‘How?’ asked Owen. ‘How did she know?’
‘I know nothing of that.’
‘Did she fell the one at whom she aimed?’
Geoffrey crossed himself. ‘Shot him through the neck. He is dead.’
‘Mon dieu,’ said Lucie.
‘And the other?’ Owen asked.
‘Fled with the beast. Out the back garden.’
‘No one ran after them?’ As Geoffrey began to defend himself, Owen said, ‘I merely want to know all that you know. No judgment. Anything else?’
Coming to a halt in the Fenton garden, Geoffrey closed his eyes as if to gather his thoughts, then realized he’d lost his companions. Hastening out the gate into the tavern yard, he caught up, describing in detail all that he’d seen – Euphemia pinned against the wall, Dun and one attacker struggling, the other attacker’s dagger, Alisoun aiming the bow, then being knocked aside by the hound. ‘What manner of man attacks an elderly blind woman in such wise?’ he fumed.
‘Did anyone come to your aid?’ asked Lucie.
‘Dun, as I said. The man had tried to fend them off with a pitchfork. Most fortunate fool, to have survived that gambit. The Tirwhit’s maidservant watched from afar. I found her at the end of the alley and asked her to help the Pooles’ maidservant, Eva, who’d hid from the hound. But I’ve no faith the maid will do as I asked.’
‘Who is with Alisoun now?’
‘Dun. Cradling her head, trying to keep her awake.’
‘Well done,’ said Lucie. ‘Go, search,’ she said to Owen as they reached the gate to their garden. ‘Geoffrey will help me collect what I might need from the apothecary and escort me to the Poole home.’
‘Tell Jasper to keep the children safe,’ Owen said. The shop was closed in honor of the funerals. Jasper was likely working in the garden.
‘Hurry.’ Lucie took Geoffrey’s arm and waved Owen on.
Lucie plucked jars and bandages from the shelves in the workroom behind the shop as Geoffrey stood with eyes closed searching his memory for details about the nature of the injuries. He described Alisoun’s head wound, realized he’d no idea of Dame Euphemia’s injuries, believed Dun might have a sprained or broken ankle, and sundry wounds or bruises. So, Lucie thought, possible broken bones, sprains, bruises, open wounds, and, of course, the terror of the attack. Betony, boneset, comfrey, hawthorn in case the elderly Euphemia’s heart sounded weak, moneywort, red nettle for bleeding, sanicle, walwort, wintergreen, most in mixtures Lucie found efficacious for speeding the healing of wounds, bruises, and broken bones, as well as valerian and poppy to calm. She added a potion Brother Wulfstan had devised to stimulate healing by drawing up the blood, but not in a way that would cause Alisoun’s wound to open. At least Lucie prayed that was so. She was urging Geoffrey to come along when Jasper stepped through the door.
‘Ma! Master Geoffrey! She said you were here, but I didn’t understand–’ Jasper looked at the basket of medicines and bandages. ‘Another attack?’
‘At the Poole home,’ said Lucie. ‘We are fortunate that Geoffrey witnessed it. He fetched us from the feast. Your father is searching for those who fled.’ She paused, belatedly puzzled. ‘Who told you we were here?’
‘Dame Magda. She has been sitting with us, calming Kate, now she’s holding Emma, you know how Emma reaches out to her, always begging for Magda to pick her up.’
‘You said calming Kate – about her sister? Is Tildy–’
‘She will be well, but she lost the babies.’
‘Both?’ Lucie crossed herself at his nod. Tildy might have survived in body, but her spirit … To lose both babies carried all these months …
‘Who’s that for?’ Jasper pointed to the basket.
‘Three were injured,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Dame Euphemia, a manservant, and Alisoun.’
‘Alisoun?’ Jasper frowned at Lucie. ‘You did not say.’
‘You gave me no chance.’ She silently cursed Geoffrey for not thinking to prepare Jasper.
‘I will come with you.’
Lucie put a hand on Jasper’s arm. ‘I need you here with the children. Alisoun will have Magda and me, the best care, but the children have only you.’
‘But–’
‘Only you, son.’
A reluctant nod. ‘Will you bring her here?’
‘We will do what is best for her.’ Lucie touched his cheek. ‘I love her, too. As does Magda. Does Magda know of all that’s happened? The murders? The dogs?’
‘We spoke of it.’
‘Could she see a pattern in the attacks?’
‘If she did, she did not say.’
Which might mean anything.
As they walked into the garden Lucie caught sight of a sweet group on the long bench that ran below the large window in the halclass="underline" Gwenllian and Hugh crowding round a small figure with Emma in her arms. Magda’s multi-colored robe glimmered as she rocked Lucie’s youngest.
To come to them this day, in their hour of need, this was no accident. Lucie’s heart steadied. All would be well. There was magic in the woman, she had no doubt.
In the hall, fierce eyes met Lucie’s over Emma’s sleep-tousled hair. ‘So Bird-eye comes to the aid of a city haunted by the wolves of their darkest dreams.’
‘Did you doubt that he would, when the time came?’ Lucie asked.
Magda kissed Emma’s forehead. ‘He protects what he loves.’ She handed Gwenllian her sleeping sister and rose, shaking out her skirts. ‘Come. The king’s man can describe all that he witnessed on the way.’
‘I thought I was “the poet” to you,’ said Geoffrey.
‘Now and then.’
As they moved through the garden and out into Davygate, Geoffrey described what had happened.
‘Euphemia Poole? If she is aware of Magda’s presence, she might curse thee for it. But mayhap she will be too desperate to care about an old pagan healer crossing her threshold.’
As Lucie reached up to knock on the door of the Poole home it opened. A disheveled woman, a servant by her simple gown, welcomed them with such emotion Lucie suggested she sit down.
‘No time. The captain said you would be coming, Mistress Wilton, though he did not mention you, Dame Magda. I am so glad you have come. Your apprentice lies injured, Dun is trying to keep her awake. Come. I will escort you.’
It was Geoffrey who led the procession through a narrow passageway to the garden door, providing Lucie an opportunity to speak with the woman, ascertain that her name was Eva, long in service for the family, as was Dun, the man who was now singing hymns out in the garden.
‘My mistress – she will not welcome Dame Magda,’ Eva said as they reached the open doorway.
‘I will see to her, Dame Magda will see to the others,’ said Lucie as she stepped out the door.
And paused, taking in the grim scene. Dame Euphemia lay to her right, crumpled against the house, one leg bent beneath her, her white hair undone, draping over her arms. Ten strides beyond, Alisoun lay with her head cradled on the lap of the singing manservant, her face pale as death. Dun sighed and fell silent when he saw them. A few strides from Lucie a man lay face down, an arrow through his neck.
‘Deus juva me,’ she whispered, crossing herself.
She felt Magda’s hand warm on her shoulder. ‘A troubling sight. Magda will see first to Alisoun. Thou shouldst examine the dead, in case Bird-eye missed a hint of life.’ Magda took the basket from Lucie’s arm.
Crouching down, Lucie felt for a pulse, a breath, but found no sign of life. She peered at what was visible of the dead man’s face. Nothing about it to make him noticeable, no scars, warts, neither handsome nor repulsive. Not familiar. He had the hands of a laborer, clothes made for utility, not show, not too clean. River mud on his shoes. Brown, thick hair beneath a leather hat.