‘I did.’ Kissing Emma, he handed her back to Magda, crouched down to tickle Gwen and Hugh, raising the noise to a startling level, and, laughing, crossed over to the boot bench.
‘Ale?’ Kate asked from the hearth.
‘In a moment. I need the garden.’ Best she thought he was focused solely on emptying his bladder.
Gently rocking Emma, Magda perched beside him as he pulled on his boots.
‘Thou’rt worried, Bird-eye?’ she asked in a quiet voice, not easily overheard.
He met her gaze. ‘Trouble is nigh.’ His whisper became laughter as Emma grabbed at his hair.
‘Da!’
Magda tickled Emma’s chin as she said, ‘Thou hast a shower in thine eye?’
‘I do.’
A nod, and she rose to rejoin the children, Emma squealing her farewell.
Owen’s love for all he held so dear propelled him forward into the day. Booted, he threw on a cloak and stepped out into the muddy aftermath of the first snow and thaw. His boots squelched on the pathway that wound beneath the bare-limbed linden and through the tall rosemary shrubs shimmering with a film of ice. A startled bird darted up and away, another flew to the top of the wall, watching him with one eye. The needle pricks were fading out here. Perhaps whatever had threatened moved on. Not necessarily a good sign. A watcher was unwelcome. He should have thought to have one of his men walking a circuit round the house and shop. One of the bailiffs’ men. He supposed they, too, were his now. At the midden he relieved himself, then turned back, pausing to search for movement, his ears pricked. Nothing. But as he moved down the path leading to the shop, the shower of needle pricks intensified. Crossing with as little noise as possible by stepping on rotten vegetation at the side of the path rather than the bare mud that sucked at his boots he approached the back door opening onto the workshop. Stepping inside, he felt the prickling intensify and rushed through to the shop just as the door closed. Slamming it open he almost knocked Jasper over.
‘Da?’ Jasper had lifted his broom as if to use it as a pike. Now he lowered it with a sheepish grin. ‘You saw him, too?’
‘Who?’
‘A man standing among the graves, watching the shop and the house. Cloaked. Must have sensed me coming out. He’s gone now.’
Owen crossed over and climbed up the short wall into the graveyard, checking with Jasper until his son motioned he was on the spot. Muddy indentation. Poor prints, difficult to follow out. Across the way he hailed a lad pushing a cart toward the river. But the boy had seen nothing. Slogging back across the cemetery, Owen shook his head at Jasper’s questioning frown.
‘I lost him.’ Seeing how his son’s shoulders sagged with defeat, Owen put an arm round him. ‘You did well. I will arrange a watch, not just in the garden but out on the street.’ Noticing the lad had come out without a cloak, he turned him round. ‘Come and break your fast with me.’
Alisoun’s body ached from sleeping all night slumped on a hard bench against the cold wall of Marian’s bedchamber, made worse by her reluctance to stretch while Marian knelt at the bedside, hands folded in prayer. When at last the woman rose, Alisoun escorted her out to the midden. As they’d passed through the kitchen, Lucie and Magda were herding the children into the hall with bowls of bread and cheese and something steaming in a jug. Alisoun shook her head at Lucie’s curious glance – no, she had learned no more. A futile vigil.
‘We will be taking the children up to the nursery after they eat,’ said Lucie. ‘Kate will be grateful for some space.’
Kate made a face as she held the door open for the procession. ‘They are no trouble.’
Lucie kissed Kate’s cheek as she passed and called back to Alisoun and Marian to take their ease in the warm kitchen.
‘Dame Lucie treats the kitchen maid as if she were family,’ Marian noted with puzzlement once out in the garden.
‘It is their way. Kate’s elder sister worked here for a long while and is now wed to the steward at Dame Lucie’s manor – I should say young Hugh’s manor, when he comes of age,’ said Alisoun as they stepped out into the mild but damp winter morning.
‘Manor?’
‘Come along. My teeth will start chattering if we are not quick,’ Alisoun urged, picking up the pace to the end of the garden. She hugged herself and moved about as she waited for Marian. Just as she turned away to start back she caught a movement behind the wall. Holding up her hand to silence Marian, she listened. Nothing now. But it reminded her to be vigilant.
In the kitchen, Magda placed a jug of honeyed water and a bowl of bread and cheese on the edge of the bench Alisoun shared with Marian. ‘Thy fast is over,’ she said, gazing into the young woman’s eyes. Marian promised to eat.
‘Will you go to Muriel Swann today?’ Alisoun asked her teacher.
‘When Magda shepherds the little ones up to their chamber, she hands them into thy care.’ She bade them eat hearty and withdrew to the hall.
‘Dame Magda has a strong presence, a power,’ said Marian.
Long ago Alisoun tried hard to resist that power. She smiled to think of it. Stubborn child.
‘You disagree?’
‘No. I am glad for you. That you have felt it.’ Breaking off a chunk of bread, Alisoun was just reaching for a piece of cheese when the door from the hall opened.
‘The precentor from the minster is here,’ said Lucie. She kept her voice low, but the tone was urgent. ‘He must not see Marian.’ She reached for a basket on the boot bench. Kate helped her place the food in the basket. ‘Go to Jasper’s rooms above the shop.’
Remembering her fleeting impression, Alisoun handed Marian one of Lucie’s cloaks. ‘Cover your hair,’ she told her.
Within moments they were outside, almost colliding with the
