by Candace Robb
‘Why do you live here?’
‘It is home,’ she said. ‘Magda can no more explain that than thou couldst explain why thou art so loyal to Captain Archer.’ Ah. That is what bothered her, Owen’s household was unprotected with him away.
‘He’s an honourable man, and he has taught me to be a better soldier,’ said Alfred.
She was not interested in what he thought were his reasons. ‘Magda is worried about Dame Lucie and her household tonight.’
‘Why?’
‘Captain Archer and young Jasper are gone. Dame Lucie is alone with only women, children, and gentle Edric.’
‘But the captain is often away. The Merchets look out for Dame Lucie and the children. And Alisoun Ffulford is skilled with a bow. You would know that.’
She knew all of that, but she was still uneasy, and she’d learned long ago to heed such a gut-deep feeling. ‘Magda thinks they might be in danger. If it was the same man who injured the goldsmith’s apprentice and poisoned Drogo, he might wish to end the captain’s questions about the pilot, and he might hie to the captain’s house not knowing that he is away. Dost thou see?’
‘Why do you connect the two?’
‘A fair question, but Magda cannot satisfy thee with facts. She fears this. Strongly fears this.’
Alfred was on his feet. ‘That is good enough for me. I should warn them. But I told Hempe I’d stay with you.’ He cursed beneath his breath and looked not a little angry.
He would be like that all night. Magda had no appetite for such company. She considered the situation, and found an appealing solution.
‘Fret not. Magda will come with thee to Dame Lucie’s home.’
‘You will?’
Magda laughed at his relief. ‘Thou’rt such a boy. Come. Help Magda gather her things.’
As they passed Marygate, Magda slowed, noticing the crowd near the statue of the Virgin Mary. Hypocrites, most of them. She doubted many of them had known Nigel, and few of those who did would have welcomed him at their fires, yet they all congregated to pray over him. It was their fear of death that they prayed about, not the goldsmith’s apprentice.
‘Did you wish to join them, Dame Magda?’ asked Alfred.
‘Thou couldst leave these things with Magda and see whether the man yet lives,’ she suggested.
He did so without further ado. Alfred had surprised her with his considerate manner, which she had not expected from him – this was a reminder to her not to judge hastily. A few folk clustered round him, proudly sharing what they knew. His head was slightly bowed, his walk slower as he returned, and she knew that her catch had died. Patting Alfred on the shoulder, Magda thanked him. He did not seem to notice that they’d not exchanged a word.
She was sorry the man had died without the chance to name his murderer. There was boldness in this murderer, and she feared that he would be smart enough to keep track of Owen Archer’s movements. She’d told Alfred that she feared for Lucie because the killer might be after Owen, but what if he’d chosen to strike when Owen was away? He might decide to take a hostage from his household, distracting him once he’d returned.
Bootham Bar was busy with folk coming and going. It took time to get through, and Magda was almost trotting by the time they reached Stonegate, the street of the goldsmiths. A few folk stood in front of the goldsmith Edward Munkton’s house and shop, their heads together, gossiping about his apprentice’s death, Magda had no doubt. Folk enjoyed nothing so much as someone else’s trouble except perhaps talking of things they knew nothing about. Magda was relieved to see Lucie’s home at the corner of St Helen’s Square. She was anxious to be proved wrong in her worry.
The maid Kate opened the door just a crack to ask their names. When they identified themselves she flung it open while announcing them at the top of her voice, which was considerable.
‘Do not rise, Lucie,’ Magda said as she entered. ‘Magda can find thee.’
She remembered shifting herself at Lucie’s stage of pregnancy.
‘I am glad to see you,’ Lucie said as Magda settled beside her near the fire.
Magda was pleased to see the healthy glow in Lucie’s skin and no darkness around her eyes.
Lucie leaned close to ask quietly, ‘Have you brought news of a wet nurse?’
‘That is not why Magda has come.’ She spoke as softly, not wishing to provoke Alisoun. ‘But she does have one for thee. She will come a fortnight hence.’
‘Will that be soon enough?’ Lucie asked.
‘Aye.’
‘You sound quite certain.’
‘Magda is.’
Lucie glanced over to where Alisoun sat with the children. ‘She will soon take them to bed and we can talk more freely.’
Magda nodded. ‘Hast thou heard of Magda’s catch today?’
‘How could I help but hear about it in the shop?’ At Magda’s frown Lucie added, ‘I sat on a stool and let Edric fetch and carry for me.’
She silently chided herself for worrying that Lucie might take risks, knowing as she did how desperately she wanted this child.
‘Is that why Alfred is here with you?’ Lucie asked. ‘Because of the injured man? I don’t quite see –’
‘Hempe the hawk told him to watch over Magda tonight, in case the murderer thought the poor man had told her aught.’
‘Oh, then he is dead?’ asked Phillippa.
Magda nodded. She had thought Lucie’s elderly aunt was asleep.
‘Thou art sharp this evening, my friend.’ She had known Phillippa a long while and was glad when the veil of her illness lifted.
‘Will you stay the night?’ Lucie asked.
‘Aye, that is what Magda hopes.’
Phillippa rose. ‘I must prepare a bed for you.’
Lucie touched her aunt’s arm. ‘There is no need. Magda can share my bed. Do you mind?’
‘That will be most agreeable,’ said Magda. ‘Now. Let Magda repay thee for thy hospitality by telling thee the tale.’
Alisoun rather loudly commanded Gwenllian and Hugh to play quietly so that she might listen to their guest.
Magda noticed that Lucie seemed annoyed by her outburst, though she said nothing. Perhaps Alisoun had already outstayed her welcome in this household. She was a wilful orphan who had wearied all her kin in their attempts to help her. She’d come to Magda with the intention of becoming her apprentice. Magda had neither accepted nor desired an apprentice in all her years, which were considerable, but she was curious whether the girl’s dogged determination might surprise her. Alisoun had expected to follow her in her daily rounds. But Magda had wished to see how the girl behaved in service, so she had offered her as nurse to the Archer children after Lucie’s accident. Although Magda had reassured her that she might continue her studies and that a new position would be found for her, the girl was doubtless worried. Magda must talk with her again.
Ah well, to the matter at hand. She recounted all that had happened, speaking loudly enough so that Alisoun, Dame Phillippa, and Kate could hear her. All the women bowed their heads and prayed for Nigel’s soul when she had finished her account. Magda bowed her head as well, though her thoughts did not tend towards asking a god to welcome the young man into heaven. She hoped that he’d had no fear in the end, and that no one’s life would be cast into shadow by his passing.
It was much later, when Magda and Lucie were up in the solar preparing for bed and could not be overheard, that Lucie told her of Nicholas Ferriby’s discomfort in the shop that day. Magda found it troubling, and she saw that Lucie did as well.
‘I would ask George Hempe to talk to the grammar master, but I fear he might make the man even less inclined to talk,’ said Lucie.
‘The vicar of Weston is a soft man, my friend, easily frightened, easily swayed. Magda hopes that his tale is not the only way to the truth, for he may not find the courage again to tell thy husband.’
Owen lay in Sir Baldwin’s hall, the front of him that faced the fire wonderfully warm, his b
ack cold and stiffening. He prayed that his host was right, that Ysenda would not punish her son for having taken and lost the cross. Her request that they return for Hubert in the morning had bothered him more and more as the afternoon turned to evening. He imagined her taking a whip to the boy’s back, though he had no reason to think she might behave so. Still, as she could not hope to ever be able to replace the piece, she might be frightened that they’d be turned out, and such fears often drove otherwise gentle parents to violence. But Sir Baldwin could not imagine her behaving in such wise, and Owen doubted the man would abandon Ysenda – or Aubrey for that matter, for he’d spoken well of him for the most part. Owen decided that Ysenda would not have asked him to return if she’d meant harm to the boy.
Aubrey was another matter. Rafe and Gilbert had found no sign of him; none of his friends had seen him in days. Baldwin did not think Ysenda would tell Aubrey about the cross. Owen was not so certain – a slip was always possible. But it had already been too dark to go walking about the countryside spying on Hubert’s family.
Owen slept fitfully, dreaming of his flame-haired son Hugh running from Ysenda who chased him with a multi-thong whip. Alisoun also figured in the dream, aiming arrows too close to Hugh for Owen’s comfort. He woke in a sweat and drowsed lightly for the rest of the night, having no desire to re-enter his dreams.
Jasper snored beside him, enjoying a sleep that Owen envied. He was proud of the boy, and impressed by his endurance and perspicacity. He intended to ask Jasper to keep an eye on Hubert when they were back in York. He would be far less conspicuous than Owen or one of his men.
As a greyness showed through the chinks in the shutters, Gilbert rose to relieve himself, waking Jasper.
‘You can’t sleep, Da?’ the boy asked, his eyes only half-opened.
If there ever was a reason to be grateful for having been awake at this moment, it was to hear Jasper call him ‘da’ for the second time.
‘No. I dreamt that your little brother was being chased by Ysenda and barely missed by Alisoun’s arrows. I did not wish to return to that!’
Jasper grinned. ‘Praise God she was missing him.’ He scratched himself and rubbed his eyes. ‘Is it time to rise?’
‘No, it’s too early. Go back to sleep.’
Jasper needed no more urging. He burrowed beneath the blankets and in a short time his breathing grew slow and even.
Owen had risen shortly, and he’d been sipping mulled wine by the fire as he exchanged pleasantries with his host and hostess for a little while when Jasper finally woke. Gilbert escorted him out into the frosty morning while Lady Gamyll called to a servant to bring ale for Jasper.
‘We are grateful for your generosity,’ said Owen.
Lady Gamyll smiled. ‘You are my first guests. It has been my pleasure to see to your comfort.’
In a short while they were mounting their horses, waving their farewells. Owen had hoped Sir Baldwin would finally say whatever it was that Owen sensed he was holding back regarding Osmund, but he had not, and so he rode away disappointed, while the others were in good humour.
It was not a long ride to Ysenda’s house – they might have simply walked over to fetch Hubert, but then they would have wasted time, and Owen hoped to arrive in York in good time the following day. He wanted to discuss all he’d learned with Lucie, hear a wise woman’s view of it.
Jasper rode up beside him. ‘I’ve noticed that you don’t like Alisoun. Why not?’
‘What? Is she still on your mind?’ He chuckled at the boy’s earnest expression. ‘I find her sullen and unpleasant to be around.’ Owen thought it best to leave it there.
But obviously Jasper was not satisfied. ‘She’s been a good nursemaid.’
‘Yes. She has, son.’ Owen was glad to see Ysenda’s lonely house just ahead. ‘I think we’ll let Hubert ride with Rafe.’
They dismounted close to the house this time.
‘Rafe, Gilbert, wait out here. Watch the house. I would not like to be surprised by Aubrey’s return.’
‘And what if he’s in there?’ asked Gilbert.
‘Then I’ll have Jasper call you in.’
Both men nodded and moved to opposite sides of the door.
Jasper knocked and took a step back as Ysenda opened it. Owen stood right behind him and noticed Hubert hovering in the dimness just behind her. Ysenda’s smile seemed forced.
‘You came back,’ she said. ‘I half thought you might not.’
‘I’m a man of my word,’ said Owen. ‘May we come in?’ He reached over Jasper and put his hand on the door.
Ysenda did not miss the gesture. ‘Do come in.’ She stepped away from the door, her movement hesitant.
Inside the cottage the first thing Owen noticed was that Hubert was not dressed for travel. He was sullen in his greeting, as he’d been the previous day.
‘I have spoken with Sir Baldwin,’ Owen began, taking a seat by the fire.
‘Oh?’ Ysenda moved to stand behind Hubert, her hands on his shoulders. ‘I have changed my mind, Captain. Hubert does not wish to return to York just yet, and I won’t force him. In truth, I will be grateful to have him here for a while.’
‘Has your husband returned?’
She shook her head. ‘Hubert can help me.’
The boy seemed to relax a little, looking less sullen, and Owen was in part happy for him. But he wondered how the lad would feel about some of the matters he intended to discuss.
‘We must talk about something, Dame Ysenda. Something that might not be entirely comfortable for Hubert. Is there somewhere he might go?’
‘I want to hear whatever you have to say,’ said Hubert, puffing out his chest in a boyish way that reminded Owen of his own unwavering confidence in himself as an archer long, long ago.
Ysenda patted her son’s shoulders. ‘Then you shall, my young man.’
‘Will you sit?’ Owen invited them.
‘I’m comfortable as I am,’ said Ysenda. ‘I’m sorry I’ve no more cider to offer you.’
Either she’d consumed a great deal since they’d been there the previous day or she resented their presence of a sudden. ‘We are not thirsty.’ Owen dropped his head for a moment, weighing various approaches. Ysenda was either expecting a fight, but he did not know what about, or she was simply eager to see them on their way. In either instance, he decided that an abrupt approach was necessary in order to have any chance at all of discussing the origin of the cross with her.
‘While we dined with Sir Baldwin and his lady the subject of your son’s loss came up, and naturally our host was curious as to what had been so precious to Hubert that he wore his scrip at all times.’ He was irritated when Ysenda dropped her head so that he could not see her expression. ‘When I described the cross Sir Baldwin excused himself, and when he returned said that his late wife’s cross, which he would describe precisely as you did, was missing. He wondered if you’d perhaps been with child when he took Aubrey to France.’
‘Ma?’ Hubert turned around to look at Ysenda, who wore an indecipherable expression that Owen thought might be the result of warring impulses. ‘That wasn’t Lady Gamyll’s cross, was it?’ the boy asked, his voice slightly cracking with discomfort. ‘I didn’t lose hers?’
Ysenda tilted her head, and shook it once. ‘Why Sir Baldwin would think to find it at home is a sign of how little he’s cared about the manor in recent years. The cross is passed around the tenants and villagers for an easy birth. It is seldom in his care.’ She did not speak in anger, but as if gently correcting her lord’s error.
‘I am relieved to hear that the cross Hubert lost was not Lady Gamyll’s. I’ll inform Sir Baldwin that he has only to check in the village and among his tenants for the one called the birthing cross.’
‘You will find that difficult,’ Ysenda said. ‘With Father Nicholas so often away there is no one –’ She abruptly broke off and slipped down onto a bench, covering her face with her hands.
‘Ma?’ Hubert knelt on one kn
ee trying to see her face. ‘Why are you crying?’
She pulled him to her and kissed the top of his head. ‘I am tired, so tired. I should have let you leave with them last night. Then you need never have known the value of what you lost.’ She lifted her face to the ceiling. ‘God in heaven, was it so wrong of me to want more time with my only son?’ She dissolved again in tears, holding onto the boy so hard that her knuckles paled.
Her inconsistencies were beginning to annoy Owen.
Hubert squirmed out of her clutch. ‘Ma, are you saying that the cross didn’t belong to you?’
She shook her head, still crumpled in on herself. ‘No,’ she whimpered. ‘I forgot to return it when I lost the baby.’
And had concocted a story for Owen about Aubrey having given it to her.
The boy sat down a little away from his mother. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘I did not think you would have had any idea what it was, Hubert,’ said Owen. ‘It’s not the sort of thing a mother tells a son about.’
‘I didn’t even know about the baby,’ Hubert whispered, hugging himself.
‘Your ma wanted to spare you the worry, I’d guess,’ said Jasper, yet again making Owen proud of him. ‘Mothers don’t always know how much we guess, or how strong we are. Sometimes they just make it all harder for us, don’t you think?’
Hubert nodded without looking up.
‘Aubrey’s been hopeful that his fighting skill had improved his standing with Sir Baldwin, that he might be honoured with more land, some of the richer land by the beck. That will never happen now. We can never hope to replace the cross even if we starved from now till the Last Judgement.’ Ysenda had given her moan to the fire, but suddenly glanced up at Owen. ‘What did the dead man do with the cross? Surely he wasn’t wearing it when he died? There is still hope. Have you gone to his house?’
This brightened Hubert. ‘I had not thought of it being found. What do you think, Captain?’
Owen thought that it was now time to leave them, now that they were buoyed with hope. He rose. ‘We will do all we can to find it and return it to Sir Baldwin,’ he said. ‘If Hubert came to York with us, he might be one of the first to know if it is found.’ He looked at the boy.
