With a little smile, Marian closed her eyes, the anger that had simmered atop her fear abated for the moment.
Watching Lucie return from the landing, Owen invited her to the settle near the fire. He had much to tell her, about Tucker, Pit, but he touched her chin, gently turned her toward him, and began to kiss her. Forehead, cheeks, eyelids, mouth, neck.
With a soft laugh she pulled away. ‘My love, what is it?’
‘I have missed you. All the days and nights watching in the sickroom, I yearned for you. And now, when we might at last have peace, all this.’
Putting her arms round him, she kissed him back. ‘You have a good heart, my love. You were right to give her shelter. My anger was the residue of days and nights of worry.’
‘No need to explain. I knew. I felt the same.’
Holding each other close they shared now all the thoughts they dare not voice while the fever raged in the nursery. Owen felt Lucie’s heart racing, realized his beat just as wildly. He fell to kissing her to save them both from the darkness.
9
A Night Watch
A soft tread on the steps. Owen eased his arms from round Lucie, sat back. She straightened her gown. Magda drew a stool near to them and settled, reaching her hands toward the fire with a sigh of ease. Lucie asked about Sandrine.
‘Magda must come back to herself.’ She watched the flames for a moment, then nodded and turned to them. ‘And now to the child above.’
Owen bowed his head as he learned more of Marian’s ordeal, how she had defended herself against men’s predations, her fear of defilement, being turned away by the sisters. He could feel Lucie’s distress.
‘I regret being harsh with her,’ he said.
‘She is safe here. Thou hast been good to her.’
‘I pray she knows she is safe with us,’ said Lucie.
‘She does. And for now she sleeps,’ said Magda.
‘Marian,’ Lucie whispered. Wiping her eyes, she rose. ‘I will tell Alisoun. And see how it goes with the children.’ Thanking Magda for her help, she excused herself.
‘Might we talk of Ambrose?’ asked Owen.
‘Thou hast no need for such formality, Bird-eye. What troubles thee?’
‘Ambrose survived a dangerous journey without mishap despite his admitted lack of skill as a spy. I believe he had a protector. Have you any sense of Martin Wirthir’s presence?’
‘Thou art thinking of Tucker’s attacker? Perhaps. The Minstrel left much unspoken. Thou art the one who gathers the threads and weaves the tapestry. Not Magda. Open thine eyes, Bird-eye.’ She pressed a point between his scarred and his good eye. ‘Magda has told thee what she knows, but she is a healer, not the one to seek out the answers. That is for thee to discover.’
‘No advice?’
‘Have a care moving Dame Marian. Magda advises patience. Choose the right moment, for the safety of all.’
She left him then, joining Alisoun and Lucie in the kitchen. Owen followed, discovered the children asleep on their pallet by the fire, the three women moving off to the side to talk. Kate kneaded bread while Jasper stood beside her chopping roots.
‘I am going to the tavern. I agreed to meet George Hempe there,’ Owen told the three women. ‘Then Jasper and I will accompany him home with Ambrose’s instruments.’
It was clear Jasper had heard, his face alight with anticipation as Owen turned to him.
‘Could you ready Ambrose’s instruments so we might deliver them to him at Hempe’s home?’
‘Gladly, Da.’
Donning boots and cloak, slipping a sheathed dagger onto his belt, Owen stepped out into the damp evening.
Tucked into the farthest corner of the tavern room, Hempe lifted a hand in greeting. All eyes were on Owen as he wound his way toward the bailiff, pausing at a table to ask after a man’s dying wife, for whom Lucie had prepared a special mixture for her pain. Tobin clutched Owen’s hand, red-rimmed eyes brimming with tears. ‘God beckons her heavenward. Soon, now. Bless Dame Lucie for easing her last days with me.’ Humbled, Owen slumped into his seat.
‘Lucie is the hero of the people of York, not me.’
‘She is a treasure,’ said Hempe. ‘But you do your part. As do I. Not everyone has her skill. Or the Riverwoman’s. Or Mistress Alisoun’s.’ He drank down his ale and signaled to Tom Merchet, who hastened over with a jug.
‘Where is the queen of York, Tom?’ asked Hempe.
‘Training a cook. You can talk in peace tonight.’ Tom grinned as he bustled off.
‘Most fortunate man,’ said Hempe. ‘This tavern would be nothing without our Bess.’ He leaned forward, tapping Owen’s tankard. ‘Now to work. Household officials representing the great Northern families are entering the city as the snow recedes. Earlier than expected. Amidst all that it is impossible to ferret out anyone related to the deaths at the gates this morning. Hard to believe it was only this morning.’
More than disappointing, the news was worrying. ‘The Neville household?’ Owen asked.
‘I passed the palace in the minster yard and saw servants opening shutters, shaking out cushions, clearing the steps. They expect Sir John and Archbishop Alexander soon. Not good.’
‘And we know so little.’ Owen told him what little he’d gleaned.
Hempe liked Jehannes’s proposal regarding the young woman. ‘But escorting her to St Clement’s. If Neville’s men recognize her before she is safe within.’ He groaned. ‘We will need guards there, but it is so far from all else we cannot use them for other duties, walking a watch. If we could wait to move her until after we have Ronan’s murderer?’
Another urging Owen to be patient. ‘I will think about it. If the prince’s representatives arrive soon they might bring extra men.’
‘That would be a blessing.’ Hempe drank down his ale. ‘I should see to my own household.’
‘Jasper and I thought to accompany you with Ambrose’s instruments.’
‘You mean him to play?’
‘A little while. See who is attracted.’
‘You’re expecting someone? Not Wirthir? God help us, Owen, I know that look. If he is in the city … You think he was Tucker’s French attacker?’ He squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a curse.
‘Someone followed Ambrose from the French court, protected him, I am sure of it. One short test to see whether we snare a shadow.’
‘Come along then. Let’s be done with it.’
Owen, Jasper, and Hempe bobbed their heads to Harry Green, a nightwatchman, who paused as they passed.
‘Quiet night?’ Owen asked.
A nod. ‘Pray God it ends so, Captain. Heard your children were ill.’
‘On the mend.’
‘God be thanked.’
‘You should know that Gemma’s twins are working for me.’
‘So they tell me.’ A grin.
‘Tonight?’
‘Came past a while ago. Slipping in and out between the houses and shops. My duty to inquire.’
‘Did they appear to be following someone?’
‘Not as I could see, Captain. Not many folk about.’
‘No one unfamiliar?’ asked Hempe.
‘Nay. Crispin Poole was by, and I recall thinking he was headed wrongways. At this time of the evening he calls on the widow Swann.’
‘But not tonight?’ said Owen.