‘I cannot have misfortune befall my eyes and ears in the North as he journeys through a countryside rife with fear.’ Prince Edward spoke of reports that the road was teeming with people escaping outbreaks or rushing home to families, peppered with prophets of doom standing by the wayside preaching fear and repentance or bands of thieves preying on the desperate.
The prince had not been wrong, and they had been glad of the addition to Owen’s two armed companions, Alfred and Stephen.
‘I did not think I would miss the prince’s men, but I do,’ sighed Brother Michaelo, riding up to join Owen.
They had parted with the prince’s retainers shortly before they reached Freythorpe Hadden, when one of the men fell ill with a fever. Lucie was quite certain it was not pestilence. No boils or blackened extremities. But she advised them to stay in the small priory in which they stopped that night. One of the brothers seemed skilled in healing. To be safe, Lucie, Owen, Michaelo, Alfred, and Stephen had spent a few nights in a farmhouse on the manor, watching for signs of fever. A difficult wait, with the children so close, but worth the peace of mind when they at last held the little ones in their arms.
‘At least the king’s men had wit, a quality sadly lacking in your own armed men,’ Brother Michaelo declared.
Owen laughed, and, to his surprise and delight, so did Lucie.
‘You miss all the trappings of the prince’s court,’ she said.
The monk sighed again, no doubt remembering the gorgeous fabrics and tapestries, the precious stones, gold, silver, mother of pearl decorating the most mundane objects. And the fragrance of the fires, the scents of lavender and rose, the minstrels who softly played in the corners. Elegant, luxurious. Her Grace, remembering Michaelo’s efficient management at Bishopthorpe, consulted him about her own household, seeking suggestions, including him in discussions with the officers of the wardrobe. For his pains, which he experienced as joys, she had sent one of the prince’s tailors to him to fit him out in a new habit of silk and linen. It was packed in the bag slung on his saddle, handled as if precious cargo. The gift had softened the agony of departure. Princess Joan played his strings with skill, but with respect as well. Indeed, all five in the party returned with gifts. In gratitude for the physicks and instructions to the household in preparing more, as well as advice on dietary changes, the royal couple presented Lucie with a crispinette of gold thread studded with pearls and a brooch in the shape of a linden leaf studded with emeralds and garnets, princely offerings. She also came away with fabric for the children’s clothes in appreciation for undertaking the long journey at such a time. Owen touched the hilt of the sword the prince had presented to him, marking him as a member of his household and that of his son when he passed away. Again he had been offered a knighthood, again he had declined. The prince had scowled for a moment, but then laughed that his wife had prepared him for Owen’s obstinance. ‘I respect you for it. And I trust you will always speak your mind, not what you believe will win you favor with me.’
‘To live in the midst of such beauty even for a short while was a great gift,’ said Michaelo, ‘and I repent being greedy for more.’
‘He would agree with you,’ said Lucie, nodding toward a raggedy man with burning eyes standing on a log at the side of the road shouting, ‘Repent, sinners!’ as they passed.
‘Blessed Mary, Mother of God, pray for all madmen who think themselves prophets,’ Stephen grumbled behind them.
‘I had hoped we had seen the last of them,’ said Alfred.
‘But of course they congregate on the road to York, a cathedral city,’ said Brother Michaelo. ‘They will flock to us, haranguing all the holy brethren and sisters in the city.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘This one certainly smells as if he has been in the hell fire of which he cries. The king’s men would have frightened him off.’
‘God help us,’ Lucie whispered.
Owen moved his horse close, reaching for her hand. ‘What is it, my love?’
‘I feel such dread of a sudden. What if Alisoun has fallen ill? Or Jasper?’
He knew that dread, but he reassured her. ‘It is easy when weary to succumb to the fear such men hope to incite. If anyone in our household were ill, a message would have been sent to Freythorpe.’
‘Yes, of course you are right, my love.’ Lucie did not sound convinced.
The guard at the gate welcomed them with clear relief, saying that the mayor and bailiffs would be glad of his return. As they walked their horses on to Micklegate, Owen prayed the trouble had nothing to do with his family, only his post as captain of the city.
The apothecary garden was a riot of color, the beds ordered, neat. There were tears in Lucie’s eyes as she turned round and round, smiling, thanking Jasper.
‘Alisoun worked in it as well. And Kate,’ he replied, shaking back the lock of fair hair ever in his eyes, standing straight and proud.
All three were well. And it seemed there was no sign as yet of the pestilence in the city except for a woman who returned from Doncaster already sick. God be thanked, though folk were flocking to the apothecary for the customary remedies against the sickness. Would the children have been better here? Owen shut the door on that thought as Jasper drew them into the kitchen, eager to hear about the court, the wonders they had seen. To Owen the fragrant kitchen was far more enticing than his memories of court. The boot bench against the wall, the hooks for cloaks and hats behind the door, the long table at which Kate stood, the kitten battling a small ball of string amidst the benches and stools by the fire – everything in the room conjured memories of family and friends tucked into its familiar warmth.
Suddenly shy, Kate stood back until Lucie rushed to embrace her. Then she burst into tears, sobbing how she had missed them all, asking after the children and her sister Tildy, wife of the steward at Freythorpe. She was more than a maidservant, she was part of the family, as was her sister.
‘Brown as berries and learning a great deal from your nieces and nephews about the countryside,’ said Lucie. ‘And all of them are learning much from the Ferriby boys.’ The pair were older, but had been kind to Gwen and Hugh and the others, including them in their work with the falconer brought from Emma’s manor nearby, asking them to lead them round the property, introducing them to their favorite places. ‘Has Alisoun been a help to you, Kate?’
‘I was glad of her company. But I saw her only in early morning and in the evening. Sometimes in the garden. She spent most of her time in the shop.’
Lucie looked to Jasper. ‘You have been so busy? Has Alisoun time to assist Dame Magda?’
‘She did that as well. But she’s been keen to be in the shop, learning how it works, ordering, how items are delivered, how stored. In the shop and the garden she worked with the plants she would not find in the woods.’
‘I am glad she benefited,’ said Lucie. ‘I hope she will not regret having agreed to now go to Freythorpe.’
‘I cannot speak for her,’ said Jasper, ‘but I think she’s proud to have your trust.’
Owen lifted the pitcher of hot water Kate had prepared and nodded to Lucie. ‘Time to shed the dust of the road.’
‘Just to warn you,’ said Jasper, ‘George Hempe asked to be sent word the moment you returned. Crispin Poole has stopped in the shop several times as well. They are both concerned about the death of Sam Toller, the Wolcotts’ factor, found floating in the river after a storm a week ago.’