When Owen found Hempe at the castle, the bailiff’s face was creased with worry. ‘I hoped to warn them. Lady Neville is expected at St Clement’s, to stay at the priory until the ceremonies begin, when she will move to the palace. But by the time my messenger arrived at Crispin’s house they were gone, and I thought it dangerous to call attention by chasing after them, make public your reconciliation.’
‘I agree that would not serve. All may be well.’ Owen shared his hope about Lady Maud’s support for Marian.
‘It is in God’s hands.’ Hempe gestured to a man passing by, told him to find a partner and follow Crispin Poole and the cart at a discreet distance, assist them if necessary. The man looked to Owen for his agreement before hurrying off. Hempe grunted. ‘Already they see you as their captain. If they behave so with my fellow bailiff it will chafe. Compton sees the change as a sign the mayor has no confidence in us.’
‘No time to appease him now, but I should invite him to the York Tavern once the city is quiet again.’
‘Might help, might not. When will you talk to Beck?’
‘I already did.’ Owen related the man’s confession. And the chancellor’s.
‘God help us. The weasel is also a thief. And now that part of the treasure is in Neville’s hands.’
‘If Porter and Diggs are honest.’
Hempe grunted. ‘If so, will that satisfy Neville, that is the question.’
‘Might provide evidence that there should be more than what Beck stole.’
‘If the two did not keep the goods.’
A lad came to a sliding halt before them.
‘What news?’ Owen asked.
‘I heard about a company of musicians lodging at the Cross Keys atop Micklegate hill. And the one you set us to watch for, Captain, I might have seen him on Micklegate. Ran as fast as I could to tell you.’
Owen looked to Hempe. ‘Shall we chase?’
‘I am aching for a good fight. Are you armed?’
‘I am. You?’
‘Always.’
As Dame Marian enumerated the responsibilities of the cantrice – she must know the Church calendar and the appropriate liturgy for each day, choose the music from the library over which she presided, adding music where necessary, devising original music, always keeping in mind the abilities of the sisters in residence, share the training with the novice-mistress – Dame Euphemia grew increasingly loud in her assurances that all would be well, Prioress Isabel would be made aware of Dame Marian’s importance, how her presence would benefit the priory. Michaelo was shaking his head over the widow’s blatant worship of noble blood and prestige when the cart came to an abrupt halt.
Crispin had limped forward, calling out in a loud voice, ‘Let us through!’
Dame Euphemia opened the curtain on Michaelo’s side. ‘Monk! What is happening?’
‘I am unsure. Your son is investigating.’
‘Find out.’
Biting back a retort, Michaelo approached Alisoun, who stood quite still, watching the liveried men speaking to Crispin.
‘Who are they?’ he asked.
‘Neville retainers on horses,’ said Alisoun. ‘The fools. One loud noise or child dashing across their paths and the horses will rear up or bolt. In such a crowd …’
‘They lead their horses.’
‘Now. They were still mounted when they ordered us to clear the way. How is a cart to do so with no room to turn?’
Though the buildings on the bridge complied with the restrictions meant to allow passage for carts, vendors encroached on the roadway and folk loitered around them. Crispin had known the cart to be a risk. He had meant to transport his mother by barge, but with the change of plans there had not been sufficient time to arrange that.
‘Help me down, monk,’ Dame Euphemia called.
Alisoun joined Michaelo, speaking softly to the blind woman as they guided her to stand beside her son.
Euphemia lost no time. ‘My son is a citizen of York, an important merchant as well as an advisor to Archbishop Neville. He is escorting me to the priory of St Clement’s. I am old, blind, and ailing.’ She hardly seemed the latter at present. ‘Who are you to demand us to make way for you?’
‘Advisor to the archbishop?’ said one of the men, looking more closely at Crispin, who gave a little bow. ‘Forgive us, sir. We make haste to his brother Sir John Neville to advise him of the arrival of his lady at that very priory.’
Crispin said nothing, just leaned on his cane and waited for them to make way. When they did, he took his time helping his mother back into the cart, with Michaelo’s assistance, Dame Euphemia moving with unhurried dignity.
Their ensuing halting progress across the bridge did nothing to ease Michaelo’s tension, but he now had more respect for mother and son, and the risk they were taking for Marian’s sake. He was grateful to reach the slope down to the riverbank, where the fishmongers sold their wares. They were long gone for the day, but the stench of rotting fish lingered and Michaelo slowed to pull a lavender-scented cloth from his sleeve. It was then he noticed a crook-backed figure slinking past, circling round the back of the cart, and decided to follow him. As the man began to lift a corner of the covering Michaelo put a hand on his shoulder. Whence came the courage? He would later wonder whether Dame Euphemia inspired him.
‘Fitch the Snoop, they call you in the minster yard.’ Michaelo spoke loud and sharp, startling the wizened man. ‘Have you no respect for a blind widow?’
By now Crispin had heard, ordered Drake to halt, and joined him. ‘Who is paying you, Snoop?’
‘Master Crispin, is it? A flock of nobles perching all about the city are surely curious about their rivals’ minions, sir.’
‘You dare to insult both my reverend mother and me, you crook-backed worm?’ Crispin poked at the man’s scrip with his cane, making the contents jingle. ‘I see you already have takings. You’ve no need of more from me. What I can promise is not to tell the mayor
