‘I would not go out there if I were you,’ said Jasper. ‘They will fall upon you with their questions.’
Which would do nothing to help Lucie and Jasper manage the crowd. ‘What do you hear of our guest?’
‘Deep in a fever sleep. Not pestilence.’ A shrug. ‘I’ve yet to meet her.’
‘Do not let Alisoun know you are so eager,’ Owen teased.
Jasper rolled his eyes.
Owen thanked his son and left. Out in the garden he paused. This morning’s serene blanket of snow now dripped and puddled, revealing leafless stalks and muddy paths. As he stood there the kitchen door opened.
‘Da! I’m baking!’ Gwen’s dark curls were dusted with flour.
‘That you are, my beauty,’ said Owen, picking her up and twirling her around. She might be eight years old, but she was still his baby and his darling, and he felt his heart might burst with the joy of seeing her well. She giggled and screeched until he reminded her of her brother and sister in the nursery, and their guest. As he lowered her to the threshold he put a finger to her lips, and was rewarded with a peck on his cheek and a throaty giggle.
Kate took his cloak and hung it near the fire. ‘Have you taken time for dinner, Captain? Most everyone’s already eaten, but there is plenty.’
‘I am hungry.’ Despite the bread and cheese with Jehannes. ‘Would you join me? I would have a word with you about the twins.’ He glanced at Gwen, considering how she might react to what he had to say, but she had returned to work, standing on a stool to reach the bowl of dough she appeared to be kneading to death, and humming as she did so.
Over a savory pie washed down with Tom Merchet’s ale, Owen explained what he needed of Kate’s siblings, Rose and Rob.
‘Of course they will agree,’ Kate said. ‘They itch to work for you again.’
‘Will your mother permit it?’
‘She will be glad to have them out of the house. Too wild to be of much use to her, except when she needs strong arms and backs.’
‘Should I speak with your mother, or would a message from you suffice?’
‘You have work to do. I will pass the word, and they will find you, never worry.’
As Owen rose to leave, Kate mentioned that Magda had arranged for Alisoun to continue to bide with them to look after the children and their guest.
‘She is not to attend Muriel Swann’s lying in?’ Owen knew Alisoun to be proud of the widow’s confidence in her skills.
‘Dame Muriel will not be neglected. Dame Magda will be there in Alisoun’s stead.’
That was not the issue. Alisoun could make the family’s life a penance if she resented the arrangement. Owen prayed she had chosen to stay of her own free will.
Gwen ran over to him as he sat to pull on his boots. ‘The angel sings like the sisters at St Clement’s,’ she said. ‘Is she a nun?’
‘She is awake?’
‘Mistress Alisoun said not to peek, but I heard her singing.’
‘What do you mean she sings like the sisters?’ Owen asked. Lucie had been educated at St Clement’s, and occasionally provided physics their infirmarian needed. She had on occasion taken Gwen with her to see the gardens.
‘Deus in something intende,’ she chanted. ‘Then Domine …’ She gave a solemn bow.
‘Well done, Gwen. Sing that for your mother. She might know what it is,’ he said. Convent-trained indeed.
‘Shall I spy on her?’
‘No, my love. She is a guest in our home and deserves our respect.’
Gwen rose on her toes and spun around. ‘I could dance for her and she might talk to me to keep me with her.’
Fighting a smile, Owen pretended to frown as he considered. ‘You might ask Alisoun whether in her opinion such a dance would be soothing for our guest when she wakes.’ He believed he knew what Alisoun would say to that. He kissed her. ‘And now I must be away.’ He thanked Kate for the food, and for giving Gwen a task.
Kate glanced up from her work. ‘She lifts my— Brother Michaelo! I did not see you step in.’
The monk stood in the doorway with a thoughtful expression. ‘I believe she was singing the beginning of the hours, Captain.’ He chanted the entire phrase. ‘I know how difficult it is to complete one’s daily prayers when not in community.’
‘And while deep in a fever sleep,’ said Owen, plucking his cloak from the hook.
Michaelo touched his arm. ‘Fever? Not—’
‘No. Not pestilence.’
Michaelo crossed himself.
In the garden, Owen turned toward the gate that led into the York Tavern yard. ‘Before Stonegate, Tucker’s home. I will explain why as we walk.’
‘I was correct about the woman,’ Michaelo said softly.
‘It would appear so.’
‘I become indispensable.’
‘Insufferable.’
Michaelo sniffed.
After Gwen danced down the steps, Alisoun stood in the doorway of the nursery listening to the stranger’s singing. The child was right, this was music one heard in church, not out on the streets or in taverns. A voice so strong, so clear … Peering back into the nursery to make sure both Hugh and Emma slept, she filled a cup from a jug of water and knocked on the shut door.
‘Mistress, are you awake? Would you care for some water?’
The singing paused. A whispered exclamation Alisoun could not make out. Then silence.
Alisoun knocked once more. ‘Do not be afraid. You are in a safe place.’
‘There are bars on the window.’
‘Protection for a beloved elder who grew confused before her death.’
Movement, then a rustling at the door. ‘I am locked in?’
Alisoun moved the wood stop installed for Dame Philippa. ‘Try again.’ She stepped aside as the door swung outward.
‘Oh.’ Pale eyes peered out from a damp tumble of curls fairer than Jasper’s. The only color on the woman’s ivory skin was two spots of red on her cheeks. Her borrowed smock hung limp with sweat over a skinny frame, stopping above knobby ankles.
