“I would speak with you privily, Master Burton,” Thomas Bolton called after him.
The agent raised his hand to signal that he had heard as he closed the door.
“What do you know of this earl of Witton?” Lord Cambridge asked the secretary.
“Precious little, my lord. He has been in his majesty’s service, but other than that he is a stranger to me.” He finished piling up several stacks of coins he had removed from the leather bag. Then slowly and deliberately he counted out the ten additional pounds. Carefully closing the bag he handed it back to Thomas Bolton, along with a bill of sale and the deed to the property known as Melville.
Lord Cambridge accepted it all, smiling. “You knew I should be the high bidder, Master Smythe,” he said. “You are a clever fellow.”
“You will find while the bill of sale is in your name, my lord, the property has been put in the name of your young cousin, Mistress Philippa Bolton,” the secretary said.
Now Thomas Bolton was truly impressed. “Are you content in the king’s service, Smythe?” he asked the man.
“It is difficult for a man in my position to gain the advancement he desires. I am not one of the cardinal’s men, my lord. I was recommended to my current position several years ago by Lord Willoughby, who wed with the queen’s friend, Maria de Salinas. But I have no powerful patron to aid me.”
“You have not answered my question, Smythe. Are you content in the king’s service? Or would you prefer employment somewhere where you might have more responsibility and respect?” Lord Cambridge said.
“If such a position should become available, if it were offered to me by the right master, I could leave the king’s service with a clear conscience,” Master Smythe said. “I am not important, but simply one of many.”
“And I am not an important man,” Lord Cambridge replied. “But I am a rich man with a bent for trade and possibly the need for someone like you. We shall talk again, William Smythe, before I return north. Would you mind living in the north?”
“Not at all, my lord,” said Master Smythe and smiled for a second time that day, surprised that Lord Cambridge had remembered his Christian name, and suddenly being absolutely certain that despite his foppish airs, Thomas Bolton, Lord Cambridge, was a most clever and astute gentleman.
Lord Cambridge nodded, and then without another word he left the secretary, going out into the corridor where he found Robert Burton. “Thank you for waiting, Master Burton. Let us go someplace where we may speak in private.” They found a secluded alcove with a window seat overlooking an inner court, and settled themselves. “Now, Master Burton, tell me about your master, the earl of Witton. He has served the king in some capacity? And why did he wish Lord Melvyn’s lands?”
Robert Burton hesitated. He had waited out of curiosity, but he was anxious to return home to tell his master of the fact they had lost the land to a stranger.
“Come, come, Master Burton,” Lord Cambridge said quietly. “I may be able to assuage your disappointment if you give me the correct answers. Is your master wed?”
“Nay, sir,” came the reply.
“How old is he?” The next question snapped.
“I would not know, sir, but he has only been earl this year past since his da died of the sweat. My master is not an old man, but he is not a youth either.”
“Why is he not wed?”
“My lord! I would not be privy to such information. I am merely a secretary,” Robert Burton replied.
“Come, sir, servants know more than their masters, and that is certain,” Thomas Bolton said with the hint of a smile. “Have you not lived on the earl’s estate since your birth? Can you recall when your master was born?”
“Aye, I was twelve when his lordship was birthed,” Master Burton said.
“And how old are you now, sir?” was the next question.
“I am forty-two this September past, my lord,” came the answer.
“Then your master is thirty, Robert Burton. ’Tis a good age. Now tell me, do you know if your master is betrothed to any woman?”
“Oh, no, sir, but he be looking, or so my sister who serves in the house says,” came the reply.
“Good! Good! Now one other question, Robert Burton. Is your master sound of body and mind, and fair to gaze upon?”
“He is a good and fair master, my lord, and the lasses say he is handsome,” the bailiff said.
“Why does your master want Melville?” Lord Cambridge asked.
“We have been renting the pasturage on Lord Melvyn’s lands for years, my lord. When he died with no heirs my master thought it was a good time to purchase the land. Who else would want it? But alas, you did! The earl will be most disappointed.”
