‘May God forgive them their sins,’ Lady Maud whispered, crossing herself.
‘For Pit’s murder, not Gareth’s,’ said Owen.
‘They are my men,’ said Sir John, his eyes cold but his color deepening.
‘They committed a crime in the city of York. Two witnesses came forward. The bailiff did his duty. You can take it up with the sheriff.’
‘You can be sure I will.’
A courtier interrupted them, and Sir John stepped away with a glare.
Lady Maud rested a hand on Owen’s arm. ‘Be of good cheer, Captain. My lord knows it would not serve his interests to cross either the prince or the Percys. Your family and your friend are safe.’ Her smile was warm, her eyes kind and knowing. ‘And now the prince and the city depend on you,’ she said more loudly as Sir John returned his attention. ‘You carry much on your shoulders, Captain Archer. May God watch over you.’
She reminded him of Princess Joan, a gracious facade, kind heart, and iron will.
‘We will talk again anon,’ said Sir John with a cold smile.
Owen bowed, taking his leave of them. He forced himself to stroll across the hall and out the door, aware of Sir John’s eyes upon him all the way to the steps. As soon as he reached the yard he picked up his pace. Despite Lady Maud’s assurances he wanted to see for himself that all was well in his home.
Lucie greeted Owen and with a hug and a finger to her lips. But she had no need. He had heard the singing from out in the garden. Lullay, lullow, lully, lullay, / Bewy, bewy, lully, lully, / Bewy, lully, lullow, lully, / …
‘Dame Marian is here?’ he whispered.
‘She came by barge from St Clement’s with Lady Neville. The novice-mistress accompanies her. They will be summoned when it is time to return. She wished to thank us, and tell us how it stands with her. But Gwen drew her away to fulfill her promise to teach her a carol.’
As Lucie spoke, the refrain was repeated slowly by Gwen and Hugh, with Dame Marian assisting.
‘They learn quickly,’ said Owen.
Lucie laughed. ‘It is the third time round. Listen!’
Lullay, baw, baw, my barne, / Slepe softly now. / Lully my child, / Sleep softly now.
‘I see what Michaelo meant about her voice,’ said Owen as Dame Marian repeated the lines with the children. ‘Surely that is the voice of an angel. Has there been any trouble?’
‘None. Sir John and His Grace were informed that Dame Marian is paying us a visit with Lady Maud’s blessing. Now come.’ Lucie took his hand and led him into the hall, where Kate, Alisoun, and the children sat round with their backs to the fire, listening to Marian sing a verse of the carol. Then she gestured to the children to sing the refrain.
Lullay, lullow, lully, lullay, / Bewy, bewy, lully, lully, / Bewy, lully, lullow, lully, / …
Garbed in a simple gown, wimpled and veiled, Marian sat beside an older sister. Her eyes alight, her pale face seemingly bathed in a beatific glow, Owen shed any last doubt of her innocence. No dark secrets shadowed her heart.
Owen and Lucie settled on a bench a little away from the others, listening, watching. Dame Marian’s hands danced in the air as she sang a verse, marking a rhythm, the highs and lows, the gestures as graceful as her voice. The children repeated the refrain. Gwen made it through without a stumble. Hugh managed almost as well. Emma sang her own tumbling melody. Dame Marian sang another verse. A maiden mother, meek and mild, / in a cradle rocked a boy-child / That softly slept; she sat and sang … This time she sang the refrain with the children. At the end, she noticed Lucie and Owen.
‘We must pause here,’ Marian said to the children.
‘Will you teach us another before you leave?’ Gwen cried.
‘If I have the time, of course, my love.’ Kissing Gwen on the forehead, then Hugh and Emma, Marian joined Lucie and Owen. ‘I have a message for you, Captain. Lady Maud says to beware her husband, he poisoned a maidservant at Cawood for helping Master Ambrose, and he has his eyes on you. He will not rest until he knows what brought the musician to England.’
Lucie touched Owen’s arm. Of course she felt the threat.
Thanking Marian for the warning, Owen said, ‘I have something for you.’ He drew the prayer book from his scrip and handed it to her.
‘My choir of crows!’ Tears welled in Marian’s eyes as she ruffled the pages, then pressed it to her heart. ‘How might I ever repay you for all you have done?’
‘Pray for us, Dame Marian,’ he said.
‘I will. Always.’
‘Will you return to Wherwell?’ Lucie asked.
‘I will accompany Lady Maud south. I must at least see Dame Eloise. But her health no longer permits her to carry out her duties, and Bishop Wykeham’s protégé has taken her place. I—’ Marian blushed and looked away.
Having long experience of Bishop Wykeham, Owen could well imagine the arrogance of anyone considered his protégé. ‘You might not stay?’
‘I am not certain. Lady Maud says Archbishop Neville will accept me back into the order to appease my uncle, but Mother Isabel believes Bishop Wykeham should be consulted as he heard my vows at Wherwell.’
‘Wykeham might prefer you beholden to Neville,’ said Owen, ‘so that his protégé is not threatened by your return.’
‘All that is out of my hands,’ said Dame Marian. ‘I am theirs to command.’
‘And if you are accepted back into the order but find the situation at Wherwell difficult?’ Lucie asked.
‘Mother Isabel is of a mind to have a trained cantrice at St Clement’s. Lady Maud has told her she could find no one better trained for such a position than I have been. Dame Veronica, the precentrice, welcomes the possibility of lightening her duties.’ A little smile.
‘How wonderful for us,’ breathed Lucie.
EIGHTEEN
A Prayer for Harmony
Brother Henry welcomed Owen into the
