Once outside, Owen was relieved to see that Hempe appeared to have come alone. He considered whether it was better to have the lad bring him over, or to cross himself. He chose the latter, shouting for the lad, gesturing to him to come alone. Hempe made clear his frustration with a shouted curse, carried away by the rushing river. All but the tone, which was clear.
‘I owe you an extra penny for this,’ Owen told the lad as he stepped into the vessel. ‘You have my gratitude for standing up to the bailiff.’
The gappy grin again. ‘Tuppence extra.’
‘Let us see just how many trips we will be making,’ said Owen.
‘I trust you, Captain.’
Owen hoped Hempe did as well. But when he heard what had sent his friend here, he was not at all sure how far the bailiff could go in protecting Ambrose.
‘Whoever left the cloak stole a chest of coins and other valuable items the vicar had collected for the archbishop, calling in debts,’ said Hempe.
Debts, or the takings of a summoner? ‘Who told you this? Master Adam’s clerk?’
‘Ronan’s clerk. Beck. He was determined I should know. To his mind you were not sufficiently concerned.’
‘He mentioned nothing of valuables when I was there.’
‘And the thief and murderer, so he calls him, had switched cloaks there.’
Owen detected a false tale spun from his interest in the cloak. A reminder to say nothing in the hearing of onlookers. Time to confide in Hempe. He needed his help. ‘If you mean the man with whom Ronan exchanged cloaks in the minster last night, no. He came straight here.’
‘In the night? The guards let him out Bootham Bar?’
‘The other way, the river way.’
‘So he’s a river rat? And you have caught the culprit?’
‘I will tell you all about him later. For now, I need you to trust me.’
‘Words to chill the heart. What are you about, Owen?’
Glancing round to make sure the lad was too far away and close to the flood to overhear them, and no one else was about, Owen told Hempe of Ambrose’s mission.
‘God’s blood, Owen. Does he – are they Neville’s men we have behind the deanery?’
‘The dead reveal little. But if someone was after the treasure Ronan had tucked in that chest in his lodgings, his death might have nothing to do with Ambrose.’
Hempe grunted. ‘You might be right. But that cursed servant will have told all in the Bedern that Ambrose Coates is a thief and a murderer.’
‘I know. I am curious why Beck told me nothing of this.’
‘Had he just heard from you of Ronan’s death?’
‘No. The news had spread through the Bedern before we arrived. You say the valuables in Ronan’s possession were payments for debts? Alexander Neville was in the business of loaning money?’
‘Odd, isn’t it? When he was a prebend, and never in the city himself. He spent most of his time at the papal court, at least that is what I recall.’
‘He did.’ Owen thought this tale very odd indeed. ‘Was it Neville’s practice, or had his vicar found a cunning scheme for profit?’
‘I doubt you will find anyone willing to answer that.’ Facing the river, Hempe nodded in that direction. ‘Dame Magda is beckoning us to cross over.’
‘Before we join her, I need to know how you will fall on this, George.’
‘With the minster chapter, the mayor, council, and all the citizens desperate to keep the peace for the spectacle of Neville’s enthronement, I must consider …’ Hempe studied his muddy boots, muttering an oath. ‘I had hoped we might be snowbound, delaying all the travelers, but with this melt …’ He met Owen’s gaze with a frustrated grimace. ‘Am I bound to keep secret Ambrose’s mission?’
‘You know the answer to that, George. His Grace has set me to watch the powerful families here in the North. Were they to know what Ambrose knows …’
‘We would have chaos as they all tried to catch the man so they might use him to gain influence with the prince.’ Hempe cursed.
Feeling the weight of his new responsibilities, Owen realized what he must do. ‘That is half of it. I am the prince’s spy, but I am also captain of York with a duty to protect the city. To that end I must shield Ambrose from those who would condemn him so they might say all is well. Despite Magda’s testimony that he was here. The murderer – or murderers – would still be free to kill again.’
‘You order me to protect him?’
‘I would prefer you agreed that we must protect him against those who would use him for their own ends. We might send him to safety on a barge, or look the other way while he crosses to the south bank, but with an escort, for the prince needs him. But who would escort him? And where?’
Hempe was shaking his head. ‘I will not agree to send him away, not without knowing for certain he is innocent. You must keep him here in the city. Lock him away somewhere so that he is out of reach, but accessible to us should we discover he is guilty. If that is what you meant, I agree.’
Owen put his hand on his shoulder. ‘Thank you.’ He called to the lad to ferry them over to Magda.
Averting his eyes from the upside-down dragon – ‘by the rood, I’d swear it’s about to swoop down and toss me in the flood’ – George Hempe tucked himself through Magda’s doorway, greeting her with his thanks for the honor. Owen could not help but wonder whether the profuse thanks were for the benefit of the dragon more so than for Magda. But George was welcomed with warmth. Magda knew his worth.
He seemed confused by the slight, dark-haired man who softly greeted him. ‘I was expecting Ambrose Coates.’
‘I am he.’
‘Your long white hair …’
‘Who was it who saw me?’ Ambrose asked.
‘Brother Michaelo and the chancellor, Master Thomas,’ said Owen.
‘And the hair?’ asked Hempe.
‘Dame Magda
