by Kate Ellis
Marjory Moore threw down the wood and hurried back to the her house before anyone could see her, none the wiser.
*
Valentine’s visits to the sick of the town had taken longer than he had anticipated so he was late returning to Dale Street. He found that he was running short of mint for his medicines: it was time to harvest some more from the well ordered garden at the back of his shop. The commissioners had not objected when he had dug up his herbs from his garden at the priory. They had thought it a harmless and eccentric request: after all, the King could raise no money from a few plants. Their sole interest had been the confiscation of the priory’s treasures and the lead from the roofs. But to Valentine the means of healing were far more precious than gold.
He was surprised to find Katheryn helping Ralph in the shop. She bustled round in her plainest gown, fetching and putting away the jars, hanging up bunches of drying herbs, chattering away to the apprentice and asking questions about the various potions on the shelves. She looked up and smiled when Valentine came in.
“I have been making myself useful, Valentine.” He eyes were bright. She was enjoying her task. “The shop has been busy while you were out and I thought Ralph needed some help. I hope I have not got in his way.”
Ralph shook his head. He had been glad of an extra pair of hands.
Katheryn continued. “I have found it most interesting. You must teach me more about your trade, Valentine. I was too busy at Godstow to take an interest in the infirmary...and Sister Helena, our infirmarian, guarded her secrets jealously.”
“I should be glad to show you anything you wish, Katheryn. I had not realised you had an interest in such matters.”
“I do not like to be unoccupied and there seems little more I can do to bring Agnes’s killer to justice until Sir Thomas returns to the castle. Though I did see Father James this morning: he seemed much disturbed about something.
“Whatever that something is, I am certain it is nothing to do with Agnes’s death,” said Valentine decisively.
Katheryn nodded, not yet convinced. “And Mistress Moore’s old mill is burned to the ground.”
“No great misfortune, surely. The place was derelict.”
“That’s what Mistress Marjory said.”
He smiled. “Then she and I agree about something.”
Valentine began to gather medicines together and put them in the bag he carried.
“Are you going out again so soon?”
“Alas, I am needed at the Tower. One of Lord Derby’s household is sick with the flux.”
“May I come with you?”
“The flux is not a pleasant condition.”
“I do not mind.”
“Do you think I cannot discover anything of the priests who minister to Lord Derby’s household without your help?” He grinned at her.
Katheryn knew when she was defeated. He went alone.
It wasn’t far to the Tower, home to over a hundred of the Earl of Derby’s retainers. It was a square fortified house of rough red sandstone, squatting on the edge of the strand, almost a rival to the castle itself. The Stanleys, Earls of Derby, and the Molyneux had been rivals for as long as the port of Liverpool could remember, each in their respective fortresses, a mere arrow shot apart, while the rest of the town looked on with interest...and occasionally fear.
It was William Staines who greeted Valentine...better known to the apothecary as Brother William, late of Birkenhead Priory. The Earl of Derby’s clerk was a tall, dark haired, good looking man in his mid twenties with a velvet gown and confident manner that told of his growing prosperity.
“Valentine...brother. It is good to see you. We are like a town within a town here in the Tower and we keep ourselves to ourselves. It must be almost a year since our paths last crossed.”
Valentine smiled. “I am glad you enjoy such good health. You are doing well, I think. Fine gown,” he said teasingly.
William took the remark in good part. “I am indeed. His lordship is most generous to those who work hard. You have heard I am to marry?”
The King’s new law worried me for a time, but then I asked myself if it was right for a King so much married himself to forbid the marriage of those who once made vows of chastity but who are forced by his laws and actions to live in the world. Besides, who is to know that I was once a monk?” He laughed and patted the rich material of his gown. “Do I look like a monk, eh? The two years I spent at Birkenhead Priory are but a distant memory...and in hindsight I was never well suited to the cloister. Besides, I have the blessing of his lordship and my future father in law so all will be well.”
“My congratulations. Who is the lady?”
“Her name is Elizabeth Crosse, a distant relative of Mayor Crosse of Crosse Hall,” he added proudly. “Though not so wealthy, alas. But her father is a ship’s captain and owns three fine vessels in the port. Captain Crosse is a well regarded man.”
“So you marry well?”
“Well enough. And she is young and lively: much to my taste. The past three years have not increased my taste for chastity. And what of you, brother?”
Valentine smiled and shook his head. “I keep to my medicines. Have you seen Brother Bartholomew since last market day?”
“No. I rarely have need to cross the river. Why do you ask?”
“It was last market day that Bartholomew discovered the body of a young woman in the river: Agnes Moore her name was. Did you know her?”
William shrugged, hardly interested. “One of the Moores, eh? Who would have thought one of that family would meet such an end?”
“Who indeed?” Valentine had learned all he needed. William did not know Agnes Moore. “I must see my patient. We must not prolong his suffering.”
“Quite right, Valentine. I will take you to him. It is one of his lordship’s servants. A young man...strong.”
“How is his lordship’s chaplain, Father Michael? I have not seen him lately.”
“He is much the same, brother, a martyr to his back.”
“He came to me a while ago. I could do little for him but prescribe rest and something to kill the pain. He is no better?”
“He - how shall I put it? - takes refuge in his lordship’s wine cellars.”
“I see.” Valentine was silent for a while, contemplating this professional failure. “Tell him to visit me again, William. There may be something more I can do for him.”
“I will indeed. But he is a stubborn man, as you know.”
They reached the servant’s chamber which he shared with several others, and William rushed back to his duties. There was much work for an ambitious man to do.
Valentine tended to his patient, content that his former brother, William, was not Agnes’s killer. And as for Father Michael, a man with a sore back does not ravish a young woman and hold her face beneath the water. The riddle of Agnes’s death was not to be solved at the Tower.
*
Mires sat in the crypt beneath the ruins of Birkenhead Priory and shivered. The journey over the river in that tiny craft the night before had chilled him to the bone. And the place was so silent...so empty.
He sat back and assessed his situation. He was rid of the beggar: he congratulated himself on his ingenuity in finding a neat solution to a potential problem. And he had Wharton where he wanted him, frightened and compliant. Soon Mires would be away to London a rich man. What delights would await him there after the dull entertainments Liverpool had to offer.
Now all he had to do was to wait for the traitors to show their hand. He lay back against the flock mattress Wharton had supplied from the castle stores dreaming of London, wealth and, who knew, even a place at court. The King and his ministers were always ready to employ the talents of the ruthless and amoral.
CHAPTER 14
Matilda had just served the mid-day meal when the soldier came. Valentine looked at the thick stew on his bowl. He was hungry but his services were needed at the castle. Torn between the murmuring of his
empty belly and the duties of his calling, he decided on compromise. He took several hasty spoonfuls of the stew and asked Matilda to keep the rest warm until his return. Then, breaking off a large chunk of bread from the freshly baked loaf in the middle of the table, he put on his gown and went into the shop to gather together some medicines and bandages.
He had not asked Katheryn to go with him to the castle. She had only just started her meal. So when he had packed his medicines, he was surprised to find her waiting at the door with her cloak thrown around her shoulders.
“I have asked Matilda to keep my meal warm too, Valentine. If you go to the castle, I should like to come with you.”
“It is but two of the garrison involved in a fight. There will be broken heads to mend, I expect, but nothing of much interest to you, Katheryn. Are you sure you wish to abandon Matilda’s stew and come with me?”
“Quite sure. There is no need to deprive Jane and Will of their meal. We need no servants to accompany us.”
Out in the streets, the pie shops were doing good trade, filling the bellies of hungry townsfolk. Savoury smells wafted from food sellers and inns, reminding Valentine and Katheryn of their hunger. The soldier who had been sent to fetch the apothecary led them past the sentry at the castle gate and up stone spiral steps to a roughly furnished dormitory. Valentine went about his business swiftly, patching up the wounds of the groaning soldiers, the reason for their fight forgotten in its aftermath of pain.
Katheryn recognised one of the soldiers. The large mass of
Manners’ body lay on his stained pallet. Blood seeped from a wound in his head.
Valentine spoke with professional matter-of-factness. “What was the fight about, my friend?”
It was the other man who answered. He hauled himself upright and looked across at Manners with surprisingly little animosity. The fight had cleared the air. “I told him how that whore he had lost me two shillings.”
Valentine smiled. “Oh yes? Let that be a lesson to you then: sin always leads to trouble in the end,” he said good-humouredly as he dressed Manners’ wound.
The man, who introduced himself as Tilletson, continued. “Manners here had a whore and Sir Edward found him with her and took her for himself. I got sent to guard the gatehouse. I was playing at dice and winning. I lost two shillings by...”
Katheryn, hearing Sir Edward’s name, looked up from the jar of ointment she was holding for Valentine. “When was this?”
Tilletson answered. “Last Friday night it was.”
Manners suddenly looked uncomfortable as he remembered Wharton’s orders not to discuss the matter of Sir Edward’s whore. But it was too late: there was no way he could warn Tilletson not to say anything now.
Katheryn turned to Manners and looked him directly in his bloodshot eyes. “I remember asking you sir if you saw a young lady. Were you speaking the truth when you told me you saw no one?”
Manners began to sweat with panic. Tilletson spoke up again. “Of course he saw a woman. He tried to have her...until Sir Edward took her for himself.”
“You’re wrong. It was a different night, you addle brained son of a pox ridden whore.” Manners’ agitation made him forget he spoke in front of a lady.
Katheryn smiled sweetly and decided to appeal to his better nature. “Please, Master Manners. It is most important that I know what became of the young lady. Did you see her? Captain Wharton need never know that you told the truth, be assured of that.”
Valentine ceased his bandaging for a moment, not wishing to distract Manners from any confession.
“She was pretty. I thought her a whore. There are enough of them hang round the garrison for business. I thought she was playing games...”
“What happened?”
“I was, er...talking to her when Sir Edward appears; gives me a right good kick up the backside he did. Anyway, he sends me away; leaves the gate unguarded and says for me to send Tilletson out. Wharton was mad when he found out. I thought he was going to have me hanged for deserting my post. He sends me back and by that time Sir Edward and the, er...young lady were gone. And that’s the truth, as God’s my witness, Lady. Captain Wharton said I was to tell nobody. He doesn’t want to get on the wrong side of his Lordship, you see.”
“Did the young lady tell you her name?”
Manners shook his head.
“You did not think to ask?” Katheryn said pointedly.
“Well, er... you don’t.” Manners looked deflated.
“Did she say why she was here?”
“Said she would speak with Captain Wharton. Didn’t say why and I didn’t ask. I thought he most likely owed her money...begging your pardon, my lady.”
“And did she get to see Captain Wharton? Did Sir Edward take her to him?”
Tilletson shook his head. “No, ma’am. The Captain was playing cards with some of the sergeants. It was a game likely to go on into the night. The Captain was having good fortune with his winnings. I saw him myself when I reported to him. I do not think the girl got to see him but when I was sent to the postern gate, I did see Sir Edward go into the tunnel... and the girl was with him.”
“What tunnel?”
“It leads down to the strand.” He looked round uncomfortably. “It is hacked through the rock in case of siege. Supplies could come to the castle by water.”
“And where does it come out?”
“Near the brothers’ old boathouse, just beneath the castle rock.”
She turned to Manners. “Did you think that she knew Sir Edward when they met?”
“He shook his head. “I did not think so, ma’am. I think he fancied having a...begging your pardon...whore, just like the rest of us. The girl was pretty and that would have been enough for Sir Edward.”
Valentine dressed the wounds in silence. Katheryn had learned all she wanted to know. It was Sir Edward who interested her now.
When Valentine’s work was done he packed up his things, ready to go. Manners looked at Katheryn. “I’m sorry if I spoke roughly, ma’am, but I’ll get into bother if Captain Wharton thinks I’ve been blabbing about...”
“You have no need to fear. As I said before, I shall tell no one of what you said.” Katheryn thought for a moment. “You are frightened of Captain Wharton?”
Manners looked uneasy. “There are things about the Captain it’s better not to ask, ma’am. I just try and keep my head down: that’s all a man can do.”
The two men lay back on their pallets, the clean white of their dressings contrasting with the grubby grey of the stained sheets. They were simple soldiers who liked their food, their ale and their whores and Katheryn thought it unlikely that they were involved in what had happened to Agnes.
The young soldier who had fetched Valentine from his shop accompanied them as they walked through the busy courtyard towards the gatehouse.
“While I am here, Valentine, I should like to pay my compliments to Sir Edward Molyneux.”
“Take care, Katheryn. If he is our killer...”
Valentine looked alarmed as she ignored him and addressed the soldier who was walking in front of them. “I am acquainted with Sir Thomas Molyneux. I am aware that he is away but I would speak with his brother, Sir Edward.”
The soldier bowed. “Sir Edward is not in the castle, ma’am and is not expected back until late tomorrow.
Katheryn smiled. She would have to be patient. Sir Edward would have to wait until another day.
*
Matilda’s stew awaited them back in Dale Street, hot and tasty. The visit to the castle had given Katheryn an appetite but had caused Valentine to lose his. He munched on a piece of brown bread while Katheryn talked.
“Come, Valentine. Tell me your thoughts.”
He looked up at her. Her eyes sparkled and he found it hard to imagine that she would have chosen freely a life confined in a nunnery. He was not surprised that she had been elected by her sisters to the position of Abbess. There would have been few, if any, in her cloister to
match her.
“So Sir Edward is our killer?” he began.
