The Riverwoman’s Dragon

9 Puzzles

Magda examined Einar’s shoulder, nodding with approval at Bird-eye’s work both in removing the arrow and packing the wound. But Einar distracted her with a simmering restlessness building toward boiling.

‘Thou hast much on thy mind.’

‘The captain is not what I expected,’ he said. ‘I heard that he used a friend lately come from the French court to ingratiate himself with Prince Edward. The friend is now captive at court.’

Resting her fingers on Einar’s wrist she looked deep into his eyes. When his pulse calmed, she asked, ‘Is the friend of whom thou speakest the musician Ambrose Coates?’

‘You know the story?’

‘Magda knows the truth. Minstrel is an old friend. Thou hast taken hold of the tale from the wrong end.’

‘Will you tell me?’

While wrapping Einar’s upper arm in a clean bandage Magda told him how Ambrose had come to her on a snowy night before Yuletide to ask her how best to approach Bird-eye for his help with information he learned at the French court and had undertaken to bring to the prince, at great risk to himself. It was his misfortune to bring trouble in his wake, but Bird-eye protected him and saw that he was safely delivered to trusted members of the prince’s household. Magda assured Einar that Ambrose would be content to remain at court, where he would have an audience and a patron.

She watched as the young man grew increasingly troubled. ‘Could I have been so misguided?’ he muttered. She sensed he felt betrayed and guessed the source of his unease.

‘Asa delighted in thine impression of the captain as a treasonous friend.’ The deepening of the line between the thick brows told her she had guessed correctly. ‘She does not wish to hear good of anyone who has crossed her. Didst thou not see?’

‘I did not see how deep it went.’

While creating a sling for his arm she asked what else he needed for the day.

‘I will be fine. I have much to think on.’

‘Good. Magda hopes thou wilt unburden thyself this evening.’

While preparing her basket for a day visiting the ill she continued her account of Bird-eye, how he took it as his duty to protect the city and, in doing so, the North, how devoted he was to family and friends. Having given Einar much to ponder, she hoisted her basket and departed, reminding him to feed the kitten and let her out when she needed to relieve herself.

The midwife’s injuries would prevent her from working for a time, but none of them so serious Owen could not reassure both Edith and her husband John that all would be well. His greatest challenge was convincing John to hold her steady in the chair while Owen set her broken arm. It was not a bad break, and with a small, albeit painful, adjustment she would heal well. When that was accomplished, he completed the cleaning and wrapping of her head wound.

While Owen worked Edith described her attackers – two large men, one sounding much like one of the workers in Graa’s warehouse. Nothing to connect them with the cleric who assaulted Asa except in the act. He would seek out the warehouse worker later in the day. She mentioned Bernard, accusing him of inspiring the trouble, expressing her sympathy for Janet and Cilla Fuller– ‘Imagine listening to his hateful ideas all the day.’

‘You and Dame Janet are friends?’

‘Of a sort. I have helped her with Cilla from time to time.’

‘Did you know her before she was married?’

‘No. She came to the city when she wed Jack.’

Someone knocked on the door. John went to answer it armed with a hefty piece of wood. ‘Oh. Benedicite, Brother Michaelo.’

Begging their forgiveness for intruding, Michaelo said he had a message for Owen when he was finished.

‘I am finished.’ Owen instructed John to come to the shop on the morrow to tell Lucie how Edith fared through the night. She would then provide him with what he needed to help his wife continue her healing.

‘Come along with me,’ said Owen as he strode away from the midwife’s home. ‘I believe you might make my next stop easier.’

‘Of course. But you need to know. Jehannes received a response from His Grace the Archbishop. He assures him that the letter to the abbots and priors was meant merely as a suggestion, and commended him on the suggestion of processions. As Archdeacon of York he gives Jehannes full authority to do what is best. Indeed, he would appreciate his smoothing things over with the Churchmen in the city.’

‘He wiped his hands of us and put the burden on Jehannes,’ said Owen. ‘In short, he disowns us?’

‘It would seem so. Might I trouble you to tell me our destination?’

‘The Fuller home, where Bernard is lodging. Dame Janet might find your presence reassuring. She seemed anxious last night. And you might have a word with her daughter Cilla, who made a point of inviting me to return – soon.’

‘Ah.’ After that, they both fell into their own thoughts as they headed for Walmgate.

Bernard answered the knock, narrowing his eyes when he saw who it was. ‘Captain Archer. And a monk?’

‘Brother Michaelo,’ said Owen. ‘Have you remembered meeting the woman of whom we spoke last night?’

‘You spoke. I–’

Dame Janet peered round him, then stepped between Bernard and the door. ‘Captain Archer. Brother Michaelo. Do come in from the rain.’ She glanced at Bernard with a shake of her head and shooed him out of the way. As they moved past her she patted her tidy kerchief, brushed her apron, then planted a fierce smile on her face.

‘I pray you forgive me. I was just sweeping out the kitchen. Might I bring you some ale while you confer with Bernard?’ Her smile tensed as Michaelo crossed the room to greet Cilla.

‘It is you with whom I wish to speak, Dame Janet,’ said Owen.

The leech stepped between Owen and Dame Janet. ‘See to the girl, Janet.’ The woman averted her eyes and retreated a few steps.

‘I was mistaken yesterday,’ said Bernard. ‘Dame Janet does not know this woman you asked after.’

‘And who was that, Bernard?’ Janet asked.

‘Asa,’ said Owen, ‘a healer lately arrived in York. She was beaten in the minster yard yesterday.’

‘Asa?’ Janet shook her head. ‘I do not know the name.’ But she looked long at Bernard, her expression one of loathing.

He wandered away.

‘I see. Then I will leave you to your day, Dame Janet,’ said Owen. ‘I pray you forgive the intrusion.’

‘Not at all, Captain,’ she said, suddenly friendly. ‘I pray your family are all safe and sound? The little ones well?’

‘They are in the country for the summer.’

‘I am glad for it. I worry for my husband, that sickness delayed his ship. Pray for us, Captain.’

Michaelo had made the sign of the cross over Cilla and joined Owen. ‘I will pray for your family, Dame Janet.’

‘Bless you.’

Out in the street, Owen moved through the rain pondering the words, the gestures, maddened by his certainty that he had missed an opportunity.

‘Apparently Bernard is Cilla’s uncle.’

‘What?’ Owen stopped and stared at Michaelo.

‘Though she had not met him before he appeared a few months past she had heard her parents speak of him. She recalls them referring to him as “Alan the snake”, but her mother tells her she has confused him with someone else. Cilla thinks not, and prays you find a way to return when “the snake” is away.’ Michaelo spoke as if in the midst of a conversation, his mouth betraying his amusement as Owen looked at him in disbelief. ‘But she could not suggest a time when you might be certain of that. She also mentioned that her father had been long away, and would be surprised that “the snake” was poisoning the household. That is another bit of news. Jack Fuller’s ship has docked at King’s Staithe and she believes her father will soon evict her uncle.’

‘I am in your debt,’ Owen said with feeling.

‘Mm … yes. Will that be all?’

‘You are welcome to accompany me to the mayor’s warehouse near the staithe, if you can spare the time.’

‘Of course. If I can be of help.’

‘I would be grateful.’

Michaelo grinned.

They were soon caught up in the flow of folk and carts leading to Ouse Bridge, attempting to cross through them to descend to King’s Staithe. Michaelo lifted the hem of his habit, protecting it from the path the steady rain had turned to mud.

On the staithe Owen noticed Jack Fuller helping another carry a load down the gangplank from a small ship. Considering the well-muscled man, Owen guessed he would easily put Bernard in his place.

Brother Michaelo cleared his throat. ‘Is that Dame Asa?’

At the bottom of the gangplank, just out of the way, Asa leaned on her cane, watching Fuller. As he set down his burden she gestured to him, but he turned back to the ship.

‘It is.’

‘She looks nothing like her mother,’ said the monk. ‘Now Einar, something in his eyes hints of her blood.’

Owen agreed.

‘Whatever injuries she suffered healed sufficiently for her to risk the rain and mud,’ Michaelo noted.

‘Would you follow her?’

‘I thought you wished– Of course. Though I am not what one might consider inconspicuous.’

‘Nor am I.’

Michaelo glanced at Owen’s patch. ‘No, that you are not.’

‘After the warehouse I mean to return to the apothecary.’ Nodding to Michaelo, Owen continued on.

In the warehouse across the way he searched the faces for the one he suspected of beating the midwife, but he was not among the workers.

‘Might be at the staithe. Ship’s come in,’ said the man who had been helpful before. ‘His name is Duggan.’

‘I did not see him there,’ said Owen. ‘Where does he live?’

‘Don’t know, don’t want to know. I keep my distance from trouble.’

In the lane in front of the apothecary a cluster of women hailed Owen, asking whether he had caught the men who had beaten the midwife Edith.

‘We are still searching. But I assure you Dame Edith will make a full recovery.’ He could do nothing about their disappointment except mirror it in his gut.

Inside, Jasper was placing small packages in a woman’s basket, reviewing with her what they were and how she was to use them. Juniper for a protective fog in the house if one of them should fall ill. A poultice to draw the poison from the buboes, a lotion to ease the pain. Yes, he had added the emerald powder as she had requested. A plaster for the chest. A strong syrup for cough. A scented beeswax candle for the bedside. There was more in the packages already placed in the basket before he arrived, far more than they would have the time or presence of mind to use once the sickness struck. But folk traded ideas, and some hoped to use everything possible. As the woman counted out a considerable amount of money, Owen noticed Lucie gesturing to him from behind the beaded curtain separating the shop from the workroom. He bobbed his head to the customer and joined Lucie.

‘Have you made a fortune today?’ he asked.

‘Pestilence is sinfully lucrative for an apothecary,’ said Lucie, ‘but a fortune, no.’

‘Much charity?’ He knew his wife. If the customer could not afford what they needed, she would pretend to tally what they owed and keep a running count, but when – if – they came asking for the total she would shoo them away.

‘A few who could not pay.’ She kissed his cheek and touched his bearded chin. ‘I heard that Guthlac Wolcott is dead, and the burial tomorrow.’

‘From whom?’

‘One of the butchers was praying in the church when a servant came for the priest. He hurried here for more protections from the pestilence. I assured him that Guthlac was not a victim of the Death, that he has been dying a long while. But he was too frightened to be comforted.’

‘May Guthlac rest in peace.’

‘How are Einar and Magda?’

‘She is untouched by the violence. Einar will mend. Will Jasper miss you if you come with me to the kitchen? I have much to tell you.’

As he sat by the fire waiting for Lucie, Owen absently stroked the kitten on his lap. Kate set a bowl of ale beside him. He would eat after he had discussed with Lucie all he had learned since their last long talk. But it was Michaelo who arrived first, pushing back his hood and running his long fingers through the hair that circled his tidy tonsure.

‘At the risk of disrupting your dinner …’ He paused in the doorway.

‘Come, sit, tell me,’ said Owen.

Removing his shoes, Michaelo joined Owen by the fire, holding his hands to the heat, then tucking them into his sleeves. ‘I will not stay long.’

‘You followed Asa?’

‘More than that. After you left, the men on the staithe grew frightened when Jack Fuller failed to reappear, muttering about him being the only one not struck down by illness on that small ship, arguing about whether he seemed ill, none of them willing to go up to see what had happened. So I went. He was on the deck, bent over, breathing hard, his clothes soaked with sweat, his neck hot to the touch. When I called from the ship for someone to come help me take him home, only Asa responded.’

‘She climbed the gangplank with her cane?’

‘She had help. While I debated whether to assist her or stay with Fuller to keep him upright, Janet Fuller hurried forward to assist Asa, calling shame down on the cowering men who were suddenly eager to help. We transported him to his home in Walmgate in a cart borrowed from the staithe, Asa and I leading the donkey, Dame Janet in the cart with her husband and a small chest Jack refused to leave behind.’

Lucie had slipped in while Michaelo told the tale. ‘All the men in his ship are ill?’ she asked.

‘Most are dead.’

‘Deus juva me.’

‘Was Bernard there?’ Owen asked. ‘Will he care for Jack?’

‘Janet promised her husband that her brother would not touch him. Asa and Janet will care for him.’ Michaelo nodded at Owen’s surprise. ‘She said God brought her here at this time for a purpose. Dame Magda had supplied her with what she would need to help those her mother could not.’

‘Despite the beating the other day?’ Lucie asked, taking a seat beside Owen. ‘I pray Bernard does not mistreat her. Unless he has moved out?’

‘I did not see him, but I heard nothing of his moving out.’

‘Perhaps someone should watch the house?’ Lucie suggested. ‘I hope she knows that we will provide anything they require.’

‘Anticipating your generosity I already told her to send someone to you for anything she needed,’ said Michaelo. ‘I do not think she will be leaving that house for a day or two. If it is the pestilence, Jack Fuller will die quickly. And then, I fear for Mistress Cilla. She is already frail.’ Michaelo rose. ‘I will leave you now. I know you have much to discuss.’

Owen escorted him to the door. ‘You are not worried for yourself?’

‘I have lived through numerous returns of the Death. My bile is too bitter for its tastes.’ A smirk.

Owen felt Lucie’s eyes on him as he turned from the door. It lifted his heart to see the laughter in her eyes. ‘He might be right,’ he said.

She burst out laughing. ‘Pray God he is.’ It was but a momentary jollity. ‘I do not think I should like to lose him so soon.’ Already her eyes were sad. ‘So many dead in the ship.’ She crossed herself.

They adjourned to the hall, carrying in ale. Kate would bring in the food.

Settled near the window, Owen began his tale with an account of what had happened at the river the previous evening, Einar’s injury. Alfred would have told her much of it, but he knew she would want to hear his account. And then, after answering her questions, he told her of Lettice’s fears regarding her husband’s death, particularly his treatment by Graa’s warehousemen and Gavin Wolcott, and continued on to Beatrice’s pregnancy.

‘I had not expected that,’ said Lucie. ‘Poor Lettice, I can understand her fear. As their laundress she might very well be silenced. That alone …’ Lucie paused, frowning down at her ale.

‘What is it?’

‘I wonder whether you might have been better to take heed of Gemma Toller’s distrust of Beatrice’s intentions with her late husband. Is it not possible that Sam was the father of her child?’

‘Possible.’

‘Or you are wrong about Gavin’s feelings for her. She is a beautiful woman and far closer in age to him than to his father.’ Lucie glanced up. ‘Did I understand Brother Michaelo to say Bernard is Janet’s brother?’

He told her about Einar’s calling Bernard ‘Alan’ and what Michaelo had learned from Cilla.

‘A snake. Dear Cilla,’ said Lucie. ‘She is so like her mother in everything but physical wellbeing. I tried every tonic I could imagine, as did Magda.’

‘What is wrong with her?’

‘A faulty heart perhaps. She has ever been weak, any exertion robbing her of breath in short order. Her mind is sharp. When she was younger Janet and Jack arranged for a tutor to come each morning.’

Owen’s thoughts turned to his eldest daughter. ‘Gwenllian will be missing her classes.’ Through winter into spring she had attended a small school for girls. He took Lucie’s hand. And so they sat for a long while as the rain gathered strength out in the garden.

‘Alan.’ Lucie sat forward. ‘Janet’s brother. He was in service in the household of a wealthy man in London. She never mentioned him but to say an unpleasant encounter reminded her of him. When I laughed at her calling him a leech, thinking it cleverness, she admitted that he was more properly a barber, Alan’s master having trained him in bloodletting, but he was a blood-sucking worm.’

Owen had noticed how Janet spoke her brother’s name as if taunting him. He had thought it was her omission of the Master before it. ‘Why would he change his name?’

‘Driven from his post? If he posed as a physician there as he has here but has in truth little training … Owen, what if Guthlac need not have died? What if his decline and death are the fault of a man posing as a physician?’

‘We cannot prove that.’

‘But if his London master discovered Alan posing as a physician in London …’

‘And so Alan fled and changed his name to escape prosecution.’

‘Yes.’

‘We might be wrong.’

‘But if not. Owen, we must stop him before he causes more deaths.’

‘And how to you propose to do that?’

‘How indeed?’ Lucie folded her arms and lay her head down on the table.

Owen rubbed her shoulders, kissed her neck. ‘Meanwhile there is still Sam’s murderer to hunt down. I will try to speak with Gemma.’

‘But you’ve not eaten.’ Lucie sat up, glancing at the door. ‘Kate did not bring the food.’ She was up and rushing to the kitchen before Owen caught up with her thoughts.

He found her with an arm around Kate, who stood in the doorway to the garden, her shoulders heaving with her sobs. Out in the rain stood her siblings, the twins Rose and Rob. It was clear from their faces they had brought unhappy news.

‘Our sister Meg. The Death has taken her and her mistress,’ said Rose when Owen drew them into the warmth of the kitchen.

Meg was Kate’s younger sister by a year, maidservant to an elderly widow in Fossgate.

Owen left them to Lucie’s care and carried the food out to the hall, then called them all in to nourish themselves as they might. He fetched Jasper from the shop, seeing to a last customer before shutting it for a time. The Death walked the streets of York. They all needed their strength.

Rain had slowed by the time Magda stepped out from the cover of trees. All seemed peaceful in the ramshackle settlement on the riverbank. Rowing to the rock, she touched the dragon, nodded her thanks. Within she found the fire stoked and something savory bubbling in a pot. Einar rose as she entered, plucking up his tunic.

‘Thou wilt need help with that.’ Magda set down her baskets and assisted him, offering a small pack to carry from his belt with items Brother Michaelo might not have. For of course that is where Einar was headed.

‘Thou hast cared for those suffering the great sickness?’

‘With my father.’

‘Thou wilt be of much help to the fussy crow. Return this evening. Magda would check thy wound before sleep.’

Einar nodded and departed.

Magda hummed to herself as she sorted the contents of her basket and set her mind to her visitations on the morrow. Einar was reclaiming himself, she felt it deep within. Soon he would confide in her.