‘Do you always move about with armed companions?’ asked Jehannes. ‘Is that what we should come to expect from the archbishop’s household?’
Leufrid opened his mouth to respond.
Owen preempted him. ‘Might I remind you, Dom Leufrid, that Prince Edward is keen to hear how the Nevilles treat the city. Hostile behavior toward members of the clergy will concern him. Nor will such tactics win His Grace support here.’
‘Indeed,’ said Jehannes, settling beside Lucie.
Leufrid repeated his explanation about the recent murders, his voice querulous.
During the ensuing discussion Lucie slipped away to the kitchen to silence Marian before another outburst of song.
Goodwife Anna now stood at the table Marian had been washing, kneading dough and shaking her head at the young woman now sitting beside Beck and holding his hand as she softly sang a hymn to the Virgin Mary.
‘You would be wise to remember not to sing when in disguise,’ Lucie said. ‘And that you are a kitchen maid, not a healer.’
‘He was moaning,’ said Marian. ‘What would you have me do?’
‘Send goodwife Anna out to fetch me.’
Marian rose. Picking up the pail and rag she had been using she turned toward the table.
Anna shooed her off. ‘I am using it now. You are welcome to scrub the floor.’
‘Will they soon be gone?’ Marian asked.
‘I cannot tell,’ said Lucie. ‘My husband prevented the archbishop’s secretary from coming into the kitchen, but if he insists we dare not refuse him. It would only convince him we have something to hide. Where is the one who arrived with me?’ She preferred not to speak Ambrose’s name aloud.
‘Still without, knocking snow off the bushes and the roof over the midden,’ said the cook. ‘He is a hard worker. As is this young woman.’
With a glum sigh, Marian moved to the far corner of the room and dropped to her knees.
She had just begun to scrub when the kitchen door opened, and Jehannes led Leufrid and the guard with twisted mouth to Beck’s bedside. Lucie wondered whether the large cleric would attempt to kneel beside the pallet, which sat on the stone floor. Even the stool was low and possibly too fragile to hold his weight. Goodwife Anna rushed to fetch a sturdy bench by the door. But Leufrid ignored her, choosing merely to stand over the injured man.
Beck turned his head toward him and reached out a hand. ‘I cannot see. Who are you?’
‘Best not touch him, Dom Leufrid,’ said the guard.
Lucie noted how Beck drew into himself at the sound of the man’s odd speech.
It was Jehannes who perched on the bench and took Beck’s hand. ‘This is Dom Leufrid, the archbishop’s secretary,’ he said in his most soothing voice. ‘He wishes to say a prayer over you.’
‘I pray that my sight might be restored,’ Beck whimpered. ‘Even a warm kitchen is a fearful place in this darkness.’
Making the sign of the cross over Beck, Leufrid whispered a prayer of no particular pertinence, then stepped away, gazing for a moment at Marian, who dutifully scrubbed the flagstones.
‘So many servants,’ he said, shaking his head as he turned and made his way in a slow shuffle back out to the hall, the guard following.
Jehannes nodded to Lucie as he followed, gesturing that he would see the intruders out.
Taking Jehannes’s place on the bench, Lucie identified herself to Beck and assured him that the secretary and his armed escort were back in the hall where they could not hear. ‘Did you recognize the voice of the guard?’
‘It was him and another I came upon in Master Ronan’s lodging. The ones who blinded me.’
‘I will tell my husband. He will know what to do.’
‘You will not send me away?’
Lucie squeezed his hand and assured him that he would be cared for.
Moments after Leufrid and his guards departed, Hempe arrived, curious about armed guards escorting the archbishop’s secretary from Jehannes’s home. He laughed when he realized his mistake, a brief moment of jollity dampened by Owen’s account of his meeting with Sir John Neville.
‘Two days,’ Hempe growled. ‘Who does he think he is, arriving in the city and ordering us about?’ He slumped down in a chair, joining Jehannes, Owen, Lucie, Michaelo, and Ambrose, a dour group.
‘We’ve no time to waste on complaints.’ Owen removed his hat and raked a hand through his hair. ‘We can only hope that they believed Ambrose and Marian to be household servants, but we cannot depend on that. Leufrid and the guards may have decided to withdraw and consider how to proceed. We need to move her to St Clement’s tonight.’
‘What of Ambrose?’ asked Jehannes.
‘They may not have seen him,’ said Owen. ‘Were you able to speak with Tucker’s wife?’
‘I was. Dame Judith says Percy’s men did pay her to care for the young woman. She seemed not as worried about Tucker as she was about losing the money. I permitted her to keep it, as Tucker will be bringing nothing home for a while. The fiddler complained loudly all the way to the castle, but being closed in a damp room silenced him. After a night in there I believe he will talk.’
‘Pray God he does,’ said Owen. ‘And that he knows something of use. We have another concern.’ He told them how Carl, the leader of the company with whom Marian had traveled, had been watching Ambrose out near the midden, but ran off when he noticed Owen observing him with interest. Hempe would tell his men to watch out for Carl, follow him, find out whether the company was in the city to perform, or the man had followed alone. And then they fell to planning how they would escort Marian to the priory outside the city walls.
A knock on the door interrupted their tense debate.
Lucie touched Owen arm as he rose to answer, his hand on the dagger beneath his jacket. ‘Should I withdraw to Jehannes’s parlor with Ambrose and Marian?’
Jehannes rose to help but Owen motioned him down. ‘Only Ambrose and Marian in the parlor. Then
