A raised brow. ‘I had not heard about the woman. Should I know her?’
‘Her home is next to your warehouse.’
The mayor frowned. ‘The laundress with the drunken lout for a husband?’
‘A fair description.’
‘Poor woman. I warned her husband when he built that shed they call – called a home that he was trespassing on my property with a building unsafe for habitat.’ Gesturing as if to say what can you expect he went on to complain about the entire street of unsafe dwellings. ‘They were warned. Now they will demand recompense. But she is a good woman. We have used her on occasion, after large events when there is much to launder. Quick and efficient. I pray you find her.’
Owen asked whether he or the council had any leads on the death of Sam Toller, Wolcott’s factor.
Graa frowned. ‘Toller? Oh, yes. I have heard various rumors, but I am quite certain the man simply drowned.’
‘How can you be certain?’
‘It happens all the time, Archer. You’ve lived on the river long enough to know that. And who would wish to kill the factor of a dying man? We are Christians in York.’
Michaelo cleared his throat. Owen asked if he might hear the rumors.
‘Some said his wife argued with many of the tradesmen and folk at the market. But would they not then go after her rather than her husband? Common gossip, not worth considering. And there are those who believe the Riverwoman disposed of him, some nonsense about his confronting her with proof that she has been slowly poisoning his employer. But my wife and many of the wives of the council members assure me that is slander.’ A sigh. ‘Though I must say, many worry that the Riverwoman is bringing a curse on the city. Edwin Cooper the loudest of them. Doesn’t his son serve the bailiffs?’
Ignoring the question, Owen said, ‘I understand Cooper complained that his wife had bad dreams.’
‘Yes. And that during the Riverwoman’s ministrations his wife talked in her sleep as if bewitched.’
‘It wasn’t Dame Magda who attended her, but her daughter.’
‘Ah. Perhaps he did mention that.’
‘Did his wife spout the devil’s words in her sleep?’
‘I’ve heard only that she suddenly talked in her sleep.’
‘Has your wife never complained of you talking in your sleep? A man with so many responsibilities? In truth, I do recall your story of how–’ Owen grinned. ‘Forgive me, but it was a good tale about the goat.’
Graa reddened. ‘That was different. But you make a point. Though he did say she had not done so before taking the Riverwoman’s potions.’
Asa’s, but pointless to correct him. ‘Any other complaints?’
‘Something about a poppet found in his wife’s bed after she had been taken to the nuns. You know the sort of charm, dressed to look like the person.’
Alisoun’s mandrake root? ‘I do not suppose you saw it?’
‘I did not speak with him directly. A fellow merchant mentioned it. I would have you look into it, Captain. See if there is anything to these various complaints.’
‘Who was this merchant?’
He shifted on his chair. ‘I cannot recall. I did not think it of any import.’
Yet he’d mentioned it now. Owen held his tongue, reminding himself that he would do best not to antagonize the mayor. ‘Are there others complaining about Dame Asa’s or Dame Magda’s practices?’
‘Asa is the daughter?’ Owen nodded. ‘You know how the women are. One begins her complaint and others must outdo her with their own wild tales of spells and charms, folk becoming far more ill than they were before her ministrations, taking up strange activities, women becoming too bold, men weakening.’ Graa cleared his throat. ‘But it’s their souls about which they are most distressed. As if they were not already damned as gossips. Look into it, would you? We pay you for such protection, eh?’
Brother Michaelo and Owen went their own ways at the end of Castlegate, the monk heading back to the minster close, Owen turning toward Edwin Cooper’s beyond St Crux.
The laborers at the cooperage pointed the way to their master, but warned that he was in a foul mood. Owen stepped into the workroom, his boots sinking into the thick carpet of sawdust on the floor, the light dim. He followed the sound of hammering and cursing to a workbench lit by an east-facing window where Edwin was pounding out bent nails. Over time Owen had heard many a tale of the man’s simmering anger at the world from his son Ned, but he had never had cause to observe it. He was debating whether it was best to leave and try another day when the man glanced toward the door, peered as if to be sure of Owen’s presence, then threw down the hammer with a muttered curse.
‘You know how to sneak up on a man, Captain Archer.’ Pulling off his work gloves he turned and leaned back against the counter, beefy arms folded across his thick middle, eyes hostile. ‘Been expecting you. Come to berate me for harsh words with the daughter of your friend the Riverwoman, I warrant.’
‘I am here at the request of Mayor Graa. I wish only to speak with you about your troubles concerning her.’
‘The mayor?’ He straightened, dropped his arms. ‘Well then, you might want to sit over here.’ With wary glances, the cooper led Owen to a table on which sat a jug and a stack of small wooden bowls.
Once they were settled, bowls of ale before them, Owen told the man that all he needed were details of what his wife suffered under Dame Asa’s care.
‘I knew something was amiss when the wife kept talking in her sleep as if awake, fretting about the children – on several nights the ones who died young, and claiming that I – nonsense, all of it nonsense, but fearful speech, excited and stumbling about her words as never before. And then she was all over bruised and bitten as if devils were pinching and biting her, cutting her. And I thought that was the cause of all that nighttime chatter, you see.’
‘Did Dame Celia complain of being hit and bitten? Did the servants speak of it?’
‘Nay, but we’re good Christians all in our house. Nothing like this has ever happened here.’
‘I understand Bernard the leech bled your wife for a time. He would have applied leeches and possibly small cuts to assist the bleeding,’ Owen said. ‘That would leave such marks.’
A grunt. ‘I suppose he did. But that was long before that woman trespassed. Infernal hag, claiming to heal Celia when all along she was stealing her soul.’
‘Why would she do that, do you think? Her mother Dame Magda was midwife to all your children, and you benefitted from her care not so long ago. What would cause her to turn against your wife?’
Edwin gave a mirthless laugh. ‘You think to twist my thoughts.’ He poured himself another bowl, but offered none to Owen.
‘Not at all. I am trying to understand.’
‘I’ve not yet told you the worst of it, the doll the maidservant found at the foot of my wife’s bed when helping her pack up for the priory. Celia refused to believe the Riverwoman’s daughter would put it there. Said the Riverwoman would never use such a thing. Who, then? She would not hear of blaming any of the servants. So who?’
‘Might I see it?’ Owen asked.
‘I burnt it straight away, cursed thing. I’ll not have such devil work in my home.’
Owen coaxed a description, but it was so vague as to be useless.
‘And then of a sudden my wife begs to go to the priory.’
‘I understand that was Dame Magda’s suggestion.’
‘You see? Crafty hag. She slipped in while I was about my business of a morning. It was Master Bernard came to me about it.’
Spying on the household? It seemed to Owen a curious undertaking for a leech.
‘Who recommended Bernard to you?’
‘Well now, it was Gavin Wolcott. He said he’d heard much good about him, and his father Guthlac liked him.’