‘Ambrose had nothing to do with that. Brother Michaelo brought you here on the order of the precentor at the minster.’ She saw the woman’s doubt and could not blame her. ‘I can understand why you might wonder. But once you know more about this family you will see why both men had the same thought for your safety.’
‘And it is the precentor who is now at the house?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he guess my sex?’
‘No. But Brother Michaelo did, and judged it best to follow the order though he knew we had been nursing the children. Your secret is safe with all in this household, and the monk.’
‘Bless you.’ Again, that radiant smile. She had a delicate beauty, the fair hair and ivory skin, the slender wrists. But her voice had a strong resonance, throaty, much like Gwen’s, a reminder that a delicate appearance did not mean a weak mind.
‘You seem a devout woman,’ said Alisoun. ‘Companies of minstrels and players are not known for their piety. Did you travel with them for long?’
‘No. Not long.’ Marian drank down the honeyed water, took another bite of bread and cheese, swinging one leg as she chewed. She seemed at ease. Magda’s miracle potions. ‘And you? Have you always been Dame Magda’s apprentice?’
The thought made Alisoun smile. ‘No. And I count it one of God’s mysterious gifts that he convinced her to take me on – though Dame Magda would reject His part in it. And she did test me for a long while before fully trusting me. To see whether my desire to heal was sincere.’
‘How did she test you?’
Alisoun poured more of the drink for Marian while she considered what might encourage an equal sharing, as Magda had instructed her. Thou art close to her age. She might confide in thee as a friend. She had thought it would feel false, but Alisoun did feel a bond of some sort. Perhaps enumerating the tasks she had endured – companion to wealthy, much-spoiled young widows; runner of errands for a number of demanding elderly people; guard of Magda’s donkey when visiting patients outside the city; nursemaid to Gwenllian and Hugh, and later Emma as well from time to time. ‘But I admit I do love the three of them. And Dame Lucie and the captain have been good to me. Far kinder than I deserved.’
‘None of these seem unreasonable tasks for an apprentice. Why did you resent them? Because Dame Magda is a heathen?’
‘What she believes is of no concern to me. She encourages me to honor my beliefs. But I wanted to be a healer. I wanted her to teach me what she knows. I wanted to stay with her, follow her and learn by watching, and she pushed me away. Or so it seemed.’
‘You had a fierce knowing that this was your calling.’
‘I like how you phrased that. I did. I do. And you? Is your calling the convent or music?’
‘The convent? What did Dame Magda tell you?’
‘She said you liked Dom Jehannes’s suggestion that you would be most at ease at St Clement’s Priory. And you might have slept until I woke. Instead you knelt by your bed to pray before dawn. I thought perhaps you would choose a life of prayer if you could, closed off from the world.’ There was also the slip about Dame Justina’s infirmary.
Marian dropped her gaze to her bowl. ‘I am called to both music and a life dedicated to God,’ she said in a choked whisper.
Alisoun almost dare not breathe. Magda would say, Continue with them as thou hast begun. Do not stop at the fact that thou didst hope to hear. A deeper truth may follow. Listen as long as thou canst.
‘I have been inside only one nunnery, to help Dame Lucie deliver some of her physicks to the infirmarian at St Clement’s,’ said Alisoun, ‘so I have little experience with nuns. But traveling in a company of players does not seem a way to win their welcome.’
Marian met her gaze, her face a mask of grief. No sign of the smile now. ‘I did not choose to go wayfaring. I had chosen–’ She abruptly set the bowl aside. ‘I was ripped from a life that was my heart’s desire and left without hope.’
‘I see why you would like to go to St Clement’s.’
‘They will not accept me as one of them. I will be a guest, no more.’
‘But you are not with child. If you are called to the veil, how can they refuse you? On what grounds? If you did not choose …’ A misstep. Marian looked ready to take flight. ‘Forgive me. What else would you know?’
In a voice now brisk with a need to change the topic, Marian said that Ambrose held the captain and the apothecary in high esteem, yet he’d seemed uncertain the captain would trust him. ‘Was it Dame Lucie who was his friend?’
‘I have never met this minstrel. He left before I came to the city.’
‘He is no ordinary minstrel. He was long at the court of the French king, and I could see why he was so honored – the song he composed for the pleasure of the Neville gathering – it was clever, yet he could not help but make sure it was also beautiful. I have not heard him play anything but his crwth and Tucker’s fiddle, but I can tell he has more talent than any of the sisters at–’ She stopped and picked up her empty bowl, set it down. ‘And his voice, such range – he shaped it to mine with such ease. A most accomplished musician and performer.’
Alisoun was far more interested in how Marian’s dream was taken from her, but she must have a care. ‘I should like to hear him perform. Jasper took him several more instruments last night. They had been stored in the apothecary workroom. I’ve been curious about them.’ A little laugh. ‘Mostly because I was warned not to touch them.’
‘Perhaps we might ask?’ A smile, and then Marian fell to her food, finishing it.
‘I am glad to see you eating. Dame Magda says you have long been denying yourself, and your spirit is weakened.’
‘She heals souls as well as bodies?’
‘She would not call it that.’
‘Dame Lucie. You mentioned her father’s manor. Is she of noble birth?’
‘She is. But when her mother died … It is a long story.’
Lucie cut short her greeting when she noticed the mud on Owen’s boots. ‘Is the garden such a mire?’
‘I will explain,’ he said under his breath. ‘Master Adam?’
‘In the hall.’
Owen asked Kate to bring them refreshments. ‘Where are the children?’
‘We took them up before Magda left,’ said Lucie.
Owen kissed her cheek. ‘Forgive me.’
‘Go!’
Adam had been gazing out of the garden window. ‘Most comfortable, this home of yours. Your wife’s father’s, was it not? Sir Robert D’Arby?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you were a soldier. Captain of Archers. Served Henry of Grosmont, Duke of Lancaster. Then Thoresby, now the prince.’
It seemed an odd way to begin. Owen offered him a cup of ale, which he accepted with thanks.
‘You must wonder why I am recounting your history.’ A mirthless smile. ‘I am reminding myself that great men have trusted you. Why should I not trust you, trust that you are searching for Ronan’s murderer? Yet so far …’
‘I’ve had but a day, a day riddled with three corpses before noon. I might ask you why no one from the chapter has come forward with helpful information.’
‘Was I to ask them?’ Adam lifted the cup to his lips. Drank a little.
‘You are in the best position to do so.’ The precentor scowled. ‘If no one steps forward, I intend to speak to all in the chapter,’ said Owen. ‘I welcome your advice in choosing the order.’
‘You think it is one of us.’
‘I did not say that. Chapter members might know something of use to me – perhaps without realizing it. A passing remark, a memory of someone missing prayers or neglecting their responsibilities, angry words overheard, a certain cooling between Ronan and another.’
‘I see. We were his companions. We would notice a changed pattern. I do see.’ The precentor drank down his ale and set the bowl aside.