So Crispin had been called away from Muriel. Interesting. A sign that the Nevilles were about to appear?
As they turned into Low Petergate, Owen noticed movement to his right. Gone. The twins?
A servant opened the Hempes’ door on the first knock, beaming a welcome to all three. From the guest room Owen could hear Ambrose playing the crwth. It had been a long time since he had heard those sweet sounds. He need not request that Ambrose play.
Hempe took Lotta aside, quietly explaining Owen’s mission.
She looked up at Owen. ‘You mean to lure someone with his music?’ Her expression was accusing.
‘I do. I will join Stephen in watching.’
‘Do you need me?’ asked Hempe.
‘I need you in here,’ said Owen. ‘In case Stephen and I are both fooled.’
‘And me?’ Jasper asked, setting down the fiddle case and rubbing his hands together. As usual, he had forgotten his gloves.
‘Take the instruments to him and stay a while. You might ask him to play one of the other instruments. If he traveled with only the crwth, Neville’s men might be listening for it. It is not them I hope to attract.’
Pressing Jasper’s shoulder, Owen thanked him, thanked all of them, shuttered his lantern, and departed.
Out on Petergate, he stood at the mouth of the alleyway beside Hempe’s house, watching for movement on the street. After a time, he heard someone behind him and turned.
‘Are ye lost?’ Stephen asked, his voice, though quiet, threatening. Owen knew he would have his hand on his dagger.
‘Glad it is you who has tonight’s watch, Stephen,’ said Owen, keeping his voice low.
‘Captain! Hempe asked me to take the first night, thinking if trouble is coming it might well be tonight.’
‘Anyone yet?’
‘Not to see, but I feel eyes. Knew you weren’t that one.’
‘But no movement.’
‘I’ve not seen any. A dog, a few cats. But someone’s watching.’
‘Can you point to where you sense it?’
‘Come round back.’
‘Before we do that – we must not speak back there – once you have shown me, go to Crispin Poole’s house, walk round it, then watch it for a while. Report to me anything you notice.’
‘What am I looking for?’
‘A reason why he is not with the widow Swann this evening. He may not be at home, but his mother will be. So there should be lights – not for her, she’s blind, but for the servants.’
‘How long?’
‘I trust you to know when you are satisfied.’
A grunt, and then they moved through the alleyway. Owen kept his ears pricked for sounds beyond their cautious footsteps. It was warm enough that the snow continued to melt after dark. Dripping eaves obscured his ability to hear. He would move away from the house for his watch.
Once past the main building, Stephen used the light spilling out from Ambrose’s shuttered window to point to his left, then motion away from the house. Owen patted his shoulder and withdrew into the shadow of the alleyway. He would stay here for a while after Stephen left. Then he would wind his way back into the shadows behind the garden shed. His watch began.
Owen had moved from the alleyway to a shed a few steps away from the shuttered window of Ambrose’s room. No music. He pricked his ears as he heard voices. Jasper and Ambrose. Now a bow scraped over a fiddle. Again. Tuning. Owen settled back to wait. A tune began. A flat string. A halt for more tuning.
Owen sensed a presence.
‘Step forward and show yourself,’ he growled.
A drunken lad teetered through the light, leaving a trail of piss in his wake, just missing Owen’s boots. Using the house for support he inched his way along the back to the alley, stumbled down it, one hand on the wall. Stepping out into the street he fell flat on his face, just as Harry Green appeared, shining his lantern to see what it was.
‘Crab, is it you again?’ The watchman glanced up at Owen. ‘Lad’s been at the ale all week. Lass broke his spirit, he says, robbed him of his soul.’
‘As long as you know him …’ said Owen.
‘I do. Too well. Come on, you young fool.’ Harry crouched and tugged the lad’s arm, then lifted him up as if he were no heavier than a pup. ‘I will take you home.’
Owen watched them move off in the direction of Christchurch. Satisfied that no one lurked behind them, he slipped down to the rear garden and took up position to wait for Stephen. A long wait. All the while Owen sensed a presence, yet no matter how stealthily he crept about he found no one. He began to doubt his own senses.
Ambrose had just begun a melancholy ballad when Stephen appeared, peering about, sniffing. And then he was beside Owen.
‘Anything?’ Owen asked.
‘Found Crispin in his kitchen talking to that pair of armed men he wants us to believe are his menservants. Shouting at them, more like. Angry. Slapped one who’d grinned. Barked orders at him. “See to it.” That one came slinking out the door with a curse. When I saw that Crispin and the other were still sitting about drinking ale, I chose to follow the one on the errand. Long walk. Stables across the Ouse. Arranged for three horses in the morning. I would love the chance to ride out on the morrow.’
‘Not without sleep. The bailiffs can provide a few men. Good choice, following that one.’
‘And you?’
‘Nothing except a heartsick lad who had too much ale, pissing himself. Harry Green escorted him home.’
‘I will keep an eye out.’
Knocking on the Hempe door, Owen stepped in to report what Stephen learned. ‘Crispin might be riding out to meet Neville. You know to deny knowing anything about the white-haired minstrel, nor a youth companion.’
‘White-haired? Seen no such man.’ Hempe’s grin twisted with a bit of worry. ‘You will have someone here?’
‘Two. Ned and Alfred. But that means your men must follow Crispin.’
‘I will see to it. And is he here?
