The Nun's Tale: An Owen Archer Mystery

by Candace Robb

  A stonecutter working inside pointed him towards the north aisle. ‘My father did his best work down there.’

  Owen discovered intricate carvings of musicians, human and animal, fashioned with a sense of humour. Their expressions and gestures were so lively he strained to hear the music.

  He moved slowly down the nave, studying the figures. At the shrine of St John of Beverley he paused, knelt down, said a prayer.

  ‘You were looking for me?’

  Owen rose to greet the priest who had found Joanna’s medal. ‘I wished to ask you about a nun you may have encountered a year past. She lost a medal in your churchyard.’

  The young priest nodded. ‘I know you are somehow connected with her. An odd story, her death and resurrection.’

  ‘She did not die, Father. You do know that?’

  The priest shrugged. ‘We all believe as our conscience leads us, Captain Archer. Yes, I do remember her. She had removed her veil and knelt in the mud when I found her. I had no idea what had happened. The man who came for the medal told me a boy had tried to steal it but she had frightened him and it had fallen in the mud. But she told me only that she must catch up with her companions.’

  ‘Companions?’

  The priest shrugged. ‘A nun never travels alone.’

  ‘But you saw no companions?’

  The priest shook his head.

  ‘The man. Tell me about him.’

  ‘Tall, fair, built much like you. I guessed him to be a soldier. Perhaps her lover.’ He closed his eyes and clucked his disapproval. ‘It happens all too often.’

  ‘And yet you think she died and was reborn?’

  The priest spread his hands wide. ‘Christ brought the Magdalene into a new life. This child valued her Magdalene medal. Perhaps her patron saint interceded to save Dame Joanna’s soul. I have heard of the miracle of St Clement’s.’

  Owen ignored that. ‘You know nothing more of the man?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Did anyone else ever come seeking the medal. Or the nun?’

  The priest shook his head. ‘She is back at St Clement’s now?’

  ‘She is in York, under the archbishop’s protection.’

  ‘St Clement’s will be the richer for her return. In every way. God is benevolent.’

  Owen stayed in the minster after the priest had gone, watching the dust dance in the sunbeams. This fascination with Joanna’s supposed miracle made him uneasy, made him doubt all miracles. Were they all such wrong-headed rumours? How could one ever know which ones were true, which ones false? And what about the mantle? So many thought it truly Our Lady’s mantle. How many other relics were frauds? He crossed himself and tried to pray, but went back to staring at the stone musicians. At least they felt right and true.

  Twenty

  Homecoming

  Lucie was in the shop, bent over her mortar and pestle, crushing lovage root.

  ‘Mistress Wilton!’

  Jasper de Melton stood in the doorway, his blond hair almost white from summer days in Brother Wulfstan’s garden learning herb lore along with his reading and writing.

  ‘Have you completed your errands?’ Lucie asked.

  ‘I delivered the rosemary to Mistress Merchet. She gave me a meat pie for my troubles. And Mistress Lavendar says the kitten is most likely from her cat’s litter, and we are welcome to him.’

  ‘Him? Is she certain?’

  ‘She says all the orange and white cats from her litters are male. Always.’

  Lucie smiled. ‘I have known an orange female to sneak in from time to time.’

  Jasper shrugged, took a few steps into the shop. ‘Are you busy?’

  ‘Of course I am busy, Jasper, but with no customers in here I should welcome your company.’

  Happily the boy came round the counter and hoisted himself up onto a stool. He leaned close to the mortar and sniffed. ‘Strong.’

  Lucie nodded. ‘Can you guess what it is?’

  Jasper sniffed again, shook his head.

  ‘Lovage root. Do you know what it does?’

  ‘Makes you look fair to the one you love.’

  Lucie bit back a smile. ‘Did Brother Wulfstan tell you this?’

  ‘No. Mistress Fletcher did.’

  Ah. The woman who owned the room Jasper and his mother had lived in. ‘And why did she tell you this?’

  ‘Not me, my Mother. She said Mother should bathe in lovage to be even more beautiful, so Master Crounce would marry her.’

  ‘So what has Brother Wulfstan told you of lovage?’

  ‘I cannot remember.’

  Lucie glanced up, hearing the hush in Jasper’s voice that signalled tears. It was the memory of his mother. ‘I am making this up for Thomas the Tanner, who is long married with four children. Do you think he wants to look more fair to Mistress Tanner?’

  Jasper shook his head.

  Lucie had hoped for at least a smile, but this past week, so full of memories of his mother’s last illness, a smile had been difficult. Lucie too had a time of year when she found it hard to stop thinking about the past – late November, when her first husband had been struck down. ‘Thomas has swollen hands and feet by day’s end, so I am preparing something to help rid him of water.’

  Jasper nodded.

  Not a time for instruction. Lucie touched his shoulder, pointed to the corner of a shelf behind her. A ball of white and orange fluff was tucked into the spot where she had removed the jar of lovage. Jasper jumped up to pet the kitten, who at once began a loud, rumbling purr. The boy rubbed his forehead against the kitten. ‘He is soft as down.’ The voice was calm now, gentle with affection.

  It was just the reaction Lucie had hoped for. ‘What would you like to name him?’

  Jasper lifted his head, looked at Lucie with surprise. ‘I am to name him?’

  ‘I should like that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I thought you might take particular care of him in these next months, when I shall be quite busy.’

  Jasper glanced at her widening middle, then quickly turned back to the kitten.

  Lucie winced at her clumsiness. She had brought up another topic that put him in mind of his mother. At least she recognised it. At first she had not understood why Jasper reacted oddly to any mention of the baby; it was Bess who reminded Lucie that Jasper’s mother had been pregnant when she died, and worse, it had been the baby who had poisoned her.

  ‘What other herb lore did you learn from Mistress Fletcher?’

  Still stroking the kitten, Jasper said softly, ‘That “He who would live for aye/ Must eat sage in May.” ’

  ‘Live for ever? I had no idea.’

  ‘And she gave Mother sprigs of St John’s Wort to keep under her pillow to dream of her future husband.’

  ‘In case it was not to be Will Crounce?’

  Jasper nodded.

  ‘What else?’ Surely there were some that did not remind him of his mother. ‘What about rue? Such a powerful herb, she must have had some words about rue.’

  ‘Rue grows best when it’s stolen.’

  Lucie laughed. ‘No! Truly?’

  Jasper turned round, gave a tearful smile. Lucie dropped the pestle and put her hands out. He ran to her and hugged her tight.

  ‘I shall be fine, Jasper. Magda Digby says both mother and child are healthy. She sees no signs of trouble. I am not going to leave you.’ She stroked his flaxen hair. His arms tightened round her.

  ‘Now that’s a fine thing to come home to. My wife in the arms of another man.’

  Lucie and Jasper both looked up with smiles as Owen filled the doorway.

  Dusty and smelling of horse, Lucie thought she had never loved him more than at that moment. She hurried round the counter. He dropped his pack, pressed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her hard. ‘I have missed you,’ he whispered.

  Tears in her eyes, Lucie just nodded and took his arms, put them round her. ‘A hug will not crush me.’

  Owe
n hugged her with care, covered her face with kisses. Then he looked over at Jasper. ‘You have taken good care of my lady, Jasper. How shall I repay you?’

  ‘Take me to the butts this Sunday to watch you train the men?’ The boy’s eyes were hopeful.

  ‘Is that all you require?’

  The boy nodded.

  ‘Would that all debts might be settled so pleasantly.’

  Jasper’s face lit up.

  Lucie squeezed Owen’s arm in thanks.

  Lucie had fallen asleep as soon as she had lain down on the bed, but she woke during the night and opened the shutters, letting the moonlight shine on Owen, on the dark hair on his chest and arms. She touched the curls at his temples, ran her fingers gently along the beard that followed his chin. Blessed Mary, Mother of God, thank you for guiding him safely home.

  Owen’s right eye fluttered open. He kissed her hand and asked sleepily, ‘Are you unwell?’

  ‘I am well. And content. You had a long journey. Do not let me keep you up.’

  ‘You have trouble sleeping?’

  ‘Now and then. Magda says it might become more frequent towards the end and is nothing to worry about.’

  ‘But you must keep up your strength.’

  ‘Owen, do not worry.’

  He propped his head up on one elbow. ‘You said in your letter that Jasper was to stay for Corpus Christi and then return to the abbey school. I did not expect him to be here still.’

  ‘He wished to stay a while longer. Wulfstan and I agreed that it is best to let Jasper decide for himself where he wishes to be. At present it is here.’

  Owen stroked Lucie’s bare leg. ‘The moonlight makes your skin quite magical.’

  Lucie wiggled her toes. ‘It makes me feel quite magical. I like the middle of the night. Sometimes. When you are here.’ She was angry with herself the moment she said it. She had never been one to whine before.

  ‘I promise not to leave again before the baby comes.’

  There. She had made him feel guilty about having been away on the archbishop’s business. She had seen the light in his eyes today. He was tired, disturbed by what he had learned, but refreshed by the experience. It seemed a small price to pay to have him content when he was at home. ‘You were wonderful with Jasper today. Try as I will, I cannot bring such a smile to his face.’

  ‘I am glad he wants to stay.’

  ‘I have asked him to name the kitten.’

  Owen shifted onto his side. ‘I confess you puzzle me with the kitten. Melisende seems enough cat for anyone. We are never plagued by mice.’

  ‘The kitten will follow Melisende and learn to be a good mouser.’ Lucie ran her hand down Owen’s side. ‘You will like it.’

  ‘What is there to like or not like about a cat? When they have no mice to torment, they fuss and bother and go off hunting for days and worry you.’

  About to say that Melisende was good company while Owen was away, Lucie caught herself, thanks be to God, and just shrugged. ‘Jasper has taken to the kitten.’

  ‘I begrudge you and Jasper nothing that makes you happy.’ Owen sat up. ‘You have asked me very little about Scarborough and Beverley.’

  ‘I wanted you to choose the time. When you were rested, ready to think about it again.’

  ‘Hugh Calverley is dead. So is Longford.’

  ‘Jesu. The toll keeps rising.’

  ‘I want to tell Joanna. Can she speak?’

  ‘When I saw her yesterday, she was able to whisper. By tomorrow her voice might be even stronger.’

  ‘Good.’

  Lucie frowned, picked at the edge of her shawl, remembering the horror that followed hard upon the news of Joanna’s mother’s death. Another thing she could not speak of to Owen. She had purposely been vague in her letter about whether she had seen Joanna’s wounds. ‘I suppose we cannot delay telling her.’

  Owen slipped an arm round Lucie. ‘You are thinking about what happened before, when we told her of her mother’s death.’

  Lucie nodded, snuggled against Owen’s warm body.

  ‘We must confront her with it, Lucie. She has spoken of someone buried alive.’

  Lucie crossed herself. Let it not be Hugh.

  ‘You are not asking me …’ Owen said, trying to see her expression.

  Lucie took a deep breath. ‘I want to know, but it is such a horrible question.’ Which one was alive when they buried him? She shook her head.

  ‘It was Longford.’

  ‘Will Longford.’ Lucie crossed herself again, grateful the dream had been wrong. ‘I am glad it was not her brother.’

  ‘Hugh was not a kindly person, Lucie. No better than Longford it seems.’

  Lucie clutched her shawl tighter. She had not told him about her nightmare. She could not rid herself of that vision of Joanna burying her brother alive. ‘Where was Longford buried?’

  ‘Beneath Jaro.’

  ‘But they had opened Jaro’s grave.’

  ‘And had not looked closely. He was not visible without shifting Jaro. It took four of us to lift Jaro from the grave – he was one of the fattest men I have ever seen.’

  ‘Even so, Longford was a strong man, wasn’t he?’

  Owen took her hand, kissed the palm. ‘Perhaps I have told you enough, Lucie.’

  ‘It is that horrible?’ Oh Lord, she sounded like a weak, silly fool. ‘I have seen horrible things, Owen. Tell me.’

  He gently smoothed her hair back from her face. ‘But in your condition …’

  ‘I must know everything if I am to speak with Joanna.’

  Owen pressed her hand. ‘True enough. You are right that Longford was a strong man, and a large one; but he weighed far less than Jaro. To ensure that he stayed in the grave, they had crushed his only leg – and he had injuries to his back that might have made it impossible to move. And just to be safe, in case all that did not keep him buried, they had removed his tongue so he could name no one.’

  Lucie dropped her head in her hands, horrified at the brutality. ‘What sort of men did this?’ It was plain that Joanna could not have done all this.

  Owen shook his head. ‘It was as cold-blooded a murder as I have seen. Do you know, I hope we learn that it had something to do with his support of du Guesclin, that it was political, not personal. I do not want to know that someone hated Longford enough to do that.’

  Lucie considered the effort that had gone into such a deed. ‘I do not think you will get your wish. If you had been ordered to get rid of someone like Longford, would you have taken such time, exercised such cruelty?’

  ‘There are men who delight in cruelty. Like the man who murdered Maddy.’

  Maddy. She had forgotten to ask about her. ‘You know who did it?’

  ‘A worm of a man, Lucie. According to Edmund, the man killed Maddy just to make it easier to search the house.’

  ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, watch over Maddy’s soul,’ Lucie whispered. ‘And who is Edmund?’

  ‘One of the men who helped Joanna escape Beverley.’

  ‘… With Stefan?’

  ‘Aye. Stefan’s partner. One of Sebastian’s men. As is Jack, Maddy’s murderer.’

  ‘Will this Jack be punished, even though Maddy was just a servant?’

  ‘If Sir Richard and Sir Nicholas have their way, yes. But to show you what a fool I’ve been while away, I stopped Edmund in the act of attacking Jack.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I heartily regret it, believe me. He now shadows Edmund.’

  ‘You must catch him, Owen. He must pay.’

  ‘I am hoping he does something foolish. Alfred is trailing after Edmund, watching.’

  ‘Is Jack alone?’

  ‘I do not know. But I doubt it.’

  ‘This is all such a nightmare.’

  Owen hugged Lucie. ‘God grant me the wits to resolve this quickly. Joanna has much to tell us. We must find out how she knew about Longford’s burial.’

  Best to do it soon. ‘Shall we go to her in the
morning?’

  ‘I should like to. And then I want Edmund to see her.’

  ‘I am curious to meet him.’

  ‘Then you will – tomorrow.’

  ‘Why did Stefan not come?’

  ‘He has vanished. That is why Edmund was willing to come with me.’ Owen put his arm around Lucie. She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Are you strong enough yet to go on with Joanna?’

  With all her whining, of course he would ask. ‘I am quite strong enough.’

  ‘Good. I want you to use all your wiles to reach her. Find out what she is hiding, where Stefan is, who murdered Longford and Jaro.’

  Lucie tried to push the horror aside and think clearly. ‘Longford and Jaro were murdered by strong men.’

  ‘Soldiers, I would guess. Perhaps some of Sebastian’s men. But why?’

  Lucie bit her lip, thinking. ‘Might Edmund and Stefan be the murderers?’

  Owen shook his head. ‘I think I know Edmund, travelling with him all this time. He would kill quickly, wishing to be done with it. And then he would run to a confessor.’

  ‘But does that not depend on what Longford had done? Might it be revenge for a similar act?’

  ‘I cannot say for certain that I know his heart, Lucie. But I think such a deed would haunt Edmund, and he would have been driven to confess it to me.’

  Lucie sighed, squeezed Owen. ‘Now let’s talk of pleasant things so I might go back to sleep.’

  The hospitaller shook his head at the sprig of mistletoe on the floor just inside Joanna’s door. ‘Dame Prudentia is sadly superstitious.’ Mistletoe placed so ensured quiet, pleasant dreams. When Lucie was a little girl, her Aunt Phillippa had used mistletoe to ward off nightmares. But Lucie did not comment. Nor did she mention the angelica that she and Wulfstan had sprinkled in the four corners of the room to exorcise the demons that troubled Joanna.

  The curtains had been removed from Joanna’s bed to give her more air in the warm July weather and to make it easier to watch her. Dame Agnes, the sub-prioress, sat the watch this morning. She turned her cheery face towards Lucie and Owen.

  ‘Joanna slept calmly through the night. She woke at dawn, drank some watered wine, and fell back into a peaceful sleep.’

  Lucie was pleased. ‘May we be alone with her for a while? You might wish to walk out in the fresh morning air.’