The Riverwoman’s Dragon

12 So Many Questions

Owen seethed, itching to find Alan, pin him to a wall, and take his time describing the damage he had inflicted on the body of a woman who was in his sister’s home tending to a man dying of the pestilence, the feelings churning as he answered Jasper’s questions about Asa’s injuries, Alan’s violence, Einar’s part in all of this.

It was with some relief that Owen took his leave of his son. Learning that the death had taken Jack Fuller, his body removed by friars, and that Cilla Fuller would likely soon succumb, Owen first went there.

Two friars tended a fire in the yard while Janet stood in the kitchen doorway hugging herself, ignoring the loud, vicious remarks of a man and woman watching from a neighboring yard. Still seething, Owen walked over to them and said he was recruiting folk to help dispose of the dead. As they seemed idle, he would submit their names.

Muttering curses, they retreated – not to the house where they stood, but to a yard farther away.

‘They marked my house with chalk weeks ago, spreading a rumor that my Cilla carried the pestilence.’

‘Your brother did nothing about that?’

‘He said not a word. I scrubbed it off.’

Despite the enormous losses she had suffered in the past day she presented an orderly appearance head to toe. Only the hollowed-out eyes betrayed her, empty, as if walking with the dead, not the living. Owen expressed his sorrow and asked if there was anything he or Lucie might do for her. She thanked him for silencing the couple, and for the offer.

‘Brother Michaelo was so kind, and Dame Lucie refused money for the physicks I requested. Today the friars appeared on my doorstep, six of them, and offered to help me with the bodies of my husband and daughter. When I told them that my daughter was still alive one of them offered to attend her while two of their brethren took away my Jack.’ She crossed herself. ‘And the others are cleaning and burning Jack’s clothes and bedding.’

‘It is good to hear of such kindness in a dark time,’ said Owen.

‘So many have been kind. There will be a mass in the morning. I expect another in a few days’ time, though Cilla being so sickly she might stop breathing at any moment.’

‘I am sorry.’

She patted his arm. ‘When I have grieved, I will find a way to help my neighbors, for surely the Death walks among us all now.’ She took a breath. ‘Have you found my brother?’

‘No. I have just come from Dame Magda’s.’

‘Forgive me. I did not think to ask. How is Asa?’

‘Resting. Magda has done what is possible for now.’

‘Will she recover?’

‘She has much healing to do. Would you permit me to arrange for someone to watch your house? For your protection?’

‘While the friars are here Alan would not dare come.’

‘We cannot be certain. His actions might be part of something larger.’ Seeing her fear, he begged her forgiveness, ‘But I would be remiss if I did not warn you.’

‘I am grateful, Captain. I pray you do whatever you think necessary, and if there is anything I might do, I trust you will tell me. And if I might beg a favor. Take Alan’s things. I will not be able to sleep in that room until it is all removed and I have scrubbed it.’ She turned, nodding to him to follow her up a narrow set of steps to the solar, where an oil lamp burned. ‘I have touched nothing. All but the table, shelves, bed, and chair is his. He had two packs tucked beneath the bed. You are welcome to them.’ She nodded to herself as if satisfied that she’d said all she intended, and moved toward the steps.

‘Was Asa a help to you?’

She turned, a hand on her stomach. ‘She was a great help, so gentle with both of them. That Alan would do this– God forgive me, but I meant to kill the animal. I fetched a cleaver from the kitchen.’

‘He saw you with it?’ Owen could well imagine Alan turning on her.

‘No. He fled while I was gone. Leaving her there. I feared he had killed her. I don’t understand. Did he know her?’

‘For a short while.’

‘The young man. Einar. Is he her son?’

‘No. A cousin.’

‘He has a good heart. The friars said he has been assisting Brother Michaelo with the poor who sleep in the minster yard and then he walks to an old shed in Galtres to sleep. If he needs a place to stay in the city he is welcome here. Would you tell him that? Perhaps he might suffice for my protection as well.’

‘I will tell him, though I would prefer to use one of my men for the watch.’

‘Whatever you think best. I will be down below with my daughter. Bless you, Captain. I will not rest easy until Alan is in the castle dungeon. But at least my home will feel free of him when his things are gone.’

‘Your question about Alan and Asa– Has your brother ever been with a woman?’

She gave him a puzzled smile. ‘Do you think he would confide such a thing to me? If he has I pity the woman. Do you think he and Asa might have been lovers? Perhaps he felt betrayed by her? I will pray for her.’ She left the solar, closing the door behind her.

On the table Owen found tools for bloodletting, most with the mark Einar had pointed out, and bowls of leeches. Many appeared dead. There were a few physicks for simple complaints – feverfew powder for headache, mint and fennel seed for the stomach. A paltry selection for a physician, or even a barber. Perhaps he had removed the rest.

Reaching beneath the bed, Owen found but one pack. Worn leather, well used. Considering what little he’d found it would hold all that Alan had left behind. He used the few items of clothing to pad the items from the table – a few shirts, London-made, one much darned, hose, also darned, a hooded cape of waxed cloth for rain, a fine ivory comb missing a few teeth, a razor.

Before leaving, he took a turn round the room, lamp in hand, searching for anything misplaced.

‘You found only the one pack?’

Owen had not heard Dame Janet return.

‘Just this, yes.’ Something occurred to him. ‘Did he explain why he did not wish anyone to know who he was?’

‘What do you mean? He did not deny he was my brother.’

‘Had he ever before used the name Bernard?’

‘It was our father’s name. He said he had taken it in honor of him.’

Loath to cause her more pain, Owen said nothing. ‘I will send someone to watch until he is found.’

She nodded, stepping aside so that he might descend before her.

He turned at the top of the steps. ‘Was he carrying anything besides the poppet when he came down last night?’

‘No. Nothing.’

‘He was wearing his cloak?’

‘No. You found none?’

Owen shook his head.

‘What does that mean?’

‘Perhaps he already planned a retreat and stored the second pack elsewhere.’

‘But he had only just learned that Jack was home.’

Owen hesitated before his next question. But it could mean much to the widow. ‘Brother Michaelo mentioned a small chest your husband was keen to keep with him. Is it still in the house?’

‘I had not thought to check.’ She hurried down the steps.

Owen paced, thinking of the package delivered to the Wolcott house in the night. Janet returned, crestfallen.

‘Gone. What will I tell the Graa family? They entrusted the ship and crew to Jack. How did he dare? And when? Jack returned just hours before he died.’

‘You said you went to the kitchen for a cleaver to defend Asa and he was gone when you returned.’

‘Of course. And the chest was just beneath the table beside my husband’s pallet. The fiend! May God damn him to eternal suffering,’ she hissed.

‘I will find it, Dame Janet. Tell me what it looks like.’

She measured it in the air, a small chest, as he would have expected. ‘I had his initials carved on it, Captain. JF. And a rose to remind him of me.’

‘May God watch over you and your daughter. Might I attend the mass in the morning?’

‘I would be honored. It will be at St Mary’s in Castlegate. I cannot abide the parish priest at St Denys’.’

The sun was low in the sky, the streets evening-dark. Cool breezes whispered around corners, signaling an end to the warm spell. Owen shifted the pack on his shoulders as his mind raced, searching for a clue as to where Alan might hide his belongings, and Jack Fuller’s chest of papers and coin. Nothing in Alan’s belongings suggested such a place. But Hempe’s report of the delivery to the Wolcott home drew him there.

Voices of guests could be heard in the Wolcott yard. He passed it, slipping into Ferriby’s yard next door. John, the ‘gardener’, nodded to him.

‘Plenty folk coming and going at the street door, but not the leech,’ he said. ‘Heard him prattling at folk in the parish often enough I know his voice. I’ve listened for him, and he’s not been there.’

‘Have you heard anything of interest?’

‘Servants moaning that when the young master and the mistress leave early tomorrow they’re to scrub down the house and close it. The rest is much moaning about all the work, some tears for the old master.’

Peering through the hedge, Owen noticed the cart Hempe had mentioned, loaded, covered, ready for a morning departure. He saw no one about.

‘The cart is not guarded?’

‘Has been. I expect all the household is caught up with the guests.’

Leaving the pack of Alan Rawcliff’s belongings with John, Owen told him to stay close to the hedge, then slipped through into the Wolcott yard, ducking behind the cart. He waited, listening for footsteps or any sign he had been noticed. When he deemed it safe he untied a corner of the cover on the cart. The sun still cast light in the garden, the contents of the cart visible – bedding, cushions, a few chests of the sort that commonly hold clothing. Hearing footsteps, he crawled into the cart, dropping the end of the cover he’d lifted. He held his breath as the footsteps came close but then continued moving away from the house. Someone heading for the midden, he guessed. He lay still. The person returned, hesitating for a moment near him, then continued to the house. Slithering out, Owen peered up, and, seeing no one, lifted the cover more. He had felt something that might be a small chest beneath some cushions. Too dark beneath the cover and the cushions to see any carvings to identify it as Fuller’s, he shifted a larger chest to search beyond it. More footsteps, and voices. Again he climbed in, dropping the cover over him. The men were discussing protections against the pestilence. One said he had participated in a penitential procession in his church. The other scoffed, arguing that once the pestilence was in the city no amount of penance would push it out.

The first said, ‘Penance for my sins, not those of all the city. I know plenty deserve to be afflicted.’

‘Afflicted? You make light of the Death? There is no other end to it, you know.’

‘I know of two survived it.’

‘Pah. They thought they did is all.’

The men moved past, heading for the midden again, Owen guessed. He moved a foot to ease a cramp and reached down to rub it, stopping as they returned.

‘Did you hear Wolcott’s leech beat the Riverwoman’s daughter? She would have died but Captain Archer took her to her ma.’

‘Is that why we have not seen him today. I would hide, too, if that one-eyed Welshman caught me out.’

‘Too bad the captain did not stay at the prince’s court.’

‘Why? The city needs a protector.’

‘Protector? He’s spying for the prince and who knows who else.’

‘They say the Riverwoman’s dragon survived burning arrows without any damage.’

‘Mind me, those who tried to burn that witch’s house will all be dead of the pestilence before the harvest.’

‘So might we all.’

Their voices fading, Owen eased out, dragging the small chest to the light. Fuller’s initials, and a rose. What did it mean? Alan was paying to leave the city in the cart? Did he believe the sheriff would act on Asa’s word? Or might he truly fear Magda’s wrath?

Handing the chest through the hedge, Owen had returned to the cart to retie the cover when he heard footsteps. Ducking down, he heard Gavin Wolcott questioning a servant.

‘Where did you see him?’

‘Near the hedge.’

‘Carrying something?’

‘I thought, but might have–’

‘My apologies if I alarmed you,’ John called out from the direction of the Ferriby garden. ‘I was on the ladder trimming the top of the hedge. My shears flew out of my hand.’ He waved the old shears. ‘Found them.’

Gavin cuffed the servant and stormed back into the house.

Owen silently cursed as the servant began to pace and mutter curses, some to the ‘young master’, some to the Ferriby gardener. Though he managed to retie the cloth over the cart when the man turned away, Owen dared not leave. He waited for what seemed hours until Ferriby’s nephew Luke came strolling into the yard, hailing the serving man by name. Eager to complain to a sympathetic friend, the serving man grumbled away as Luke led him round the side of the house, motioning with a hand behind his back for Owen to take advantage of the distraction. In a flash, Owen was through the hedge, thanking John for fetching Luke.

‘That was clever. As was your feint with the shears.’

‘I noticed them talking earlier and prayed Luke would agree. He will expect you to await his return, share a bowl of ale with him.’

‘Gladly.’

Retrieving the pack and chest, Owen went into the shop. He did not wait long. Luke arrived, chuckling to himself.

‘You saved me from a long, long wait, or worse,’ said Owen. ‘I am grateful.’

‘I was glad of the chance to help, Captain. I confess I enjoyed it. I am not fond of Gavin Wolcott. Nor are any of the servants in that house. They are sad the mistress is deserting them. Time for a bowl of ale?’

‘I was hoping you would ask.’

Owen settled on a bench, leaning his head against the wall but quickly straightening as he realized how easy it would be to fall asleep right there. Luke busied himself filling two bowls to their brims from a large jug, handing Owen one while already sipping from the other.

After a long, welcome drink, Owen asked whether Luke had heard from his uncle. ‘Will he stay at the manor through the summer?’

‘No. He plans to move back and forth. He cannot abide being away from the business. Not a country man. I do not think the mistress will be glad of that. She has an idea that somehow folk carry the sickness from place to place even if they do not seem ill.’

‘It would explain how it spreads through the land.’

Luke looked doubtful. ‘What did you find?’

‘Something that does not belong to either the Wolcotts or the person I believe delivered it to them.’

‘That will be the man you are hunting, Master Bernard?’

Owen grinned. ‘You are a shrewd one.’

Luke put a finger to the side of his nose. ‘I’ll say naught about it. I have itched to search that cart. I suspect much of the merchandise Gavin Wolcott “moved” in the warehouse was brought to the house. And I’d not be surprised to find others’ goods tucked away as well.’

‘You think him a thief?’

‘If you’ve ever tried to look into his eyes, well, you can’t. Shifting all the while, looking here, looking there, anywhere but facing you. Sam Toller despised him, you know.’

‘Did he?’

‘With good cause, I think. Even his father distrusted him. He had Sam carry on his trade while he was mourning his children – not Gavin. I say you will find that Sam Toller was pushed into the Ouse for his curiosity.’

‘You know this?’

‘Cannot prove it, but the man was loyal to Guthlac and wary of Gavin, that he told me over many a tankard of ale.’

‘What of Dame Beatrice? Did she trust Sam over Gavin?’

‘Could not tell you. Sam admired her, and pitied her. She loved her children.’

‘And her husband? Did Sam pity her for being wed to a man so much older than she?’

A wince. ‘He never said as much, but something made me think he did. I could not swear to it. Nor whether she was unhappy. I always thought her oddly unfriendly to Dame Emma, the kindest of women.’

Finishing the bowl of ale, Owen thanked Luke for his help, and his information. ‘I have much to do before nightfall.’

‘I am glad to help. I will miss the “gardener” when Gavin and the mistress are gone.’

Slinging the pack over his shoulder and lifting the chest, Owen took his leave. His stomach growled as he turned back toward the Fuller house. But there was much to do before he turned homeward.

Janet Fuller wept to see the chest. ‘My Jack was so proud to be master of a ship.’

‘Would you inspect the contents, tell me whether anything is missing? Go inside, where it is comfortable.’

‘You should not come into the hall, not with Cilla–’

‘I will wait here.’

While he stood without, watching the street, Owen glimpsed a familiar lope and hailed Alfred.

‘Any sign of the leech?’

‘No, Captain.’

‘Are you headed home?’

‘I was. But if there’s aught I might do for Dame Janet and Cilla …’

Hearing how Alfred’s voice changed when speaking Cilla’s name, Owen wondered whether she was the young woman he had once hoped to wed. ‘Stand watch until I find someone to take your place?’

‘Gladly, Captain.’

Janet appeared, a smile assuring him that all was as it should be. ‘Alfred. Are you to guard Cilla and me tonight?’

‘As long as I am needed, Dame Janet. How is Cilla?’

Owen slipped away, turning toward the Cooper house, not too far. Edwin supported Alan. Might he hide him?

With the waning light, he noticed lamps lit in many homes. One burned in the kitchen of the Cooper house. Several men congregated in the cooperage yard, two rolling new barrels to a pile beneath the eaves, two watching, talking in low voices.

‘Is Edwin Cooper about?’

‘Aye, he is. But what he’s about, well, see for yourself.’ The man gestured toward the workshop.

The shutters on the window beside the door were opened. On the floor, illuminated by a lamp on a worktable he glimpsed a man’s bare backside, hiding some of the naked woman beneath him. Cooper cried out, begging God’s forgiveness as the woman beneath him laughed. Owen recognized her as a servant in the household. Much ado here, but nothing to do with Alan Rawcliff.

Nodding his thanks, Owen turned toward Hempe’s house. He would ask him to send someone to relieve Alfred’s watch, arrange for help with tomorrow morning’s plan, and then go home. He needed Lucie’s clear-eyed counsel. He would leave the visit to the mayor’s home till morning, when he passed it to attend the mass for Jack Fuller. Near the bridge he encountered a pair of friars praying as two men loaded several corpses onto a cart. Victims of the pestilence, from the stench. Covering his nose and mouth with a scarf he, like all folk in the city, wore round his neck right now, Owen hurried along.

It was only when Owen entered his own gate and saw Lucie, Jasper, and Kate sitting by the fire, heard the murmur of their talk, that he felt his stomach unclench. He had turned away Lotta Hempe’s offer of food and drink in his haste to make certain all was well at home.

‘Have you eaten?’ Lucie asked.

He could not recall when or what he’d eaten. Certainly not at Magda’s. Nor since then. He vaguely remembered some bread snatched up as he left for the Fuller home in the early morning. ‘No.’

While Kate prepared a bowl of stew and cut bread Owen poured himself a mazer of ale and sank down before the fire. Lucie stood behind him, massaging his temples.

‘We will talk,’ she said, ‘but first you must eat and rest awhile.’

He took a long drink. ‘He calls himself a healer,’ he growled.

Lucie shushed him. ‘Eat first. Jasper told me the extent of Asa’s injuries. I know, my love, I know.’

He woke with a start, finding himself stretched out on the settle in the kitchen, a blanket covering him, his head in Lucie’s lap. She smiled down at him.

‘You slept a few hours. I am glad.’

Sitting up, he moved his shoulders, remembering eating and starting to tell her of his day, the heaviness. He did not remember lying down. I grow old, he thought. ‘And you? I trapped you?’ He spoke softly, thinking that Kate must already be abed.

She laughed, her eyes merry. ‘Seeing your confusion I am tempted to say yes, but in truth Jasper, Kate, and I took our work into the hall so that we might talk. Now that they’ve gone to their beds I settled your head on my lap. I have not sat here long.’

He was glad of that. ‘Worry kept you wakeful?’

‘Asa’s suffering. The beatings of healers. That man hiding somewhere. You need not whisper. I convinced Kate to sleep up in Philippa’s old room. You were telling me about Gavin Wolcott’s plan.’

He rose and stretched, poured a little more ale. Stood leaning over the back of the settle. ‘I believe he is running off with his father’s, and possibly others’, goods. To Graa’s property in Galtres? Would anyone think to search there for him? I will be watching for him at Bootham.’

‘You believe he has more to hide than Jack Fuller’s chest?’

‘Luke Ferriby believes so.’ He told her what Luke suspected. ‘But I wonder whether Fuller’s chest had been put there by Alan for his own use. I expect to find Alan hiding in the cart. Or the chest was a payment for his trip out of the city.’ But Owen was not satisfied with that. There was more, he was sure of it.

Someone knocked on the kitchen door.

‘So late?’ Lucie whispered, crossing herself. Of course she would fear the worst.

Owen opened the door to Brother Michaelo. The monk looked worse than Owen felt, agitated, his face drawn, his eyes pleading.

‘Forgive my calling so late, but the poor in the minster yard–’

‘You would not be here without good cause,’ said Owen, standing aside, motioning him in.

‘Dom Jehannes wished me to inform you that two of the king’s men arrived at St Mary’s tonight, asking about a Master Bernard, lately a barber in Lincoln.’

‘He is suddenly much sought after,’ said Lucie.

‘I hope to find him in the morning,’ said Owen.

‘You know where he is hiding?’ Michaelo asked.

‘I believe so, though it might involve a chase. But this concern I see on your face – surely it is something else?’

‘Anna, the cook. She has fallen ill. We fear it is the Death.’

‘Come, join us at the fire,’ said Owen.

‘Have you what you need to ease her?’ Lucie asked.

‘She– Her husband asked if you might mix the headache physick for her. It calms her, and she trusts it.’ He stood near the fire, but did not sit.

‘I am happy to do so.’ Lucie rose, staying Michaelo when he would follow. ‘I will not be long.’

‘Is she showing signs?’ Owen asked. ‘Boils?’

‘Not yet. She is wheezing, fevered, muttering of demons.’

From the door Lucie said, ‘That might be many things. Do not despair.’ She stepped out.

‘If my work among the poor in the yard brought it into the house–’ Michaelo’s eyes watered.

Such an affection for a woman about whom he often complained.

‘I think with shame of Brother Wulfstan, a man I poisoned, who lived only to die among the sick in the last terrible visitation of the pestilence,’ said Michaelo. ‘He kept himself apart from his fellows so that the abbey suffered few deaths. And I witlessly return every night to Dom Jehannes’s home.’

‘As do so many others,’ said Owen. ‘Where else might you go?’

‘I might bide among the poor.’

‘Have you discussed this with Jehannes?’

‘He said I would do no such thing.’

‘Let that be an end to the idea.’

Michaelo lowered himself on to a chair, shaking his head at Owen’s offer of food or drink. He spoke of Einar, how helpful he was proving. He had assisted Michaelo this evening, with less vigor than usual but still attentive, speaking as they walked of Asa’s injuries, Magda’s skill, Owen’s calming presence.

‘Mine?’ Owen asked. ‘Magda anchors me. And Lucie. Has the pestilence taken any of your poor?’

‘Several in the past few days. It has sunk its claws into the city.’

‘May God watch over us all.’ Owen wondered about Freythorpe. No manor was completely an island unto itself. If the air carried it, why could it not move from farm to farm? Or if folk carried it, villagers might go to market, bring back the sickness, a child working elsewhere bring it home to the family, traveling tinkers, friars … If it were in the water … His stomach complained. He pushed himself to think of something else. ‘How did Jehannes hear of the king’s men?’

‘He supped with the abbot.’

‘Did he meet them?’

‘He was introduced as he made his departure. Not the two who escorted us north. King’s men, not the prince’s. But they met you at court, intend to consult you.’

‘I would beg a favor. Would you meet me at Bootham Bar at dawn with two horses? Hempe will be bringing men on foot, but I mean to ride out after Gavin Wolcott and would like your company.’

‘Wolcott? Why?’

‘I want to see where he is taking a cartload of goods, not all of it his.’

‘I am no soldier, Captain, you know that.’

‘You proved an excellent tracker when last we rode out into Galtres.’

A small smile, a nod as if to say, So I did. ‘I am happy to be of service.’

Lucie returned, handing Michaelo a wrapped parcel. ‘You said she trusts my physick. Did she try something she thinks she should not have trusted?’

‘I would not know.’

‘You might ask. Fever would be unusual from a potion, but it is possible.’

‘I will.’ Michaelo rose. ‘I am grateful, Dame Lucie.’ He touched Owen’s shoulder. ‘Dawn at Bootham, two horses.’

When he had departed, Lucie pulled Owen to her, holding him for a long while. He stroked her head, understanding that she, too, had been worrying about the children at Freythorpe.

When she released him she reached for his hand. ‘Come to bed?’

‘Oh yes.’

On the way she asked about Michaelo’s parting comment. Owen explained. They spoke of the king’s men, wondering whether Alan was aware of his danger.

‘I pray he is not,’ said Lucie. ‘A cornered animal is all the more vicious.’

Asa had awakened after sunset, thirsty and in pain. Magda made a soothing tisane, adding more milk of poppy. Sleep is what her body needed, and her heart. Rest. Forgetfulness. She sang to her daughter, songs Asa had loved long ago.

Einar returned from his evening work with Brother Michaelo about to fall asleep on his feet. Magda fed him and put him to bed, then sat with the kitten. In the quiet she gathered her thoughts, how she would proceed for the next few days, testing whether she still felt at ease with her decision to send Einar with the cloth. She could not judge without such a test how strong Sten’s blood was in him. If he returned with the cloth, having failed to find the glade, he need not know she had tested the strength of the bloodline over time. If he should succeed, she would present it as a choice he might make. She did not prefer one outcome over the other. He had steady hands, moved quickly but with care when called on while she and Bird-eye had worked today, calm despite Asa’s moans and the extent of her injuries. If he wished to learn at her side, she would agree, no matter what happened in the morning, but not at once. He must spend time alone to discover the path to which he was called.

When Holda grew so limp that she almost slid off her lap, Magda settled her in her blanket-lined basket and stepped outside. A few fires burned on the bank, but elsewhere the dark enveloped the city and the river. A heaviness in the air, little breeze, a slight scent of rain. Dry until morning, then a drizzle, no storm. She closed her eyes and let her senses travel far and wide. Within the city walls she felt the pulse of fear and sorrow. A few points of joy, soft, not buoyant. Anger crawled in the shadows, pointing, blaming. In her mind’s eye she saw the sisters of St Clement’s downriver kneeling, heads bowed in prayer, rising to join their voices in song. She smiled as the dragon slipped into the water, closing her eyes to follow her down into the cool depths.

When at last she returned to her own fire she added a small log, cold after frolicking with the dragon, and covered Einar with a second blanket. Asa waked, murmuring prayers of penance. Magda helped her to more of the poppy juice, smoothing her brow and whispering about Raven, who had announced her coming, ever watching over her. A small smile. For the moment, her daughter found peace. It would not last.

Owen woke before dawn. Lucie must have risen earlier, her side of the bed cold. He dressed and stood on the landing, listening. Two familiar voices, Lucie’s and Jasper’s. No strangers. No new problems. Returning to the room for his eye patch, he headed down the steps to begin the day.

‘You will eat before you set out to track the Wolcotts,’ said Lucie.

‘I will. As much as you can spare, Kate,’ he called as he headed out the door to the midden. The air was thick, dew heavy on flowers and leaves, the sort of morning when one wished to cover mouth and nose against the pestilence-laden miasma. By the time Owen stepped back into the kitchen his hair and his clothing felt damp. The fire welcomed him, and Lucie’s kiss. He had just settled by the fire and plucked up a chunk of bread when someone knocked. Kate set a bowl of ale beside him and went to the door.

‘Bailiff’s man. I’m here for the captain,’ said an unfamiliar voice. ‘I stood watch in the Ferriby garden through the night, and I think– Captain!’

‘Step inside,’ Owen said in a quiet voice, glancing out into the yard as the young man stepped in.

‘Forgive me. I did not think about who might listen.’ Blushing, the young man took off his cap and held it over his heart.

‘Your name?’ Owen asked.

‘Roland, sir. I mean, Captain.’

‘Come. Talk to me while I break my fast. Are you hungry?’

Roland’s eyes lit up, but he folded into himself. ‘I must still report to Bailiff Hempe–’

‘You can surely have a bowl of ale and some bread,’ said Owen. ‘A bit of cheese. Sit.’

Kate handed Roland a bowl of ale.

‘I am most grateful.’ He perched at the edge of a bench near Owen. ‘Mistress Wilton,’ he bobbed his head as she settled by Owen.

‘Drink a little to wet your throat before you deliver your report,’ said Lucie. ‘I can hear by your hoarseness that it would be welcome.’

Eager to please, the young man did as he was told, and then launched into a description of something long, heavy, and unwieldy being carried out to the cart before dawn, two serving men struggling with it, Gavin Wolcott holding a lantern and directing them in a hushed voice, glancing about often, as if fearful of discovery.

‘A rolled-up featherbed, I think, but so heavy, and heavier in the middle than the edge, the way it sagged. They put their burden down on the ground so they could uncover the cart, moving things about, all as silently as they might. The longer they worked, the more Master Gavin looked about, shushing them for every noise louder than a whisper. When they lifted it to load it into the cart it was tilted for a moment and – I might be making a fool of myself but I swear I saw a foot poking out.’ Roland gulped the rest of the ale.

‘You think they were moving a body?’

‘I do, Captain. A dead one. It never twitched, not in all that while on the ground, and when they almost dropped it.’

‘Any stains on the featherbed?’

‘Nothing so dark as to make me think of blood, if that is what you mean. But the lamp was not so bright …’

‘You did well to tell me of this, Roland. Have they left?’

‘Might have by now. The men were tying it down and Master Gavin had gone in to fetch Dame Beatrice. My mate John had come to keep me company till daybreak. I left him to watch.’

‘Good. Go back, and if they’re still there, follow them to the city gate. If they’ve chosen Bootham, you will see me there. If not Bootham, as soon as you see where they are headed make haste to find me there and tell me all that you noticed. I’ll go after them.’

Rising with a chunk of bread still in his hands, Roland nodded to Owen, Lucie, Kate, and hurried out.

‘Do you think they have murdered Alan Rawcliff?’ Lucie asked.

‘I mean to find out.’