Candace Robb - The Lady Chapel

As Alfred walked toward Scorby, one of Scorby's men came at him with a knife. Colin yelled to Alfred, who used his mail-clad head to butt the attacker in the stomach and send him sprawling. Scorby's right fist came up toward Owen's blind side, but Owen, catching the motion, grabbed the upraised arm with his left hand and punched Scorby in the stomach with his right fist.

"Now, as I said, we will escort you to your horses."

Which they did.

As Scorby wheeled his horse round he yelled, "I'll be back. Tell that bitch I'll be back."

Owen turned to Alfred and Colin. "Thank you, lads."

Colin grinned. " 'Twas our pleasure."

"Pleasure?" Alfred snorted. "They gave way too soon for my taste."

Owen nodded. "They might double back. Stay out here tonight. Upstairs. Shouldn't be too uncomfortable. I'll have some ale sent out to you, but see you stay awake."

He walked back to the hall wondering what had possessed the priest to admit that the master was away.

Cecilia Ridley stood just inside the door. "Deusjuva me, I did not expect he would come so soon upon their heels."

"Scorby's wife lies abed upstairs?" Yes.

"An unusual arrangement."

"I hope for the sake of all mothers and daughters that it is unusual."

"Well, my men can hold the gates against Scorby tonight."

"Thank you."

"What is going on here, Mistress Ridley?"

The dark eyes looked affronted by the blunt question. "I am certain it has nothing to do with my husband's death."

"And how do you know that?"

"Gilbert is"-Cecilia shook her head- "was Paul Scorby's champion. Gilbert chose Paul for Anna. I never wanted the match."

"Why did he choose Scorby?"

"Our son, Matthew, lived with the family for a few years. When he left, the family suggested the match between Paul and Anna. Gilbert saw it as an ideal arrangement, wealth on our side, connections on theirs, and the young man ambitious, hardworking."

"So how does your daughter come to be here without her husband?"

"Anna was attacked, went to Father Cuthbert and begged him to bring her here. Paul was away."

"Attacked by whom?"

Cecilia Ridley glanced back at the servants. Seeing them with their heads together by the hearth, no doubt discussing the commotion out at the gate, Cecilia invited Owen to sit down on a bench beside the door.

"We have told the servants that it was thieves who broke into the house." She clasped her hands and kept her eyes downcast.

"Your daughter is badly hurt?"

Cecilia nodded, but did not look up.

"So this is why you dislike your son-in-law so much. Because he beats your daughter."

Owen heard Cecilia take a deep breath. She looked up, tears in her dark eyes. "It is not that I think Paul a bad man, Captain Archer. He is just the wrong husband for Anna. My daughter wanted to join a religious house. Another man, one with more patience, might have convinced her that marriage could be a joyous state, might have won her over. But Paul"-Cecilia shook her head. "He goes into rages over Anna's fasts. And as she retreats, he gets angrier. I could see the impatience in his character. I warned Gilbert."

More shouts were heard outside.

Cecilia looked up at Owen, her eyes frightened. "How long do you think your men can hold the gates against him?"

"Scorby and his men are not the trained fighters we are. But we cannot stay here indefinitely."

"I should go speak with Paul."

"Perhaps if he saw her condition?"

She gave him a surprised look. "He did this to her. How could he not know her condition?" She spoke in a quiet voice, but behind it quivered controlled emotion.

"What do you intend to do?"

Cecilia Ridley shrugged. "Keep him away from her somehow."

"May I see her?"

She gave Owen a searching, not entirely friendly look. "Why?"

"I am an apprentice apothecary. I might be of help."

"I thought you were the Archbishop's man."

"That, too."

"Your life is rather complicated, Captain Archer."

He grinned. "You do not know the half of it, Mistress Ridley."

"What could lead a Captain of Archers to apprentice to an apothecary?"

Owen tapped his patch. "A reminder of how easily Death creeps up on us."

Cecilia stared at Owen a moment; then, seeming to decide something, she rose and indicated for him to follow her upstairs.

The room was next to the one Owen had used when he had come in summer. A brazier kept the room warm. A young woman lay in the bed, the hand outside the counterpane bandaged. Her face was bruised and swollen, one side of her mouth cut. She watched them with one eye; the other was blackened and too swollen to open.

"Mamma?" Her voice was ragged, frightened.

Mistress Ridley crossed quickly to the bed. "It is all right, Anna. This is Captain Archer. He is an apothecary, though he looks nothing of the sort. He thought he might be able to help."

Owen wondered how Cecilia Ridley managed to sound so calm with her daughter so badly hurt, her husband murdered, and her son-in-law shouting at the gate. But it was good that she could manage it, for her daughter looked terrified even without knowing all that was the matter. Owen knelt beside Anna and asked, "Your hand is broken?"

"A finger," Cecilia said. "We pulled it straight and splinted it."

"And applied a salve of boneset?"

Cecilia nodded.

"Is anything else broken?"

"No. The rest are bruises, her face and her stomach. And the cuts on her mouth." She told Owen what she had done for her daughter.

He motioned to Cecilia to step out of the room with him. They stood on an open landing looking down onto the hall.

"Some valerian would calm her," Owen said. "You say her stomach was bruised. Was there bleeding?"

"Yes. But it has stopped."

"Do you think she could keep down some wine with valerian?"

"She has kept wine down."

"Keeping her calm, that is important." Owen rubbed the scar on his left cheek. "Jesus Lord, what sort of man would do that to his wife?"

"He says he has needs and she denies him. That it drives him mad."

"If there is anything else I can do, Mistress Ridley …"

She took his hand and squeezed it. "You are a good man, Captain Archer." Her eyes swept over his face, lingered on his mouth.

She seemed too close. Too intent on him. Owen resisted the urge to back up a step.

Cecilia smiled through tears, smoothed down her skirt, sighed. "And now I must confront my son-in-law."

Owen lay in the room next to Anna's. He jerked to attention at every sound in the house. Cecilia Ridley felt that Scorby would stay away for the night, that she had convinced him to sleep at an inn-Beverley was a large enough town to have several comfortable inns-but Owen could not rest. He tossed and turned on the pallet as he listened to Cecilia Ridley pacing anxiously back and forth in her daughter's room.

Suddenly the footsteps in the next room changed in character, moving decisively to the door, then outside. There was a knock at Owen's door.

"Come in."

Cecilia Ridley held an oil lamp to her face. "Forgive me for disturbing your sleep."

"I've been unable to sleep."

She came in, closed the door behind her, placed the oil lamp on a small table next to Owen, and proceeded to pace back and forth at the foot of his pallet, her hands behind her back.

"What is it?" Owen asked.

"You must help us. Anna must not stay here."

Dear Lord, the woman was panicking. "I want to help, Mistress Ridley. I cannot sleep for thinking of your poor daughter. But she cannot be moved. Not with the bleeding."

"It has stopped."

"If she sits a horse, it might begin again."

Cecilia whirled round and sat down at the side of Owen's pallet. "Worse will happen to Anna if she does not get away. You must see that." Her eyes were dark, huge, and wild in the flickering light.