‘Why is Crispin involved?’
‘Sam was found upstream, in Galtres. Magda sent for Crispin.’
Of course the pestilence was not the only threat to peace. But Owen had hoped for a moment’s grace. ‘They think it might be more than an accidental drowning?’
‘They said little to me. But from their eagerness to know when you would return, it would seem so.’
Without a word, Lucie took Owen’s free hand and led him into the hall and up the steps to the solar.
Dressed in fresh clothing, Owen stood on the landing listening to a soft rain on the roof, a fresh breeze drifting out from the empty nursery, slipping past him and dipping to find the long window in the hall below. A cart rattled by on the street, children screeched in pleasure, a bell rang, not a church bell tolling a death – not yet. The scent of damp earth rose from the window below. Kate hummed in the kitchen. A momentary solitude, something he had not experienced since leaving home. On the road he traveled in a company, and at Kennington Palace one never had a landing to oneself, for servants, retainers, clerks, dignitaries were ever rushing past, carrying on the business of the prince, of the realm. Yet it was there he had felt alone. Even Lucie had seemed out of reach when not wrapped in his arms, caught up in her own journey of discovery. Here he felt a part of the flow of life.
But he also felt the lack of his children’s voices, the sticky hands reaching for his, the clatter of their wooden toys tumbling down the steps. In time, God willing.
Lucie joined him, offering a bowl of ale. ‘Missing them?’
‘For a moment I felt it more than I could bear.’
‘I know.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But already we are called to our work. Alisoun said she has much to tell us before she leaves in the morning. Are you ready to resume your role as captain of the city?’
As if he had a choice.
As the afternoon unfolded Owen felt the weight of his duties in the city pressing down. From Alisoun he learned that folk were turning against Magda, blaming her not only for the return of the pestilence but for all manner of misfortunes, from dough that failed to rise to Sam Toller’s death, some saying the healer made the river take him. He was not surprised to hear that Magda had not been within the walls for a fortnight. But when he learned that her daughter Asa was in York, he did wonder whether Magda’s absence had more to do with that arrival. Alisoun continued the litany of woes with an account of Celia Cooper’s illness, her husband’s accusations about Asa, which seem to have led to an attack as she hurried home. She spoke of the trouble in the Wolcott home, Guthlac’s decline under the care of the leech Bernard, how that might somehow be connected to Sam’s suspected murder.
‘I think Sam’s wife was the one pointing the finger at Dame Magda,’ said Alisoun. ‘Or it might be the leech Bernard.’
‘I am glad to hear that Celia is at St Clement’s, that is good,’ said Lucie, but she did not smile. ‘In the coming darkness I fear for those deprived of Magda’s healing presence. Have people come to you?’
‘They have. I saw a few, but I have made it no secret that I am going away. For the rest I recommended other midwives.’
‘Any change in how people behave toward you?’ Owen asked.
‘Some avoid my eyes when I pass. Custom in the apothecary is down, but only a little. With you here now, that all might right itself.’
Or it might not. He saw in Lucie’s frown that she doubted they would be untouched.
‘This Bernard. I feared he would cause trouble,’ said Owen.
He had not met him, but Lucie had. He’d come to the shop in early April, introducing himself as a physician new to the city, buying a common purgative, leeches, a headache powder, crushed gems. He had said little, vague about where he had lived before but eager to name important names in the city, particularly the Graas – Thomas Graa was the current mayor – and Wolcotts. He had not returned, but he complained to the guild master about the impropriety of a female apothecary. The guild master informed them that he had assured the newcomer that Lucie was a member in good standing and suggested he curb his tongue if he wished to be accepted in the city. They had heard no more of him, but it was enough.
‘Has Magda met him?’ Owen asked Alisoun.
‘No. All he knows of her is secondhand.’
‘There are plenty who will feed him all he wishes,’ said Lucie.
Owen steered them into the plans for Alisoun’s departure for Freythorpe Hadden the following day. She said she would spend the night at the Ferriby home so that they might depart at first light. Peter was eager to see his wife and sons who had been away at Freythorpe Hadden for more than a month.
‘Will you see Magda before you leave?’ Owen asked.
‘Yes. I have already packed all but the physicks that she is preparing. I thought to take my things to the Ferribys and go to Magda just before the closing of the gates this evening, I will be returning after they are barred, but I know the way along the bank at low tide.’
‘No need for that. Carn is the Bootham gatekeeper at that hour. I will tell him to expect you.’
‘Would you care to come with me?’
‘It seems I have plenty to occupy me here. I will see her after you leave. You say Asa is staying with her?’
‘Yes. Jasper says you once met her up on the moors.’
‘I did. She wished to have nothing to do with her mother. What would bring her here?’
‘I know little. She came with her son Einar. He is staying in Old Shep’s cottage. Since they arrived Magda hurries me away. Will you– Is there a way you might set a watch?’
‘Without Magda knowing?’ Owen shook his head. ‘But I will make a point of meeting them. What is it that bothers you?’
‘A feeling. I do not doubt Einar is Magda’s grandson – he has her eyes. But’ – she shook her head – ‘I cannot explain it.’
He found it all unsettling. ‘I will wait for you at Bootham Bar on your return, walk you to the Ferriby house,’ he said.
Alisoun made no protest.
Entering the York Tavern in late afternoon felt the final step in returning home, the innkeepers Tom and Bess Merchet awaiting Owen at the door. Tom stood back while Bess gave the traveler a welcoming hug.
‘I’ve kept Jasper, Kate, and Alisoun supplied with bread and ale.’
‘So I’ve heard,’ said Owen. ‘And I’m grateful. Lucie is eager to tell you about life in Kennington Palace.’ She had laughed about it on the first days of the journey home, before the bleakness of their fellow travelers on the road had cast a cloud over all. As I walked round Kennington Palace I imagined how I might describe it all to Bess – the fabrics, the patterns, colors, gold, silver, pewter, gemstones.
‘And the little ones?’ Bess asked.
‘In good health, and enjoying the countryside.’
‘Praise God for that,’ said Tom. He pressed a tankard of ale into Owen’s hands and pointed toward Hempe and Poole sitting in the back corner. ‘They arrived a while ago. Grim-faced, as they have been many an evening of late, casting a cloud over all.’
Owen took a drink. ‘I tasted nothing so fine in the south, my friend.’
Tom nodded, then stepped closer, lowering his voice. ‘Ale’s not the only thing being brewed in the city at present. Someone’s sickening folk with a dark, ugly mash of lies. I’m that glad you’ve returned. You’re the one to find them and drain the poison before someone dies.’
‘Any idea who?’
‘Look to the friends of the leech Bernard.’
Thanking him, Owen threaded his way through the crowd, smiling at greetings, promising to pass them on to Lucie, all the while noting the ones not smiling about his return. Not that he expected to be welcomed by all, but he thought perhaps he might find some who could speak to the moment, help him understand what lay beneath the ugliness besides fear of plague.