by Candace Robb
Stepping with care over the damp spots on the path and ducking beneath the branches growing heavy in the mist, Alisoun followed the nun out beyond the cultivated gardens and into the fields. She was soon shivering, as her damp skirts clung to her ankles and the moisture ran down into her shoes, but she did not hesitate until the nun approached the edge of the woods – remembering Dom Lambert’s death among those trees, Alisoun did then pause. Her curiosity was not strong enough to lure her there at twilight.
But the nun had also halted. Now Alisoun could see that she was taller and thinner than Dame Katherine – this must be Clarice. She stood quite still for a while, and then slipped her fingers up a sleeve. Apparently not finding what she’d thought was there, she checked the other sleeve, and then her bodice, her movements increasingly frantic.
‘Bitch!’ she muttered. ‘Trust no one, Clarice, no one. You know that, you fool.’ After more frantic searches of her clothing, the nun groaned as she tilted her face upward to the soft mist and shouted, ‘Damn her! And damn him for calling me a spy and a thief.’ Her voice broke into a sob and she bowed her head and covered her face with her hands, her continued muttering impossible to understand.
Alisoun was undecided whether to reveal herself and attempt to comfort the woman, or to withdraw and allow the woman time to regain her composure.
But, in the end, it was not hers to decide. The woman made a loud, choking sound, startling Alisoun, who was already quite nervous about being so close to the edge of the woods. Clarice was clutching at her throat with one hand, stretching the other out in front of her as if to reach for help. She stumbled forward a few steps, coughing more forcefully now, as if she was trying to clear her throat, and then she spun around in the opposite direction, took a few hesitant steps and tripped on her skirts.
Before Alisoun could reach the poor woman, a man in the princess’s livery rushed forward, knelt to lift Dame Clarice, and rose with her in his arms. He noticed Alisoun and nodded to her.
‘I’ll take her to her chamber. Fetch Master Walter.’
Alisoun gathered her skirts and ran back to the palace.
As Owen stepped into the kitchen yard, a maidservant and one of his men unwound from an embrace and joined him, arm in arm.
‘We’ll walk with you to the stables, Captain,’ said Ned.
Owen read fear in his eyes. The young maid’s as well. He knew she was a laundress and occasional kitchen maid, but knew nothing more about her, not even her name. He led them into the stables, to a quiet spot on the ground floor, away from those sleeping off the night watch – which should have included Ned, he realised.
‘You’ve something to tell me?’
Ned nodded. ‘Ann and I both, Captain.’
‘I spurred him to speak, Captain,’ said Ann, ‘and he planned how we might come to you without anyone guessing our purpose.’
‘Dom Lambert’s murderer might not want us to talk,’ said Ned.
Owen hoped their information was as helpful as they seemed to hope and fear it was. ‘Go on.’
The young woman took a deep breath as she met Owen’s gaze. She had a plain face but for large, deep blue eyes that drew one in.
‘My pallet is so near where Brother Michaelo is sleeping that I feared he’d stumble over me in the dark,’ she said. ‘But all who were sleeping there worried about folk moving about, so we agreed to keep a lamp burning while we slept. The night Dom Lambert died, I saw him creep from Brother Michaelo’s bed.’
Owen crossed himself. ‘God bless you for telling me this, Ann. How did he look?’
‘I thought he might be weeping,’ she said. ‘He made a noise like a sob and hurried out of the door where we just met you. I was falling back into sleep when I heard a woman’s voice out in the kitchen yard, and Dom Lambert answering, or at least I guessed it was him.’
‘Could you hear what they said?’
She shook her head. ‘Later, Brother Michaelo’s habit brushed my arm as he passed. I could not tell you how much later.’ She shrugged. ‘That is all.’
‘How did he look?’
‘Hurried.’
‘And you, Ned?’
‘I saw Brother Michaelo walking in the fields before dawn. I thought nothing of it – he is everywhere on the manor.’
‘He was alone?’
Ned nodded. ‘And empty-handed. I wish I could tell you more.’
‘I am grateful to both of you,’ said Owen. In a louder voice, he said, ‘I’m warning you, Ned. Sleep with the others on your watch. You can court Ann after Her Grace’s company departs.’
With grateful smiles the couple parted, he to climb up to his pallet, she to scoot out of the stable door.
Owen lay down on his cot to consider this new information – it would seem to support Michaelo’s story. He wished Ann had been curious enough to peek out of the door and identify the woman who’d spoken to Lambert, but perhaps someone else would come forward. Before long, he’d returned to his fear about the loyalty of his men, reviewing how he had come to hire each one, searching for the telling detail. Unfortunately, there were some he could not recall. Some had been added by Alfred while Owen was away in Wales. Some had been in Thoresby’s guard before Owen joined it.
John Holand found him still lying there, wrapped in his worries.
‘You lie there doing nothing? The Princess of Wales is making excuses for you and how do I find you?’ His fine clothing was misted with rain and, when he shook his head, he sprayed Owen.
Owen closed his eye and reminded himself that strangling the son of a princess would bring ruin on Lucie and their children. ‘I may appear to be idle, but I am considering possible changes to the arrangement of my guards.’
‘We looked for you in the hall. We expected you – you had supped there the previous evening.’ He stank of wine and was already unable to give his full attention to another’s response.
‘I thought Her Grace would prefer to enjoy her evening meal in peace,’ said Owen. ‘I have much on my mind. I would be too grim a guest at the table. Nor can I spare the time for a long feast. Should I understand by your presence that the company has dispersed so early?’
‘You cannot spare the time,’ John growled. ‘But you’ve plenty of time to lie abed.’
Perhaps it was Sir John’s unlined, unscarred face that made Owen react to him as an impertinent boy, but that he was not – he was twenty-one and, no doubt, knew his way around the court circle. Owen must have a care. A drunk courtier was often an unreasonable courtier. They stared at each other with caution.
John was the one to look away first. ‘I’ll escort you to my lady,’ he said. ‘Remember your station.’
Owen decided that it was best to take that as an order and acquiesce.
Princess Joan had been given Thoresby’s former bedchamber up in the solar, a lovely, spacious room. Brother Michaelo had managed to arrange the one large bed and several smaller ones to give the princess and her ladies some privacy from one another. Tapestries from Thoresby’s other nearby residences had been brought to Bishopthorpe and the chamber walls were festive with scenes of hunting and winemaking.
The princess’s ladies and a pet monkey had been sitting with her on the bed, and Geoffrey Chaucer had been sitting nearby spinning a tale for their delight, eliciting laughter and applause. Owen was sorry when his presence dampened the much-needed cheer and dispersed the gathering. Eleanor and Sybilla took John and withdrew to another part of the room, and Geoffrey bowed and took his leave. Fortunately, the monkey went with the ladies – Owen did not trust the exotic little beasts.
Princess Joan thanked Owen for coming. She still wore the beautiful green silk gown that shimmered in the candlelight. She sat quite upright on the bed against a mound of cushions, her outstretched legs draped with an embroidered coverlet. A small cushion peeked out from beneath the coverlet, revealing that one foot was propped up.
After the polite greetings, Owen inquired whether the princess had been injured.
Her laughter was sweet. ‘No, God be thanked. It is enough that I am an aging woman who does not heed her physician’s advice, Captain Archer. Riding and hunting this morning were excellent activities for me, and had I strolled in the garden for a while this afternoon and eaten a little less at supper I might be quite comfortable tonight. But I sat this afternoon over my embroidery, ate and drank too much at supper, and now my ankle and foot ache.’ She laughed again. Though her face was rounded and softened with age, her forehead was smooth, her eyes bright, and her entire face alive with her mood. She was lovely to behold. ‘God forgive my petty complaints. I am not so sinfully self-absorbed as I might sound. I have, indeed, thought of little else than that poor Dom Lambert since you found him. He was a lovely, courteous, gentle man. Have you learned anything about what happened?’
Rich food, idleness – Owen was distracted, thinking that Princess Joan was very possibly the one using water germander for gout. But, when she asked again whether he had learned anything, he hastened to satisfy her concern – such as he could.
‘As you know, Dom Lambert suffered much embarrassment yesterday when he presented the archbishop with blank parchments. His mission for the Bishop of Winchester failed, it is possible that he took his own life.’
Princess Joan made a sympathetic sound. ‘Or perhaps he despaired over that and his shame over lying with His Grace’s elegant secretary, a man known to have unnatural passions.’ She adjusted her foot a little, then met Owen’s eyes. ‘There is little I do not know, Captain. What was Brother Michaelo doing at the feet of the hanged man?’
‘I do not yet know, Your Grace. He says he was concerned about Lambert and followed him there. Someone overcame him and he woke confused.’
‘And do you believe him?’
‘I think it unwise to believe anyone without witnesses or some evidence.’
‘And no one saw anything last night?’
‘So far someone has reported seeing Dom Lambert leave Brother Michaelo’s chamber, and another saw him take a horse from the stable. It is possible he was alone. Another saw Brother Michaelo walking through the fields, also apparently alone. It is little to go on.’
With a sigh, Joan gazed thoughtfully at the bed’s canopy as she idly twisted and released a silk scarf. ‘You say he felt shamed by the failure of his mission.’ She nodded. ‘That I find within reason. But then, for someone who had already brought notice on himself to risk sneaking out in the middle of the night with so many eyes supposedly watching all our movements, to have the presence of mind to move silently and manage to climb the tree, bring his horse beneath it – still in silence – oh I forgot, there was the ladder, yes, he need not have used the horse beneath him.’ She sighed, then looked at Owen. ‘But the horse must still be kept quiet until the deed was done. If the horse whinnied, he might have been discovered by one of your men in the midst of hanging himself – well, you see why I find it an unsatisfactory explanation.’ She punctuated her conclusion with a flutter of the scarf. ‘Brother Michaelo may be speaking the truth.’
Owen was at once filled with admiration for her careful reasoning and with despair for the renewed certainty that there was a murderer in their midst.
‘I do see, Your Grace, and I am worried about your safety and that of all your company.’
‘Except for the murderer.’ She laughed, then made a face. ‘Faith, you must think I make light of this, but it is my remedy for fear when my dear husband is not at my side to protect me.’
Owen found it a strange comment, for he could not imagine that Prince Edward had been at her side so very often, at least before his illness, and now, from all accounts, he would find it difficult to protect her. Perhaps it was a story she told herself to feel safe.
‘I do wonder whether the same person killed both Dom Lambert and his servant, Will. If it would please you, I would inquire, Your Grace – did you bring with you a sleeping potion?’
‘I assure you, I carry all manner of potions, Captain.’ Her expression was suddenly wary. ‘Why do you ask?’
He explained what Magda and Lucie had found in the wineskin.
‘The healer has returned from York?’
He did not believe for a moment that she had not been informed about Magda’s return, but he must play along with her. ‘Yes. I spoke with her earlier.’
‘I look forward to meeting her. And your wife is an apothecary.’ She smiled and nodded, as if giving her approval. ‘A woman made master apothecary. I am glad to hear of such an accomplishment.’ She seemed lost in thought for a moment. ‘But I am certain that what the servant carried in his wineskin was not from my stores, Captain. How could it be?’
‘Such confidence might be just what the murderer depended on – that we would not dare to search the physicks of the Princess of Wales.’
He was relieved to see her struck by his reasoning.
‘I’d not considered that. You may be right. I am reassured by your clear thinking, Captain. What would you have me do?’
‘I hoped you might agree to show Dame Magda the medicines you have with you.’
‘I see no reason to refuse your request, Captain. Lady Sybilla will assist her.’
‘Might Dame Magda come directly to you, Your Grace?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘You do not trust Sybilla?’
‘If someone stole from you, Your Grace, it was someone who knew what was there. A physick might easily be misplaced.’
She straightened a little. ‘Send Dame Magda to me in the morning. I shall keep the trunk containing my physicks by me, and she shall look through it in my presence. No one will know that she is to come, so no one will know to remove anything.’
Owen thanked her. She stared at him for a moment, then suddenly reached forward and gently brushed his eye patch. He flinched, a reaction he found it impossible to prevent, even so many years since his wounding.
‘My dear Tom, John’s father, lost an eye in combat. So did our dear friend Sir John Chandos. Did you know you shared such august company in your affliction?’
Her choice of words pained Owen – he preferred people to consider it an injury and not an affliction, despite his own fear that his blinding was God’s punishment for his sins, but he understood that she meant to put him at ease. ‘I am honoured that you place me in their company, Your Grace. I remember Sir Thomas Holand a little. He was greatly admired by all who served under him. I saw Sir John Chandos only from afar. Their wounds did nothing to diminish them. But it is different for an archer – my skill was all I had.’
‘Archbishop Thoresby is fortunate that your lord, the old duke, knew you had far more to offer than just skill with your bow. But forgive me. I should not have called it an affliction. Neither my first husband nor Sir John liked anyone to call attention to the scars on their faces.’ She tilted her head and smiled as she studied his face. ‘You are a handsome man, Captain. The scar merely adds the spice of danger to your appearance, which women find exciting. But then, you know that, I am sure.’ She glanced over in the direction of her women, though the screens hid them, and then back to Owen. ‘I’ve seen Eleanor watching you. And I saw you two confer so prettily in the hall before dinner.’
‘You tease me, Your Grace.’
Joan smiled and waved her scarf. ‘In matters of the heart, teasing is innocent, Captain. You are a married man, she a married woman, so a little excitement can be refreshing. But I see I embarrass you and I shall desist. Had you any more news for me?’
‘I would beg a question, if it please you, my lady. I wondered how you came to choose the sisters from Nun Appleton?’
All teasing left her visage and again she grew wary, resuming the nervous twisting of the scarf. ‘I said we must have some sisters to assist Master Walter, and they were provided, with assurances from the abbess of their character.’
‘You know neither of them?’
Her expression was carefully blank. ‘I trusted their abbess.’ But she clutched the scarf and held herself terribly still. �
��Why do you ask?’
‘Forgive me, Your Grace, but I was in the garden earlier and saw you from afar in conversation with one of the sisters, Dame Clarice. I heard nothing that passed between you, but I saw from her face and your stance that it was an uneasy exchange.’
Joan had closed her eyes and sat without as much as a muscle moving for a long while. Owen began to think he’d been dismissed, but he could not bring himself to rise. Princess or no, he felt she owed him at least a feeble lie.
‘I had not met Dame Clarice before she joined our travelling company,’ Joan suddenly said in a quiet, unemotional tone. ‘Nor had I heard of her even so recently as a month ago. Her part in this situation—’ She hesitated, then continued, ‘Her part will be revealed in a few days, I promise you. Events here have led me to send to Nun Appleton for information that might assist you. For now, you need only to know that she is not a murderer. Indeed, I fear that the murderer might wish her harm. I have men watching her at all times.’
‘Not earlier today,’ said Owen. ‘I found her quite alone with the archbishop, searching through a chest of his belongings.’
She looked surprised. ‘Searching his chamber?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Foolish woman. But my men know that, when she is in the archbishop’s chamber, she is quite safe – though I’d assumed there would always be someone present in addition to His Grace.’
‘I have arranged for that to be so from now on,’ said Owen. ‘Is she in danger because of her search of His Grace’s chamber?’ The princess had expressed surprise, but he did not believe her.
