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‘God be thanked she is safe,’ Ambrose breathed.

Owen had forgotten how his entire face registered emotion, a gift for a performer, but a spy?

‘How did you find her?’ Ambrose asked. ‘Dame Magda spoke of trouble. Is she safe?’

‘She is safe for now. I would like a more detailed explanation of why you are here. And why you were at Cawood.’

‘Will you not tell me what happened after I left the minster?’

‘Last night you had long white hair.’

‘You spoke to Ronan.’

He did not know? ‘No. You were seen. We will speak of that. First I will hear your story.’

Ambrose glanced at Magda, who had busied herself with mortar and pestle. He returned his attention to Owen. ‘You are more officious than I remember.’

‘I was a long while in Thoresby’s service.’

Ambrose drank down whatever Magda had put in his cup. A truth serum? Perhaps. For now he began to talk. ‘To save which prince, you asked, England or France. And well you might. I arrived in Dover without a letter of safe passage. Who would have written such a thing for me? I prayed that God might show me the way – a repentant sinner, come to make amends, reparations. I heard in the taverns that Thoresby was dead, and you now in the prince’s service. Even in the South they speak of you.’

‘More likely they speak of Alexander Neville.’

‘The prince’s interest in York is the subject of much conjecture.’

‘I see. Continue.’

‘When I heard you now served Prince Edward I took it as the sign I had looked for and knew I was right to head north. I need you to speak in my favor, Owen, to assure His Grace that I am neither a spy nor an assassin. I want only to save his life.’

Not what Owen had expected. ‘Why should you care so much as to risk everything?’

‘Perhaps it is my penance for these wasted years. I might have– A conversation for another time.’

‘The French plot to murder him? Or do you know of a cure for his lingering illness?’

‘Both, in a fashion. I would warn him against his French physician, for his purpose is to sustain the illness that torments His Grace, that weakens him, and will in time kill him.’

‘What is this?’ Magda whispered, looking up from her work.

‘The physicians who presented themselves to him in Bordeaux, including the one who returned in his household, they have betrayed him. Pierre de Manhi of Bordeaux brought four of them together in an effort to rid the realm of Aquitaine of the prince in a most humiliating manner. A pity, folk would say, this once feared warlord diminished by a flux that will not stop, a weakness that incapacitates him. When Edward was carried to Limoges on a litter they were amused. An image most gratifying.’

‘Snakes,’ Magda hissed.

‘How did they do this?’ asked Owen.

‘Experiments with poisons – small amounts, imperceptible in otherwise ordinary physicks, taken over a long while. They were curious to learn whether the poisons would kill him or merely weaken him, whether they would prevent other physicks from working. The deadliest of them, mercury, is the particular curiosity of the viper who now resides in the prince’s household, Monsieur Ricard.’

Magda left her worktable to join them by the fire.

She had spoken at length with Princess Joan about her husband’s illness. ‘Would the symptoms the princess described support these claims?’ Owen asked.

‘Quicksilver is an inconstant healer,’ said Magda. ‘It is possible Minstrel is right.’ She held Owen’s eye, looking deep. ‘Trust him, Bird-eye. He has no cause to lie to thee. Nor would he come such a way to speak nonsense.’

‘If this is true …’ But what to do with Ambrose for now. With the children convalescing, and one stranger already installed in his home? ‘Tell me about the young woman.’

Ambrose looked at him askance. ‘Will you not say whether or not I might count on your help?’

‘I need to think what I can do. But to the point, I need to know what danger sleeps near my children.’

‘Of course. I had not considered …’ Ambrose looked down at his hands, white, unlined, uncalloused but for the tips of his fingers. He spoke of noticing her amongst the players.

So she was not a Neville. ‘How did you come upon them?’ Owen asked.

‘I overheard the leader at the tavern bragging that they were to perform at Cawood Palace. I knew it to be one of the properties of the Archbishop of York. An opportunity to learn something of use to you. A lure.’

‘Found you a lure?’

‘Sir John has placed Alexander on the archbishop’s throne to dominate the Northern lords, keep them in place.’

‘Anyone with half a wit guessed that.’

‘But I can attest to it. He sees Ravenser as a difficulty. And you.’

Also not surprising. ‘What does he propose to do about us?’

‘That I cannot say.’

‘Pity.’

‘He wanted to know which merchants might be supportive.’

‘Supportive of what?’

‘My impression was that the prince’s health emboldens them to hope for the crown to go to Lancaster, the king’s brother, rather than Edward’s son, Richard of Bordeaux. They spoke of this in France, the powerful Lancaster ready to steal the throne from the boy, who is much favored by the French. Malleable. His mother fond of France.’

‘This might be of use to the prince.’ This and a warning against the treacherous physician. ‘Is there more?’

‘Will you help me?’

Owen needed to know just how much trouble he was taking on. ‘First, the young woman. You heard this man boasting …’

Sacré Dieu,’ Ambrose muttered, but he nodded. ‘I took up my crwth and performed right there in the tavern, singing a mournful ballad. They were impressed and invited me to join them. I noticed the lad – as I thought him them – using his fingers to mark out the notes of the song, as many are trained in abbeys. He interested me. The leader noticed and warned me away. But the lad, Matthew as he – as she called herself, had a voice to complement mine, so I worked with her. Noticed how she knew the modes – a way of learning what notes belong together in sacred music.’ He hummed a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. ‘You recognize it, yet it could be many hymns you have heard. Because it is. My point being she is well trained. Convent-trained, I would guess.’

Michaelo had been right. Again. ‘She has not confided in you?’

‘No. How did Brother Michaelo hear her? God help me, is she at the abbey? They will discover her.’

‘No. Michaelo bides in the minster close. He was passing the minster before dawn and heard her singing in the chapter house.’

‘Singing where?’ Ambrose looked stunned. ‘How did she come to be there?’

‘I would guess she followed you to the minster last night. Perhaps witnessed your exchange of cloaks.’

‘My– You know of that.’ A muttered curse. ‘I have not been so careful as I thought. No. I left her with the fiddler, Tucker. Why would she follow me there?’

‘I know not. What did you do with Ronan’s cloak?’

Ambrose gestured to a hook on the wall beside the door. ‘It hangs there.’

From his seat, it looked to Owen very much like the one he had taken from Ronan’s lodgings. He rose to examine it. The lining was not the same, but from a distance it would seem a match. ‘Where did you go from the minster?’

‘I came here. I wanted Dame Magda’s advice about coming to you. And my meeting with Ronan troubled me. I’d sought his help, calling on our old acquaintance, favors I’d done for him. I asked him if he knew whether any Nevilles had arrived. I feared they’d followed me from Cawood. He said he would find out, and, if so, vouch for me – in exchange for my costly cloak.’