish she’s chosen well.’
    He gave a small bow. ‘I hope so, too.’
    • • •
    The bell was striking the hour as he hurried through the streets. Ten o’clock in the morning and time for dinner. He greeted some of the people he passed, realising that he’d become a part of this place now. It was home; he’d become woven into the town’s fabric. In its present and its future. Few chose to glance towards the past, and with good reason.
    Back in the year of the pestilence it had seemed as if half the land was dying. In the towns where few were left alive, people seemed more ghost than human, silent and untrusting. There were villages where no one remained, the doors to the houses hanging open. In the fields the crops waited for the men who would never come to harvest them. Cattle lowed piteously, desperate to be milked. He was eight then. He could barely recall his mother, already long dead. Then his father took the sickness, going so quickly it seemed to pass in three breaths. And John was alone. All he had was the bag of tools that weighed heavy on his shoulder, and his skills with wood. The two things he’d inherited from his father. But his knowledge, his craft, was still unformed and untutored. He learned as he went. Not begging, but exchanging his services for food and a bed. Finally he became the master of it. The wood spoke to him. He could feel how it should be, what it wanted, the strengths and weaknesses of a length of timber. He travelled around the land.
    And now he was here. Fourteen years after the Great Plague and Chesterfield was alive and bustling, as if nothing had ever happened. It was often kinder to forget all that had once been.
    Katherine was dishing out the pottage as he walked into the hall. He’d fashioned wooden bowls for them all when he had an idle day. Simple enough work with a chisel and a few hours, but she’d been delighted by it.
    He settled on the bench next to Walter, across from his wife, Janette and Eleanor on either side of her eating with the endless hunger of children.
    ‘A busy day?’ he asked the boy.
    ‘It’s been quiet, John.’
    ‘Would you like to earn some money? Tuppence a day?’
    Walter’s eyes shone and he smiled. ‘Does the coroner want me to work with you?’
    ‘He does.’ From the corner of his eye he saw Katherine frown. ‘And I’d be glad to have you.’
    ‘People are saying that Nicholas is dead, too.’
    ‘He is, God rest him in peace.’
    They said little more during the meal, but John could feel his wife’s disapproval. She might reluctantly accept him working for de Harville, but she didn’t want her younger brother doing it. It was too dangerous, too bloody.
    As she collected the empty dishes she looked at him and inclined her head. He followed her into the buttery.
    ‘Why are you involving Walter?’ she hissed angrily.
    ‘The coroner commanded it,’ was the only answer he could offer. Not enough, he knew.
    ‘Couldn’t you have refused? I asked you.’
    He shook his head. How could you say no to someone like that? She knew it well as he did. Her face was flushed, red with anger.
    ‘I asked you, John,’ she repeated.
    He understood her feelings. The last time had seen them in danger of their lives.
    ‘You know what he’s like. I didn’t have a choice. We’ll be safe enough,’ he promised. But they were blind words. Who knew what they’d find? He placed a hand on her belly and his voice softened. ‘Honestly. I’m not going to take any risks. Not with this one waiting.’
    She nodded. Her eyes were wet with tears that were ready to roll down her cheeks as he kissed her gently.
    ‘Besides, I like coming home to my wife every night. I’ll keep Walter safe.’
    ‘Then who’ll look after you, John?’

CHAPTER FOUR
    ‘What do you know about Edward the Butcher?’ John asked as they walked down Saltergate.
    ‘People are scared of him,’ Walter answered.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘He has a