The pot empty, the two lowered it to the floor, pausing to wipe their faces. Lizzie leaned on the canvas dome that extended over half the tub to protect the bather from drafts. She jumped as she turned and saw the archbishop, ‘Your Grace, we’ve only begun to fill it,’ she said breathlessly.
‘Indeed. Carry on.’ He left them and headed for the hall. As he descended the stairs, he heard a familiar voice arguing with Michaelo at the outer door.
‘They’ve been attacked while out on his business, you — I must see His Grace at once.’
‘Forgive me, Captain Archer, but that is impossible. His Grace is not to be disturbed.’
A voice unfamiliar to Thoresby said quietly, ‘Leave it, Owen, just tell this man where they are and come away.’
‘Damn it, Lief, he’ll want to know. It’s why we’ve sped from Knaresborough, this nunnery business.’
Thoresby had heard enough to be curious. ‘What is it, Michaelo?’
The secretary hurried in, sniffing with indignation to find Archer and two other men, obviously soldiers, at his heels. ‘Captain Archer has news of Alfred and Colin, Your Grace. I tried to tell him you were not to be disturbed, but you see — ’
Owen pushed forward, his face grim. ‘We have taken them to St Mary’s infirmary, Your Grace.’
‘I take it they have been injured,’ Thoresby said quietly.
A flash of anger in Owen’s good eye. ‘Both. Alfred has lost much blood from several wounds, but Wulfstan says he will mend quickly. Colin, however, is in God’s hands. He has a head wound and cannot be roused. Brother Wulfstan says there is little he can do for him.’
The watcher must have bested them. But with help, surely. ‘How did you come upon them?’
‘Alfred and Colin were attacked down by the river. A good Samaritan saw Alfred dragging Colin into Skeldergate and took them up in his cart. We met them at the bridge and escorted them through the crowd.’ Owen gestured towards his comrades. ‘Lief, Gaspare, and the archers surrounded the cart and protected it.’
Thoresby nodded. ‘I thank you for escorting them and bringing me this news. I shall go see them.’ He began to leave, then paused to add, ‘Lest you blame me for my ruthless use of my men, as you are wont to do, remember that it was you recommended them for this duty.’ He took satisfaction in seeing Owen’s anger doused. ‘Now go home to your wife, Archer. I shall send for you tomorrow.’ Thoresby nodded to Lief and Gaspare. ‘The chamberlain has prepared quarters for you at the castle. You should be quite comfortable.’
When the three had departed, Michaelo asked, ‘You will bathe first?’
‘Later. Gilbert shall accompany me to the abbey. Call for him.’
Owen escorted Gaspare, Lief, and the five archers to York Castle.
Gaspare had been quiet and glum as they left the minster liberty, but once on the crowded streets he perked up, looking round at the bustling humanity. ‘Tell me again why you chose to serve Thoresby rather than Lancaster — honour, was it?’
‘Kind of you to remind me.’
‘Lancaster would treat you better than that bastard does.’
‘But he’s right. I did recommend Alfred and Colin.’
Lief shook his head. ‘He had no cause to speak to you in that wise and you know it. Spiteful he is. Nasty.’
Owen could not deny that.
Lucie had closed the shop by the time Owen reached home. He opened the garden gate to walk round to the kitchen door, but stopped as he saw Lucie kneeling by the roses, weeding. She wore a simple russet gown with her hair tucked up in a kerchief, a red-gold tendril curling delicately at the nape of her long neck. Owen leaned against the gate, enjoying the quiet moment, the anticipation of their first embrace. Tildy appeared at the kitchen door, grinning broadly. As she opened her mouth to greet him, Owen put a finger to his lips. She giggled and ducked within. Melisende rose from a sunny spot and stretched, padded over to rub up against Owen’s legs and chatter, no doubt demanding some cream for her troubles. Lucie turned, saw Owen and gave a glad cry. She began to rise, one hand to her back. Owen hurried over, lifted her up for a kiss, then stood her on her feet.
‘Are you well, my love?’ he asked.
Lucie smiled and patted her stomach. ‘We are both in good health. And better now you are home.’ She glanced behind him. ‘I expected your friends.’
‘They agreed to leave us in peace tonight.’
‘Tomorrow, then. They must come to supper. And now come within and wash away the road with Tom’s ale while you tell me of your travels.’
The abbey infirmary was clean and redolent of herbs. A fire burned in the hearth and a small brazier warmed the air near the patients’ cots. Brother Wulfstan was bent over Colin when Brother Henry opened the door to Thoresby. The archbishop put his finger to his lips, silencing Henry’s greeting.
Brother Wulfstan pried open Colin’s eyelids, brought a lit candle close to his eyes, moved it back. He called Henry over. ‘Watch closely.’ Once again the old monk moved the candle back and forth close to Colin’s eyes. ‘What do you see, Henry?’
‘The pupil still responds to light and dark.’
Wulfstan nodded. ‘That is good. He is yet with us.’ He sighed. ‘But only just.’ He set the candle down, dabbed Colin’s face with a cloth dipped in lavender water, and made the sign of the cross over him.
‘How does he?’ Thoresby asked, moving closer.
Wulfstan heaved himself up with Henry’s help. ‘Your Grace, I will do my best with him.’ His pale eyes looked sad. ‘But I must speak plain, we are close to losing him. It is difficult with such an injury. I can clean the flesh, apply cool compresses, but the injury is deep within. I cannot smell it, touch it, measure its extent. I can only make him comfortable and try to keep him with us until God calls him.’
‘I trust you to do everything possible, Brother Wulfstan. Whoever thought to bring my men here did me a good deed.’
Wulfstan acknowledged the compliment with a bow.
‘It was Alfred asked to be brought here, Your Grace,’ Brother Henry said. ‘He said Captain Archer has often spoken of Brother Wulfstan’s skill, and when he could not rouse his friend he knew he must come here.’
Thoresby knelt beside Colin, examined the bruised and swollen forehead, the blackened eyes, the crooked nose, dried blood in the nostrils. ‘He broke his nose?’
‘I think he fell forward, Your Grace,’ Alfred said from across the way. His voice quivered with weakness.
Thoresby signed a blessing over Colin and moved to Alfred’s bedside. ‘Tell me what you can, Alfred. Quietly. I can hear you.’
Alfred raised himself up on his elbows. Brother Henry hurried over and propped him up.
‘We approached the watcher. .’ Alfred described the man and the attack, pausing often to lick his split lip.
‘Can you guess how many attacked you?’ Thoresby asked. ‘Two? Ten?’
‘Half a dozen, I think, but it was dark. I could see nothing.’
‘Did they mean to kill you, do you think?’
Alfred shrugged. Henry helped him sip some wine, then dabbed Alfred’s split lip with salve. Suddenly Alfred sat up straighter, remembering something. ‘A dagger. I found a dagger under Colin. Brought it with me.’ He looked round.
Henry put a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. ‘It is over in the corner.’
Alfred lay back on the pillow. ‘’Tis the dagger of Colin’s attacker. I mean to find him.’
They both started as Colin gave a loud, shuddering sigh.
‘He goes deeper into sleep,’ Brother Wulfstan said with a worried shake of his head. ‘It does not bode well.’ He called Henry back over to Colin’s bed. ‘I want you to sit here and talk to him, Henry. Talk about anything. And every now and then, call to him, ask him to open his eyes, to wake up. I will send for a novice to take over in a while. I want to give him no peace. I want to wake him.’
Thoresby turned back to Alfred, whose eyes were closed, lips moving in prayer. ‘Sleep now, Alfred, and rest in the certainty that you did all you could for your partner. God be with you.’