A Fox in the Fold

Six An Angry Young Man, the Cemetery

Lost in worry about Anna Thornton’s condition, Alisoun did not see Jasper and his friends until one of them – Simon – called out to her. Or, rather, called to Jasper that his ladylove approached. Laughter bubbled up as she engaged in the ensuing exchange with the young men who bragged that they were heading to a tavern to drink the day away before Simon embarked on a long journey to meet his betrothed. ‘Come along,’ they called. The glare with which Jasper glanced her way made plain that the hours had not softened his anger. She waved them off, feeling sad for Simon, burdened by the presence of a friend who would stew in his anger all the day.

With that look he’d intended to hurt her, but she felt it as a shock of cold water. She had opened her heart to him and he had slammed the door on her without any sign that he wanted to understand. He’d not asked her how she felt, whether she understood why it happened, he’d condemned her without hesitation. How easily he turned off what she had thought was love and kicked her away. Remembering her tears of the previous night, how she had struggled to set aside her pain and give Anna Thornton all of her attention, she felt foolish. Jasper was not the person she had thought him. Nor was it Alisoun he had thought he loved, but an idea of her that was all wrong.

Well then. God be thanked he revealed himself. She was well rid of him.

Still, in the pit of her stomach she wondered how this would have gone had she told him a year ago. But what was done was done.

As she approached her destination, the Wilton apothecary, she was glad there was no chance of seeing him. No telling what she would say if he suddenly appeared before her. She focused on reviewing the list of physicks she had already tried with Anna Thornton. With them in mind, she moved forward just as Captain Archer stepped from the shop door.

‘Benedicite, Alisoun. How is Dame Anna?’

‘No better. I hope Dame Lucie can give me something to calm her without weakening her for the birthing.’

‘It is close now?’

‘Tonight or tomorrow, I think.’

‘She is fortunate to be in your care.’

He was kind to say so when she was partly – now wholly? – responsible for the upheaval in his household. She felt she must warn him. ‘Jasper and I had a falling out in the evening. He seems angrier than ever today.’

‘I heard. You will not find him here to glower at you while you consult with my wife.’

‘I know. I passed him with his friends. A scowling spirit amongst the merriment. Poor Simon.’

‘No doubt he will be worse yet when he returns. I pray Anna Thornton will soon be safe delivered of a healthy child.’ He nodded to her and moved on.

In the doorway of the apothecary she exchanged pleasantries with a departing customer before greeting Dame Lucie. ‘Forgive me, but I am uneasy about being away from Dame Anna too long.’ She explained her concern, listing all she had tried.

Assuring her she understood, Lucie described various mixtures, the strengths and weaknesses of each. After discussing them at length, Alisoun chose one. While Lucie measured out the powder, Alisoun said, ‘I told Jasper what I felt he must know.’

‘From his mood today it did not go well,’ Lucie said softly, keeping her focus on her task.

‘No. He judges me harshly. As I do myself. But I had hoped that, schooled by the gentle Brother Wulfstan, he would be more forgiving, at least hear all that I wished to tell him.’

‘Dear Wulfstan taught him forgiveness, I am sure,’ said Lucie. ‘But our hearts do not always heed the lessons we most need.’ As she offered Alisoun the package, she held her hand for a moment, looking into her eyes. ‘I am his mother, but I am also your friend. Can I be of help?’

‘This is help enough. Thank you. Whatever you say to him, do not mention Einar.’

‘Magda’s great-grandson?’ A sad smile. ‘I will heed your warning. Now go. May God watch over you and Anna.’

The smile … Alisoun yearned to stay, to pour out her heart to Lucie. But she must return to Anna. ‘Might we talk more about this at another time?’

‘I welcome it,’ said Lucie. ‘Quiet your mind now. You are needed.’

Lucie was measuring out a physick for a customer when the workshop door slammed, followed by a clatter and a thud. She excused herself.

Jasper sat slumped against a worktable, weakly resisting Rhys’s attempts to right him. His eyes were closed, his face red and bloated with drink.

‘Where would you like me to move him?’ Rhys asked.

‘Bless you. We need to get him up to his bed.’

Between the two of them they maneuvered Jasper upright, but he could not catch his balance.

‘No matter.’ Rhys hoisted Jasper over his shoulder and climbed up the stairs.

Once they had eased him onto the bed, Lucie removed his shoes and tucked him in, something she’d not done in a long while, and kissed his hot forehead.

He opened his eyes. ‘Ma?’

‘I must see to the shop. I will check on you later. The best thing for you is to sleep.’

‘I will fetch him water,’ Rhys offered. ‘He will want it when he wakes.’

Thanking him, Lucie returned to the shop, where Maud Miller waited, a keen glint in her eyes.

‘I never thought to see young Jasper in such state,’ she said.

‘A farewell gathering for a friend embarking on a long journey,’ said Lucie, keeping her eyes on her work, reminding herself that Maud was not the only witness. Jasper had somehow made his way home from the other side of the river. Tongues would be wagging throughout the city. It might be best to confine him to the workshop for a few days until the gossip died down.

Jasper opened his eyes, expecting his mother. But it was him, looming over the bed, smirking. ‘What are you doing here?’ That’s what he meant to say, but it came out all slurred together.

‘I brought water.’

‘Go ’way.’

‘I will set it here, beside you.’ He turned away.

‘Traitor.’

He looked back, frowning.

Pretending still? Jasper’s head was muddled, but he spewed out all he was feeling. Why not? Teach him to come here to brag. He laughed, cursed, spat …

Awake again. Light different. Alone now. Thirsty. So thirsty. Jasper reached for the water beside him, then stopped. Did Einar bring it? Might be poisoned. He turned away, though the thirst was so strong. His stomach heaved. Pulling himself to the edge of the bed, he vomited. God help him. Had he already drunk the poisoned water? Was he dying?

Again he woke with a heaving stomach. Someone was there, offering water. He was so thirsty. What did it matter if he drank it? He was already poisoned. He gulped it down. Fell back against the pillows.

In the Bell, the tavern across the Ouse Bridge where Trent had first lodged, Owen spoke with the taverner, Dunn.

‘Little man, big purse. I remember him. Clothes soiled and torn, I thought him a beggar. But he set me straight flashing silver coin. When he complained about the noise, I told him old Jonas Snicket across the way was taking lodgers. Don’t know if he ever talked to him. Next morning he complained he had not slept all night, felt unsafe. I gave him directions to the York Tavern. “The captain of the city lives nearby, drinks there most nights,” I told him. Glad to be rid of him. Sorry to send the lout your way.’

‘Happens it’s good he’s nearby.’ But the other recommendation. There might be others looking for lodging. ‘Have you told any other customers about Snicket?’

‘Now and then. Have you seen his house? Falling down around him. Landlord’s asked me to help out.’

‘Any others of late?’

‘One or two.’

‘Anyone seem interested in Trent?’

The innkeeper squinted at Owen. ‘So he had some trouble, eh? Men following him now?’ He shrugged at Owen’s lack of response. ‘Can’t say that I– No.’ He slapped the counter. ‘There was a pair in here drinking. Looked as if they’d been in a fight. One of them bandaged, the other limping. They watched him for a while, then left. Didn’t see them again.’

‘Strangers to the city?’

‘No one I’d served before.’

‘Can you describe them?’

‘Hats pulled down over their hair, plain faces, no scars, no beauty, I’ll tell you that. One missing several teeth, the older one. My age, I’d say – I’ve seen more than forty winters and feel them in my bones. He was the limping one. The younger had what looked like a bandage round his arm. Right one, I think. Plainly dressed. Not rags. No one special.’

Owen thanked him and headed across to Jonas Snicket’s house. It sat behind a shop that had once been Snicket’s. Now a sailmaker’s shop. Across the yard, the house looked as if it were tipping its hat to him as he approached, the first story sagging to the left.

His knock was met by the sound of shuffling feet approaching. The door opened with a painful creak, a wizened manservant peering out.

‘Is it Captain Archer?’ Before Owen could answer, the servant had turned to call out, ‘Master Jonas, Captain Archer is at the door.’

In a moment an even older man rudely shoved the manservant out of the way. ‘What does the captain of the city want with me?’

‘I understand you take in lodgers.’

‘No lodgers. You waste your time.’ Snicket pushed shut the door.

‘Pity the man who gives that old thief his coin for a room and board,’ said a deep voice behind Owen.

He turned.

A bronze-haired giant nodded to him with a grin. ‘Laurence Gunnell, sailmaker. You will never get a civil word out of that man. Tell you who might help you, though. Mistress Alisoun, the healer. She has a way with him.’

‘He is ill?’

‘Old man with a weak heart. Walks to church now and then, leaning on his faithful servant, Pete. He’s not much younger but strong from years of work. Pete sends for Mistress Alisoun when his master takes a tumble or he cannot wake him.’

A fortunate connection. ‘Anyone lodging with him now?’

‘I’ve seen no strangers coming and going, but I will keep an eye out. I’m not here at night, though, so I might not see.’

After Lucie shut the shop she went up to check on Jasper, found him sleeping. She detected the scent of vomit, but neither the sheets nor the floor were soiled. Rhys stood in the doorway across the landing.

‘Has he been sick?’

‘Twice,’ said Rhys. ‘I cleaned it. Kate gave me cloths and a pail of water.’

‘I am sorry–’

‘No. I was glad to be of help. He reminds me of my brother. Never could drink more than one ale.’

‘I have never seen him like this.’

‘He mistook me for someone he accuses of bedding Mistress Alisoun. I learned some new curses.’

Bedding Alisoun? Is that what they had argued about? And then he had attended a celebration of his friend’s coming marriage. ‘Would you prefer to move next door for the night? We have room.’

‘Do not trouble yourself. He will doubtless sleep through the night. And it might be good to have someone to help him if he falls from the bed.’

‘Did he come through the garden gate? From the York Tavern yard?’

‘He did. I turned round, saw someone dash from the gate. Could not see who. Jasper was staggering forward but tilting so he would have soon fallen on his face. I helped him inside.’

‘He fought you?’

‘Not at first.’

One of Jasper’s friends must have helped him home. Thanking Rhys, she peeked in to see that Jasper still slept, then slipped off to the house.

Owen forgot his own concerns as he listened to Lucie’s account of Jasper’s homecoming.

‘I hope he can tell us in the morning who helped him home. I wish to thank him – and find out how much Jasper said in public. If he maligned Alisoun–’ She broke off, but Owen saw the worry in her eyes. ‘I understand he is hurt and angry. But I pray that he did not start gossip that will spread through the city, damaging her in the eyes of all. She is a skilled midwife and healer. But if people shun her …’ She shook her head.

Owen echoed her prayer. ‘A man’s devils come forth in drink. I hoped I’d taught him that.’

‘I should not have given him permission to leave me alone in the shop. I knew what a temper he was in.’

Tilting her chin up, Owen looked into Lucie’s blue-gray eyes, seeing the pain. ‘You could not have predicted this. I certainly did not. We will work through this. Rhys might have misunderstood.’

‘Something happened, it is clear,’ said Lucie. ‘His first love. First heartbreak.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Einar. This afternoon Alisoun warned me not to mention him to Jasper.’

‘Magda’s great-grandson? But he went away.’

‘Perhaps he returned to consult with Magda and … Poor Jasper. I had never imagined Einar as a rival. In truth, I thought he and Alisoun might resent each other’s importance to Magda, great-grandson and apprentice seeming to each a possible rival.’ Lucie paused. ‘But Einar does have a way with him, and a presence.’

‘That he is Magda’s kin might make it all the harder for Jasper. He may not believe he can compare, that Einar has more to offer her than he does.’

‘I am sad for our son,’ said Lucie, ‘but he cannot continue to punish others for his pain – first Gwen, now Alisoun.’

‘I will talk to him,’ Owen offered, though he could not think how to begin.

‘It might be best coming from you. I am not only his mother but his master in his trade, and I sometimes work closely with Alisoun.’

As Owen might need to do if Gunnell was right about her connection to Snicket. He hoped it would not come to that, but the exchanges, both with Snicket and Gunnell, had left him doubting both men.

Gwen had crouched on the bench outside the garden window listening to her parents. She’d seen Jasper’s arrival and wanted to hear what they said about it. He’d been drunk like some she had seen staggering out of the York Tavern next door. Her brother. She did not understand why. When she learned he was out to celebrate his friend’s betrothal she had envied him, imagining a wondrous array of food, minstrels, dancing. To have drunk so much in so short a time – he had not been gone so very long. Had he joined in the celebration at all? Perhaps young men did not feast and dance at such times. Though clearly they drank. And now to hear her parents’ concern about Jasper spreading gossip about Alisoun. She did not entirely understand what she had done and why he might use it to ruin her. It made her feel fortunate he’d merely ignored her.

Why was he so hateful of late? She might understand why he was mean to her, believing she had betrayed him, but she did not understand his being hateful to Alisoun. Something about Einar. She’d liked him. He’d reminded her of Dame Magda, what she might have been like when younger, not yet so wise, but already someone who paid close attention, and cared. Maybe Alisoun had told Jasper she loved Einar? Or had she chided him about being mean to his annoying little sister? Was she responsible for this, too? But that wouldn’t involve Einar.

In bed now she could not sleep for all she had heard earlier. Tossing and turning, she tried to think how to make amends. For now, she should warn Alisoun.

She was startled from her worry by a loud voice, followed by a quieter one. Outside, she thought. She slipped from bed, turning her head to judge the direction. The voices came from the lane in front of the house. She moved a stool to the window and looked out. In the moonlight she saw two men in the cemetery, arms gesturing in angry argument. Only the lantern over the door of the York Tavern was lit. It must be very late. The street was quiet except for the two men. She must have fallen asleep after all.

The loud one shouted, ‘You will do it.’ The other spoke softly, motioning for the man to calm. She wondered whether they had stumbled from the tavern at closing and wandered out among the graves to continue their argument. Or they might have dared each other to so disturb the dead and now waited to see which would be first to turn tail and run. If one did, the other would soon follow, surely. The loud one said something in a threatening tone, but he was quieter now and she could not make out his words. The other seemed to reach out for him, and then suddenly the louder one jerked as if someone had yanked on his shoulder. Had they awakened a corpse by arguing over the graves? The man slumped onto his knees, then fell sideways. The quieter one made a sound as he reached down toward his fallen companion, then looked up toward the shop window. In the moonlight she thought she saw a line across his pale cheek. Rhys? Was Rhys glancing up at Jasper’s bedroom window, fearful they’d wakened him? Wasn’t he worried his friend had wakened the dead person on whose grave they stood, and they meant to pull him down, trapping him in a grave while still alive? But Rhys seemed more concerned about who might be watching from the house or shop. Now he was looking her way and she hid, fearing the dead might come if he pointed her out. She crawled into bed, squeezing closed her eyes, shivering with fear.

Next door, Jasper, too, ducked as the man looked up to his window. He had no doubt the man searched for him.

He knelt on the floor, pressing his forehead to the planks, praying for forgiveness, vowing never again to surrender his will to drunkenness.

By the time he rose, the men had gone. He wept.