‘In a tavern along the road out of Bath. I hoped to find work at the stables there, but I was shooed away like a stray cat. One of the musicians – Wojon, he called himself, he saw what happened and offered to buy me some food and drink. We sat at a table with some of the others. After more ale they began to tease about how I looked a lad who could be cleaned up and become their lady. They asked me to sing. I sang a carol my mother taught me as a child and one of them hurried inside to fetch their leader. He was happy to take me along.’ Marian closed her eyes.
Lucie gently touched her hand. ‘You have stirred up much pain in the telling. But it is helpful. Now, tell us of that night in the chapter house. Why did you go in there?’
‘I thought I saw the player who attacked me at Cawood. The drummer, Paul. He’d finally guessed I was no lad. And after drinking the good ale at the palace–’ A ragged breath. ‘He is big, and strong. I do not know how Master Ambrose had the strength to pull him off, but he did.’
‘You sought to hide from him in the chapter house?’ Lucie asked.
‘Yes,’ Marian breathed. ‘I thought to slip out in a while. I meant only to lose him.’
‘Had he seen you?’ Owen asked.
‘I don’t know. I don’t even know if it was him.’
‘But you stayed,’ said Lucie.
‘Someone locked the door.’ Marian shuddered and licked her lips. ‘I told myself I would be safe, I would curl up in my cloak and sleep, and in the morning I would be discovered. I did not know at first I was not alone.’
‘What happened?’ asked Lucie.
‘Once I calmed I stumbled around in the dark searching for the door. Maybe it was shut, not locked. Maybe I could open it from within. He waited there. I heard his breath as I touched the door. He caught me up and threw me to the floor. I bit and kicked and he kept hissing in my ear that he meant to avenge his brother. I escaped from him once. In the dark I thought he might not see me. I heard something that sounded as if it came from the other side of the door. I went toward it, pulled, pushed, rattled, shouted. He laughed all the while.’ Tears now streamed down Marian’s face as her words tumbled out, an outpouring of horror. ‘How could they not hear?’
‘Did you know that Gabriel’s partner was Phillip’s brother?’ Owen asked in his gentlest voice.
‘Not until Rupert told me that night.’ A sob. ‘I stopped thinking, just waited for death. He tied my hands and feet, slung me over his shoulder, and carried me up narrow stairs, tossed me down on a wood floor, sat on me, and opened the shutter on a lantern. I thought then he meant to enjoy me before he killed me. But he just kept whispering about his dear brother, saintly Phillip. I had burned him alive. The villagers said they could hear him screaming.’
So he had survived the pestilence. Weak, but alive. And then burned. ‘He kept you there all night?’ Lucie asked.
‘Yes.’ A whisper.
‘Did he take you?’
‘No. He said I disgusted him.’
God be thanked.
‘How did you get to the roof?’ asked Owen.
‘Rupert had left me, taken the lantern and gone away. I heard him moving up above. Hunting for the worst way to kill me, I thought. I heard from afar the night office being sung. I kicked the floor. Again. Again. Could they not hear?’ A pause for breath. ‘Rupert came clattering down from above. I rolled away so he would not find me at once, but I caught against something and he was there, yanking me up, cutting my bonds, telling me to walk. He held a knife at my back. I could not feel my legs or my arms but somehow I moved. I drew my knife and he knocked it out of my hands, shoved me against a ladder, shouted for me to climb. I felt something wet and cold. Snow. I started to climb. He was behind me, so close, I pulled myself up and over. So cold, so cold and wet. But the air – if I could find the edge I would be free. A sin, I know, to take my life. But I was so wretched.’
‘A night of such fear,’ said Lucie.
‘I walked to the edge. He came up behind me and shouted at me to take one more step. I wanted to fly but my legs gave out from under me. He must have reached to push as I fell and tripped over me. He went off the edge. I am doubly damned. I killed both brothers.’ She stared at nothing.
Lucie crossed herself. Not for the brothers, but for Marian. ‘And your prayer book?’ she asked.
‘I never saw it.’
‘Paul the drummer?’ asked Owen.
‘I don’t know whether it was him, or my fear manifest.’ She gave Owen a questioning look.
‘I will ask about players and musicians at the taverns,’ he said.
‘That morning in the chapter house, how were you able to sing after such a night?’ asked Lucie.
Marian turned to her. Tears wet her cheeks, but in her eyes Lucie saw the spark of anger as she swiped at the tears, an impatient gesture. ‘I was certain I would never again sing in a sacred space, not after– They would say I lured Phillip, and then Rupert. The woman is ever blamed. We are Eve’s children, the temptresses.’
‘The wrong was done to you,’ said Lucie
‘You are not the one who will stand in judgment.’
‘I will make Prioress Isabel understand.’
‘Will you?’
Would she?
‘I know this was difficult for you,’ said Owen, ‘and I am grateful, Dame Marian. I see now that what happened in the chapter house likely has nothing to do with Ronan’s murderer.’ He rose to leave. At the door he turned to assure her that she was safe with them, and he would find a way to take her to St Clement’s.
Thanking him, Marian took up the basket of needlework and said she would return to Bess and the children.
12
Complications
In a grim mood, Owen led Gabriel and Ned down Stonegate, away from the route to the priory on Micklegate.
‘You said you would take me to the priory,’ said Gabriel.
Lucie had suggested St Mary’s – it was closer, and the abbot and infirmarian more likely to cooperate with Owen’s request to alert him at once if anyone came seeking Gabriel or he tried to leave. ‘I prefer St Mary’s Abbey. I trust their infirmarian.’
‘My things–’ Gabriel tried to turn back.
Owen gripped his upper arm, yanking him around. ‘You will not need them today.’
At the corner of Stonegate and Petergate, Owen’s old friend Robert Dale stood in the doorway of his goldsmith’s shop as if welcoming a breath of fresh air. When Owen raised his hand in greeting Robert bowed his head and withdrew, shutting the door. Something was very wrong.
The incident troubling him, Owen made use of Ned’s and Gabriel’s silences to think. Today’s revelations brought him no closer to solving Ronan’s murder. Crispin Poole was questioning folk about Ronan. Perhaps Robert Dale felt the bite of that and wanted to avoid any further questions. How many of the merchants had Crispin antagonized? It might have been Crispin’s men who attacked Beck when he discovered them searching the vicar’s room. He did not like to think that. Had Crispin not worked for Alexander Neville, Owen might have been his friend. Crispin understood what it meant to try to start again after a debilitating injury ended a life of soldiering – Owen with the loss of his left eye, Crispin with his loss of half his arm. They had shared stories in the York Tavern, a comfortable camaraderie. But since learning that Crispin served the new archbishop, Owen had avoided him. Even before he had learned that his retainers were actually Neville’s men. How had Crispin injured his leg? Slipped on a snowy morning while attacking Ronan? Owen was so absorbed in thought that he barely noticed passing through Bootham Bar and turning toward St Mary’s gates.
As they entered the abbey grounds Owen felt Gabriel’s tension subside.