‘Well met, old friend,’ said Owen.
Antony glanced up. His eyes warmed and a smile softened his chiseled features as he rose to embrace Owen. ‘All in the realm are indebted to you, my friend,’ he said. ‘The information Ambrose brings us is inestimable. Though perhaps too late to benefit the prince’s health.’
‘Too late?’
‘Ambrose tells me Dame Magda is uncertain that the effects of such a poisoning with mercury can be reversed after so long a time. I believe she is right.’
Difficult to hear. ‘When would have been soon enough?’
‘When the prince began to weaken. Long before he returned to this country.’
Ambrose had opened his eyes. ‘All my hopes come to naught,’ he whispered.
‘Ah. You waken again.’ Antony resumed his seat beside the pallet. ‘No, my good man, no. His Grace will see that God is not punishing him for his work, but that it was men who cursed him. That will be a comfort to him, his family, and all whom he has served, and who serve him.’
Owen watched as Antony worked his magic, easing Ambrose’s concerns, assuring him that the king and all the realm would thank him for his selfless act in bringing this information from the French court.
In a little while, Brother Henry insisted that Ambrose be permitted to sleep, he was still weak.
‘Bless you, Owen,’ said Ambrose.
‘Be well, my friend.’
Antony pressed Ambrose’s hand. ‘I will return.’
Brother Henry hastened the two away, promising them they could return on the morrow.
As they stepped outside, Antony mentioned that Ambrose had confided in him about his lover. ‘Denis has joined our party. A steadfast love such as his is to be admired and respected.’
Owen smiled. ‘I am glad. He will need your protection if His Grace is indiscreet.’
‘His temper, yes. I had thought of that. France will wish to silence both men.’ Antony cleared his throat. ‘Ambrose asked whether I knew anything of Martin Wirthir.’
‘Do you?’
‘The king’s men hunt him in Wales. He proves elusive.’
Not surprising. ‘Did you tell Ambrose?’
Antony nodded. ‘He grinned, as you just did.’
‘Did I?’
Antony grunted. ‘Sir Thomas wishes to thank you for protecting his ward. Are you in a hurry to be elsewhere?’
‘No. I would like to meet him.’
Owen and Antony were shown into the abbot’s hall. Sir Thomas Percy turned from a window and cleared a scowl from his face to greet Owen with warmth, expressing his eternal gratitude for protecting his ward.
‘Marian has been through a terrible ordeal,’ said Sir Thomas. ‘Though I seem to recall she once dreamt of traveling about with a company of minstrels.’ An impish smile that surprised in the scarred, square-jawed face, and then faded as he condemned the brothers Phillip and Rupert for all they had put her through. ‘I cannot thank you enough for shielding her from those who would use her as a pawn. Lewis Clifford regrets your offending John Neville, but I applaud you. The man thinks far too much of himself.’ He motioned for them to sit with him, calling to a servant to bring wine. ‘And I apologize for the oafish Gabriel. The young man needs humbling. A battlefield, I think.’ He nodded as if to himself.
And so it continued, Sir Thomas managing to carry on a conversation of one, until Owen excused himself. Antony walked out with him.
‘As you can see, the Percys are grateful to you. However, the Nevilles might prove less cordial, though Sir John values all you discovered about the murdered vicar. He knows to keep an even tighter grip on his brother the archbishop.’
‘What I know of Alexander Neville suggests his elder brother has failed to control him in the past.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Am I to be chastened for annoying Sir John?’
‘It is true that the prince wishes you to walk softly round the Nevilles, else you will hear nothing of their movements. But the circumstances warranted your actions. There is time. I have arranged for a dinner after the enthronement, before Sir John and Lady Maud depart. I pray you and Lucie attend.’ Antony paused. ‘Let me correct that. I insist that the two of you attend.’
‘How can we refuse?’ For his part, Owen looked forward to watching Antony handle Sir John Neville. And he welcomed the chance to introduce Lucie to Lady Maud.
Four women gazed down at the wonder of Muriel’s long-prayed-for baby, a sweet, chubby girl with a tuft of fair hair and long, dark lashes.
‘Lucia Swann,’ Muriel murmured, ‘you are the image of your handsome papa. God blessed me with such a remembrance in you.’ She looked up at Lucie, Alisoun, Lotta, and Magda. ‘Is she not the image of my beloved Hoban?’ Her husband, viciously murdered less than two months earlier.
‘She is very like,’ said Alisoun, offering the baby a finger to tug on. ‘You have indeed been blessed.’
‘I confess I find it difficult to see a man’s visage in this delicate child,’ said Lotta with a laugh. ‘Though she be almost as bald as my George.’
‘Dame Magda? What do you say?’ Muriel asked.
‘Magda sees a child who will bring great joy to thee and thy betrothed, and bring new life to thy grieving kin.’ The Riverwoman’s eyes were kind, her hands gentle as she retrieved the infant and coaxed the new mother to lie down and rest. ‘Thou hast endured a long, difficult labor and now, if thy milk is to continue to
