The bell above the shop door startled Jasper awake. He clutched the counter to catch his balance and winced, his hands stinging beneath the bandages and aching from his awkward movements while serving customers, several of whom had offered to help, or return when his mother was there. He was relieved to see that the newcomer was Ned, his father’s man.
‘I thought I would stop though I knew the captain and Dame Lucie were away,’ said Ned. ‘How are you coping?’
‘Not so well. I’ve fumbled more than I’ve dispensed. In between customers I start nodding off, though when I tried sleeping earlier I couldn’t.’
‘I know the feeling. Can I leave you with some news for the captain?’
‘Of course.’
Returning home from her lessons, Gwen stopped in the apothecary to see Jasper and noticed Rhys in the workshop, lingering by the doorway to the shop. She wanted to trust him, but he had sorely tested her faith in him. So she slipped in, silent as a cat, and crouched behind a table. Out in the shop she heard Ned telling Jasper that he’d been watching Jonas Snicket’s house to see whether Rhys’s kin returned, or whether anyone else ransacked the place. He’d learned that Pete, Snicket’s elderly servant, had left with Laurence Gunnell, the sailmaker, the previous morning. As far as he could tell, Pete hadn’t returned and he had a bad feeling about that. Nor had Gunnell opened his shop since then. This morning Ned had decided he needed to do more. Leaving someone else watching the house, he poked around to find out where Gunnell lived – with his mother in a house near the castle. When he went there, he saw Pete sitting outside the door talking to Laurence.
‘It might be nothing,’ said Ned, ‘but I wanted the captain to know.’
All this while Gwen watched Rhys, his head bent, listening. Of course he was. Ned had mentioned his uncle and cousin. When he finally turned to leave, Gwen stayed hidden behind the table, then followed him out. She was almost to the bridge when the thought began to nag that Kate would be worried when she did not appear for lunch, and with her parents at Dom Jehannes’s for the afternoon, there was no one to watch the children while Kate searched for her. But this was important. Rhys was once more lodging with them, and she needed to know whether they might trust him. Everyone else was busy. And no one else had seen him eavesdropping or knew what he’d heard. She might have told Jasper, but … well, it was too late for that.
Across the bridge, Rhys stopped at a tavern in an alley. Rundown, not respectable like the Merchets’ tavern. As he stepped inside, Gwen pressed against the wall trying to stay in the shadow of the upper story and crept closer to the door. He was telling someone that he had a payment for Laurence Gunnell whose shop had been shut the past two days. A woman said something in a voice too soft for Gwen to understand. Rhys thanked her and hurried back out. Gwen ducked down, then followed him back over the bridge and up Castlegate, avoiding curious eyes – she kept her hood up, but she supposed people could still tell she was a child, though not a beggar, with her new boots and pretty green cloak. He moved so fast that she could not pause if she meant to keep up. She had not heard the directions to the house, so if she lost sight of him …
Why was he going there? What did he think it meant that Pete was talking to Laurence Gunnell?
She had to keep reminding herself why this was worth it. She must know if her family were safe. It’s what her father would do, but he had so many people pulling him in all directions. She was helping him.
Castlegate was a wonder, large houses surrounded by gardens, so unlike the part of the city in which she lived. But they turned down a much more modest street running toward the river where a short row of houses ended at a large building. A warehouse? Rhys slowed his pace as he passed a house in the middle of the row, freshly painted white, a small tree in the yard. He slowed even more and she heard a man’s voice. Pete? Or Laurence Gunnell? He walked on past the houses, slowing down by the large building, where he slipped into an alley between it and the last house.
Gwen hurried forward to press herself against the building and see where he was going. He had stopped at the end of the alley, looking down toward the back gardens of the houses. She was trying to think what to do, whether to stay to see what he did or hurry home, when someone grabbed her from behind, holding her close to him. She knew it was a man by his strength, how big the hands were that he put over her mouth and around her throat, pressing, pressing so hard she could not breathe. She was so afraid her whole body shook. She tried to pray for forgiveness but strange lights made her blink as the man uncovered her mouth. Just as she opened her mouth to scream, both hands pressed her throat. Choking her. Tiny red stars against the darkness. Her captor shouted something and then jerked her up and away. Again she opened her mouth to scream but her throat wouldn’t work.
Lucie did not know what made her glance out the window when she did, but the sight of Kate rushing toward Jehannes’s house had her running to open the door as her maidservant was lifting her hand to knock. Michaelo, who had followed on Lucie’s heels, urged Kate inside.
‘No time. We must search – Gwen is missing. She left the Ferriby schoolroom to come home for dinner, but she never arrived. No one has seen her. I have looked everywhere.’
‘Come,’ said Owen.
They hurried away, asking questions of Kate, learning that Rhys had also missed dinner, and Jasper had set off for a house near the castle. At least that’s what she thought he’d said.
‘Why there?’ Owen asked.
‘He said Ned came to tell him that Pete, Jonas Snicket’s servant, went away with Laurence Gunnell, who lives with his mother near the castle.’
‘And Jasper thinks Gwen went there?’
‘I don’t know what he was thinking, Captain. That’s all I know.’
Lucie clutched his arm. ‘Go. Find them. We will wait at the house in case she returns. Do you know where the widow lives?’
‘I do.’
She had not noticed Brother Michaelo hurrying to keep up with them.
‘Bless you,’ Lucie cried. ‘Go, my love. Find our Gwen.’
‘You little–’ a man at the head of the alley cried out. He held someone. A child by the size – God in heaven. Rhys recognized Gwen’s green cloak. All he had was a small knife, the blade too short to do much harm. But it might turn the attention to him. Holding it high he rushed toward the man shouting, ‘Release her!’ as he lunged for the man’s neck. He felt blood on his hand as his opponent staggered back and, with a shout of rage, threw Gwen against the wall. Her head hit hard and she slumped down, lifeless.
The man turned from Rhys toward Jasper, who had rushed up behind him. Rhys went to Gwen, lifting her head, calling her name. It was too dark beneath the eaves to see her eyes, but she was breathing. His hand came away from the side of her head with blood. Just a little, but still. Gently he propped her up against the wall and went to help Jasper, who struggled beneath the much larger man, bucking sufficiently that his opponent had to fight for balance. Lunging toward him, Rhys grabbed him and let himself fall backward, taking the man with him.
‘There they are!’ someone shouted.
The weight above him shifted as the man rolled off, then came down on him. Something sharp sank into his side, then released. He put his hand to the spot and felt the blood welling.
‘I will follow him, Captain,’ a man called.
Captain. God be thanked. Gwen’s father was here. Another stab, then the weight lifted. Rhys closed his eyes and drifted down into darkness.
Nothing in all his years of soldiering had prepared Owen for the sight of two of his children on the ground, neither responsive. His first instinct was to chase after Reynard and hack him to pieces. For it must have been him. Who else would attack his children?
‘I will chase him down,’ said Ned. ‘You two see to the injured.’
‘Track him, but do not confront him on your own,’ Owen growled. ‘He is mine.’
He crouched beside Gwen, lifting her in his arms.
‘Da.’ She shaped the word, but he heard no sound.
‘My sweetness, where are you hurt?’
She tried to lift her hand, but it fluttered and fell back as she went limp in his arms. Pressing her to him, he watched as Brother Michaelo knelt to Jasper. Not both of them, he prayed.
‘He is bleeding a little, but aware, Captain.’
‘Did you hear, Gwen? He is alive,’ Owen whispered. She did not respond.
Jasper struggled to sit up. ‘The man had his hands around Gwen’s throat to stop her from screaming. He threw her at the wall when Rhys attacked him. Threw her.’ His voice broke. ‘I was trying to save her but I made it worse.’
‘He was strangling her. You did save her, son.’
‘I’m not badly injured, Brother Michaelo,’ Jasper said. ‘See to Rhys. He saved me.’
Rhys lay motionless, a knife in his hand smeared with blood. So, too, was his stomach. ‘We need help moving Jasper and Rhys to my house,’ said Owen.
Michaelo knelt down, pressing his ear to Rhys’s chest. ‘He is strong, and young,’ he said, but his expression belied his words. He rose and moved away.
‘Uncle,’ Rhys whispered on an exhale. ‘At Gunnell’s. Heard him.’ He coughed blood.
‘We will send someone to catch them,’ said Owen, gently rocking Gwen in his arms. ‘Bless you for saving my children. We are taking you back to the house to see to your wounds.’ He silently prayed the young man would live that long.
Looking round for Michaelo, he saw him disappearing into the warehouse. While he was gone, George Hempe appeared with several of his men.
‘Jesu, what happened here?’
‘Someone attacked the three of them. Ned has gone after him. I need a cart.’
They were interrupted by a rumble and squeak, and a man shouting. Brother Michaelo appeared around the far corner of the warehouse with a cart and donkey, followed by an irate warehouse worker. ‘God placed it in my path,’ said the monk as he came to a halt beside Rhys and Jasper.
‘God help us,’ the worker cried when he saw the bodies on the ground. ‘I will tell my master you will return it, Captain Archer, Bailiff Hempe. Do you need help?’
‘I brought sufficient men,’ said Hempe, turning to bark orders for two of them to help Jasper and Rhys into the cart. ‘Gently,’ he cautioned. He held out his arms to Owen. ‘I will take young Gwen while you climb up to the seat. I’ll leave two with you and take the rest in search of Ned.’
‘And Gunnell’s house, the one with fresh white paint. Rhys says his uncle is there. I would think the cousin as well.’
‘Leave it to us.’
Pacing the hall, Lucie hugged herself, grateful to hear Hugh and Emma shrieking with delight in the garden – Bess’s nephew Tupper was playing pony, giving them gallops around the garden while Dame Marian clapped and sang with the one awaiting a turn. The prioress and Dame Claire were helping Kate prepare food, tisanes, gather blankets in case they were needed. Suddenly a calming presence entered the garden.
‘Dame Magda!’ Hugh shouted, rushing to the tiny healer swathed in colors that seemed to swirl in the pale October sunlight.
‘Whoa, there, Mistress Emma,’ the ‘pony’ cried as the toddler clumsily dismounted.
Magda kissed Hugh’s forehead, then lifted Emma and chucked her in her arms.
‘She does the heart good, doesn’t she?’ said Bess, rising from the corner where she had sat, keeping out of the way but ready if needed.
‘Always,’ breathed Lucie. ‘But how did she know to come?’ She hurried out into the garden. ‘Magda. You heard about Gwen’s disappearance?’
The healer held her with kind eyes as she rocked Emma. ‘Magda senses she is in her father’s arms, heading home. Come.’ She set Emma down and led Lucie into the house. ‘Build up a good fire in the hall. Evenings are chilly now.’
While Lucie worked on the fire, Magda pulled pallets out from underneath the stairs. Three of them.
A commotion drew her outside as Owen leaned from the seat of a donkey cart to hand Gwen down to Brother Michaelo.
Kate and Tupper fought to keep Emma and Hugh out of the way while the monk carried their sister through the gate and into the house. Lucie hurried beside him, telling him to lay her on the pallet closest to the fire.
Magda listened to Michaelo’s account and then bent to Gwen, opening one eyelid, the other, feeling her pulse, listening to her heart, unbuttoning the top of her gown to examine her throat. ‘Bring cushions to prop her up,’ she said. ‘She must sit up, her head as far above her heart as may be. Blood must not pool in her brain.’
Lucie knew how dangerous that might be. Propping up her daughter to an almost upright position, she perched beside her, rubbing her hands and whispering that she was home, she was safe. The bruises on her daughter’s throat shocked her. How could a grown man do such a thing to a child?
She saw Owen’s torment in the tightness of his jaw and the angry color of the scar around his eye patch as he entered the hall, helping Jasper to another pallet.
Owen felt Lucie’s arm around his shoulders. ‘Come, sit between Jasper and Gwen,’ she said. ‘I will bring brandywine.’
A part of him was still on the street, his entire body ablaze to see two of his children lying on the ground bleeding, victims of the devil Reynard. For it was, though Jasper said he could not be certain he was the one on the tavern roof the night before.
‘Owen? My love.’ Lucie was coaxing him to sit, placing a drinking bowl in his hands. ‘Sip.’
He put the bowl to his lips but struggled to swallow for the bile in his throat. He could not see the room, could not feel the warmth of the fire, though he heard the crackle.
‘One of them bloodied their attacker, Owen.’ Brother Michaelo’s voice, gentler than he had ever heard it. ‘Reynard will hide a while to recover. You have time to be with your family.’
Someone pressed the middle of his forehead. ‘Arrive, Bird-eye. Thou art needed here, as a healer. Thy nemesis must wait.’
Something within opened, and he saw his beloved bending to their daughter, Michaelo adding pillows beneath Rhys’s head, Magda lifting one of Jasper’s eyelids. Owen shook himself. All three glanced toward him with concern. No. This was not right. They must think only of the three who had fallen, not him. He finished the brandywine in a few swallows, feeling the warmth flow through him.
Magda felt around Jasper’s torso. ‘An elbow to the ribs?’ she asked.
‘Yes. And I hit my head when I went down. A little blood. But it’s nothing. Will she wake?’ His voice shook.
‘Her heartbeat is strong.’
Lucie knelt beside Gwen, moistening her lips, then dripping brandywine into her sweet mouth.
Michaelo gingerly lifted Rhys’s blood-soaked shirt and began to clean the wound in his side.
Bess had returned with one of her maids, both carrying stacks of pillows and bedding. She dropped some pillows onto Owen’s lap. ‘With that head bleed, Jasper needs propping up as well.’
Owen arranged them beneath Jasper.
‘Rhys saved her, Da. Both of us.’
‘For that he will be forever in my prayers. Now rest. I will come back.’
Owen knelt to his daughter. ‘You are home now, Gwen. We are here.’ He kissed her, held her hand for a few moments.
Lucie touched his cheek, her eyes glittering with tears. ‘When the time comes, you will see that he answers for this.’
He kissed her forehead.
‘How badly injured is Rhys?’ she asked.
He had no idea. ‘I’ll see.’
Magda leaned close to the injury Michaelo had cleaned, murmuring words Owen could not understand. The gaping wound was up and to the side, not as deadly as it might have been. But bad enough. He had lost much blood.
‘Has he spoken?’ she asked Owen.
‘A few words when he was lying on the ground, but nothing since, I think.’ He looked to Michaelo, who had walked alongside the cart, observing Rhys and Jasper.
‘Nothing more than a moan when we first lifted him, and a gasp as we helped him into the house.’
‘Magda will see to him first.’
‘I can help,’ Jasper called.
‘No, son. Lie back. Rest,’ said Owen. ‘We have sufficient to see to all three of you – the sisters, Magda, Michaelo, your mother, and me. I will pull your pallet close to Gwen’s so you can hold her hand, eh?’
The sisters sat with Jasper and Gwen while Lucie and Owen assisted Magda in cleaning the wide wound in Rhys’s side, Michaelo refreshing water, bringing more supplies as needed. Owen held Rhys still while Lucie mixed powders for Magda and helped pack the wound before Magda sewed him up. It looked as if Rhys had been stabbed twice, the skin between the wounds rupturing. He also bled from a gash in the back of his head, which they cleaned and bandaged.
Michaelo moved between the kitchen and the hall, keeping them supplied with clean cloths and water. Bess helped Kate prepare food for everyone. Tupper watched Hugh and Emma up in the nursery.
It reminded Owen of the hospital tents after a battle, when anyone sufficiently fit to assist took part. Not something he ever wanted to see in his home, involving his children. But he was grateful to all of them.
Night had fallen by the time Owen stepped into the kitchen for ale and food. The sisters were gone, the bargeman insisting on departing before sunset. Bess had gone home. Michaelo had left with Archdeacon Jehannes, who had come to say prayers over the injured. Now Kate sat by the fire, watching the flames as she sipped a cup of ale.
‘Hugh and Emma fell asleep praying for Gwen, Jasper, and Rhys,’ said Kate, brushing away tears. She nodded toward Hempe, who sat slumped by the fire, an ale forgotten beside him. ‘He stayed to talk to you.’
Owen settled beside him. ‘Did you find the bastard?’ he asked.
Hempe snorted awake, sat up rubbing his scalp, then his eyes. ‘Ned lost him somewhere near Ouse Bridge. A witness said he dived into the river and disappeared. Ned and several others watched the river but he didn’t surface. God’s blood, is the man the devil’s own?’
Disappointing, but not unexpected. Wilfrid had also lost him at the river. The man was crafty. As someone with far more enemies than friends, he would not have survived in the ranks otherwise. But his mission incomplete, he would stay within reach of Owen. ‘We’ll deal with him soon enough.’ He told Hempe about Neville’s men expected at St Clement’s, and Mother Isobel’s request. ‘He might choose that time to appear.’
‘Neville’s men? Sir John Neville’s? What is his interest?’
‘I will be keen to hear.’
‘We’ll be ready to assist at the priory,’ Hempe assured him. ‘How are Jasper and Gwen?’
‘Jasper has a few bruised ribs – one might be broken. We bound him and he’s managed to sit up and drink some ale, but by now I’d wager he’s asleep. His head hit the ground when he fell. A bit of a lump, an abrasion. Last night, then today – he will sleep till morning or beyond. Gwen is awake at last, having difficulty swallowing, and dizzy.’
‘That murderous monster,’ Hempe growled. ‘And Rhys?’
‘He has not awakened.’ Owen described the wound. ‘So much blood loss, and it’s difficult to tell what tore inside. We watch and wait. Jasper says he saved both of them.’
‘After leading them into trouble.’
‘I doubt he knew Gwen followed him.’ But why? Her earlier fascination betrayed by what she had learned of his purpose in coming to York? She had been angry. But why follow him?
‘I am sorry to bring that up.’
‘I don’t know why she was there. What did you do with Walter and Arn?’
‘Widow Gunnell was sweeping them out the door. She said that after witnessing the attack near the warehouse they spoke of vengeance for Rhys, and she wants no trouble in her house. They said the Gunnells had robbed them. We took the uncle and cousin to the castle.’
‘Robbed them of what?’
‘I paid them no heed. Men will say anything to wriggle away. My mind was set on two fewer to worry about.’
‘You explained their crimes to them?’
‘I did not want to spend the walk arguing with them. I told them I was taking them to the castle for their protection. But they must know they’ll hang. Murdering a man in the bishop’s service, on the sheriff’s land, robbing an old man and inflicting mortal injuries, attacking an officer of the city – I cannot see it ending otherwise.’
Was it possible the Gunnells had robbed them? ‘What if Laurence and Pete are behind the Snicket attack and theft?’
Hempe looked surprised. ‘To be sure I have wondered how strangers guessed the old man had treasure hidden in that falling down house. Something doesn’t feel right about it all. I’m glad I set two men to watch the house. We need to question the Gunnells and Pete, but I was busy with the other two, and then the sheriff wanting a report.’
‘Tomorrow. You have good men on them?’
‘Of course. I chose with care …’
Owen was only half listening, seeing again his firstborn lying limp on the ground, how lifeless she felt in his arms. He could not promise he would control himself when he found Reynard.
‘Owen?’
He glanced up at Hempe’s frowning face – not anger, but concern. ‘Forgive me. Jasper’s injuries are minor. But Gwen’s – the swallowing, the dizziness …’ Owen crossed himself. ‘Magda is not smiling.’
‘Leave everything to us. We will have men surrounding St Clement’s and escorting the travelers as far as need be – though I would expect Sir John Neville to send adequate protection.’
‘If that is his purpose.’
‘Ah. Of course.’
‘Reynard is a skilled archer, battle-trained, and clever. I am the one to stop him.’
‘Your place is here at present, Owen. And, forgive me, but it would be useful to capture him alive. We might learn of any others involved. Could you trust yourself not to aim to kill him? I wouldn’t trust myself if Gwen and Jasper were mine. Can you truthfully say you trust yourself not to snap?’
Not this night. ‘I am too weary to argue. We will speak of this again.’ When Hempe began to rise, Owen caught his arm. ‘Do not underestimate him.’
Hempe placed a hand on Owen’s. ‘Rest assured we are all aware of the danger.’
‘I have a bad feeling about Laurence Gunnell.’
‘As do I.’
‘Good. Make sure our men do as well.’
‘Of course,’ said Hempe.
‘Any word from Canter? He left without a word.’
‘One of his mates said he hurt himself chasing after Reynard. He’s at home with his leg propped up.’
‘I wonder whether he’s to be trusted.’
‘Canter? But–’
‘When you told him he was on duty last night, how did he behave?’
‘Headed off to eat something.’ Hempe nodded. ‘If he shows up, I will make some excuse not to use him. It occurs to me that he is also one of our bowmen.’
‘Doubly tempting for Reynard. Have his mate watch his house.’
‘I will.’ Hempe rose. ‘And now I will take my leave. You need to return to the children, and, I hope, sleep at some point.’ At the door he turned. ‘I have men guarding St Clement’s, and watching the river, searching the area for a place Reynard might have slipped in to hide.’
‘Good. I want to question the Gunnells and Pete in the morning.’
‘Would you like company?’
‘I would appreciate that. You are a good friend, and I am grateful.’
With a nod, Hempe departed. Leaving Owen to his own darksome thoughts.