Once again, Beck reached for the ale and Owen assisted him, giving him a moment, then took possession of the now empty bowl.
‘I grow impatient,’ said Jehannes.
Beck nodded as best he could. ‘I was there. I came after my pay. He had not paid me for a long while. He said he must meet someone, must not keep them waiting. I said but my pay and he said he would pay me the next day, ordered me to lock the door when I left, and hurried out. He knew I knew of the box of coins and jewels in the chest. Why would he trust me–?’ He bowed his head.
‘You stole it,’ said Owen.
‘God forgive me, I did,’ Beck said.
‘Did you return to his lodging that night?’
‘Passed it. Much later. Saw a light in his window and him watching the street. I thought he watched for me.’
‘Was anyone else on the street?’
‘One man. He stood beneath the eaves of the house across the way and growled at me when I passed, like an animal.’
‘Did you stay?’ asked Owen.
‘Would you? I went home and all night I feared every noise. When I heard of the vicar’s murder– Someone had been after his treasure, I guessed, and now I had it. Would they come for me? I could not rest until I put it back. I went to check if his door was locked or guarded. But you came, with the monk.’
‘Were you putting it back when Porter and Diggs found you?’
‘I was. I told them they could have it. But they beat me anyway. They wanted the account book. I did not know where it was.’
Is that what they later took from the chancellor’s hall? Or was it Marian’s prayer book? Or neither?
‘Did the vicar take anything with him when he left for the minster that afternoon? His account book?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘Did he say who he was meeting?’
‘No.’
A knock on the door. ‘Yes, Anna, come in,’ said Jehannes.
‘The chancellor is here to speak with you and Captain Archer,’ the cook announced. ‘Shall I show him in?’
Owen rose. ‘No, Anna. We will speak with him out in the hall after we help Beck back to his bed in the kitchen.’
Jehannes signaled his agreement. ‘More ale for the fellow, Anna.’
‘May I stay in your home?’ Beck asked.
‘For now,’ said Jehannes, as he and Owen led the man by the arm.
‘Bless you, Father.’
Meaning to ask Ambrose if he had noticed whether Ronan had worn a scrip beneath his cloak, Owen looked for him in the kitchen. ‘Where is he, Anna?’
‘He stood in the doorway a long while, watching evening fall, and then he was gone.’
Damn the man. Bloody fool. ‘Did you see anyone else with him? Was he following someone?’
‘I did not know to look,’ she said with a sniff.
Inspired by Owen’s concern for his serving man, how he had tended to his shoulder after the burglars injured him, the chancellor wished at last to speak of his conversation with Ronan in the early evening before the vicar’s murder. Master Thomas had summoned Ronan to learn more of Sir John Neville’s tastes, what he might enjoy when he came to dine.
‘He had boasted of his connection to the family, so you can imagine my surprise – indeed my disappointment – when he confessed he had never met either Sir John or his wife. His only advice was that as Lady Maud was a Percy she might appreciate some of her kinsmen being included in a dinner.’
‘Lady Maud will be in attendance?’ This was news to Owen.
‘Unless he was still pretending knowledge he did not have. But he seemed certain of that.’
Good news? Sister to Sir Thomas Percy, Maud might be willing to vouch for Marian at St Clement’s, which would be helpful if the prioress was hesitant to accept the young woman back in the fold. It was also possible that the family considered Marian wayward, partly to blame. ‘Will Lady Maud lodge with her husband at the palace?’
Thomas presumed so. But he seemed far more interested in complaining about Ronan’s deception, enumerating the many people who had sought his advice – all the resident canons, the heads of the religious houses, prominent merchants and officers of the city. ‘Many of those noted in the account book he carried.’
God’s blood, the imbecile. Owen checked his temper. ‘He showed it to you?’
‘Pushed it at me. I refused it, but he stuffed it into a pile of books and fled. He said someone was following him. He feared for his safety. No one would know–’
Fighting a desire to grab the man and shake him, Owen quietly asked where the book was now.
‘I am sorry to say it is gone. Stolen by the intruders who injured my serving man.’ Apparently sensing Owen’s growing anger, Thomas held up a hand as if to ward him off. ‘I know I should have told you of this when you first asked. I know. But I thought– To my shame I thought I might make a good impression with Sir John were I to deliver it up to him.’
‘Sir John? Not His Grace?’
A frown. ‘You do not for a moment believe Alexander is suddenly the power in the family? Everything he has he owes to his eldest brother. No, I meant to give it to Sir John.’
By now Owen was only half listening to the chancellor. He had learned what he needed, that the account book was now in Sir John’s possession – unless Porter and Diggs were fools. Now it was Ambrose’s disappearance that distracted him. It weighed on his conscience. His duty to the prince was clear. He must protect Ambrose, which meant finding him. When it was plain he would learn no more of immediate use from Thomas, he excused himself.
‘Call on me at any hour, Captain. I wish to help in any way I can. I pray you forgive me–’
But Owen was at the door, off in search of Hempe, hoping one of his men might have seen or heard something of Ambrose.
15
Ouse Bridge, the Cross Keys
In the course of his long service to the late Archbishop Thoresby, Brother Michaelo had become far more than a personal secretary, eventually running the household. He’d prided himself on his efficiency, and organized many a journey for His Grace. He was no stranger to all that such preparations entailed, and he had doubted that Crispin Poole would fulfill his promise to move his elderly mother and her belongings in a matter of a few hours. Yet by the early December dusk Michaelo found himself walking down Petergate behind a cart carrying Dame Euphemia and her belongings, as well as her companion Dame Marian. Crispin had recruited a strong young man, Drake, who worked in his warehouse near the staithes, to guide the donkey that pulled the covered cart. Alisoun Ffulford had chosen to walk with Drake, keeping an eye out for trouble as they made idle conversation. Crispin, walking alongside Michaelo, spoke only when passers-by curious about the procession called out to him. My mother’s health is failing and she has chosen to retire to St Clement’s Priory. When asked the purpose of a covered wagon Crispin gestured upward, indicating the soft drizzle.
Michaelo stayed close to the cart so that he might listen to the conversation between the blind widow and the nun, for Euphemia seemed fascinated by her companion.
As soon as Marian had stepped into the elderly woman’s room she had been ordered to approach so that Euphemia might stroke her face and feel her hands, which she pronounced too rough to be those of a Percy. Marian had explained that all the sisters in the abbey worked with their hands, and as she had been traveling through the summer … Euphemia had interrupted her to ask whether it was true she was an obedientiary at the esteemed Wherwell Abbey. Marian said that she had been training as sub-cantrice. And what is that, precisely?
And so it had gone, and continued for a time until Crispin had announced their departure.
‘At last. Difficult to arrange for a covered cart with such little notice, but one of my guild members came to my aid, bless him.’ Crispin had not wished Marian to be visible as they moved through the city. Although Euphemia’s maidservant provided an appropriate gown and a hat that covered the young woman’s hair, Marian’s pale brows were distinctive. ‘Few people have seen her, yet the ones most keen to find her will know of her pallor.’