Beyond St Helen’s churchyard the men were able to walk four abreast, the street almost deserted with the snow, cold, and the early hour. The light was just enough now to distinguish colors, though not subtleties. Owen enjoyed the chill, refreshing after his sickroom vigil.
He asked Master Adam what he knew so far.
‘Just before dawn a clerk stumbled over a body in the snow, in the shadow of the chapter house. As I was praying over him, a servant came upon Ronan lying in a drift by the gate of the chancellor’s house.’
‘Whose servant?’ Hempe asked.
‘The chancellor’s. Master Thomas’s kitchen help.’
‘What else can you tell me about the body, besides some blood?’ Owen asked.
‘His face’ – Adam paused in the street, eyes wide with the memory – ‘such terror. Perhaps some bleeding at the nose? Some bruising?’ He shivered and resumed his pace. ‘I left two clerks to watch that no one disturbed the ground near Ronan, then went at once to the mayor to see about engaging you.’
‘You woke the mayor?’ Owen asked.
‘He is as keen as we are to make a good impression on the Nevilles. All Alexander’s kin will attend the enthronement, you can be sure. Neither the city nor the minster want them to hear rumors of a murderer loose in York.’
They would not be the only noble family descending on the city. This trouble might be but the first incident of many with a full complement of the powerful soon biding within the walls, a darksome prospect. He wondered which of the prince’s emissaries would attend. Geoffrey Chaucer? Perhaps. More likely Owen’s friend Dom Antony. Or Sir Lewis Clifford, a nobleman to deal with an ambitious clan.
‘I need a list of all those who represented our new archbishop when he was a canon here, who worked for him,’ said Owen.
‘He was seldom in residence,’ said Adam. ‘But I see your point, Ronan was Neville’s vicar. He would have had clerks advising him on matters that needed his attention. I will enquire.’
Owen debated whether or not it was time to divulge what he knew about Ronan’s encounter with the white-haired stranger. He would not share his idea about the stranger’s identity. If it was Ambrose Coates, he must know his purpose in returning to York from France before he could decide whether or not he was still someone who deserved his trust, whether or not he was a threat to the city or the realm. Ambrose’s longtime lover Martin Wirthir shifted his allegiances with ease, and had powerful enemies in the realm, including at the royal court. King Edward’s mistress Alice Perrers, for one. Owen must tread with care. ‘When did you last see Ronan?’
‘Master Thomas saw him last evening, in the minster nave, speaking with a stranger,’ said Adam. ‘French, from the style of his cloak, his long white hair. Ronan now wears that very cloak. Curious, is it not?’
‘How do you know that about the cloak?’ Owen asked.
‘Thomas came out to see what was amiss. Saw Ronan lying there. He recognized the cloak.’
‘What are we to make of that?’ Hempe muttered. ‘Chancellor sees him in the minster, then the man is murdered outside his gate in that cloak.’
What indeed. ‘An odd twist,’ said Owen. ‘I did not know Ronan. What can you tell me about him?’
‘Unlike most of our vicars, local men, many from St Peter’s School, Ronan came to us from Oxford,’ said the precentor. ‘Recommended to us by Alexander Neville.’ A shrug. ‘He held himself above his fellows.’
‘Resented?’ Hempe asked.
‘Not so much that his fellows would harm him, if that is what you are asking. But I did not often encounter him in the company of others.’
‘Which is why the chancellor noted seeing him with the Frenchman in the minster last night?’ asked Hempe.
‘Now that you mention it, yes.’
‘Did he live with the others in the Bedern?’ Owen asked. The vicars choral had their own compound in a section of the minster liberty, now boasting a sheltered cloister and a fine refectory.
‘He did. I can have someone escort you to his lodgings.’
Owen thanked him. ‘And what of our jurisdiction? Are the city bailiffs free to go about the minster liberty?’
‘As I sent for you I can hardly restrict you. Though if it is possible to limit the numbers, perhaps Hempe and whatever assistants you require, I would be grateful.’ Master Adam rubbed his arms, as if comforting himself. ‘Mourning our brother, preparing for Archbishop Neville’s enthronement – we are in danger of forgetting our purpose, our prayers.’
Prayers. That was the least of Master Adam’s problems in Owen’s opinion, but he agreed to limit the number of men involved. As did Hempe.
At the minster gate, the guard reported seeing no strangers come through.
‘What of other guards? None around the minster at night? Or near the homes?’ Hempe asked.
‘We’ve not seen the need to guard the minster at night,’ said the precentor. ‘Perhaps we have been unwise.’
‘At such a time, with the preparations for the enthronement, valuables being placed in the building, vigilance is essential,’ said Owen.
‘Yes, I do see,’ Adam murmured.
‘I will loan you some men for the nonce,’ Hempe offered. ‘Until we know what happened.’
‘More upheaval,’ the precentor sighed.
‘Not if we can prevent it,’ said Owen.
Adam cleared his throat, nodded brusquely. ‘Yes, of course. I would be grateful.’
As they passed the minster, morning prayers were in progress. Michaelo deposited the sledge where he had found it, at the door to the Lady Chapel.
‘Once you have shown me the body, feel free go to your prayers,’ said Owen. ‘I know it is your office.’
‘A kind offer, but no, I charged another with the task. I would see this through until Ronan can be removed to the Bedern.’
They cut behind the minster toward the chancellor’s house as the first rays of sunlight shone between the buildings of the Bedern. Almost at once, a fog began to rise from the freshly fallen snow as the light met the cold.
The vicar’s body had sunk into the bank of snow and was now only partially visible near the gate to the chancellor’s house. Owen sent the pair standing guard to find a plank onto which the body might be moved. As he had anticipated, the earlier blowing snow had covered any clues as to whether Ronan had been attacked here or elsewhere, and, if the latter, whether he’d been carried or dragged. Master Adam could not recall seeing any footprints or signs of dragging when he had viewed the body earlier.
‘I will have one of my men keep watch as the day warms,’ said Owen. ‘As the snow melts it might reveal lightly covered prints.’
‘I see why you are valued,’ said Adam.
Owen had learned that as a child in Wales, but he did not correct him. ‘Did you reach the man fallen from the chapter house soon after he fell?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Even in this cold he was still warm,’ said Adam.
‘And you were summoned here shortly after that?’
‘I had time to say but a few prayers over the fallen man. It could not have been long.’
‘So Ronan might have been the first to die,’ said Hempe. ‘Was he still warm as well?’
‘I removed my gloves to bless him and say prayers …’ The precentor frowned down at his feet. ‘Not so cold as to make me think he had been out in the snow for long, but not so warm as the other. I regret I cannot be more precise.’
‘Anything you noticed is helpful,’ Owen assured him.
When the men returned with a board Owen and Hempe helped them place Ronan’s body on it. In the process the cloak fell open. Blood soaked the squirrel lining over the chest. Owen crouched to examine the corresponding wound. He had been stabbed through the heart.