A Choir of Crows

by Candace Robb

  Beck turned his head toward him and reached out a hand. ‘I cannot see. Who are you?’

  ‘Best not touch him, Dom Leufrid,’ said the guard.

  Lucie noted how Beck drew into himself at the sound of the man’s odd speech.

  It was Jehannes who perched on the bench and took Beck’s hand. ‘This is Dom Leufrid, the archbishop’s secretary,’ he said in his most soothing voice. ‘He wishes to say a prayer over you.’

  ‘I pray that my sight might be restored,’ Beck whimpered. ‘Even a warm kitchen is a fearful place in this darkness.’

  Making the sign of the cross over Beck, Leufrid whispered a prayer of no particular pertinence, then stepped away, gazing for a moment at Marian, who dutifully scrubbed the flagstones.

  ‘So many servants,’ he said, shaking his head as he turned and made his way in a slow shuffle back out to the hall, the guard following.

  Jehannes nodded to Lucie as he followed, gesturing that he would see the intruders out.

  Taking Jehannes’s place on the bench, Lucie identified herself to Beck and assured him that the secretary and his armed escort were back in the hall where they could not hear. ‘Did you recognize the voice of the guard?’

  ‘It was him and another I came upon in Master Ronan’s lodging. The ones who blinded me.’

  ‘I will tell my husband. He will know what to do.’

  ‘You will not send me away?’

  Lucie squeezed his hand and assured him that he would be cared for.

  Moments after Leufrid and his guards departed, Hempe arrived, curious about armed guards escorting the archbishop’s secretary from Jehannes’s home. He laughed when he realized his mistake, a brief moment of jollity dampened by Owen’s account of his meeting with Sir John Neville.

  ‘Two days,’ Hempe growled. ‘Who does he think he is, arriving in the city and ordering us about?’ He slumped down in a chair, joining Jehannes, Owen, Lucie, Michaelo, and Ambrose, a dour group.

  ‘We’ve no time to waste on complaints.’ Owen removed his hat and raked a hand through his hair. ‘We can only hope that they believed Ambrose and Marian to be household servants, but we cannot depend on that. Leufrid and the guards may have decided to withdraw and consider how to proceed. We need to move her to St Clement’s tonight.’

  ‘What of Ambrose?’ asked Jehannes.

  ‘They may not have seen him,’ said Owen. ‘Were you able to speak with Tucker’s wife?’

  ‘I was. Dame Judith says Percy’s men did pay her to care for the young woman. She seemed not as worried about Tucker as she was about losing the money. I permitted her to keep it, as Tucker will be bringing nothing home for a while. The fiddler complained loudly all the way to the castle, but being closed in a damp room silenced him. After a night in there I believe he will talk.’

  ‘Pray God he does,’ said Owen. ‘And that he knows something of use. We have another concern.’ He told them how Carl, the leader of the company with whom Marian had traveled, had been watching Ambrose out near the midden, but ran off when he noticed Owen observing him with interest. Hempe would tell his men to watch out for Carl, follow him, find out whether the company was in the city to perform, or the man had followed alone. And then they fell to planning how they would escort Marian to the priory outside the city walls.

  A knock on the door interrupted their tense debate.

  Lucie touched Owen arm as he rose to answer, his hand on the dagger beneath his jacket. ‘Should I withdraw to Jehannes’s parlor with Ambrose and Marian?’

  Jehannes rose to help but Owen motioned him down. ‘Only Ambrose and Marian in the parlor. Then return to us.’

  With a nod, Lucie went to fetch them.

  Owen crossed to the door. A lad bowed to him, the movement releasing a puff of sparkling powder. Dust from a goldsmith’s workshop.

  ‘You’ve been sent by Robert Dale?’ Owen guessed.

  Startled, the lad stuttered, ‘Y-yes, Captain. I am glad to find you here. My master begs to speak with you. At his shop, sir. As soon as you might, sir.’

  ‘Is he in danger?’

  ‘I am to say no more, but to implore you to come quickly.’

  ‘I will come.’

  Closing the door Owen was barraged with questions he could not answer.

  ‘Robert Dale is not one to waste my time. I will return as soon as I may. Ambrose will accompany me. If there are other members of Carl’s company about, he can point them out.’

  Lucie rose to follow him to the parlor, asking why the musicians were important to him.

  ‘I am not sure. Marian thought she saw the drummer Paul in the minster that night. Carl is watching Ambrose. I want to know why.’

  ‘Your eye warns you of them?’

  She knew him well. ‘It does.’

  ‘Will we take her to St Clement’s tonight?’ she asked.

  ‘I think it best. I hope you need not come.’ He kissed her and called to Ambrose.

  Outside, the shadows were already lengthening, a chill dampness rising. They must hurry.

  FOURTEEN

  An Unlikely Ally

  Robert Dale led Owen and Ambrose to his office behind the bustling shop. Even here, Owen felt the heat from the fire over which the gold was softened.

  Crispin Poole rose from a seat, leaning heavily on his cane as he greeted Owen and glanced with interest at Ambrose.

  ‘What is this?’ said Owen, looking to Robert.

  ‘You have Poole to thank for this meeting,’ said Robert. ‘Hear him out. He has convinced me that I have information you need. As does he.’

  A lad brought in a flagon of wine and three cups, then apologized, noticing there were four to serve. After he delivered a fourth, Robert told him to close the door as he left.

  ‘We can speak freely?’ asked Crispin indicating Ambrose.

  ‘That depends,’ said Owen. ‘Are you here as Neville’s man?’

  ‘No. As your friend, and a concerned citizen.’

  ‘I just encountered one of your men escorting Dom Leufrid. The one with the scarred cheek.’

  ‘Diggs. You met him at the archdeacon’s house?’

  ‘You knew of the visit?’

  ‘Diggs says the woman who fled Cawood with the French spy is there. They planned to search the house.’

  It was as Owen had feared.

  ‘The Nevilles want her,’ said Crispin. ‘They believe her to be someone of value to them. Their interest should concern you.’

  ‘It does.’

  ‘Good. We have little time. It might help me to know who she is.’

  ‘We? How do I know your men—’

  ‘I have told you, they are not my men. Never were. For a while I thought they might be useful, but they have become my bane, my curse. I sent them off to lodge with their fellows, my excuse my mother’s failing health.’

  ‘You serve Archbishop Neville.’

  ‘No longer, though he does not yet know. I thought it best to do what I could for you before speaking with him. So that I might still receive reports. I know Sir John has given you two days to find Ronan’s murderer. He’s keen to put the blame on the French spy.’

  ‘French spy?’

  ‘You know of whom I speak. The musician Ambrose Coates.’

  ‘He is no spy for the French,’ said Owen. ‘But you are right about Sir John’s threat.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  Owen glanced at Robert. ‘What was it you wished to tell me?’

  Fine, close work had ruined Robert’s eyesight, his habitual squint giving him the air of a man whose worries weighed him down. Yet Owen knew him to be blessed with a successful business and a happy family life. He peered at Owen, then Crispin, who, with a sigh of frustration, resumed his seat, plucking a cloth from his sleeve and wiping his brow.

  ‘It is about Ronan’s book,’ said Robert, ‘what he called his psalter.’

  ‘A prayer book?’

  ‘No. His distasteful humor.’

  Owen sat down as well and
poured himself some wine. ‘Go on.’

  ‘A few days before his death Ronan swooped into my shop with a nasty glint in his eyes, trailed by that clerk of his, Beck. He dared accuse me of being late to deliver a gold cross the new archbishop had ordered from me. I questioned his authority to represent His Grace, for he had taken no part in the original transaction, it was all done by messenger through His Grace’s secretary Leufrid, the usual empty flattery, currying favor with local merchants. Months ago Leufrid had sent a message, all apologies, His Grace had changed his mind and was cancelling the order. I do not like to speak ill of the dead, but my questioning Ronan’s authority set him to spewing vile things. Vile. He accused my beloved wife Julia—’ Robert paused a moment to breathe and calm himself. ‘I left the room to fetch the message and the two halves of the tally from the desk of one of my clerks who was working with the accounts in the shop. When I returned Ronan did not at first notice me. He had brought out the little book in which he jotted down items – parchment sewn together with a leather cover, costly for keeping accounts, but that was the man, vainglorious, delighting in show. He called it his psalter, and indeed the outward appearance would fool one.’

  ‘So you had seen it before,’ said Owen.

  ‘Oh yes, as have my fellow goldsmiths and many other merchants. Since his death I have prayed that Ronan had not pushed one of my friends to his limit, fearing his ruin. He was devious, greedy, cruel, lacking all compassion. The sort of churchman that causes a crisis of faith in the most pious of worshippers.’

  Owen looked to Crispin. ‘Did Ronan still represent Neville in such transactions?’

  ‘Ronan certainly believed so, though Leufrid disagrees. In truth, he said that the archbishop had never considered Ronan to be in his service.’

  ‘I was told that he recommended Ronan as a vicar for the chapter.’

  ‘I did not know that,’ Crispin admitted.

  ‘When I asked you about his hoard the other day you mentioned nothing of this.’

  ‘That was before my conversation with the secretary.’

  Robert looked from one to the other. ‘But Ronan has plagued me and my fellow merchants in the city and collected fees, valuable items … You say he was not authorized? Have we been robbed?’ He hissed a curse.

  Crispin rubbed what was left of his right arm. ‘I have no proof, but considering Neville’s behavior before becoming archbishop I would guess Ronan had been engaged by him, but that now, under the watchful eyes of his powerful brother, he has abandoned his partners in crime.’

  ‘I smell a cunning squirrel hiding away a winter’s worth of feasts before the first snow,’ Robert growled.

  Owen had ample evidence of that in the cache he’d hidden at Jehannes’s home. ‘How did he behave when shown proof the order was cancelled?’

  ‘He seemed confused, but tried to hide it with fresh accusations. I ordered him out and warned him not to return or I would have a word with Master Adam, his precentor. He warned me that a goldsmith depended on a good reputation and he could ruin me. But I waved the proof before him and opened the shop door, loudly ordering him out. When he insulted my wife, he went too far.’ Clenched fists, a red face, the man’s passion was clear. Yet not for a moment did Owen consider Robert as Ronan’s murderer. He had known him too long,

  ‘Did you know of this psalter?’ Owen asked Crispin.

  ‘I guessed he kept some record of the accounts he claimed to be monitoring, but no, I’d never heard of the book.’

  ‘I believe it is what your men were after when Beck surprised them at Ronan’s lodging.’

  ‘Porter and Diggs? You are certain it was them?’ Poole’s tone held no surprise.

  ‘As of this afternoon, yes. Beck recognized Diggs’s voice when he escorted Leufrid into Jehannes’s kitchen to pray over the injured man. The way his twisted mouth shapes his words. Diggs had no cause to speak. He meant to frighten Beck, but his arrogance betrayed him.’

  Crispin merely nodded. ‘I have no trouble believing it, and the account book would be something Neville would wish to retrieve. But it is not the only book they want. They believe Ronan had in his possession something belonging to the woman you have sheltered. A prayer book illustrated with crows. Sir John’s wife, Lady Maud, a Percy by birth, says her sister gave it to her ward, Marian Percy, when she took vows at Wherwell Abbey. They want the book, and they want the nun, who has been missing since Pentecost. Your fair singer, if I am not mistaken, now hiding in the archdeacon’s house. Hence their interest.’

  So they had recognized her. Owen cursed under his breath. They knew. And Crispin had already heard.

  ‘They believe Ambrose Coates means to use her to bargain with Sir Thomas Percy, her guardian, Lady Maud’s brother. I want to help.’

  ‘Help?’ Owen asked.

  ‘I understand your wariness. But I am sincere. Call it atonement for my past sins, proof to the citizens of York that I am a man they can trust, a man worthy of Muriel Swann and the child she carries.’

  ‘The Nevilles are the new power in the city,’ said Owen. ‘Why would you cross them?’

  ‘They have yet to earn the trust of the citizens,’ said Robert. ‘My tale should make that clear.’

  This would be the time for the shower of needle pricks to warn him away, but Owen felt nothing, nothing but the importance of moving fast. He regarded Crispin, noticed how much more at ease he seemed than the last few times they met. A man at peace with himself. ‘I intend to move Dame Marian to St Clement’s Priory tonight.’

  ‘I had much the same idea, except that I think tonight might be too late,’ said Crispin. ‘I intended to escort my mother there in a few days. I propose that I escort her there as soon as possible, with the Percy woman attending her.’

  ‘It might work,’ said Owen. ‘No one would expect the woman to be entrusted to you. Might I suggest the addition of Alisoun Ffulford? Your mother trusts her as a healer, and knows she is an excellent, fearless shot. In the event you are set upon.’

  ‘The young woman who saved my mother’s life? I welcome her,’ said Crispin.

  ‘How will you move the young woman from the archdeacon’s?’ asked Robert.

  ‘In the guise of a man,’ said Ambrose, the first words he had spoken since arriving. ‘She is accustomed to playing the part. Once she reaches your home, she transforms into a serving maid.’

  ‘Are you—’ Crispin leaned over to Ambrose, touched his temple, held up his fingers to show a dark smudge. The heat in the room had caused the dye to bleed. ‘You are the white-haired musician, Ambrose Coates.’

  ‘And if I am?’

  ‘The captain says you are not spying for the French. What, then, did you want with the Nevilles at Cawood?’

  ‘I learned of the captain’s new connection to Prince Edward, so I headed north. Hearing of a gathering of Nevilles at Cawood, I thought I might glean something of use to the captain to offer in exchange for an introduction to the prince.’

  ‘York seems an odd destination for a mission to Prince Edward,’ said Crispin. ‘You wish an introduction to him? Why? I should think he has his choice of musicians. Why not stay at the French court?’

  ‘A tale for another time,’ said Owen as he rose. ‘Your offer is generous, Crispin.’

  ‘I would rather not include Ambrose in the scheme.’

  ‘I have no intention of further endangering Dame Marian,’ said Ambrose.

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘It seems the company of musicians and players with whom Dame Marian traveled is in the city,’ said Owen. ‘Ambrose knows them well enough to help me track them to their lodgings.’

  ‘You think they mean trouble?’ Crispin asked. ‘Why?’

  ‘Too curious about Marian and Ambrose. I want to know why,’ said Owen. ‘Do you have any more to share, Robert? Have you any sense of who Ronan might have pushed to the point of desperation? A man fearing the loss of all he has worked for, whose family is in danger of destitution? The most
pious man might break beneath such a fear.’

  ‘Any number of us, to be honest, and yet I have sensed nothing among those with whom I have spoken. Beecham detested the man, but he has just returned from London. The snow had trapped him south of York.’

  ‘What of Will Farfield?’ The silversmith whose apprentices had seemed frightened when Owen had called, saying their master was ill. Yet Lucie and Jasper had seen no one from his household in the shop despite the Farfields being regular customers. And there was something— ‘Did he not lose his wife or one of his daughters to pestilence?’ Owen asked.

  Robert flinched.

  ‘I am a fair man, Robert, you know that.’

  ‘I do, Owen, I do.’ He pressed the bridge of his nose, nodded to himself. ‘Will sent his wife and children off to her parents in Shelby this past summer.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He claimed for fear of the pestilence. And then … When my wife called to see whether there was anything she might do she was sent away with such dispatch she worried about the welfare of his apprentices. I dislike accusing a fellow merchant …’

  ‘Is his business prospering?’

  ‘He has always struggled. A surly man at the best of times. Lacks his father’s eye for quality, has no patience with apprentices. No, his business is not prospering.’

  Owen thanked him. ‘If you think of anyone else, encounter anyone …’

  ‘I will come to you,’ said Robert. ‘I swear.’

  One of the apprentices knocked, and as Robert consulted with him regarding an order, Owen rose, nodded his thanks, and withdrew with Ambrose.

  Crispin followed. Outside, they agreed on a plan.

  ‘I thank you for this,’ Owen said as they were parting.

  ‘You have my betrothed to thank for the idea. Muriel is my conscience, my guide. I seek her advice in everything. She encouraged me to distance myself from the archbishop, a connection that she believes will make it difficult for me among my fellow merchants.’