Twelve A Gift for the Bishop


Owen had not expected to find Jasper in the shop, hollow-eyed and limping as he tidied up after what must have been a large order. ‘Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I would be of some use.’

That was more like the thoughtful lad he had been before whatever had riled him of late, trying to emulate his mentor’s selflessness. Owen hoped his news would not bring back the temper. ‘Rhys will be lodging upstairs for now.’

‘Ma warned me.’ Said with no rancor. ‘If you feel he’s safe in the house, I have no objection. He helped me the other day when I made a fool of myself.’ Raking back his fair hair, Jasper looked Owen in the eye. ‘He’s no longer protecting his uncle and cousin?’

‘No. Thank you for accepting him back. And for keeping the shop open. Where is your mother?’

‘She’s dressing for the bishop. Gwen says she’s wearing the blue dress you like so much.’

News to brighten his day. Owen debated about asking Jasper whether Reynard might have slipped in while he was on watch on the roof. He risked implying that sleep had overtaken Jasper. But he must know. He took the opportunity in between customers to tell him of the missing pack.

Jasper cursed. ‘I heard a creak on the step when I went inside for a moment, but thought it was Bess. And back out on the roof I feared I might have fallen asleep for a moment. But it couldn’t have been long or I would have fallen.’

A good point. Reynard was ever quick-fingered and quiet. Who knew how often the man had slipped past Owen before he caught on to what he was. ‘You have saved me time trying to think of when else he might have found his way in by admitting to a lost moment. I’m grateful.’

‘I let you down.’

‘You chased him away before he could cause harm to innocent people. You did not let me down.’

‘But Trent’s pack is gone.’

‘Reynard now has coin to find lodgings, it’s true. But he might have stolen it elsewhere. We’ve saved others the grief, eh?’

A customer interrupted them.

‘If you remember anything else of consequence, tell me. I am going to the abbey infirmary to see whether Trent has recovered sufficiently to talk,’ Owen said quietly. ‘I will check with you when I return.’


Brother Henry waved away Owen’s apologies for foisting the man on him without warning. ‘He is in Bishop Wykeham’s company. I would not have turned him away. But you will get nothing out of him for a while. He is very weak with the loss of so much blood and sleeps the sleep of one on the ledge between this life and the next. God may choose to take him at any moment. He did seem to wake for a moment, thrashing about and crying that Bishop Ergham would be the death of him. He also seemed to curse his wife. Poor man.’

‘You are certain he said Bishop Ergham, not Wykeham?’

‘I am quite certain. Ergham, Bishop of Salisbury. I thought that might interest you.’

‘It does.’ Ergham, the Bishop of Salisbury, and also the Duke of Lancaster’s chancellor. Did Reynard still serve Lancaster, or his chancellor? But why would either of them send him here?

‘I see you have thought of something.’

‘I have, but the meaning eludes me.’

‘I warn you that Abbot William may not like that I am helping the Bishop of Winchester. He has spoken of how the former Lord Chancellor is out of favor with the king and his family.’

‘He knows the bishop is in York?’

‘It was thought a secret?’

‘The bishop intended it to be. I confess I thought it unlikely he had succeeded. Thank you for this information, and especially for caring for Trent.’

‘I follow my conscience, Captain, and this seems the clear path to the best resolution.’


The moment Owen stepped into the shop Jasper said, ‘Canter walked with head forward, never looking to right or left. Seemed indifferent. And then he disappeared.’

‘I noticed it as well.’

‘How would Reynard know who would be watching?’

‘I’ve no idea, except that Canter is the one we use as a runner, so he’d be quick to chase. And escape. Yet how Reynard would know that … A timely reminder. Thank you.’


At the door, Brother Michaelo asked about the incident during the night. He raised a brow at Owen’s surprise. ‘Word spreads quickly in York. You know that. I heard it in the minster yard early this morning. They sit around their fires at night trading news of the city.’ Michaelo ministered to the poor who camped in the shadow of the minster. ‘I pray Jasper is unharmed.’

‘They heard of his part?’ Lucie asked.

‘The night watch stop and chat by their fires.’

‘Minor injuries, and a job well done,’ said Owen.

‘I am glad of that. Some unexpected guests will be joining you for dinner.’ Michaelo stepped aside to reveal Prioress Isobel, Dame Marian, and another Benedictine nun standing in the hall talking to Jehannes and Wykeham.

‘They have news?’ Owen asked.

‘I believe Dame Marian wished to speak with His Grace once more before making her decision.’

‘Will we be in the way?’ asked Lucie.

‘His Grace is keen for both of you to be part of the conversation.’

As soon as Lucie stepped through the door, Dame Marian excused herself and hurried over. ‘Benedicite, my friend.’ She took Lucie’s hand. ‘I am so glad to see you. And you,’ she said to Owen, smiling, it seemed to him, with her entire body. Her face glowed.

‘Claire, come, meet Dame Lucie and her captain,’ she said, waving the unfamiliar nun over.

The prioress pursed her lips, Wykeham bending to her to say something Owen could not hear. She seemed mollified by whatever he had said and relaxed a little.

‘I have heard so much about you and your children, Dame Lucie, Captain Archer.’ Dame Claire’s smile was shy, but her eyes danced. ‘I cannot think what might have happened to Marian had you not taken her in.’

Benedicite, Lucie.’ Prioress Isobel joined them. ‘Captain Archer.’

Lucie and Isobel had been together at the convent as children, hardly friends, but since Isobel had become prioress she had reached out to Lucie for help, and had from time to time cooperated with Owen in his work.

Jehannes and Wykeham followed in her wake, and when the prioress began to say more, Jehannes interrupted to introduce the bishop to Lucie.

Owen noticed that Wykeham bowed to her and did not proffer his ring of office for her to kiss. Did he no longer feel he could claim such obeisance?

Benedicite, Dame Lucie. I thank you for joining us,’ said Wykeham.

Firmly taking control of the gathering, Jehannes escorted all to the table set up near the fire. Wykeham’s two manservants stood ready to serve, coming round with wine as soon as everyone was seated. Owen found himself beside Wykeham, who sat at one head of the table, Lucie opposite him. Jehannes sat at the opposite end. The prioress sat between Lucie and Brother Michaelo, Dame Marian between Owen and Dame Claire.

During the fish course the conversation was about weather and news of the city. But by the time the meat course was served, Wykeham grew restless.

‘Forgive me,’ he said to the table at large, ‘but I must know what the captain has learned.’

Lucie, such a contrast to the nuns, monk, and churchmen around the table in the deep blue gown that he so loved, gave Owen a small smile and a slight nod. Of course he must satisfy Wykeham, was that not the purpose of this dinner? But the nuns – he had not expected to take them into his confidence. Dame Marian he knew he could trust, but the other two?

Jehannes cleared his throat. ‘We attempted to provide background for Mother Isobel and her companions so that they might be part of the discussion.’

‘Ah.’ Owen nodded, and without further hesitation he brought Wykeham up to date about everything, including the identity of ‘Raymond’, though only insofar as the man had once served under him, an angry, rebellious charge. He hoped Wykeham might provide some insight into his presence.

The bishop was uncommonly quiet while Owen spoke, Jehannes being the one asking for clarifications here and there. The man was the consummate host, a quality Thoresby had found most helpful.

Finishing with his visit to the abbey infirmary, Owen sat back with a refreshed mazer of wine.

‘Ralph Ergham will be the death of a carter?’ were the first comments from the bishop. ‘How would Trent know the Bishop of Salisbury?’ Wykeham’s face seemed etched in chalk and shadows.

Owen recounted Trent’s explanation of how the Bishop of Salisbury had introduced him to the men who called themselves Raymond and Beck. ‘Coupled with the fact that they were not his choice for this journey but showed up at the moment of departure, it does make me wonder about Bishop Ergham’s purpose. Then with last night’s revelation … I’d begun to suspect, but now know for certain, as I said, that the men are in truth Reynard and his friend Bruin, former archers for Lancaster. Ergham being Lancaster’s chancellor, somehow it must connect. But how and why I have yet to learn. Why they chose to travel with him–’

‘Perhaps Reynard’s goal was York,’ said Michaelo, ‘where he might confront you, Captain.’

The sisters all crossed themselves.

‘This is most distressing,’ said Mother Isobel.

‘Perhaps once he was here that occurred to him,’ said Wykeham, ‘but what if it was mere felicity? As Archer says, Ergham is Lancaster’s chancellor. His purpose was likely that they should spy on me once here.’ Pressing his hands to his face, Wykeham did not move for a long while. When at last he looked up at Owen, he seemed at a loss. ‘I thought this a small thing, nothing that anyone would take notice of.’

That was his mistake, Owen thought. It was often such small things that felled the wiliest schemers.

‘I am out of favor at court,’ said Wykeham. ‘Anyone coming to my aid risks the same fate. I warn you all.’

‘My uncle Sir Thomas warned me not to cooperate with you, Your Grace,’ said Dame Marian. ‘I am, as ever, a pawn being played by my ambitious kin. But I will base any decision on my own conscience.’

‘I would not ask you to disobey your uncle,’ said Wykeham.

‘It was not an order.’

‘Even so.’

The prioress cleared her throat to gain attention. ‘If I might speak, this seems the time to tell you that a messenger arrived late yesterday – from Sir John Neville, telling me to expect a contingent sent to escort both the sisters of Wherwell and His Grace the Bishop of Winchester from York, seeing that they complete their journeys south in safety.’

That was a turn Owen had not anticipated.

Nor Wykeham. ‘Sir John Neville is sending me an escort?’ The bishop’s hooded eyes were wide with surprise as he looked from Isobel to Marian to Owen. ‘Why? What is his interest in us? And how had he learned of our company?’

Perhaps her aunt, Lady Maud Neville, was concerned, Owen thought. ‘Did he mention Dame Marian?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Mother Isobel, ‘no, he did not. But it was a brief message.’

‘You think of my aunt,’ said Marian, looking at Owen. ‘And perhaps that is his purpose, that the company are safe, in case I choose to go. If he knows of the sisters from Wherwell, he doubtless knows their mission. As did my uncle. But who does he think might attack us?’

‘My enemies,’ said Wykeham. ‘I have placed you in an uncomfortable and possibly dangerous position, Dame Marian. For that I am deeply sorry.’

Marian pressed hand to heart and bowed her head. ‘I thank you, Your Grace. I came in the hope that what I heard would allow me to understand how best to move forward. I pray you, it would help me to know what is the root of the duke’s complaint against you.’

‘Dame Marian!’ the prioress cried.

But Wykeham held up a hand to silence her. ‘She is right to ask.’ He told Marian about the plight of Lancaster’s army in the Aquitaine, how the king’s council and parliament had failed him. ‘The duke must now tread with care, but I am the one man the king’s councilors are at ease blaming and shunning. And so, being predisposed to dislike me, the duke makes use of me as an example.’

‘Why have you so few champions?’ asked Marian.

Wykeham again silenced Mother Isobel. ‘There was a time when King Edward entrusted to me building projects dear to him. An honor I will always treasure. But to my shame, as my power grew, so, too, did my arrogance. I was a nobody, a parvenue, yet I flaunted my favor, shed all humility. I acquired enemies who felt insulted by my incursion into their lofty heights, lowborn pretender. Then, when I became chancellor … Though that did not last, it was not forgotten. Some have waited a long while to enjoy the spectacle of my fall.’

‘How unjust,’ said Lucie. ‘I have heard of the beauty of your building works. Prince Edward himself praised you.’

‘You are kind.’ Wykeham’s smile was sad, weary. ‘But I am keenly aware of my sinful pride.’

‘A sin shared by most who accuse you,’ Jehannes said in a soft voice.

The table grew quiet as a servant came forward with a flagon of wine. Owen welcomed more wine, but made certain to partake of the meat course before it was swept away. The younger sisters also took the opportunity to eat, as did Lucie, Jehannes, and Michaelo. The prioress sipped her wine and studied Wykeham’s bowed head. When His Grace nodded for more wine and settled back to have some meat, she, too, partook. It was not until the servants came to clear the table for the savory that Mother Isobel spoke.

‘As Dom Jehannes said, you are not alone in this sin,’ she said. ‘If only they could see the modesty with which you journeyed all this way to repair a wrong.’

Wykeham bowed to her.

Her eyes swept the table, settling on Owen. ‘Might we count on your protection should Dame Marian choose to join the party returning to Wherwell?’

‘Choose to join it?’ Wykeham echoed.

‘Of course. We will have men at the ready,’ said Owen.

Hand to heart, the prioress thanked him.

‘I would advise you delay the journey until Walter, Arn, and Reynard are safely in the castle,’ said Owen.

‘I will suggest that to the baron’s men, Captain.’

Wykeham had leaned forward, his eyes on Dame Marian. ‘You might return to Wherwell?’ He looked to Mother Isobel. ‘You would accept my protégée in her place?’

‘No need,’ said Isobel. ‘Dame Claire has offered to remain. A pleasing solution.’

Claire was smiling. ‘I was subcantrice of Wherwell before Dame Eloise replaced me with Dame Marian, whom I gladly assisted in her duties – she was far better suited to the role. Later I assisted Dame Prudence.’ Wykeham’s protégée. ‘Since arriving at St Clement’s, I’ve enjoyed my reunion with Dame Marian, working closely with her to learn all that she has set in place and helping her train the lower voices.’

Owen saw now that he had been wrong thinking Claire of an age with Marian. Subtle lines around her eyes suggested she was older, that it was the fullness of her face and an inner light that shone through in her eyes and complexion that gave her the dewy look of youth.

‘To come together only to part once again is difficult,’ said Marian, ‘but we would both be blessed with our work.’

‘And you would not be returning as Dame Prudence’s assistant, surely,’ said Wykeham. ‘No matter Ergham’s feeling, Dame Cecily will do what is best for Wherwell. I will make my intention clear to her and to Dame Prudence.’

Owen saw Marian’s cleverness in this arrangement. Well done. He prayed it did not prove a dangerous gambit. Neville’s interest troubled him.

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