‘If Alisoun can spare me for an hour, I thought to spend a little time there. Jasper has been alone for most of the past fortnight.’
‘What of our guest?’
‘I will slip a sleep draught in her ale.’
‘Clever.’
‘The man’s clothing – she runs from something.’
‘Michaelo thinks a convent.’
‘I would understand why a woman might do that.’ Lucie had been sent to St Clement’s Priory, a Benedictine nunnery outside the city walls, after her mother died. And often attempted escape. ‘Once she feels at ease, which rest might afford us, she may confide in us. Tell us who she is, why she is running. From whom. From what.’ She shrugged. ‘Or she may remain a cipher.’
‘You might warm yourself distilling some elixir to free her tongue.’
Lucie looked over her shoulder to make sure he smiled, chuckling when she saw that he did. ‘If only it were so simple. So you distrust Ambrose?’
‘How can I know? He has been away a long while. And you must admit he has ever attracted trouble. If this is him, he has certainly brought it this time – a man falling from the chapter-house roof, a vicar’s murder, and this young woman dressed as a man, clearly having suffered an ordeal last night. I will be interested to hear what you might learn of her.’
‘A riddle. I accept the challenge.’ She touched his arm. ‘And do consider the instruments. If Ambrose intends to work, he will need them.’
‘So you trust him?’
‘I did not say that.’
Owen was about to follow Lucie’s lead in donning warmer clothing when he was interrupted by someone pounding on the door that opened onto Davygate. Glancing out the narrow window above it, he saw his friend George Hempe, a city bailiff, and Adam, precentor of York Minster. The chapter had wasted no time.
‘Come round to the kitchen,’ he called down, trying to keep his voice low. All this fuss would surely wake the children. Indeed, that they were not yet wakeful worried him. As soon as he saw George and Master Adam move on to the garden gate, Owen finished dressing and went to check on the nursery.
He found Lucie in the doorway, speaking softly to Alisoun, who held baby Emma in her arms, rocking her.
‘Is she an angel?’ It was Gwen’s sleepy voice, and there she was, his raven-haired first-born, tugging on her mother’s skirts, Alisoun softly explaining that while she was distracted with Hugh, Gwen had slipped out of bed and gone to the room in which the woman slept.
Their guest’s skin pale as if carved from candle wax, her flaxen hair – he could see why his daughter thought the woman a divine being.
‘How is my beloved?’ Owen crouched down and held out his arms to Gwen.
She came shuffling over and hugged him tightly. ‘Has she come to take Hugh to heaven?’
Lucie knelt to them, a protective hand on her daughter’s back. ‘No, my love, Hugh is out of danger.’
How could she be so certain? Owen prayed Lucie was right, but he still feared for his son, for all three of them.
‘He is sleeping off his victory over the fever,’ Lucie said. ‘You shall see. The woman is our guest.’ She leaned over to Owen, kissed his cheek. ‘Have faith in the healers in your household, my love.’
‘Forgive me. My mind believes, but my heart fears.’
She touched his scarred cheek. ‘I know. But Hugh’s forehead is cool, and his breathing is quiet. I am confident.’
He kissed her. ‘We have visitors. Hempe and Master Adam, the precentor of the minster chapter.’
‘Then you must go now,’ she said. ‘Find out what George and the precentor have come to ask of you.’
‘Will you come down?’
‘I will.’ Lucie took Gwen’s hand, and, with a kiss, commanded her back to bed.
‘Mistress Alisoun will sing to me?’ Gwen asked.
‘I will indeed, Mistress Gwenllian,’ said Alisoun, nodding to the two on the landing as she closed the door.
FOUR
Deaths on a Snowy Morn
‘I pray you forgive this early call, Archer.’ Hempe was stomping the snow from his boots on the stone step outside the door. ‘There are two bodies in the minster yard, and Master Adam has requested your help. The mayor has approved.’
The precentor had perched on the bench inside the door, struggling with his boots while casting a doleful eye at Kate, who was filling a jug with ale. An important man in the chapter, responsible for the vicars choral and for the liturgy, Adam was keen on being respected in the city. Of course all here would be respectful and hospitable, but in this household a man removed his own boots unless he was unable to do so himself.
Lucie pressed Owen’s hand. ‘Your first official assignment as captain of bailiffs,’ she whispered.
‘I was not so eager as this.’
‘Nor I. We may regret your decision.’
‘I pray you, take my seat near the fire,’ Michaelo suggested as Adam padded toward the hearth in his stockinged feet.
The precentor thanked him and sat down with a grunt. ‘You are good to receive us, Captain, Dame Lucie. Brother Michaelo was just telling us of your children’s illness. It is difficult to watch the little ones suffer. I will pray for them.’
‘I believe we are past the worst of it, God be thanked,’ said Lucie, ‘but your prayers are most welcome.’ She took a seat across from him.
Michaelo asked whether Theo had found anyone in the chambers above the chapter house.
‘It seems he frightened someone away,’ said Adam. ‘They knocked him over rushing from the chapter house. Theo had no time to move out of the way. Nor did he see who it was, though he had an impression of a large man. He is in some pain – a lump on his head and a sprained arm – but he will recover. I will send one of the clerks to your apothecary for anything you would recommend, Dame Lucie.’
She asked for more information about Theo’s
