The Riddle Of St Leonard's

Twenty-seven

Bess Merchet was sitting with Lucie in the kitchen when Owen rushed through in search of the shovels he had packed.

‘You must listen to what Bess has learned,’ Lucie said.

‘I must hasten to catch Anneys and the child before they slip through my hands again. Did Jasper return?’

‘He did. He is in the shop.’

‘Good.’

Bess jumped up to follow Owen. She would not be brushed aside when she had worked so hard. But she was mindful to be brief.

Owen sat a moment beside the pack of shovels. ‘You give me much to think about.’

Bess did not think he was sufficiently impressed. ‘Do you not see? Honoria and Uncle Julian were at odds. Sir Richard’s clerk says my uncle made a new will. Perhaps she thought to murder him before he had the chance.’

‘When did Douglas tell you of the will?’

‘When he told me of my share.’

‘Do you know that Honoria received less in the new will?’

A pox on his reasoning. ‘No.’

Owen nodded. ‘I am more intrigued by Julian’s remorse over Adam Carter’s death. It seems more than the thieving bastard was due.’ And with that, Owen rose, threw the pack of shovels over his shoulder, and rushed out.

‘That is the last time I assist your husband,’ Bess declared.

Alisoun paused in her hunt for shovels to watch Anneys, who sat in the doorway of the house alternately wiping her brow and drinking from a jug of well water. What had she done that made her so hot? The day was mild for summer, and Alisoun had done most of the rowing. They would have made more progress by now if the woman had helped more.

It was mid-afternoon. There might yet be enough light to dig up the treasures, but by then it would be too late to return to York. When Alisoun mentioned this to Anneys, the woman assured her that they had left ample food and drink for Finn.

‘But what of us?’

‘We can sleep in the house, child. It was good enough for you once.’

‘I shall sleep in the barn.’

‘Why not the house?’

‘It is full of ghosts.’

Anneys made the sign of the cross and told Alisoun to go find the shovels.

Lame John and his son Rich lay in the tall meadow grass at the far end of the field watching Alisoun and Anneys work. They had retreated after creeping close and seeing the wealth the two were collecting.

‘What devilment is this?’ Lame John muttered. ‘Where did my brother’s child get such things?’

‘They brought no horses,’ Rich said. He wriggled backwards until he could stand behind a tree. His father joined him more slowly.

‘A boat, then?’

‘Aye, that’s what I’m thinking. And if we see to it, they might stay long enough to explain what they’re about.’

Lacking customers and unable to keep his mind on his lessons, Jasper shut the shop for a while and went in search of Lucie. He found her up in the solar, kneeling over a small chest, lifting items from it: toys, a child’s gown … He knew that it had been her mother’s chest; in it she kept her memories. Jasper’s mother had had such a chest.

‘I have nothing of his in here. Nothing,’ Lucie whispered.

Jasper knelt beside her. ‘Brother Wulfstan means as much to you as he does to me.’

Lucie gathered the items she had spread on the floor, placed them back in the chest. ‘I have never known a gentler soul than Wulfstan. I cannot say that I have always been good to him.’ She blotted her eyes on her sleeve.

‘I should have asked you to come with me.’

Lucie hugged herself. ‘I feel frightened. Fearful of what will take the place of such goodness.’

Jasper did not know how to comfort her. ‘I must return to the shop,’ he said.

‘I will come with you.’

Lame John backed away, shook his head. ‘I cannot.’

His son lifted his hand over the boat, was about to bring the jagged rock down on the curved prow when his father caught his hand. Rich dropped the rock as he yanked out of his father’s grasp. Lame John lunged for the rock.

‘What is this?’ Rich hissed. ‘You have changed your mind?’

‘’Tis the Riverwoman’s boat.’

‘And what if it is? She was not with them. You think she loaned it to them? Those two?’ Rich spat in the grass.

‘I would not be cursed by her.’

‘How will she know? ’Tis that changeling, Alisoun, stole it. She damaged it. Who is to say otherwise?’

‘The Riverwoman might know otherwise.’

‘A midwife? Herb-gatherer?’

‘She is more than that.’

‘She is a good woman. She would think us in the right. Alisoun is our kin. We must protect her from that woman.’

Lame John laughed. ‘You want the gold and silver.’

‘Did you see it? When are we to see the likes of that again, eh?’

Lame John handed his son the rock.

When the prow had been sufficiently splintered, Rich tossed the rock aside, brushed off his hands.

‘You’ve taken the skin off your palms. Down to the river with you, wash them off.’

‘What then? Do we await them here?’

‘Nay. We must see what they are about.’

Lucie and Jasper found no customers in Davygate, but they opened the shop door in the hope of distraction. Jasper sat on the bench by the window; Crowder climbed up on his lap, and as the lad absent-mindedly stroked the cat, Lucie told him of her first visit to Brother Wulfstan’s garden.

The trussed man on the stretcher attracted much interest at the hospital — until word spread that he stank of pestilence.

‘The gaol? And keep him under guard? But what has he done?’ Don Cuthbert found them puzzling suggestions.

‘Captain Archer did not say,’ replied one of the stretcher-bearers.

Cuthbert tucked his hands up his sleeves, considered the alternatives. He had so far managed to keep the deaths from pestilence quite low by separating the sufferers from the other infirm. The hospital was not crowded, but to place him in a room that might be secured would require inconvenient shuffling.

‘The gaol it is, then. Put him far from Mistress Staines.’ In truth, she should be released to the house of the lay sisters, but he was not about to do so without the master’s order. He must tread lightly for a time.