‘I will explain later, but I warn you to be careful of any servants who have not been in your household, or your daughter’s, a long while. Watch them, say nothing of importance in their presence.’ He nodded to her and withdrew.
‘It’s Galbot, that’s who he speaks of,’ he heard Elaine say. ‘If that scoundrel returns, lock him in the cellar.’
It was with a sense of escape that Owen stepped out of the Braithwaite home into the gathering twilight. He paused at the spot where Tempest had bled to death. What might motivate a man to slit the throat of an animal entrusted to his care? The unjust execution of his father might carry him to such an act. It was possible Galbot was Warin’s son. If so, the brothers had sustained a long simmering anger, waiting almost twenty years for Crispin’s return, and then planned a slowly unfolding series of attacks to sate their hunger for vengeance. That required great discipline.
His conversations had opened up new questions for Owen, and what he wanted most now, besides the comfort of his home, was quiet in which to gather his thoughts.
‘Captain!’
Stephen and Alfred came striding toward him.
‘A servant went running past,’ said Stephen. ‘Has there been another attack?’
‘Summoning a physician. John Braithwaite’s heart gave way to the news that his son might still be in danger.’
‘Not dead?’
‘No, God be thanked. The long day took its toll. I told him far too much at once. He could not cope.’
‘What did you tell him?’ Stephen asked.
‘The captain needs a rest,’ said Alfred, poking Stephen in the ribs. ‘A better question is what would you have us do now?’
‘Find Hempe, tell him to have a few men watch this house.’
‘You think they’re next?’ asked Stephen.
‘I believe they were the first.’ He told them about the mastiffs, the bones.
‘Burnt the hounds?’ Alfred whistled. ‘Why?’
‘A clever choice if they wanted to use the dogs in these attacks. The bones might be those of any animals. Who will look so closely? It was enough to make Paul call off the search. My guess is Galbot slipped them away to his brother.’
‘Galbot’s in this? He’s Roger’s brother?’
‘I believe so. Or some relation. He pretended to search, then set up the bones to end it.’
‘Clever,’ said Stephen.
‘And Tempest? He slit his throat as well?’ asked Alfred.
‘That’s my thought. I’ve much to tell you. When you’ve seen to Hempe, come to my house. Brother Michaelo might have more for us.’
Lucie greeted him at the door, finger to lips, and slipped back outside with him. ‘Jasper was talking to Alisoun, apologizing for his behavior, when she began to sob and– What you need to know now is that she is convinced Wren prevented her from going to Hoban’s aid the night he was murdered.’
‘Wren? So she was part of this.’
‘Alisoun believes so,’ said Lucie. ‘She will tell you the whole story when she’s able. And something about Joss – that he’d been watching the Poole home. But as it was Wren who mentioned it to Alisoun this morning, I do not understand her purpose. He watched for his own reasons? Or perhaps she meant to betray him? But why mention it to Alisoun?’
‘Difficult to hide Joss’s wart?’ Owen suggested. ‘So they might distance themselves from him for that reason. God’s blood, Lucie, I am grasping at the merest hint.’ Owen leaned his head against the house, trying to steady his thoughts. He told her what he’d heard at the Braithwaite house, and what he’d done to John Braithwaite.
Lucie stroked his cheek, kissed his forehead. ‘You say he was not slurring his words, but it still might have more to do with rich food and much wine today. Or that he has harbored doubts all this while. They sent for Master Saurian? Good. He is in the city.’ She smiled and kissed him again. ‘We will hear all about it in the morning, no doubt.’
‘Did Michaelo bring word of Muriel?’
‘Dame Janet told Dame Muriel’s maidservant her mistress needs rest, the day was difficult and her mistress found it hard to let the other women take charge. Jasper delivered something to help her sleep tonight, and a blood-strengthening drink for morning.’ She rubbed his back. ‘For you I prescribe food and rest.’
Owen wrapped his arms round her and held her for a moment. ‘You are my solace.’ He kissed her. ‘How is Alisoun?’
‘Jasper was right. This move was good for her. Come and see. One more thing. She is not certain what attacked Dame Euphemia – a wolf, a hound – her attention was on Roger, but she said when it knocked her over she felt confused by it.’
‘As do all who see it. Perhaps Euphemia is right. A blind woman is not so confused by a hide. How did Magda respond to that?’
‘As if it were to be expected. You smile? So did I.’ Lucie touched his cheek. ‘Jasper sat with Alisoun for a long while, but has now returned to the shop to prepare for early customers – there will be much gossip about the events of the day, and folk will hope to hear it from us.’
Stepping across the threshold, Owen felt hopeful. On a small bed by the fire, Alisoun leaned back against a stack of pillows as she listened to Gwenllian and Hugh telling a story with much gesturing. Magda sat at the table holding Kate’s hand, no doubt telling her about her sister’s ordeal, the lost twins. Geoffrey slumped down over a cup, apparently sleeping – wine, no doubt, one cup too many. Brother Michaelo sat bolt upright near the fire, his face turned toward Owen, clearly waiting to tell him something.
‘Food first, I pray you. And a moment of quiet. Sit, be at ease, I will join you when I am refreshed.’ Owen headed to the kitchen, where he might eat in peace.
But the walls were not so thick that he could not hear the arrival of Hempe, Alfred, and Stephen, all talking at once. Let them settle. When he was captain of archers, he would often call his men together, then excuse himself to fetch something forgotten while they greeted one another and moved through their usual insults and challenges. By the time he returned they were present and ready to listen. So long ago now. It had been a long while since he had heard of any of his former comrades.
While he ate, he walked through the day – it seemed an eternity – reviewing the events and the knowledge he’d gleaned. That all this began twenty years earlier – was that possible?
A quiet knock on the door. He guessed it to be Michaelo and called to him to step inside.
‘Forgive me, but I find it difficult to pray in there. The children’s voices, so shrill …’
‘I have kept you from all your other tasks long enough. My wife told me about Muriel. What else did you learn?’
In a marvel of conciseness, Michaelo painted in sharper lines what Owen had begun to suspect. Joss had joined Bartolf’s household a few years earlier, and Cilla had begun to do small chores for Bartolf shortly after that, coming with increasing regularity about a year later. Wren had not been long with the Tirwhits. Combined with what Owen had learned about Galbot, it looked as if they were a group.
‘The one who still puzzles me is Paul Braithwaite,’ said Owen. ‘Geoffrey said that he looked as if he might collapse when he heard the news of the attack at Poole’s.’
‘But he was the least affected by all this. One dead dog.’
Owen told him about the others. ‘And the dogs seem to be everything to him. Losing three. Even if I’m right about the burnt bones, he believes they’re gone.’
‘You are thinking that Roger and Galbot, perhaps both Warin’s sons, plotted this revenge? But what about Gerta? Had she any family left?’ Michaelo asked.