Owen found a quiet place out of the weather in which to talk to Gisburne’s factor Gordon. Brother Michaelo sat near. He would listen, but not take notes. No need to risk silencing the man.
Gordon was watching Alfred and another guard escort Laurence Gunnell into the building in which his mother was lodged. Despite being safely inside the castle precinct, the man kept looking over his shoulder.
‘Who is he expecting?’ Owen wondered aloud.
Gordon chuckled. ‘Unhappy customers?’
Gunnell stumbled as the door closed behind him.
‘Sir Ralph will hear of your assistance in this,’ Owen said. ‘I know you are a busy man. If you could tell me what transpired.’
The factor brushed off his well-made tunic and nodded. He was of middle age, middle height and weight. Laugh lines suggested he was content with life. ‘Laurence Gunnell presented himself as the man in charge of carting the stones to St Clement’s for the bishop’s man, who had been injured. I did not know what to make of that. They had already gone downriver to the landing at Clementhorpe. Oversaw the loading myself yesterday. When I told him so, he shouted that I couldn’t do that, he had his orders. Not from His Grace the Bishop of Winchester, I told him, and not from Gerald Trent, who had come to me shortly after he arrived in the city to arrange for the barge. He knew that to move so much stone a train of carts would be required, but it was easily done by river. He meant to be at Clementhorpe today to guide the lay brothers who would be moving them to the priory grounds. I had word to send one of my men along and did so. Heard Trent had been injured. Badly?’
‘He will take time to heal.’
‘At St Mary’s, is he? I will pay him a visit when I’ve the time. He’s far from home and friends.’
Working for Gisburne had not soured the man’s disposition. ‘That would be a kindness. Has Gunnell ever worked for you?’
Gordon looked puzzled. ‘Never. He’s a sailmaker, so he calls himself, though his work does not recommend him. I had not heard that he was trying his hand as a carter. He will fail at that as well if today’s behavior is any sample. I heard that you were searching for him, so wasn’t surprised to see your lieutenant.’
‘We wanted Gunnell here for his own safety.’
‘Oh?’ The man looked keen to share something.
‘Anything else about him you might tell me?’
‘It’s said he’s making good money somewhere – some think on the staithes, where there have been reports of orders arriving incomplete. You know the sort of thing. Valuable items. We’ve suffered losses.’
‘The guild knows the problem is here, not Hull?’ Where most barges arriving in York were loaded.
‘They have checked the shipping logs and found discrepancies between what was loaded there and unloaded here, and what makes it to the warehouses. Not to say the Hull merchants don’t have their own problems.’
‘What items have been short according to the logs?’
Gordon gave him a quizzical look. ‘Sir Ralph asked for just such a list yesterday when he dined with my master and his colleagues. He has mentioned this?’
‘He did. I had hoped that by today you might have a more complete list.’
‘Happens I do, though not with me. But I have an excellent memory.’ He described much of the merchandise from the Gunnell cache now held in Sir Ralph’s chamber, plus more.
‘Any other names along with Gunnell’s?’
‘I take it from your interest that you will help end this thievery?’
‘That would be to the benefit of all the city, would it not?’
‘Answering questions with questions.’ Gordon grinned. ‘You are a sly one. I can name a pair of taverners. Barker, owns the Green Man outside Micklegate Bar, and Dunn, runs the Bell near the bridge.’
Reynard might be moving between the two taverns. ‘How do they gain access?’
‘That, Captain, is what we would all like to know.’
‘You have been a great help. I’ll walk you to the gate.’
‘No need. I will find my way. You have work to do. I will give your regards to Master Gisburne.’
Seemed Gordon did not know of the bad blood between Owen and his boss. Owen watched the factor lift his hood and shrug down into his cloak as he hurried off. That he had come so far in this weather indicated how much it meant to his boss that the thieves were caught. But Owen did not expect gratitude. Not from Gisburne. He headed to the sheriff’s chamber.
He found Sir Ralph complaining to Brother Michaelo about how long he had been away from his land and his family. ‘My children will forget who I am. But it is my duty to stay until this is resolved. I am the one who set it in motion.’ He nodded to Owen. ‘Tell me this new arrival will reveal to us all we need to protect the bishop and sisters and bring the murderer to justice.’
‘I cannot promise that, but with the bishop departing tomorrow, I believe Reynard will soon make his move. I would ask that you have your men watch the road between Micklegate Bar and the priory.’
‘You won’t go along the river? Or by river?’
‘Those are my preferences, but I want to cover every possibility.’
‘So many guarding against one man?’
‘He is unpredictable. And it’s likely he won’t act alone.’
‘How does a stranger gather supporters so quickly? In my experience the people of York eye newcomers with suspicion for a long, long while. Until they prove they might be trusted.’
‘Reynard can be honey-tongued, very persuasive,’ said Owen. ‘Easily sniffs out those with something to hide from authority. Gisburne’s factor said two taverners are suspected of working with Gunnell in robbing the staithes, from the Bell and the Green Man.’
A snort. ‘Those two. I’ve never heard anything but complaints about either. Likely the source of more men, considering their clientele. But how would this Reynard find them in such short time?’
‘Gunnell might know,’ said Owen.
‘He has much to lose by confessing,’ said Michaelo.
‘At the least he will lose a hand for the king, and his possessions,’ said Sir Ralph, ‘but if he cooperates he might live. By the sound of it he was headed for death outside the castle.’
That was true. But would Gunnell talk in the short time they had left? ‘You will have your men watching the road tomorrow?’
‘It will be done. You will be glad to see an end to this as well, I am sure.’
More than Sir Ralph could imagine.
‘Do you have a watch on the Bell as well as the Green Man?’
Owen nodded. ‘Might a few of your men go to the priory to ensure that no one is interfering with the delivery of the rocks?’
‘Of course. You will talk to Laurence Gunnell next?’
‘First Dame Alys. See what she might tell me.’ Owen did not intend to linger if she continued to evade the truth. There was no time.
‘Let’s hope she’s more forthcoming than she’s been.’ Sir Ralph nodded to Michaelo. ‘Thank you for attending her last night.’
‘I did it at the captain’s request.’
‘Then you both have my thanks.’
Once out in the corridor, Michaelo asked, ‘Do you believe Gisburne’s man?’
‘In this, yes. He is protecting his employer’s merchandise.’
‘Captain!’ Ned hurried towards them. ‘Bard is a good tracker.’
‘Alisoun thought he was. What did you find at the palace?’ Owen leaned against the wall to listen to Ned’s account. Interesting. Whoever wore those bandages would be weak with infection. The salve and whatever was in the wine would help, but once such inflammation set in, the body focused everything on fighting it. If Reynard was the one injured – and they had learned of two stabs to the gut – how had he managed to fight off Rhys and Jasper, then escape by foot and dive into the Ouse? He pushed off from the wall as Ned finished. ‘What about the hat? Did Bard go elsewhere tracking that scent?’
‘No. Not that we could tell. Once outside, the rain had washed away all scent.’
‘So it was likely Reynard you just missed?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Good work, Ned.’
‘It’s Alisoun you should thank. And Bard,’ he added with a blush.
Still infatuated with Alisoun. ‘I will.’
Michaelo cleared his throat. ‘Dame Alys?’
‘Of course. Ned, take a few others and search the rooms in the Bell. You’ve seen the bandages and the salve. I’d like to know whether Reynard’s been hiding there.’
Ned nodded.
‘One more thing. Jasper reminded me of your skill as an archer. I will need you in the morning, with your bow. You will be on the tavern roof, Alisoun and Jasper on the roofs of the apothecary and my house.’
‘I will be there.’
Dame Alys looked up from her embroidery. ‘Where is my son?’
‘Resting nearby,’ said Owen. ‘I assure you he is safe.’
‘Safe? You have taken him prisoner. He is not safe. Do you truly expect us to be grateful to be brought here against our will and left here to rot?’
Owen moved to the small window that looked out on the river, wondering how Reynard had fetched up in Gunnell’s shop. Or had he first gone to the Bell?
‘Are you listening to me?’
He turned to Dame Alys. ‘I knew Raymond long ago. We called him Reynard, the wily fox. I watched how he set traps for the weak and used them for his purposes, let them take the blame. I am guessing that Laurence was already in trouble when Reynard trapped him.’
‘You speak nonsense.’
‘I know of his connection to the taverners who are stealing valuable goods on the staithes.’
‘Laurence? You are mistaken.’ Her tone was dismissive, but the hand holding the needle above the embroidery trembled. Noticing the direction of his gaze, she tucked the needle into the cloth and folded her hands together in her lap.
‘John Gisburne is wise to him,’ said Owen. ‘Is that why Laurence planned to steal Snicket’s hoard? To pay to transport the goods to London or some other port?’
‘My son would never do such a thing.’
‘I found a store of the goods in your home.’
‘No.’
He chose a different tone, having little to gain by calling her a liar. ‘I am not surprised he kept this from you. He would not want you to know that he was failing at his father’s trade. But Reynard coaxed the information about Snicket’s hoard from him, then nudged him toward the idea of blaming the theft on others, men already sought by us.’ A guess, not a certainty, but she need not know. ‘How clever that must have seemed.’
‘I will not believe that of my son.’ But her eyes flicked here and there, searching for surety.
‘Were you in the house when Snicket’s servant, Pete, was killed? Did Laurence push him from the solar?’
‘Did my son murder the old man? How can you ask that?’ Her voice broke and she sank back on the bench. ‘No. It was not Laurence, I swear. Pete was walking about after my son departed.’
‘As his mother you would say so.’
‘I am certain of it! I went out for a time, to deliver food to a bedridden neighbor. You can ask him.’ She pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘Anyone who knows Laurence would never … But if you don’t believe him, and John Gisburne suspects him …’ She covered her face with her hands for a moment, seemingly whispering a prayer. When she was finished, she folded her hands in her lap. ‘What will happen to him?’ Her voice was softer, less confident.
‘Reynard’s plan is for Laurence to be tried for the deaths of Snicket and his servant, by which time the wily fox will be far from York with the old man’s treasure.’
He watched that sink in.
‘Unless you and Laurence help me stop him … I thought perhaps you might be able to convince your son to tell me all he knows.’
‘Of course. If he is innocent, you will soon see your mistake.’
The ‘if’ spoke volumes.
Though he had dressed for business and slicked back his hair, Gunnell gave off a stench of too much ale, greasy food, and fear. Far different from the jovial shopkeeper he had seemed when Owen first met him outside Jonas Snicket’s. While Dame Alys embraced him and drew him over to a bench by the brazier, the maidservant poured a bowl of warmed wine.
‘What is a priest doing here? Is he meant to hear my confession?’
‘I am making a record of the conversation,’ said Michaelo.
‘He kindly spent the evening with me,’ said Dame Alys. ‘I am grateful.’
‘Pah.’ Gunnell gulped the wine and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘Little better than piss,’ he said, glaring at Owen.
‘I doubt you’ve had better at the Green Man.’
‘Is that where you’ve been, Laurence?’ Eyes round with surprise, Dame Alys plucked at his sleeve, sniffed, made a face.
He jerked his arm from her. ‘What lies has this one-eyed weasel told you? No. Do not bother to say. I am certain to learn in good time.’
Taking her son’s hands, Alys bent low to look into his eyes. ‘Now is the time to tell us the truth, then, Laurence. Show him his mistake. Make him understand that you have not been stealing from the staithes, that you did not covet Jonas Snicket’s wealth, that the man you introduced to Pete is not this Reynard or Raymond wanted by the sheriff.’
Laurence watched his feet, not his mother, shaking his head long before she finished. ‘They know nothing about my affairs.’
‘John Gisburne believes he does.’
He went still at that, clearing his throat. ‘What is Gisburne’s part in this?’
‘He and some other important merchants believe you to be responsible for the theft of their goods on the staithes.’
He met her gaze. ‘Why? Because they see me on the riverbank? I am a sailmaker. As was my father.’
Dame Alys straightened, threw up her hands to Owen. ‘I know this mood. He will not talk.’
Owen yanked Laurence up by his collar, ducking away from the man’s half-hearted swing, and tossed him face down on the rush-strewn floor, catching his hands behind him and tying them.
His mother gasped. ‘You are hurting him.’
Jerking him to an upright position, Owen held him up until he found his feet. ‘We’ll remove him from the comforts he might have enjoyed here. A few days in a windowless chamber down near the water might loosen his tongue.’
Brother Michaelo bowed to Dame Alys and opened the chamber door.
‘Wait, I pray you.’ She went to her son. ‘Laurence, you must clear your name. Tell them all they need to know. This man, Reynard, he is not your friend. He cares nothing for your welfare. Pete is dead. Did you know? I found him crumpled and broken at the bottom of the ladder to the solar.’
‘He could not live with what he’d done. Helping those men, the ones who attacked the bishop’s men.’
‘Is that what happened? He took his own life? In our home?’ Dame Alys crossed herself and looked to Owen.
‘Come along, then,’ Owen said, pushing Laurence from the chamber.
Michaelo followed, closing the door behind him.
In the corridor, Owen pushed Gunnell at a guard. ‘Throw him in one of the river cells.’ Deep down, damp, without even the smallest opening for air.
‘Is that necessary?’ asked Michaelo.
‘We will bring him up later today. When he’s had time to think.’
As he walked down Castlegate, Owen felt pushed along by a rising wind that carried the scent of rain. Pray God it ended by morning. He sensed something building in Brother Michaelo, who walked beside him.
‘What is it?’
‘When I brought His Grace a change of clothes, he begged my forgiveness for wearing my finest robes, offering to have them replaced. He would consult Princess Joan, he began, and then went quiet. For he cannot at present, can he? I assured him that was unnecessary. He is beaten. They have diminished him. And to what end? I do not understand Lancaster.’
‘The royal family is shaken by the death of Prince Edward, and the king’s decline,’ said Owen. ‘Lancaster perhaps most of all, imagining enemies closing in round them.’
Michaelo glanced at him in surprise. ‘Yes.’
At the minster gate, Brother Michaelo turned to Owen. ‘May God watch over you, my friend. And may Sir Francis prove to have chosen his men wisely.’
‘Ask Jehannes how I would arrange for a requiem service in the palace chapel. For tomorrow morning.’
‘A requiem?’
‘It is time we buried Rhys’s brother David. I think the stonemasons will wish to attend.’
‘I see. I will do all I can to assist him in arranging this,’ said Michaelo. ‘I should have it in hand by the hour of none.’ He turned away, disappearing through the gates as a gentle rain began to fall.
In the abbey guest house, Owen found Sir Francis and his men already at the butts. Those watching stayed beneath the eaves of the building, keeping dry their bowstrings. Hal was up at the moment, aiming, unflustered by the sound of someone approaching, his stance excellent. He hit the center of the target.
‘Well done, Hal!’ Sir Francis was beaming as he turned to greet Owen. ‘My best archer.’
‘Let’s see the others,’ said Owen.
Mark took position next, his stance tight, tense.
Stepping up behind him, Owen put his hands on the man’s shoulders. ‘Shrug and release,’ he said.
Once Mark had done that, his shoulders were more at ease.
‘Now,’ said Owen.
The arrow found a spot close to center.
‘Good,’ said Owen. ‘Remember that.’
Phillip was next, the page glancing back at Sir Francis with uncertainty.
The knight smiled and nodded.
Turning back, Phillip notched the arrow and lifted the bow up, up.
‘Too high,’ said Owen.
Phillip lowered the bow, aimed, relaxed his shoulders, let the arrow fly. A hand’s breadth from center.
‘Are you better at a farther range? Is that why you aim high?’ Owen asked.
‘I don’t usually stand so close,’ Phillip admitted, as if he felt it a mistake.
‘Choose your distance.’
Phillip moved back seven paces. This time his arrow hit center.
Owen looked back to Sir Francis. ‘Station him farthest from where you believe the danger,’ he said. He nodded to Phillip. ‘A far shooter is a gift to a captain.’
Gathering them round in the entrance to the guest hall – no need to stand in the rain – he told them of Reynard’s possible gut injury. ‘Do not count on this. Be ready for him to be in good form.’ They should watch him to see if he favored one side or the other. His other weakness was a tendency to favor his right when checking his surroundings. His power was in the speed with which he notched the next arrow and aimed. Madoc, on the other hand, was slow, and with age and additional weight he might be more so. But he’d had the farther range. They should be prepared for that.
They practiced a while longer, with Owen adjusting positions. Even Sir Francis and Carl took their turns, proving themselves less accurate than the others, but adequate in support, to keep arrows flying.
When the rain intensified, they retreated to the guest house to dry themselves by the fire with cups of ale.
‘I will keep the men at the abbey tonight. They will be rested for tomorrow,’ said Sir Francis. ‘Pray God the storm passes by then.’
They talked strategy. Owen described the route from the minster close to the bridge and then down along the river. Crispin Poole would guide them from there. He talked them through watching the rooftops, and assured them he would have men along the way, especially in the Old Baile.
‘The day will begin shortly after dawn with a mass in the chapel of the archbishop’s palace,’ said Owen. ‘During the service I need you guarding the palace and the yard around it. Phillip will be an asset. After the mass, we will proceed to St Helen’s churchyard for the burial. I will have archers on the roof of my house as well as the apothecary and the York Tavern. Place your men to complete the circle.’
‘How will we recognize the enemy?’
‘Look for unusual or furtive behavior, and watch the movements of the bailiff George Hempe and Crispin Poole. It will become clear. I will explain more in the morning.’ He did not tell them that the bishop was already at the castle. Neville’s men were likely trustworthy, but Owen preferred to tell them only as much as they needed to know.