‘If he is, he outwitted me.’
‘Give it up?’
‘There’s the matter of Tucker’s attacker,’ Owen said.
‘Martin Wirthir is not the only one who might have followed Ambrose across the water. We will find him.’
In the kitchen, the children slept on pallets by the fire into which Magda Digby sat staring as she sipped ale. He had not expected her to be here. She nodded to Owen, but her eyes were far away. Kate handed Owen and Jasper cups of hot spiced wine. Owen paused by the children, grateful to see their peaceful faces. Hugh still wheezed slightly, but he seemed comfortable. Tonight, Owen would sleep with Lucie in his arms.
In the hall, Lucie sat near the fire with Alisoun, who was spinning, a skill she had once avoided with disdain, but lately taken up, something to do with her hands as she watched her patients. Both glanced up when they approached.
‘Did Ambrose play for you?’ Lucie asked Jasper as he went to stand near Alisoun, watching her work.
‘He did. And he was as good as ever. But the hair. That color.’ Jasper wrinkled his nose.
‘I should like to hear him play,’ said Alisoun, looking up at Jasper with a shy smile.
‘Once it’s safe for him, I hope he will come play for all of us.’ Jasper smiled down at her. ‘I am glad you are staying with the little ones.’
‘Did you see who you’d thought to see?’ Lucie asked Owen as he settled beside her.
‘Not tonight. I begin to think I am chasing my own shadow.’
That caught Jasper’s interest. ‘Are you watching for Martin Wirthir?’
‘Am I so predictable?’
‘When I heard about Tucker’s attacker, I wondered.’ Jasper drank down his cup, wished them all a good night.
Alisoun rose. ‘I should see to the children, then go up to Dame Marian.’ She followed Jasper into the kitchen.
Owen slipped an arm round Lucie.
‘Will we take Marian to the priory tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘Not yet.’ He repeated the warnings from Magda and Hempe.
‘She will be disappointed. When I took her a fresh lamp she wanted to hear about St Clement’s.’
‘Did she tell you anything more?’
‘Only that it meant something to her that it is a Benedictine priory.’ Lucie rested her head on Owen’s shoulder. ‘Why would she lie about her name once we knew she was not a he?’ she asked sleepily.
‘Because someone is searching for her, I would guess. Someone she fears. Neville’s men? They would not know her as Marian.’ He drank down his wine and kissed the top of Lucie’s head. ‘Tomorrow will be another long day. I need sleep. As do you.’
They were halfway up the steps when Alisoun returned. ‘Magda said she will stay the night, watching over the children. Shall I sit with Marian? Magda encouraged me to talk to her if she is wakeful, share my story, gain her trust.’
Owen looked to Lucie. She touched his arm and whispered, ‘I welcome the rest.’
‘We would be grateful,’ said Owen, thanking her for the generous offer.
Lucie slumped down on the edge of the bed, pressing a hand to her forehead. ‘If Martin Wirthir had been there, and Jasper had seen him—’
Owen had been waiting for that. ‘Martin once saved our son’s life. He would never harm him.’
‘But what of Jasper’s pain? If Martin were the murderer … No. I give our son too little credit. He is a strong young man.’
‘He is.’ Owen sat down beside her, took her hand, kissed her cheek. ‘Danger is everywhere. I want only to protect all whom I love.’
Smoothing his hair from his forehead, she frowned at him, but he saw no anger in her blue-gray eyes. ‘I know. And I would never ask you to change.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And Jasper is so proud tonight.’ She pressed her hand to her heart. ‘So I will say no more about that.’
‘Come to bed, my love.’
TEN
Visitors and Intruders
Uncertain what woke him, Owen rubbed his scarred eye and sat up, belatedly noticing the shower of needle pricks. He rose, alarmed. Not by the sensation, but the portent – trouble was near. Moving to the window overlooking Davygate, he peered out at what he could see in the pale light of a winter dawn. More color in the sky, promising sunlight. A draught chilled him, but gentler than a few days earlier. Not much cooler than yesterday midday. More thawing, which meant the roads, though muddy, would be passable. The Nevilles might arrive at any time.
A sharp reminder of the portent set him in motion. He was dressed by the time Lucie woke to ask what was wrong.
‘Sleep, my love. I woke restless.’ He bent to kiss her forehead.
With a contented sigh she rolled over and snuggled beneath the covers.
Retrieving his leather patch from the shelf near the door, he positioned it over his ruined eye, ran his fingers through his hair, and stepped out onto the landing. Habit sent him to the next room. Empty. As he began to worry his mind caught up. The children had slept in the kitchen. He listened at the last door, heard voices, soft, two of them, Alisoun and Marian. Uncertain whether to interrupt, he decided as all appeared peaceful he would first go below, check the garden, the shop.
A fire already burned in the hall hearth, though the room was deserted. He crossed to the long garden window. A cacophony of drips masked all other sound, but he saw nothing obvious. He would make a slow circuit on his way to the apothecary.
A peal of laughter rang out from the kitchen. Hugh was awake and laughing. Loudly. God be thanked. Pushing open the door, he was greeted by a cheery scene, Gwen and Hugh in a tickling match, his youngest watching in wonder from Magda’s lap. Emma squealed to see Owen, lifting up her arms to be picked up. He was happy to oblige, spinning her round and hugging her close as her giggle turned to hiccups.
‘Didst thou sleep?’ Magda asked, rising to stretch her
