The Pale Companion by Philip Gooden

elsewhere. Meaning that the Queen was displeased with Elcombe for some reason or that she wanted to reward someone else instead. So he has lost revenue from that source and others besides.”
    “You are well informed, Jack,” said Will Fall, echoing my own thoughts.
    “I keep my ear to the ground,” said Jack, “rather like Nicholas Revill over there who’s pretending to be dozing but in fact listening to every word we say. His ear is close to the ground indeed. In fact, he looks as though he’s spent some time recently
under
the ground.”
    I sensed them looking in my direction so lay very still, trying to keep from grinning.
    “And furthermore, since we’re talking of Elcombe and his means,” said Jack, showing off his wordly knowledge of money matters, “a great place such as this is a great devourer of revenue. Why, if I pluck up some grass here it’s as if I’m pulling up twopenny pieces. While the stones of this great house might as well be made of gold.”
    “There’s your answer then,” said Will. “That is why Elcombe is so eager to push his son into the marriage-bed. He’s in desperate need of revenue.”
    “He ought to encourage whatsisname Cuthbert to go on stage then,” said Jack. “He’s sure to earn his weight in gold that way, I don’t think. But seriously, there’s a bigger mystery. Why is his elder son reluctant to be pushed into marriage? For sure, if this girl, whatsername Marianne, is rich – or if her father is, which comes to the same thing – and provided she’s not absolutely ugly or totally a shrew – why shouldn’t he be as eager for it as his father is? If someone compelled me to marry a wealthy woman, I wouldn’t scruple too much about her looks. If very wealthy I wouldn’t scruple at all.”
    “They say – ”
    “
They?
”
    “Not Audrey this time but some of the other women in the place where she works . . .”
    “You have been busy, Master Fall,” said Michael Done-grace, half in mockery, half in envy. “Picking up tasty gobbets in the kitchen.”
    “Be sure I shall leave the scourings to you when you grow man enough to use your roasting-jack.”
    “Tell us, Will, what is it they say?” said Jack.
    “They say . . . they don’t know why the master’s son should be unwilling to leap into such a rich bridal bed.”
    The other two groaned in exasperation and, lying on my back with the sun pressing down on my face and limbs, I joined them in spirit. Will Fall was only teasing, however.
    “But there are stories. For example, that young Harry has no liking for women but prefers boys. So, Michael, you should parade past him in full fig.”
    “And a fig to you, Fall. To your face, thus.”
    “They also say,” continued Will, “that Lord Harry has such a great hatred for his father that he would do anything to spite him – and that if it wasn’t for his even greater fear of the man, he would have refused long ago to marry his father’s choice of bride.”
    “I can see that he might be a fearsome man,” said Jack thoughtfully. “Elcombe, I mean. Someone not to be crossed. Look, Master Nicholas over there agrees with me for he’s moving his noddle slightly – or perhaps it’s just the breeze wagging at its emptiness.”
    I realized that I had unawares been nodding my head at Jack’s description of Lord Elcombe as fearsome. Those close-set clear eyes. The long head and hard stare. Yes, a man not to be crossed. Since it was no more use pretending to be asleep, I stirred into reluctant life and sat up. My comrades were lounging a few paces from me.
    “You’ve been spying on us, Nick,” said Will Fall.
    What had Robin the wood-man asked of me?
Is he a spy?
    “Oh Will,” I said, “we know that you have no secrets from the world but are eager to tell everyone your doings and more besides. If everybody was like you there’d be no need of spies. All the same I’ve been most interested to hear your kitchen gossip.”
    “More than gossip, Nick.