‘I’d not heard that.’
‘No? So why did you replace her?’
‘I hardly think–’
‘Folk are seeing a connection.’
‘The truth is Father was not improving under her care. I had heard good things about Master Bernard, so I hoped Father might benefit from a different approach.’
‘Ah.’
‘You heard that it was more than that?’
He read nuances. Owen would watch himself. ‘Your name was mentioned in connection with a letter that the archbishop sent to the abbots and priors of York condemning Magda Digby.’
‘My name? But I’ve never met the archbishop. Why would I have anything to say about matters of the Church?’ Now he was decidedly uneasy. ‘I assure you I have nothing against the Riverwoman.’
‘Perhaps my bailiffs misunderstood.’
Gavin’s expression eased a little.
Owen thanked him for the information. ‘I will return tomorrow to speak with Dame Beatrice. If you would inform her.’ He walked away before Gavin could disagree.
He had much on his mind as he walked through the now-quiet streets. Having not seen Lettice Brown among the neighbors crowding round the fire, he headed back to the King’s Staithe. The cool of evening drew a mist off the river, shrouding the charred buildings, pressing down upon the watchers the grim stench of wet ash, burnt timbers, rushes, and all that burned with homes which hours before had sheltered families.
Holding high a lantern, Alfred led the way toward the charred remains of the Brown home beside Old Bede’s. It looked as if a section of the warehouse wall had collapsed on what had been the Brown house. Owen remembered the warehousemen working to tear it down.
‘Her husband came staggering home to this, drunk as usual,’ said Alfred. ‘We had to drag him away. A family took him in. No one has seen his wife.’
Owen would order a search of the rubble in daylight. For now, he asked who else was unaccounted for. A child, who had been visiting his aunt. People prayed he’d merely lost himself in the confusion and would be found.
‘Smells like rain in the wind,’ said Hempe, appearing out of the mist. ‘I pray someone’s taken the child in for the night. There’s a hope Goodwife Brown is with her daughter out on the king’s road. She is expecting a child any day. Go home, my friend. Sleep. You’ve had a rude welcome home and face a long day ahead.’
Grinding roots, tying sprigs together to be hung from the rafters to dry, mixing powders and lotions for tomorrow’s rounds, Magda did not pause in her work as Einar described meeting Bird-eye and how he had been invited to St George’s Field for archery practice. He had not expected such a welcome, was much taken by Captain Archer. Clever of Bird-eye. She was glad he’d met Einar. Though a brief encounter, the young man was now in his eye. Clearly he meant to gauge the character of the young man, and quickly. He had sensed something. She looked forward to talking to him.
Asa sat up, reciting her oft repeated criticism of Owen Archer. In truth, it had little to do with Bird-eye and much to do with Asa’s long-ago obsession with one of his comrades in arms whom she’d found hiding up on the moors. He had never returned her affection, but she had woven a tale that blamed Bird-eye for his friend’s departure. It was ever the way with Asa. She moved through life dragging behind her a burden of grudges, adding to it with every new encounter, folding each slight with tender care and tucking it away so that she might drag it out at a later date, keeping it fresh and ready should she ever re-encounter the accused. Magda doubted that she need warn Bird-eye. He had witnessed the damage Asa had done to his friend and would remember her well enough. But she would avoid providing Asa the opportunity to attack Owen when he came to call. It was high time she coaxed Asa out of the nest. But as she observed her visitors she saw that she might not need to take such action.
Asa patted her pallet, inviting Einar to perch beside her. Eying the narrow space, he chose instead to crouch down, though it meant Asa must shift so she might not be overheard. Magda counted it fortunate that her daughter assumed her hearing had dimmed with age. Setting aside mortar and pestle, Magda took up a quieter task, blending powders.
‘What have you learned?’ Asa whispered. ‘Any news?’
Einar gave a little breathy laugh. ‘I’ve not gone into the city. But Sunday, with the captain’s invitation …’
‘Move about, listen to the gossip, the rumors.’
‘Do you have a plan?’
‘How can I? I know nothing of his movements.’
‘You wait for me to tease him out? The burden is all mine?’ Einar’s whisper was loud with impatience. When Asa thought to appease him with a pat on the cheek, he flinched. He was not so fond of the woman.
‘I will see to my tasks,’ Asa retorted, her voice breaking. She glanced at Magda, who hummed under her breath as she worked.
‘You will leave here?’ Einar asked.
‘Soon. Some shifting to do.’
‘Into the city?’
‘As you refused to share lodgings.’
Einar said nothing.
An uneasy partnership. Not surprising. Magda did not yet know who they were hunting, and whether Alisoun’s mandrake root was part of Asa’s incomplete plan. For now, she focused on Asa’s ‘shifting.’ She could well imagine all that might disappear from shelves in the night. She added a few new ingredients to the mixture for Asa’s evening tisane. While she slept, deeply, safely, Magda would work.
Einar took the first opportunity to depart, asking if he might accompany Magda on her rounds in the forest sometime soon. She smiled and said he might come any time.
‘Am I also welcome?’ Asa asked.
‘Patience. Magda has a distance to cover and thou art hobbled at present.’ She chose not to mention the donkey cart. She wanted to observe Einar on his own.
When Asa fell into a deep sleep, Magda went to work doing her own shifting, tucking behind the false wall in the darkest corner all that she would need for the next few weeks as well as those ingredients difficult to replace. What was left on the shelves would not be missed, or too heavy for her to carry in her condition. Unless Einar chose to assist her. It would be interesting to see whether he did. Kneeling to the packs next to Asa’s pallet Magda found one empty. Asa would be busy in the morning. From the other Magda drew out the items, putting aside those medicines she would rather not be responsible for having left in her daughter’s possession, including far too much ground willow bark – she had already crippled herself. Disappointing not to find Alisoun’s mandrake root, though she found ground mandrake root, which she also confiscated. Satisfied that she had done what she could, Magda put all she’d removed into the hidden cupboard and closed it up. At peace with herself, she went to feed Holda more milk, then tucked her into bed with her, falling asleep to deep purring.
4
Secrets
Owen woke to familiar street sounds. Rolling over, he discovered Lucie gone. Light slanted through the shutters. How late was it? His first morning waking in his own bed after a month away, and he had much to do. He intended to call on Mayor Graa before being summoned, preferring to be the instigator of an investigation rather than have it assigned him, particularly when dealing with an official whose sympathies were rarely with the common folk. On the landing, habit took him into the nursery. With eye closed he imagined his little ones here, their bodies warm with sleep, their familiar scents, giggles, whispers, shrieks. How he missed them. He was grateful they were away, safe – he prayed he was right about that.
Descending to the hall, he paused at the garden window gazing out on a soft dawn rain. Not so late. Yet as the kitchen door opened he heard low voices, then Lucie approaching. She wrapped her arms round him, resting her head against his back.