‘Did you discover its appeal?’ Owen tasted the brandywine. He could not tell what Magda had added, but after a few more sips he felt warm and far more alert.
‘I found it foul. I can describe for you the bedchambers of the most powerful members of the French court, as well as their enemies. I have been feted, showered with luxuries, spit at, beaten, wooed back. It is more the life of a dog than a human with a soul.’
A grunt from where Magda bent over her worktable.
‘And all the while I listened. A musician with no ambition to be more, no taste for the tournament lists – they considered me too unimportant and powerless to send me away while they drank wine and concocted their plots against all in their way. Especially “tiresome Aquitaine” – that is what they call Edward of Woodstock, and “Prince of Darkness”. I know much that His Grace might use against them – desires, fears, appetites, weaknesses.’
A treasure. ‘Then why come north to York?’ Owen asked. ‘You did not think Prince Edward would attend Neville’s enthronement?’
‘No. My plan was to retrieve the instruments I entrusted to Dame Magda, which I now understand to be in the workshop of your apothecary, so that I might ingratiate myself with someone in His Grace’s circle and so find a sponsor to make my introduction. I have summarily failed in that so far. However, at Cawood Palace—’
‘The archbishop’s palace?’
‘Yes. I … joined a company of players invited to provide entertainment for a gathering of Nevilles. Hoping to hear something that might be of help. That was where – have you any news of the lad with whom I was traveling?’
‘The pale beauty? With the beautiful voice, according to Brother Michaelo. She sleeps in our solar at present.’
‘Ah. So you know.’
‘I know little else.’
‘God be thanked she is safe,’ Ambrose breathed.
Owen had forgotten how his entire face registered emotion, a gift for a performer, but a spy?
‘How did you find her?’ Ambrose asked. ‘Dame Magda spoke of trouble. Is she safe?’
‘She is safe for now. I would like a more detailed explanation of why you are here. And why you were at Cawood.’
‘Will you not tell me what happened after I left the minster?’
‘Last night you had long white hair.’
‘You spoke to Ronan.’
He did not know? ‘No. You were seen. We will speak of that. First I will hear your story.’
Ambrose glanced at Magda, who had busied herself with mortar and pestle. He returned his attention to Owen. ‘You are more officious than I remember.’
‘I was a long while in Thoresby’s service.’
Ambrose drank down whatever Magda had put in his cup. A truth serum? Perhaps. For now he began to talk. ‘To save which prince, you asked, England or France. And well you might. I arrived in Dover without a letter of safe passage. Who would have written such a thing for me? I prayed that God might show me the way – a repentant sinner, come to make amends, reparations. I heard in the taverns that Thoresby was dead, and you now in the prince’s service. Even in the South they speak of you.’
‘More likely they speak of Alexander Neville.’
‘The prince’s interest in York is the subject of much conjecture.’
‘I see. Continue.’
‘When I heard you now served Prince Edward I took it as the sign I had looked for and knew I was right to head north. I need you to speak in my favor, Owen, to assure His Grace that I am neither a spy nor an assassin. I want only to save his life.’
Not what Owen had expected. ‘Why should you care so much as to risk everything?’
‘Perhaps it is my penance for these wasted years. I might have— A conversation for another time.’
‘The French plot to murder him? Or do you know of a cure for his lingering illness?’
‘Both, in a fashion. I would warn him against his French physician, for his purpose is to sustain the illness that torments His Grace, that weakens him, and will in time kill him.’
‘What is this?’ Magda whispered, looking up from her work.
‘The physicians who presented themselves to him in Bordeaux, including the one who returned in his household, they have betrayed him. Pierre de Manhi of Bordeaux brought four of them together in an effort to rid the realm of Aquitaine of the prince in a most humiliating manner. A pity, folk would say, this once feared warlord diminished by a flux that will not stop, a weakness that incapacitates him. When Edward was carried to Limoges on a litter they were amused. An image most gratifying.’
‘Snakes,’ Magda hissed.
‘How did they do this?’ asked Owen.
‘Experiments with poisons – small amounts, imperceptible in otherwise ordinary physicks, taken over a long while. They were curious to learn whether the poisons would kill him or merely weaken him, whether they would prevent other physicks from working. The deadliest of them, mercury, is the particular curiosity of the viper who now resides in the prince’s household, Monsieur Ricard.’
Magda left her worktable to join them by the fire.
She had spoken at length with Princess Joan about her husband’s illness. ‘Would the symptoms the princess described support these claims?’ Owen asked.
‘Quicksilver is an inconstant healer,’ said Magda. ‘It is possible Minstrel is right.’ She held Owen’s eye, looking deep. ‘Trust him, Bird-eye. He has no cause to lie to thee. Nor would he come such a way to speak nonsense.’
‘If this is true …’ But what to do with Ambrose for now. With the children convalescing, and one stranger already installed in his home? ‘Tell me about the young woman.’
Ambrose looked at him askance. ‘Will you not say whether or not I might count on your help?’
‘I need to think what I can do. But to the point, I need to know what danger sleeps near my children.’
‘Of course. I had not considered