The Midsummer Crown by Kate Sedley Page A

dangerous that bastard is! Now, which one was it, eh?’
    Of course, they vociferously denied responsibility, each one blaming the other two, with a wide-eyed innocence that made it impossible to tell who was lying and who was not. In the end, the kennel master gave it up, but threatened them all with instant dismissal if such a thing ever happened again.
    â€˜My abject apologies, masters,’ he said, turning to Timothy, Piers and myself, the three of us fast regaining our courage now that the danger was past.
    â€˜Think nothing of it,’ Timothy assured him grandly. ‘I daresay the dog would have done us no harm.’
    â€˜If you believe that, you’re a fool,’ was the curt reply. ‘Forgive me, sir, for speaking so bluntly, but that animal is one of the most dangerous creatures it has ever been my lot to encounter. By rights he should be put down before he does someone a serious mischief, but Sir Francis won’t hear of it. Says the place is completely safe from marauders as long as Beelzebub is allowed to roam free at nights.’ He laughed at what must have been the look of consternation on our faces. ‘Oh, don’t worry, masters. He’s only allowed to roam around the outer walls. The courtyard gate is shut and locked at sundown. The dog can’t get inside. And I’m out to muzzle and return him to his kennel at daybreak. You can sleep sound.’
    â€˜Nevertheless, I’m bolting my chamber door tonight,’ I remarked quietly to Timothy as we returned to the inner courtyard and so into the house for supper.
    He nodded in agreement, but Piers Daubenay, who had the excellent hearing of the young, assured us blithely, ‘You’ve no need to be afraid, you know. Kennel master Blancheflower is quite right when he says Beelzebub can’t get in. The gate between the inner courtyard and the outer compound is always securely locked at sunset every night. And there’s a small side door, also bolted from within, which William can slip through each morning without any danger that the dog can push past him and come inside.’
    â€˜And in the evening?’ I was still worried.
    â€˜In the evening?’ Piers frowned, then smiled. ‘Oh, I see what you mean. William gives Beelzebub his meal last thing, and, while the dog’s sniffing at his food, he removes his muzzle, then quickly enters by the side door and bolts it top and bottom. You’ll be perfectly safe, you know.’
    â€˜I never thought otherwise,’ Timothy replied with a nonchalance that did him credit. But I guessed that he intended to lock his chamber door just the same.
    Supper in the airy servants’ hall had been a pleasant meal. The spymaster and I had been given seats of honour, one on either side of the steward, and the food had been worth waiting for: an oyster soup followed by roast mutton in onion sauce, with beef patties and mustard curd as a remove, the whole being rounded off with a pear syllabub garnished with crystallized rose petals. Both ale and wine had been served, and I had partaken liberally of both. I remember wondering at the time if I had been wise to do so.
    The conversation, on the high table at least, had been subdued, all of us thinking of the missing Gideon Fitzalan, wondering if he had yet been found and, if not, what could possibly have become of him. This latter consideration had troubled me, perhaps, more than the others, the discovery of his whereabouts having been laid squarely on my reluctant shoulders. I had listened enviously to the careless hum of talk and the occasional shout of laughter from the lower tables and resentfully wondered, not for the first time in the past couple of days, how it was that I found myself mixed up in the Duke of Gloucester’s affairs yet again.
    Now, lying naked on top of my mattress – for the little guest chamber, though comfortable, was hot and airless and I had pushed the coverings on to the floor