Laughing, Owen entered, closing the door behind him as Carn led the way up narrow stone steps to a chamber that looked out on the far side of the gate. A small fire burned in a brazier, more than the space needed. No wonder the man had nodded off.
‘I’m awaiting Alisoun Ffulford.’
‘Bailiff said she’s to come through. You didn’t trust me to recognize the lass who’s seen to Molly and the babe she carries?’
Owen set the jug on the table. ‘As good an excuse as any. Drink from the jug?’
‘I can do better than that.’ Carn plucked two cups from a bench. ‘Will these do?’ He sniffed the air. ‘You were at the fire. Did everyone escape without injury?’
While pouring the ale, Owen gave Carn a dramatic account of the scene on the river. The guard noted that the location, so near Mayor Graa’s warehouse, meant all the city would be called upon to come forward with any information.
‘They’ll soon sort it,’ he said.
There was nothing like Tom Merchet’s ale to loosen tongues. Owen learned much of interest in the course of emptying the jug – Carn drinking most of it, though when someone pounded on the door the man was quick on his feet, descending to the street and returning in short order without breaking a sweat. He cursed the leech who was turning people against Magda Digby, and those who would believe such stories from a newcomer who hoped to steal business for himself. ‘Calls himself a physician, but I hear he does naught but apply leeches no matter the complaint. He’s naught but a barber.’ Of particular interest to Owen was a sighting of Thomas Graa returning from his Skelton property in the company of Gavin Wolcott on several occasions – a curious combination.
‘Not far from there, a family lost their bairn to the pestilence some days past,’ said Carn. ‘I suppose the mayor believes he is protected by his wealth, but the rest of us folk are uneasy about the Death coming so near. I’ll not go to Easingwold soon, of that you may be sure.’
Owen wondered about Magda. Would she be safe? And he meant to have a word with Mayor Graa on the morrow, about many things.
Out on the rock Magda nodded at the questions in Alisoun’s eyes. ‘Yes, Asa’s preference for charms and spells caused the parting. She did not care for the work of learning the healing arts, far more interested in the trappings, being wrapped in a mysterious cloak of power, wishing folk to admire her, swearing vengeance on those who offended her, caring little about healing.’
‘Is that why you discourage my curiosity about charms and spells?’
‘Didst thou think Magda warned only thee from depending on such tricks?’
‘Are they merely tricks? Is she not effective?’
‘Seldom. She is a vagabond, moving on before word of her deception is on everyone’s lips. Or her acts of vengeance.’
Alisoun steeled herself to tell Magda something she feared might be construed as an accusation. She decided to be bold with the name of the one she actually suspected. ‘Asa must be alone in the house often?’
‘She is.’ Despite the fading light Alisoun felt Magda’s close regard. ‘She stole something from thee.’
‘Remember the mandrake root, the one I called a poppet?’
Magda frowned toward the house. ‘She will see a use for that, money to be made. But thou hast mandrake in thy pack, and in several of the mixtures.’
‘I do. I had not meant to use it, but I like to keep it by me, wherever I am biding.’
‘A charm?’
Alisoun bowed her head. How to explain? At first she had meant to keep it, learn a spell or charm that would make use of her treasure. But in time she’d found it comforted her to know it was near. ‘I feel better knowing it’s beneath my mattress.’
‘Thou didst not take it with thee while working in Dame Lucie’s apothecary?’
‘No. I feel safe there. Not that I do not here, but you are so often away, and the river …’ she stopped. Everything she said made it worse.
‘So thou hast not searched for it since Bird-eye and the apothecary went away?’
‘No. Not until tonight.’
Magda touched Alisoun’s shoulder. ‘Such a comfort is difficult to lose. But thou art strong. Mayhap the need is gone. Magda is proud of thee, Alisoun. Thou hast applied thyself, learned from thy mistakes, dedicated thyself to mastering the knowledge. Do not doubt thyself.’
For a moment, Alisoun could not move, could not speak. Was this a jest? But no, she saw the light in Magda’s eyes, heard the warmth in her voice. Words still would not come, so she wrapped her arms around Magda’s slender form and held her close. After a few moments, Magda drew away.
‘The tide comes in as the moon brightens. Go now.’
Now she heard the water slipping across the rocks, and sensed a watcher on the riverbank. Not like Asa’s watching, but disturbing in its own way.
‘Einar,’ she whispered. ‘Come to see his mother?’
‘He is not her son,’ said Magda, ‘though she claims it. Wishes it.’
‘He is not your kin?’
‘He is the grandson of Magda’s daughter Yrsa.’
‘Asa’s sister?’
‘Half-sister. Yrsa died long before Asa’s birth.’
But lived long enough to give birth to Einar’s parent. Alisoun knew that Magda’s history was complex, and had imagined several marriages, but not such an expanse of years between children. Of course it would be so.
‘Why is he here with her?’
‘Mayhap he came upon her and found her useful. Or she him. She was ever one to see to herself.’
‘But why here? With you?’
‘That is not yet clear to Magda.’ She touched Alisoun’s cheek. ‘Thou art wise to distrust their purpose. Magda is not so foolish she believes her wayward daughter has come to respect her. Nor that a young man might be in awe of his elder.’
‘Her drawings frighten me.’
A grunt. ‘She would smile to hear that. Think no more of them.’ A gentle push toward the stone pathway across the rising water. ‘Go now. Walk in thine own wisdom, thine heart open and tender.’
Einar still stood on the bank. ‘He hides behind a veil of courtesy,’ said Alisoun.
‘Yes. There is good in him, but greed as well.’ Magda lifted her head, smelling the air. ‘The fire is out. Now go. The water rises.’
Alisoun picked her way along the stone causeway. As she reached the bank, Einar held out a hand to steady her.
‘Mistress Alisoun.’
‘Einar.’ She nodded, but ignored his outstretched hand, walking on past him, setting off for the city gate. She listened for his footsteps over the sounds of the camps of the poor as they settled for the night. There. He was following.
‘I am sorry you are leaving,’ he said as he caught up to her.
‘Because we are such old friends?’ She glanced at him as she continued, noticing a dagger at his waist and a bow slung over his shoulder, a quiver of arrows. His posture was proud, pleased with himself. ‘A good day’s hunting?’
A low chuckle. ‘You learn Dame Magda’s ways, speaking in questions.’
She did find it useful, serving a double purpose in avoiding inconvenient questions while disconcerting the questioner, unbalancing them. Choosing to ignore Einar, Alisoun called out to a group of boys walking a watch along the edge of the encampment, asking whether they had seen any strangers, other than the one annoying her. The boys had seen none. They offered to walk Einar back to Old Shep’s cottage in Galtres. Laughing, she assured them she could defend herself.
‘They know where I’m biding.’ Einar’s tone was not so proud as before.
‘They consider themselves Dame Magda’s retainers, ready to serve and defend her. You would be wise to have a care not to antagonize them.’
‘I will remember that.’
The road was empty, the gate lit by a solitary lantern at the guard post door off to one side.