‘You know about my family?’
Owen took a gamble. ‘Your mistress is known to my wife, the apothecary.’
‘Ah. I should realize that all the women of the city will be aware of my circumstance. But I am not the only one.’
‘I am well aware of that. I am curious, though.’ Owen gestured round the room. ‘I see no sign of your family. Have you sent them away?’
‘I have. The new archbishop – I fear him. Archbishop Thoresby could be harsh, but I knew him to be fair. As is Archdeacon Jehannes. But Alexander Neville – I fear what he would do to my family were he to learn of it. Ronan was his source of gossip about his fellow vicars.’
‘I see. So Ronan was a threat to you.’
‘If you are asking whether I would murder him to silence him, no. I have no such courage. I have thought of leaving, but how would I support my family?’
‘I understand.’
‘I realize it might be too late. Ronan might have already reported me to His Grace. If that is so, I will join my family. Until then, I support them by fulfilling my duties in the chapter. Which I must be about …’
Owen bowed to Franz. ‘I will not keep you. Forgive my intrusion.’
Franz stepped aside to let Owen pass, then followed with the lantern. The outer room had a small table, a few benches, and hooks on the wall by the door, empty at present. One of the benches had a solid base, as if used for storage. Owen resisted opening it.
Turning just as he was stepping out, he said, ‘I could not help but notice that your speech carries a memory of Flanders.’ The lantern light wavered. ‘Have you by any chance noticed a fellow Fleming in the city, one who might be mistaken for me – at a distance, though I have both hands, and wear this patch?’
Franz peered more closely at Owen, shook his head. ‘I have seen no such man, Captain.’
‘You are certain?’
‘I have no reason to lie about it. I thank you for your concern. Good day to you.’
Owen believed him. Hempe was right, he risked being blinded by his unproven theory that Martin Wirthir was Ambrose’s protector. But then who was the Frenchman?
Owen followed Franz at a discreet distance until he was confident the man was heading straight to the minster. Along the way Stephen joined Owen, who set him the task of arranging a watch on Franz’s house.
‘He might be our murderer?’
‘No. But add Franz to someone’s circuit.’
‘I will arrange it.’
‘And my home, the shop.’
‘Jasper told me about the watchers and visitors. I went straight to the bailiff. He’s sent someone for the day. Ned.’
Trustworthy. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’
‘No need, Captain.’ Stephen turned and headed back toward the castle.
As Owen turned toward Jehannes’s, he glimpsed two figures making haste from the chancellor’s door, slipping round the side of the house, one of them glancing back as if checking that no one followed. A hood kept his face in shadow, but Owen thought he glimpsed the twisted grin of Crispin’s man. He gave chase, but by the time he reached the back garden the men were gone. Already he doubted his impression of the man’s face. Yet at the moment the impression had been strong.
A servant leaned against the kitchen doorway, spitting blood on a mound of melting snow and cradling one arm.
Owen identified himself as he approached. ‘What happened? You look badly injured.’
‘They shoved me aside so hard I fell on my shoulder. God’s blood, I think it is broken.’
Owen guessed it was pulled out of joint. He knew the pain of that. The blood came from a split lip. ‘Who were they?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘Come into the house. I will look at the arm while you tell me what happened.’
As Owen felt round the shoulder the man told him how he’d returned from market to discover two men searching the hall, turning things over, looking behind hangings.
‘You came through the front door?’
‘No, round to the kitchen with the baskets.’
‘Was that still locked?’
‘In the minster yard we don’t lock doors unless going away for a long while. We’ve never had trouble.’
Until Ronan was murdered just outside the gate. ‘How did you discover them?’
‘I was unpacking when I heard what sounded like someone shoving the furnishings about. The chancellor is a quiet man, as are his clerks. All wrong, and none of us feeling at ease since the vicar was murdered right outside the gate.’ He crossed himself with his good hand. ‘From the doorway I saw two men doing just that, moving things about, heavy items even, peering under and round and behind. I thought to run to the archdeacon’s house. I looked again to make certain I did not recognize them. I’d seen only their backs. Waited until I saw their faces – but they covered them with cloths from nose to chin. One of them picked up something from a stack of books and document rolls. Not large, stuffed it in a pack. It was then he saw me. Came rushing at me, dragged me in there, shoved me down hard and held me there with his foot on my back. No killing, the other said. Made his voice gruff, like he did not want me to know it. And they ran out.’ He crossed himself again.
‘You have been fortunate. Now I need you to sit up and look away.’
‘Look away?’ The man straightened and glanced away just as Owen pressed the shoulder with one hand and yanked the arm with the other.
The servant screamed.
‘It will begin to feel much better in a while,’ said Owen. ‘I am going to bind it close to you and send someone from my wife’s apothecary with a salve you need to put on it twice a day while it aches. Do you understand? Is there someone who can help you?’
‘Cook should be back soon.’
‘Good.’ Owen examined the man’s lip. ‘I’ll send something for that as well. For now, this will stop the bleeding.’ He plucked a cloth from a shelf and filled it with snow outside the door. ‘What do you drink to ease pain?’
The man glanced toward a small barrel on a shelf as he began to rise. Owen patted his arm, then found a cup and poured some wine.
‘Bless you, Captain.’ The wounded man took a long drink. ‘They are not the first strangers I have seen about since the vicar was murdered, but the first who came in. There are rumors that the dead man handed something over to Master Thomas before he was killed. But we would have known if he had come back that morning. We would have known.’
‘And he did not?’
‘No. I tend the fires early. By the time I heard the shouts I had stoked them and fetched wood for the hall.’
On departing, Owen passed a man he presumed was the cook rounding the corner of the house. A lad followed him, stumbling beneath the weight of a fat goose.
The chancellor expected guests.
Of course, the city would soon be filled with potential patrons for the minster. And Owen much feared that this morning’s rash of intruders meant that whoever was behind Ronan’s murder was becoming desperate. Crispin? Was it him? Or was he hoping to restore calm and order before the archbishop and his family arrived? Owen stopped outside the chancellor’s gate, considering where they might try next. His home? He trusted Ned, but he would check there on his way to the castle to talk to Pit.
11
A Maid’s Tale
On Davygate a cluster of neighbors argued with Bess Merchet, who stood so that she blocked their view into Owen’s garden. Over the din of their fuss he heard the twins shouting something about a man unable to breathe with his face in the mud. Owen pushed his way through the crowd mouthing apologies.