The Apothecary Rose

Owen led Wulfstan through the questions gently, until it was clear that Nicholas Wilton had heard enough to guess who the pilgrim was. 'Forgive me for putting you through this. I do not like hounding you.'

Wulfstan nodded. Tears shone in his eyes.

'Tell me this. Can you be certain that the physick you tested was the one Nicholas made up?'

Wulfstan sighed. 'I am certain.'

'No one could have switched them on you?'

'I marked it with care.'

'And you would have noticed if it had been switched?'

Wulfstan slouched, defeated. 'I think I would have. I suppose I cannot be certain’

It is unfortunate that you did not keep it’

'I wanted to be rid of it. I was frightened who else might unwittingly take it’

'So others have access to the physicks?'

'No one else has permission. But if something were to happen to me — '

'Who burned it?'

'I told you. A friend’

'Here at the abbey?'

The eyes flickered this way and that. 'No’

'In the city somewhere?'

Wulfstan lifted his chin resolutely. He would not betray an innocent. 'I did not see where it was burned. I cannot know for certain where it was burned’ He took a deep breath.

Owen wondered who it was the old monk protected with such stubborn loyalty. Who might inspire such heroic silence? In whom might the old monk have felt comfortable confiding his discovery?

And then it came to Owen. The one in whom Wilton had confided his most recent discomfort. The one with whom he shared a secret.

'You told Mistress Wilton about your discovery’

Wulfstan bowed his head and made the sign of the cross. He struggled against the desire to curse the one-eyed monster.

'You felt she should know. So that the error might not be repeated’

Still, not a word from the old monk.

'I must know who knows’ Owen said gently. 'You see, if the murderer is not Nicholas, if the murderer is loose, anyone who might give evidence is in danger. I am warning you. I must warn your friend’

Wulfstan looked up, his eyes uncertain. 'In danger?'

'In a situation such as this, knowledge is dangerous.'

'Deus juva me, I had not thought of that.'

'Was it Mistress Wilton?'

'Now that I know, I can warn my friend.'

'Think. I am working in Wilton's shop. If I know that Mistress Wilton is in danger, I can protect her.'

He could, Wulfstan thought. This broad-shouldered man could be Lucie's protector. And what could Wulfstan do? How was he to protect her? 'Yes, I told Lucie Wilton so that she might watch over Nicholas. And I had her burn the physick.'

'It must have been a difficult thing to tell her.'

'I did not like doing it.'

'She must have been shocked.'

'Lucie Wilton is a courageous woman. She took it calmly. Understood at once why I told her.'

'She did not cry or wring her hands?'

'That is not her way.'

'You must have been relieved. You would not have much experience with a woman's faint.'

'I would not have told her if I thought she would be silly about it.'

'So she was not at all shocked?'

Wulfstan frowned. The question led in an uncomfortable direction. 'I do not think she would let me see if she were shocked.'

'Does Mistress Wilton know the identity of the pilgrim?'

'No.'

'Are you certain of that?'

Wulfstan shrugged. 'As certain as a soul can be about another.'

'He was her mother's lover. Did you know?'

Brother Wulfstan blushed. 'I realised that’

'And no one in Mistress Wilton's family, her husband or her father, knew of Montaigne's presence at the abbey?'

Wulfstan shook his head. 'I do not see how they would.'

Enough. 'I am sorry to have put you through this. Mistress Wilton is most fortunate to have you as a friend, Brother Wulfstan. I will pry no further.' Owen rose. 'I thank you for this information. I will use it only to discover the truth.'

Brother Wulfstan thanked him and followed him to the door.

'Remember. Be watchful. Trust no one.'

'Not even Abbot Campian?'

'No.'

'Or Lucie Wilton?'

Especially not her. 'Keep it simple to remember. Trust no one. And when I know the truth of the matter, I will tell you that you can let down your guard.'

'You will watch over Lucie Wilton?'

'I promise you’

Wulfstan believed Owen. But it did not make him feel any less a traitor. He knelt down in front of his little altar to the Blessed Mother and prayed.

Sixteen

Mandrake Root

The wind carried the scent of the river. Owen slogged through the snow and ice, his heart heavy. Wulfstan had wished to protect Lucie Wilton. Owen wished to protect Lucie Wilton. Nicholas most likely wished to protect her, too — she was his wife. Everyone wished to protect lovely, gentle Lucie. But what if behind that facade she laughed at all of them and used her power over them as a protection? Could it be that Lucie had overheard the details about the pilgrim and taken revenge? That was the question that weighed on his heart. Had she mixed the physick and given it to Nicholas to deliver?

Lucie was with a customer when Owen got to the shop. He nodded to her and went into the kitchen. The serving girl scrubbed the stones in front of the hearth under Bess Merchet's critical eye.

'Say good morning to Owen, Tildy.'

Enormous eyes in a pale, thin face, pretty but for a wine-red birthmark on the left cheek. She started to rise.

'No need for that’ Bess said. 'Just say hello.'

'Mornin', Master Owen.' Directed down to his feet in a breathy, trembling voice.

'Not "Master," Tildy. He's an apprentice.'

Owen grinned. 'Good morning, Tildy. I can see you're busy. I'll try to stay out from underfoot.'

Tildy smiled gratefully.

Bess sniffed.

Tildy hunched her shoulders, expecting a blow. When it didn't come, she bent over her work, scrubbing with enough energy to dissolve the stone.

'Perhaps I should look in on the Master’ Owen suggested.

Bess clucked at the flying water, sighed, shook her head at Owen. 'No need. The Archdeacon is with him.'

Lucie called to Owen from the doorway. 'Watch the shop for me, Owen. I must see to Nicholas.'

He went into the shop, glad to escape Bess's watchful eye. Now that he'd confided in the Merchets, he was nervous to be around them in company, worried one of them would slip and reveal his true purpose. And Bess had a discomforting way of watching him, as if she knew his sins, knew him for a scoundrel. He pitied Tildy.

Lucie, frightened but determined, crept up the stairs. Pushing her wimple to one side, she leaned against the door.

'He was a dying man, Nicholas.'

'Montaigne and now Digby. Oh, Anselm, where will it end?'

'You are upsetting yourself, Nicholas. Forget about them.'

'You are so cold.'

'Is your memory so short? Geoffrey Montaigne once attacked you and left you for dead.'

'When he saw me that night. Oh, Anselm. His face.'

Lucie choked back an exclamation. Geoffrey Montaigne. Her mother's knight. She sank down on the top step. Geoffrey Montaigne and Nicholas? What in Heaven's name did they have between them? And why mention Geoffrey now? He had disappeared when her mother died.

She leaned back against the door. Someone wept. It must be Nicholas. She could not imagine Anselm weeping. That monster would undo all her nursing. Anselm was murmuring something.

'I — Don't. I am fine’ Nicholas said. 'Just — I must — there are things I must say.'

Montaigne and now Digby. What was the connection? Lucie sat in the dark, trying to make sense of it. Geoffrey Montaigne once attacked you and left you for dead. Wulfstan had told Nicholas that the pilgrim could not believe he was Master Apothecary because he thought Nicholas was dead. And the pilgrim had fought in France with her father. That must be it. The pilgrim was Geoffrey Montaigne. Dear God in Heaven. What did it mean? Why had he and Nicholas fought? Why had she not heard of this?