The Pardoner's Crime Read Online Free

this Sandal is it far from Wakefield?’
    â€˜A couple of miles on the other side of the river.’
    They had reached the gate of the Northgate road, on either side of which were a couple of humble dwellings. The gate itself was a stout timber on great hinges that barred their way. A middle-aged woman with a closed eye appeared from one of the hovels, wiping her hands on a dirty apron.
    â€˜Good day, masters. I am Alice-at-the-Bar and I and my son are charged with letting in those as wants to come and keeping those in that mustn’t stray.’ She immediately burst into a cackle that sent a shiver through Sir Richard’s spine. ‘It is a toll to enter, unless you tickle my fancy.’
    Sir Richard eyed Alice-at-the-Bar dispassionately. ‘Know you that I am Sir Richard Lee, the Circuit Judge of the King’s Northern Realm and by his warrant I and my man must enter Wakefield immediately. I shall be presiding over the court,’ he said meaningfully. ‘I would treat any news that the town gatekeepers were taking bribes, or worse, with appropriate severity!’
    Alice-at-the-Bar’s one good eye shot open wide in fear. ‘I meant nothing, sir. I jest a lot, but I mean nothing.’ And witha manly whistle she called her son, a spindly youth, and together they raised the bar and let the two riders through.
    â€˜Where can I find first the Bucket Inn near the Jacob’s Well and then Wilfred Oldthorpe the apothecary?’ Richard asked, tossing a farthing, which was caught nimbly and thankfully by Alice-at-the-Bar, despite her one eye.
    â€˜That would be easy, sir. Like as not at this time of the day Master Wilfred Oldthorpe will be drinking ale at the inn. You won’t get a finer brew in the whole of Yorkshire than at Mistress Quigley’s Bucket Inn.’
    And after she had given Sir Richard directions she winked at Hubert, who winced and unconsciously touched the arrowhead beneath his surcoat.
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    Wakefield was a straggling town of gabled wooden houses, most of which had undercrofts on the ground floor for keeping animals or storing supplies, and which were roofed with either thatch or reeds. The main streets were wide and well rutted by ox-carts and pack-horses, with side streets and narrow alleys leading off them. Dung heaps, puddles and refuse of various sorts made walking in a straight line difficult , the result being that the streets were full of animals and folk going about their business in an erratic, almost zig-zag manner. As Sir Richard and Hubert rode down the Northgate they passed open doors from whence emanated the odours of wood smoke, baking bread and cooking. All this mingled with the smell from a nearby tannery and of ground corn from the two water-mills and a great windmill visible on the Westgate.
    They found their way to the lane on which the Jacob’s Well was sited. This provided fresh water to the east end of the town and, as it happened, to the brew-house of the Bucket Inn. The inn itself was the most conspicuous and impressive building on the lane. It was a two storeyed affair, with a thatched roof, two outhouses and a large brew-house. On either side of the door were two half-barrels containing mulberry bushes, while from a joist above the low doorwayhung a bucket from which trailing roses seemed to cascade out.
    The smell of beer, cooking meat and onions made Hubert’s stomach gurgle. ‘A comely place, this Bucket Inn looks,’ he said to Sir Richard. And then hopefully, ‘would we have time for a mug of ale and a bite, my lord? It would mayhap help to wash away the taste of that rogue who robbed us in the Outwood.’
    Richard smiled as he dismounted and handed the reins of his mount to an ostler who suddenly appeared from behind the brew-house. ‘We were not robbed, Hubert. We merely chose to pay his toll.’
    Hubert frowned. ‘But it was illegal, my lord. Surely you—’
    But Richard had stopped