‘Of course,’ said Michaelo.
Einar insisted on accompanying the monk to the riverbank.
‘But you’ve no horse,’ Owen pointed out.
With a laugh, the young man began to run, graceful and fast. If Magda was a dragon, her great-grandson was a wolf, thought Owen. Michaelo rode after him.
‘Ah, youth. Such grace. And speed.’ Crispin and the others had pulled up beside Owen. ‘We will await their return, should you have need of us.’
Owen glanced at Gemma Toller, quietly weeping. He noticed that the talkative one had a fresh gash on his forehead and lay with eyes closed, jaw slack.
‘Gave you trouble?’
Stephen grinned. ‘You might say that.’
‘Michaelo’s returning,’ said Alfred.
Seeing the monk’s solemn expression, Owen rode to meet him.
‘The two in the cart brought a man dying of the pestilence to toss among the folk on the riverbank, unholy monsters,’ said Michaelo. ‘One of the ones I’ve attended in the minster yard. Magda has eased the poor man’s last hours. I offered to send for the friars.’
Owen nodded. ‘No trouble now?’
‘Your men hauled off the two and others who arrived to set fire to the settlement and Magda’s house. They await you at the castle.’
‘Einar?’
‘He waded out to Magda’s rock, suddenly worried about Asa, who has been alone but for the boy Twig. He asks that we return the cart to the bank, and Magda’s lads will see to it.’
Curious. He had seemed keen to accompany them. But it was no time for questions. ‘Do you know how to guide a donkey cart?’ Owen asked the maidservant.
‘I do, Captain.’ She clambered up to the seat and took up the reins.
Waving Crispin and the others on, Owen fell in behind them, Brother Michaelo beside him, the cart following.
Brother Henry, the infirmarian, sniffed the contents of the jar. ‘Milk of poppy and – I am not certain. Allow me to take some to study.’ He tipped a spoonful into a cup. ‘But Dame Lucie might better answer you.’ He nodded toward Alan Rawcliff, who lay on a pallet in a corner of St Mary’s infirmary guarded by one of the king’s men. ‘Whatever it is, he will recover. At present he plays cat and mouse with the king’s man. He opened his eyes quite wide for a moment, fixing them on his guard. When he realized he was no longer a free man, he shut them tight. Rest easy. You have brought an evil man to justice. I will see that he is in sufficient health to survive the journey to Westminster and answer for his crimes.’
Owen retrieved the jar. ‘It is for Gavin’s trial I would know the contents. He used it on his father. Guthlac did not survive it.’
‘Poor man,’ said Henry. ‘The king’s man shared with me the Bishop of Lincoln’s report. Several mysterious deaths linked to our guest. A most dangerous fraud, not only for practicing without sufficient knowledge but for causing so many to shun the skilled midwives in our city.’
Owen thanked Henry and took his leave. Brother Michaelo waited outside the infirmary, peering in for a moment before following Owen out. He had been refused entry, Brother Henry remembering only too well the time Michaelo had poisoned his teacher, the gentle Brother Wulfstan.
‘Do you miss the abbey?’ Owen asked.
‘As I would a thorn in my boot.’
Michaelo maintained a stony silence while Owen recounted his conversation with Brother Henry. It was only when Owen grew quiet that the monk cleared his throat.
‘Einar was slippery about where he had been with that cart,’ he noted.
‘You asked him?’
‘I did. He appeared out of nowhere – did you notice?’
So it was not a matter of Owen being distracted. ‘What did he say?’
‘The donkey was lagging, so he moved off the track and found water for him. When I began to ask more questions he hurried away.’ The monk was quiet a moment. ‘One of Dame Magda’s riddles made flesh.’
Owen remembered Magda and the dragon becoming one. ‘He is her kinsman.’
‘Much more so than Asa, it would seem.’
They had left the maidservant in the screened passage of the abbot’s house, watched by a novice. They found her curled up on a bench, asleep.
While awaiting the mayor’s cart, Lucie searched the house for the medicines she had sent with Owen the other day and clean clothes for Beatrice. She found the medicines untouched, but the only items of clothing left behind were a threadbare gown and an old wool cloak on a hook in the kitchen. They must do for now. With Kate’s help she removed surcoat, underdress, and shift, washing Beatrice as best she could with the little water left in the bottom of a jug, then dressed her in the too-large gown, wrapping the cloak round her for warmth. Kate tucked heated stones wrapped in a torn blanket inside the cloak. She added the strengthening tonic to a cup of rainwater.
‘Why would he take her clothing?’ Kate wondered aloud.
‘None of this makes sense to me,’ said Lucie. The silence of the house had given her chills. It felt as if it were watching, waiting. She was glad to hear a cart rattle into the yard. Even better, it was Owen’s voice calling out to her.
Luke entered first. ‘Look who I found.’
Owen was right behind him. ‘Is she alive?’
Lucie was glad to see him. ‘Barely. If Luke had not found her when he did …’
A woman rushed past him, kneeling beside Beatrice.
‘Mistress! I was so worried.’
‘Her maidservant,’ Owen explained.
Lucie drew her away. ‘You can be of most help by telling me how long she has been so ill. Was this pregnancy more difficult than the others?’
The woman shook her head. ‘The baby was not a problem. We were to say nothing of it. She tried to hide it, and I do not think she ate enough for two, but she had no sickness. What happened?’
‘She lost the child.’
The woman sobbed, ‘No!’ and tried to wrench away from Lucie, who shook her.
‘Go outside and calm yourself. We are taking care of her.’ Lucie let go and nodded to Luke, who led the woman into the yard.
‘Luke told us how he came to you,’ said Owen. ‘The mayor’s cart waits outside. He says you are bringing her home?’
‘I can see to her there.’
‘She may be part of the plot.’
She saw the concern in his eye, knew that he foresaw the pain of giving Beatrice up to the law. ‘I know, my love. But no matter her part in the deception she was abandoned and came close to death. She can be questioned when she is strong enough. I trust that you will ensure the sheriff knows of her ordeal.’
15
Revelations
It seemed a sign of grace when Captain Archer offered Einar the chance to help deliver Alan into the hands of the king’s men. But while he stood on the riverbank he had caught a movement on Magda’s roof, the dragon moving its head as if beckoning him across the water.
Brother Michaelo was asking him about his sudden appearance on the forest track.
Einar answered vaguely as he stared at the dragon. Once again it beckoned to him. ‘I must see to Asa,’ he said.
‘But the wagon,’ said Michaelo, ‘the abbey.’
Einar waved him off. ‘I trust you and the captain.’
He waded into the river, muttering a curse as he discovered the current strong with the tide. As the water deepened he began to swim, all the while arguing with himself. It was mad to think a dragon masthead could move, could beckon him. But he’d seen it do so. As he pulled himself onto the rock he heard in his head, On the far side. The boy cannot hold her much longer. He scrambled to his feet, pausing to shake off some of the water. Hurry! the voice – a female voice – said in his head. Glancing up as he passed the dragon, he swore she nodded. And then he heard the boy.