King's Bishop

Twenty-two

Crowder rolled about the floor with a knot of cloth while Jasper bit his lip and poured powdered orris root into a mortar, trying not to raise dust, which would make him sneeze and ruin the physick he had worked on most of the morning. Lucie saw to customers and pretended she was unaware of Jasper’s little cries of dismay, knowing that his yelps usually signalled only his fear of an accident rather than his having made a mistake. Owen was with Ned, removing the stitches; after four days the threads were itching horribly, a sign of healing.

When the door opened, Lucie squinted, thinking her eyes tricked her. But it still looked like Brother Michaelo, though not as meticulously groomed as usual. ‘I thought you were in Windsor with His Grace.’

Michaelo closed his bloodshot eyes and nodded. ‘I left His Grace four days ago with an urgent message for Captain Archer. Is he here?’

Lucie wondered where Michaelo’s loyalties would lie, with the King or with justice. ‘He is out at present. Might I see the letter?’

Michaelo bowed to her. ‘Forgive me, Mistress Wilton, but it is for your husband. If he decides, having read it, that you are to be privy to its contents, so be it. But that is not for me to judge.’

Lucie did not like the secretary’s solemn tone. ‘I presume it has to do with Ned Townley?’

‘God sorely tests Captain Townley. I must warn you that the King’s men are a day behind me. They come to arrest your friend.’

One day. So little time. ‘That is why you rode so hard your eyes are bloodshot and you’ve not stopped in the city to change?’

‘Just so. I refreshed myself at Bishopthorpe, but I did not risk a long pause.’

‘They will take the Captain to Windsor?’

‘Those are their orders, Mistress Wilton. Accompanying them is a clerk with a letter for Captain Archer from His Grace. But I carry a more recent one.’

The Archbishop had obviously learned something that forced him to make haste getting word to Owen. ‘Come through to the kitchen, Brother Michaelo. Tildy will give you refreshment while I fetch Owen.’

‘What of the shop?’

‘Jasper can watch it. I shall not be long away.’

Lucie met Owen on the bridge. He did not like the news.

‘Can Ned ride?’ she asked.

‘If he must. But his leg will be the worse for it later.’

They returned to the shop arm in arm. Lucie left Owen there; he took Michaelo over to the kitchen of the new house, where they made a place for themselves among the supplies Tildy was gradually moving there. Michaelo gazed out at the apothecary garden while Owen read.

Thoresby had carefully described Don Ambrose’s fear for his life, Alice Perrers’s secret marriage, her suspicions of her husband’s part in the deaths of the witnesses, and the danger all shared who had knowledge of this. Owen read quickly, then read it through again.

‘So, Michaelo, Mistress Perrers may be a victim of her own heart, eh?’

‘Heart? I should rather say she is a victim of her own ambition.’ He sat down by Owen. ‘The King’s men will arrive tomorrow to take Captain Townley back to Windsor for trial. I rode hard to arrive before them, pausing only to sleep a few hours each night and give my horse a rest.’

‘You travelled alone?’

‘Faith no, more’s the pity. I had the companionship of Don Paulus.’

‘Jesu. He is at Bishopthorpe?’

Michaelo’s nostrils flared. ‘I trust he will eat through the larder and drain the wine cellar if left too long.’

‘What does the Archbishop suggest I do?’

‘That you take some of his retainers and head for Windsor with Captain Townley.’

A tidy coincidence in plans. ‘He will do what he can for Ned?’

‘His Grace is particularly eager that you should come, Captain. He wants you by his side. In return, he will give Townley his support.’

Owen slapped his thighs, rose. ‘I must discuss preparations with my wife. We must leave before the gates are barred tonight.’

‘You will tell Mistress Wilton all that you have learned?’

Owen’s eye met Michaelo’s. ‘I shall weigh the danger, you may be sure. Now let me tell you of the plan.’ He was pleased to find Michaelo agreed to it.

‘Bardolph and Crofter.’ Michaelo shook his head. ‘It was they who lifted Daniel’s body from the ditch. I’ve no doubt they hurried out so that others might not see the welts on the lad’s wrists.’

‘What about his ankles?’

‘The others were bound at the ankles also?’ When Owen nodded, Michaelo shook his head. ‘I regret I had not the leisure to examine him further, Captain. As it was I worried the men might notice my interest.’

‘Is that why His Grace sent you? Fearing you knew enough to be in danger?’

Michaelo bowed slightly. ‘Strange, is it not? He calls me his penance, yet he seeks to protect me.’

Strange indeed. But Owen had noticed the subtle changes in the secretary. It was difficult to believe he had once been the toady of Archdeacon Anselm. ‘Let us return to the shop.’

As Michaelo and Owen walked back through the garden, the secretary complained about his journey north with Don Paulus. The friar had eaten and drunk more than his share, been difficult to wake, accident-prone …

‘You must remember not to mention his presence at Bishopthorpe until Ned has ridden off ahead.’

‘I am no fool, Captain.’

‘I depend on that, Brother Michaelo.’

While Owen packed, Lucie fretted in the shop, forgetting a customer’s name, dropping a pestle, answering in monosyllables. She had seen the grim set to Owen’s jaw. There was a danger beyond what they had discussed. Obviously something in the letter Michaelo carried. At last, able to bear it no longer, she put Jasper in charge, told him to shout up the stairs if he had an urgent need, and hurried up to Owen.

She found her husband near the door, pack slung over his shoulder.

Lucie closed the door, blocked his way. ‘You shall not pass until I know the danger you face.’

Owen closed his eye, shook his head. ‘Not this time, Lucie. The knowledge of it will place you in peril. I will not do that.’

‘Do you think anyone would believe I knew naught of it?’

‘Many men keep their business to themselves.’

‘What have you done with the letter?’

‘I have it in my pack. I shall dispose of it.’

‘How easy it is for you to deny me this. You are not the one who stays at home and waits. Worries.’

Owen rolled his eye. ‘There is no one better at worrying than me.’ He tried to take her hand.

She kept her arms crossed, hands tucked behind elbows, and told him of her mistakes in the shop. ‘They will multiply and worsen once you are gone. Better that I know the truth. My mind will conjure such horrors …’

Owen dropped his pack, pulled Lucie close. ‘I would not endanger you, my love. Or the children.’

The hands uncrossed of their own volition, wrapped round Owen. Lucie peered up at his dear face, so grim at the moment. ‘We are one household, Owen. If someone means to silence you, they will come for us for good measure. There is no escaping it with foolish silences.’

He opened his mouth to argue, cursed instead. Backing away from her, he sat down, untied his pack, handed Lucie Thoresby’s letter. She read it by the window in the gentle spring sunshine, fighting her trembling hands as she realised the enormity of the affair. ‘But surely too many now know. They cannot all be silenced,’ she whispered.

‘Let us pray that is so, Lucie.’ She handed him the letter. He returned it to his pack. ‘Forgive me for the trouble I bring to this home.’

He brought? ‘How can you blame yourself? It was the Archbishop who began it. But go now. Ride quickly. Get Ned to Windsor and safety.’

‘I do not know how much security Thoresby can provide.’

‘More than the open road, for certain.’

They held each other tight for a long moment.

‘They will come here in search of Ned.’

‘All for naught.’ Lucie forced a smile. ‘What shall I tell them?’

‘Tell them I heard rumours of two rough-looking men asking his whereabouts, so I took him off to Bishopthorpe, where I am steward.’

Lucie took a deep breath. ‘That is where Ned and Matthew ride off ahead?’

‘Aye. Ned believes Bardolph and Crofter are watching him and will follow when he leaves me. Michaelo, Alfred and I shall stop at Bishopthorpe overnight, then ride hard to close in on them from behind.’

‘There is much risk in the plan.’

‘Aye.’

Lucie bit her lip. ‘And how shall you explain an armed company to the gatekeeper?’

‘I shall be telling him that I’ve had word an Austin friar is hiding at Bishopthorpe and I mean to oust him.’

‘What of Jehannes? What will you tell him?’

Owen shook his head. ‘Nothing. It is my revenge for his silence.’

‘Poor man. His house will be turned up so down.’

Owen grinned.

‘Should you collect more men, Captain?’ Michaelo fretted as they led five horses from the stable of Matilda’s father.

‘More might be useful but I cannot ride out with a group of men without alerting Ralph and his mates; they would follow, you can be sure of that.’

They led the mounts slowly through the narrow streets to the Old Baile.

Tom Merchet had alerted Alfred, Matthew and Ned earlier so they would be ready when Owen and Michaelo arrived. The three crept out from the vine-clad wall, slogged through the muck of the old moat, Alfred and Matthew assisting Ned so that he might not slip and open his wound.

‘The innkeeper gave us no reason for the haste,’ Matthew complained.

‘He knew not the reason, and neither will you, Matthew. If you obey orders, ask no questions, it will be better for you.’

Matthew straightened up. ‘Aye, Captain. I meant naught-’

‘The less talk the better.’ Owen handed him a rein. ‘We ride out Micklegate for Bishopthorpe. Lead your mount until we are out of the gate.’ The procession quietly began.

Harold opened the door to the King’s men with trembling hands. The Archdeacon had warned him that they were bound to come soon.

‘God go with you,’ Jehannes called from the parlour, ‘come in, come in.’ Six of them; tall, broad-shouldered, well-armed soldiers looking travel-stained and stiff from riding. Jehannes offered them ale and a repast of vegetable stew, cold meats, cheese, and bread.

‘Where is Captain Townley?’ the gruff spokesman of the company asked. He was a burly redhead named Rufus.

‘The Captain is in a safe place,’ Jehannes said, grateful that he was already damp with nervous sweat; Rufus would hardly notice an increase of what was already there.

The men sat and ate.

The delay was not absolutely necessary, but Jehannes wanted to give his servant Ann time to warn Lucie Wilton that the men would soon be at her house.

‘Has the Duke of Lancaster been notified of the pending arrest of his man?’ Jehannes asked as the appetites slowed.

‘This is King’s business, not the Duke’s,’ said Rufus, rising and adjusting his belt to his full stomach. ‘But my lord of Lancaster would not wish a murderer to go free, his man or no. We will go to Captain Townley now, if it please you, sir.’

Jehannes nodded. ‘You must ride south, I am afraid. To the Archbishop’s manor of Bishopthorpe.’

Rufus shook his head. ‘We were told he was in your custody.’

Thinking quickly, Jehannes said, ‘He slipped out of my house while in my custody. I thought it best to hand him over to someone more practised in such matters.’

‘And who might that be, sir?’

‘Captain Archer, captain of the Archbishop’s guard.’

Rufus frowned. ‘Are you mad? They fought together under Henry of Grosmont.’

Jehannes nodded. ‘I am aware of that. But Captain Archer is an honourable man.’

Rufus muttered something Jehannes did not care to decipher and strode from the house, shouting to his men to follow at once.

Lucie greeted the soldiers in the shop, informed them of Owen’s departure for Bishopthorpe, saying he had gone the previous day. ‘But stay.’ She walked over to one of the soldiers who held a bandaged hand close to him, nodded to another with a nasty cough. ‘Let me put your men at ease before you ride forth.’

‘Where’s your husband, Mistress Wilton?’ Rufus demanded.

Lucie did her best to look puzzled. ‘I have told you. He rode to Bishopthorpe yesterday.’

‘How many men with him?’

‘Captain Townley, his man Matthew, and one of Owen’s men. Three travelled with him, Captain.’ It seemed unwise to mention Michaelo. Rufus turned to his men, ordered two of them to the quarters of the Archbishop’s guards. ‘See whether any others rode along.’

Lucie could not believe the insolence. ‘I would thank you for trusting me, Captain. I am Master Apothecary in this city. I am not accustomed to having my word questioned.’

‘I pray you pardon me, Mistress Wilton, but I don’t like what I find here. I shall find the truth for myself.’

Lucie bit her tongue. The sooner the arrogant knave was out of her shop the better.

Jehannes suddenly appeared in the shop doorway as Rufus paced back and forth. ‘’Tis a crowded house you have here, Mistress Wilton,’ Rufus muttered. ‘Pity the only man we want is missing.’

Archdeacon Jehannes stepped into the room. ‘Benedicte.’ He blessed them all. ‘I must warn you, Captain Rufus, that Mistress Wilton and her family are under the protection of Archbishop Thoresby, who is godfather to young Gwenllian.’

Rufus glared at the Archdeacon. ‘Mistress Wilton is seeing to my men before we depart once more, sir. I would not harm the innocent family of a soldier, no matter what he had done.’

Jehannes sank down on a stool, fanning himself. Lucie feared he might faint. ‘Go to the kitchen. Tildy will give you something to drink,’ Lucie told him. ‘I will not have you passing out in my shop.’ She herself looked forward to a good measure of brandywine when the men departed.