‘Judith distrusts what her husband is about. Mayhap Tucker took in his old friend only to profit from betraying him.’
‘Might he have gone to the minster last night?’
‘Magda will ask Judith.’
He continued with his encounter with Pit, which brought an impatient hiss from Lucie, a shrug from Magda. He mentioned Crispin Poole’s injury.
‘I expected he would have come to you when he was injured, Magda.’
‘He may not wish his new master to know he consults a healer who does not share his faith,’ she said. ‘Magda may see him at Dame Muriel’s.’
‘That is settled?’ Owen asked. ‘Alisoun is willing to stay?’
Lucie told him of her conversation with Alisoun in the garden. He was relieved she took it well.
Pit and his mate Gareth interested Lucie, who found it peculiar that he would be so forthcoming about being John Neville’s man.
‘He may welcome my interference as a way to delay reporting his failure to Sir John. His lord will turn his anger on me, let Pit quietly withdraw amongst his fellows. But from what I know of John Neville, Pit is doomed either way.’
‘You believe Pit recognized the other man?’ Lucie asked.
‘I do. Made him ill at ease. The bailiffs’ men are moving the bodies to the castle this evening, once the nightwatchmen are out on their rounds, extra eyes to notice anyone taking more than an idle interest.’ Owen nodded toward the steps and said, ‘Perhaps one of you might inform our guest of the additional deaths.’
‘Where will the children sleep tonight?’ Lucie wondered aloud.
‘Just for tonight, we might let them enjoy sleeping in the kitchen, with Kate and Alisoun to fuss over them,’ he suggested. ‘A change from that room in which they spent a fortnight.’ He watched Lucie consider, saw her accept the idea. God be thanked. ‘I will not be long,’ he said.
Magda drew an arm round Lucie. ‘While Bird-eye fetches the crow, Magda will take thy guest a bowl of watery broth with a pinch of something to calm her. Once he departs, take her the jug of honey water Magda will prepare with a touch of sleep. If Gwen and Hugh fret about sleeping in the kitchen, thou canst assure them that the stranger sleeps.’
‘She will not drink either preparation.’
‘Dost thou doubt Magda?’
Though he was curious how this exchange would resolve, Owen considered his mission urgent. With a bow to the two healers, he withdrew.
In the kitchen Hugh and Gwen snuggled together as they listened to Alisoun rocking Emma to sleep with lullabies. Booted and cloaked, Owen plucked a lantern from a hook near the door, lit it, and departed, heading toward Stonegate.
Rising from prayers, Jehannes listened to Owen’s request with a deepening frown creasing his pleasant features. ‘Are you certain you wish me to do this, my friend? I have not the right to reveal what she tells me in confession. Will it be a wedge between us?’
Michaelo, garbed in his penitential robes, hovered in the background, clearly curious. Owen assured both of them he was well aware what this meant, yet he could think of no one else he would so trust.
‘I ask you to consider the forces that might bear down on you should someone discover that she confessed to you,’ said Owen. ‘Nevilles in particular, though so far they have not claimed the fallen man.’
Jehannes smiled. ‘I pride myself in my stubbornness. And who in your household would betray us?’
‘You might be seen arriving or departing my home.’
‘Then we must think of a clever explanation.’
Michaelo handed the archdeacon his cloak, followed him to the bench by the door to assist him with his boots. Jehannes waved him away.
‘I pray you are not hoping to accompany me to take notes,’ he teased.
‘A tempting thought,’ Michaelo said, ‘but I am better occupied assisting the poor in the minster yard. For my sins.’ With a bow, he departed.
‘The cutting Michaelo returns,’ Jehannes remarked when he stood, booted and cloaked. ‘He had come to me broken, humbled. I worried. But now … I am unsure whether or not to rejoice.’
Owen shared a companionable laugh with him as they walked out into a misty night.
‘By the way,’ said Jehannes, ‘Michaelo spoke with the clerk Edwin. He distrusted Ronan, preferred to work directly with Neville. Engaged as little as possible with Ronan when Neville was away. He mentioned Ronan being called Neville’s summoner, doubted Neville would overstep his position when a prebend.’
‘Loyal to Neville.’
‘A most careful man, I think. As to who might want him dead, he said most in the Bedern resented Ronan, but he knew of no one who would go to the extent of killing him.’
Disliked but not so much as to inspire violence. Always the safe answers.
Staring out of the garden windows into the swirling mist, Lucie imagined herself the pale, ethereal Sandrine, kneeling before Dom Jehannes and, at long last, making her confession. Imagining how it would feel to be assured this priest would keep her secrets, would not betray her sex, or her identity, would neither judge nor push away in horror. She could not think of a better confessor for a woman who had feared revealing anything about herself for so long. Tears stung her eyes, wet her cheeks.
Owen took her hand. ‘What is it?’
‘I am imagining her suffering. How much she has borne with no one in whom she might confide. You will not send her to the castle?’
‘No matter her crime, I would not subject her to that. I cannot know what a woman suffers regarding men. I will do as you and Magda advise.’
She kissed his hand.
He nodded toward the steps. ‘Jehannes.’
Wiping her eyes, Lucie watched Jehannes pause at the foot of the steps, cross himself, and set aside his prayer book before continuing toward them.
