A Conspiracy of Wolves

5 Between the Wolf and the Dog

An oil lamp placed between them on the window seat illuminated the two friends, Lucie slender and upright, her long braid a plumb line down her straight back, Bess sitting cross-legged in a nest of cushions, her sleeves pushed up to reveal muscular arms, a beribboned white cap insufficient to contain her wiry and abundant red hair, some escaping to curl against her damp neck. The two keeping watch together – a familiar sight. They both turned as he and Jasper stepped into the hall.

‘My prayers are answered.’ Lucie rose to embrace first Owen, then Jasper. ‘You are both home, safe and sound.’

Bess bade them good night, saying she must see to Tom. Now the tavern was shut for the night he must get some sleep, morning would come soon enough with all the chores to do for those biding at the inn and those who would gather early to hear the latest about the night’s tragedy. She made a face at Jasper’s offer to escort her through the yard. ‘And how would you defend me, I wonder, with you about to topple with fatigue? Perhaps it is I who should escort you to your chamber above the shop.’

But the lad was hungry, as was Owen, and Lucie sat with them by the kitchen fire while they ate bowls of stew Kate had warmed for them. Lucie assured them that Bess had told her enough for now, best that they save the rest for the morrow. ‘It is sleep you need now, not stirring up.’

But Owen had a question for Jasper that could not wait, for the lad might forget details by morning. ‘When you came through the yards, did you see anyone?’

Jasper rubbed his eyes. ‘Two drunks coming from the York Tavern, holding each other up.’

‘Who?’

Yawning, Jasper shrugged. ‘I paid them no heed. They were pissing drunk, and it was dark.’

‘You had a lantern. Think, son.’

Jasper shrank into himself. ‘I didn’t look at them. How could I know it might be important?’

‘I did not expect it of you, son, I merely hoped. What of Alisoun? Do you think she might have noticed?’

‘She asked if I’d marked how they smelled. Like drunks!’ Jasper rolled his eyes, but then he seemed to think more of it. ‘To be honest, I tried not to smell them. But Alisoun did. And then she seemed uneasy the moment she entered Fenton’s garden, long before I smelled anything. Now I wonder – did the drunks reek of blood? I did not ask her.’

‘I will.’

Jasper nodded. ‘There is something – but I might just be telling tales.’

‘You can trust me,’ Owen urged.

Jasper raked a hand through his fair hair. ‘Before you send someone round to the barbers, you might talk to Alisoun again. I think she lied to you, Da.’

‘About what?’ Owen asked. ‘The salve?’

‘At least the pouch. It’s hers. I recognize it.’

‘Alisoun’s? How do you know?’

‘I was with her when she found the piece of leather. We competed for the best story about how it came to bear that mark.’ Jasper suddenly looked stricken by his betrayal. ‘Perhaps you asked about the salve, not the pouch?’

‘Is that true?’ Lucie asked Owen. ‘Might she not have noticed it?’

‘I can’t recall,’ Owen admitted. ‘But one of Hempe’s men went round to the barbers today. No one admitted to preparing that particular salve. I will talk to her again. Thank you, son.’

Lucie rose to rub Jasper’s back, massage his shoulders. ‘Is this why you snubbed her tonight?’

A shrug and a nod.

She kissed the scar on his right cheek. ‘Best be off to bed. We’ll have a crowd in the shop in the morning, hoping for gossip.’

‘I’m sorry I paid no heed to the drunks,’ Jasper said as he stumbled to his feet.

‘We don’t know they were of importance,’ said Owen. ‘You were a great help tonight. You were patient, kept your ears pricked. I’m grateful. You deserve some sleep!’

Lucie smiled to see how much that meant to Jasper. He seemed his usual self as he left the hall for his bedchamber over the shop next door.

Owen took Lucie’s hand and led her up to their bedchamber.

‘If what Jasper overheard is true, that Janet Braithwaite is petitioning the mayor for my help, I’m going to need Alfred to guide the bailiffs’ men in my methods. But I’ve sent him and Stephen off into the forest.’

‘About that.’ She told him of Alisoun’s complaint. He winced as he settled on the bed to remove his boots, clearly acknowledging his transgression. ‘Perhaps when you apologize to her you might find a way to show her the pouch,’ she said.

‘I will. Though she will realize what I’m about and be angry all over again.’ Owen set his boots by the door.

That was the way with Alisoun. And yet … Lucie paused as she was about to climb into bed. ‘If she lied, she might be apologetic.’

Owen slipped his hands around her waist and kissed the back of her neck. ‘Alisoun? I would like to see that. But I admit she was a help at Bishopthorpe Palace when Thoresby was dying, and she seems good with Dame Muriel and her mother.’

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ Lucie turned in Owen’s arms. ‘What if Alisoun is lying because she fears the person for whom she prepared it? She might be in danger.’

‘You are assuming much, my love. What if she dropped the pouch on the track, and fears someone will accuse her of murdering Hoban?’

‘Oh, surely they would not think that.’

He’d removed the patch he wore over his scarred, blind eye and she could see a slight twitch. Magda called the twitches and showers of needle pricks on the scarred eye his gift, a knowing. Lucie guessed that he worried Alisoun was somehow implicated.

‘I pray it is easily explained,’ she said softly, sorry to have mentioned it before sleep.

‘Nothing is easy with Alisoun,’ Owen muttered as he climbed into bed.

‘No,’ Lucie agreed, remembering his account of their first meeting, climbing up a ladder to a loft where young Alisoun stood, aiming an arrow at him. He and Magda had been on a mission of mercy. A fisherman had earlier seen Alisoun on the riverbank shouting for help. In the house they had found her family, siblings and parents, dead of the pestilence; Alisoun had retreated to the barn, where she stood ready to defend herself, her horse, her farm. ‘If she dispensed the salve, the person might return to Magda’s house. Perhaps it is just as well you sent Alfred and Stephen there.’

‘Unprepared.’ He grumbled into his pillow.

‘I had been thinking that some of Kate’s siblings might be willing to watch Magda’s house.’ Kate and Tildy’s many brothers and sisters were a treasure trove of hard, honest workers. ‘Rob and Rose? One of them would be there while the other came to me with messages.’ They were twins, fifteen years old. ‘Though now that we fear for trouble …’

Owen had turned onto his back. ‘I cannot think of a better pair, dauntless but level-headed. They would know to hide if someone looked less than friendly, then devise a way for one of them to fetch help.’ He pulled her close. ‘Bless you, my love.’

‘You are so confident in them?’

‘I am.’

Lucie kissed him. ‘And I am glad to have found a way to cheer you before sleep.’

She settled into his arms.

‘I pray God neither the Nevilles nor the Percys are involved in this,’ Owen whispered.

She would prefer that to it being one of their neighbors. But she understood his dread. Powerful families made his work far more difficult, and never satisfying. They seemed above the law. ‘No more talk of this tonight.’ Lucie wound a leg around him. ‘Sleep now. You have much work ahead of you.’

She stroked his hair. Within a few moments his breathing slowed into the rhythm of sleep.

But she lay there staring at the beam overhead for what seemed like hours, worrying about Alisoun and Jasper – if the two men in the tavern yard were the murderers, they might fear one of them could identify them. But what had they done with the dog? And what was Olyf Tirwhit hiding?

Shortly before dawn Owen woke to the sound of baby Emma’s tears and Lena’s sweet voice singing her back from her bad dream. A reminder of why he did all he did, to keep the world safe for his children and his beloved Lucie. He turned over and pulled her into his arms.

She smiled sleepily as she kissed him. ‘Such a sweet voice she has, though nothing like Alisoun’s.’ Lucie rolled over on her back. ‘Poor Alisoun, plucked from the peace of Magda’s rock and set in the path of danger.’

‘If she did lie to me, she was already in danger.’

‘True. Poor Jasper, he was so angry with her. He glared at me when I told him to escort her back to the Swann house.’

‘It was not his choice to walk her home last night?’

‘No. He was such a boor about it that I locked Nicholas’s books away until his temper cooled and he apologized. But he had cause.’

‘Not to glare at you.’ He saw the worry in Lucie’s eyes. ‘Alisoun would be even less safe at Magda’s house.’

Lucie sighed. ‘I know. I’m worried that both she and Jasper might be at risk if the pair of drunks murdered Bartolf.’

‘I thought of that as well. I’ll see to protecting them.’ Owen heard the kitchen door open. ‘Kate’s awake. I’ll bring in some wood for her.’

She smiled. ‘Kate is quite capable of bringing in the wood. But I know, you need to stretch your legs while you plan out your day.’ She kissed him and slipped back down beneath the covers. ‘I’ll escort the twins to Magda’s. Let Jasper burn off some of his temper with good honest work alone in a crowded apothecary. I will make my apologies to Alisoun later. Such a pair we are, inviting intruders into her home.’

‘Why you? Why walk into danger?’

She propped herself on one elbow, reaching out to touch his cheek. ‘How can I ask it of Rose and Rob if I think it too dangerous to go myself?’

‘Perhaps–’

She touched a finger to his lips, silencing him. ‘We have no cause to believe we will come to harm, my love. It is Alisoun who needs our protection. Don’t worry about me.’

‘But I do. You are my anchor.’

‘And you are mine. I will be careful, my love.’ Her steady gaze assured him.

Owen dressed in the soft dawn light filtering through the shutters and stepped out onto the landing to begin his day.

The rising sun touched the rooftops, but already it was disappearing behind low clouds, the sort of late-summer overcast that kept the dew and the river damp trapped, thickening the air, dragging down the spirit. Owen paused at the gate into the tavern yard, observing a woman who paced back and forth near the tavern door, wringing her hands and mumbling something to herself – prayers, perhaps. He could not quite place her. Simple dress, a faded brown with some shine at the elbow and a patch on the skirt, tidily sewn. He opened the gate, letting it squeak loudly to warn her of his presence.

She turned toward him, her hands to her heart. ‘Captain Archer. God bless, you are just the man I hoped to see. Tom Merchet told me to wait right here, you would be over before long. It’s my Da, Old Bede as they call him. He didn’t come home last night. I’ve looked all the places he sometimes sleeps it off and no one saw him after he left the tavern. I’m that worried, Captain. With the murder last night, and Tom Merchet saying Da had been out in the yard, he might have seen something.’ Owen recalled her name now, Winifrith. ‘You must find him for me. I pray you.’ She drew a penny from her sleeve. ‘I’ve little to offer.’

Owen gently closed her fingers over the coin. ‘There’s no need, Dame Winifrith. Just tell me where you’ve looked and I’ll take over your search. I need him as well.’ He offered her his arm. ‘Shall we talk in the tavern over a bowl of ale?’

After she’d departed, Owen sat a while with Tom and Bess.

‘I wondered about him when he returned,’ Bess said. ‘We’ve danced this dance many a night and he’s always walked back in with a proud glare, but not last night. He sat slumped over in his chair and said little while I had the doors locked so they wouldn’t all spill out and crowd round poor Bartolf. Do you think Old Bede saw something?’

Owen told them about the two drunks.

Tom frowned down at his hand on the table, shaking his head. ‘No one left in that condition last night, except for Old Bede. And Bartolf, I suspect. The stonemasons sitting with him walked straight lines out the door. Poole never drinks much, though he pays as if he does.’

Bess agreed that only Bartolf and Old Bede had been drunk. Nor did Owen recall anyone else leaving during that time.

‘Nor I,’ said Geoffrey from the doorway. ‘I’ll come with you, Owen. I’ve developed a fondness for the old gossip.’

‘Go on, then, you two,’ said Bess, ‘find the old troublemaker.’

Groups of people stood out on the street, heads together as they swapped stories about the tragedy, but they all followed Owen and Geoffrey with their eyes as the two passed. All along Coney Street and across the Ouse bridge conversations halted as people turned to watch them. A few called out to Owen, asking if he needed help. He paused to speak to some, quietly asking whether they’d seen Old Bede. He saw the worry in the faces even before they answered. The old man might be a tell-tale, but he was York’s tell-tale, and no one wished him a violent end. One man suggested they check a house down an alley on Peter Lane, the home of Old Bede’s best friend, Timkin. Bede’s daughter had not mentioned it.

They found it to be more a shack than a house, no windows, a hole in the roof that would vent the smoke if there were a fire beneath it, but the ashes in the middle of the earthen floor had been ground into the dirt by the old man’s coming and going. He was huddled in a corner, snoring so loudly he did not hear them enter. Owen shook him awake.

A snort. Eyes wide. ‘I didn’t do it! I swear. Sleepin’ it off. I’m just an old drunk, no harm to anyone.’

‘Rest easy, Timkin,’ said Owen. ‘We’re here looking for Old Bede. He didn’t come home last night and his daughter’s worried. Someone thought he might have stopped here, but I see you’re alone.’

‘Old Bede, now?’ Timkin scratched himself. ‘Nay. He has the coin for the York, but it’s a long while since I could pay the Merchets’ prices. Pray God he’s not fallen in the river. Strong swimmer, Bede is, but not when in his cups.’

Alfred insisted on coming across the stones to help Lucie over to Magda’s rock. ‘They’re slippery at the beginning of low tide.’ Rob and Rose were already hopping across, balancing small bundles of clothing on their heads. ‘Am I to mind them?’ Alfred asked.

‘No,’ Lucie laughed. ‘They’re relieving you of your watch. My husband needs you.’

‘Bartolf Swann’s murder?’

‘You’ve already heard about it? Out here?’

‘A visitor told me. You’ll want to talk to him. He’s why Stephen went to Bartolf’s alone this morning.’ Alfred called out to the twins to wait for him before opening the door. ‘I don’t want to startle him,’ he said. He was not smiling.

By the time Lucie and Alfred reached the rock the twins had disappeared round the side of the house. Everyone in York was curious about the strange, dragon-guarded dwelling, and they were clearly no exception. Alfred knocked on the door and called out that Dame Lucie Wilton, the apothecary, was with him, then pushed it open.

Someone wrapped in a blanket was struggling to rise from a seat close to the fire.

‘I pray you, rest easy,’ Lucie said. ‘I will come and join you.’

Letting the blanket slip down from his head to settle on his shoulders, Old Bede greeted her hoarsely.

‘God be thanked. I am so glad to see you.’ Bess had told her he was missing. Lucie noticed his clothes hanging from the rafters. ‘What happened?’

‘I swam here in the dark of night. Upriver. They didn’t think a dried old bean like meself had it in him. Faith, I wasn’t so certain meself. I’m thankful it’s late in a dry summer. I wouldn’t have made it when the rain on the moors comes thundering downriver.’

Lucie glanced up at Alfred, who nodded. ‘He was soaked through and shivering so hard he couldn’t talk until he’d shed his clothes and I’d rolled him in blankets and stoked the fire.’

‘Tell me what happened,’ Lucie said. ‘Did someone follow you when you left the York Tavern last night?’

Old Bede nodded. ‘They came up behind me down on staithe, as I was doing my business. Stopped me from heading upriver to bridge. Two of ’em, big men. I reckoned I’d seen them playing drunk earlier, coming out of that very gate Bartolf Swann had gone through and died, eh? But now on staithe they’ve another with ’em, has a dog, all teeth and straining to break free and jump at me. Between the wolf and the dog, I was, so to speak, them or the river. With the river I had a chance. I dived in and pushed down, down. God was looking out for me, leading me to piss at staithe, where river’s dredged and I could go deep. I fought current till my chest wanted to burst. They couldn’t find me in night black as pitch, water such a good brown. But I can’t go home now, can I?’

From the doorway, Rose said, ‘We’ll keep you hidden here, Old Bede. No one will know.’

Lucie nodded. Rose and Rob could do it. ‘You can trust them. We’ll take care of the rest. You’ve seen any of them before?’

‘Mayhap the one with the dog. Can’t say for certain. Minds me of one worked on staithe. He’s been gone some time. Ran off after some trouble. Bailiff Hempe could tell you his name. Always with a dog back then, nasty. Had the devil in ’im. Not the same dog now, but those same teeth …’ He shook his head.

For once Lucie was grateful for Old Bede’s love of gossip.

As they crossed back over the bridge, Geoffrey noted how folk watched them, ‘Or, rather, you. They bow to you, grateful for your protection. What is it like, having such a noble calling?’

‘Burdened by their faith that all will be as it was as soon as I’ve caught the guilty. It won’t. It can’t be. Men are dead, Hoban Swann’s child will never know his father, the Swanns’ lives are forever changed. And how many more will suffer?’

‘Ah. I am humbled.’

‘No. I am. I’ve discovered nothing of use. Nothing.’

They walked in silence for a while, until Geoffrey tapped Owen’s arm. ‘The prickly bailiff approaches.’

George Hempe strode toward them with two of his men, his expression grieved. ‘I’ve heard about Old Bede’s disappearance after leaving the York, heading for the King’s Staithe. My men will search the riverbanks up and downstream.’ Owen offered to help, but Hempe shook his head. ‘Janet Braithwaite awaits you at her house. Olyf Tirwhit and her husband Adam are with her, planning the Swanns’ burials. John Braithwaite’s expected by nightfall – he had business in Kingston-Upon-Hull. But Janet will brook no delays. She means to hire you to bring to justice the murderers of her son-in-law and his father. The mayor and council approve of her plan.’

As Jasper had said. ‘I will attend her this afternoon,’ said Owen. ‘Lucie should be back, perhaps with Alfred and Stephen. They might have noticed something on the river.’

Hempe nodded. ‘I’ll set my men to the search and join you at your house. I’d like to hear what your men have to say.’

‘You might ask the gatekeepers whether anyone arrived with a large dog yesterday, and whether they’ve left.’

‘I will.’

Owen thanked him and hurried down Coney Street.