Candace Robb - The Lady Chapel

Though the room had no windows, the sounds of the city wakened Jasper. The walls were thin, letting out the heat in winter, letting in the heat in summer. Bells rang, shutters banged, carts clattered by, folk yelled their greetings to one another, a dog barked as if it were being beaten. Jasper's mother slept on, the blankets pulled up to her chin. Jasper relieved himself in the bucket in the corner, then took the bucket down the outside stairs and emptied the night waste into the gutter that ran down the middle of the street. He would be fined if caught, but it was more important to return to his mother as soon as possible. He would wait to fetch water until Mistress Fletcher returned.

Shortly before midday, Kristine de Melton opened her eyes. "I saw you in your jerkin," she said, her mouth working so little that the words were more guessed than heard. She managed a sad smile. "Proud of my boy."

Jasper bit his lip, a lump in his throat. His mother was dying. He had seen enough death in his eight years that he recognized it. "I was waiting for Mistress Fletcher to come before I went for water. Are you thirsty now? Will you be all right if I go for it and leave you alone?"

"I will stay put." Again the weak smile.

Jasper picked up the water jug and went out, scrubbing his face with his sleeve to remove any sign of tears. He was relieved to meet Mistress Fletcher on the stairs.

"Mum's awake. I'm fetching water," he said.

"Good boy. I'll just go up and see if she needs anything."

In the evening, Kristine de Melton began to toss and sigh. Her fever rose.

"Jasper," she whispered to her son, "go to the York Tavern. Find Will. He has a friend there; he will be with him."

Jasper looked at Mistress Fletcher, who nodded. "I'll watch beside your mum. Go get Will Crounce. He should be here."

The York Tavern was not far. Jasper peeked inside and saw Master Crounce sitting with the fat man who had hailed him from the crowd yesterday. They were arguing. Jasper, thinking it a bad time to interrupt, backed out the door. He would wait a bit, then check again to see whether things were peaceful. He brushed against a hooded figure standing just outside the door beneath the lantern. From the scent, Jasper guessed it to be a woman. He scrambled across the way and sat in the darkness of the overhang.

It was not long before Master Crounce appeared in the doorway, swaying slightly, his face screwed up in anger. Jasper had never seen Master Crounce with such a face. The tall man lurched out the door. Jasper hesitated, frightened, and lost his opportunity. The hooded woman reached out for Master Crounce with a delicate white hand. Crounce turned, gave a little cry of pleasure, and headed away with her.

Jasper did not entirely understand his mother's relationship with Master Crounce, but he suspected. And if he was right, then this mysterious woman had taken his mother's place. So should he follow anyway? What would Master Crounce say? What could Jasper say in front of his master's new leman?

He decided to follow them. Perhaps they would part company soon, and Jasper could then speak with Master Crounce without embarrassing him.

The couple went through the minster gate. The woman must live inside the Liberty of St. Peter. Perhaps she worked for the Archbishop or one of the archdeacons. It was no problem for Jasper to go through. He often did day work for the masons and carpenters. His father had been in the Carpenter's Guild. They paid for the room Jasper and his mother lived in, and gave him work from time to time. The guards all knew Jasper. The one on duty tonight knew him well.

"Young Jasper. Out late, are you?"

"My mum's took ill," Jasper explained. "I'm after help."

"Ah. I did hear. During the pageants, was it?"

Jasper nodded.

The guard waved him past.

Jasper stood still in the shadow of the great minster, listening for the couple's footsteps. They had turned left, toward the west entrance. Odd direction. That was the minster yard, the jail, the Archbishop's palace and chapel. Perhaps the woman was a maid in the palace. Jasper hurried to catch up. He did not know his way so well in this direction. He did not like this place in the dark. The minster loomed high above him to his right, a towering darkness that echoed with breezes and the skittering of night creatures. The two he followed rounded the great west front. Jasper hurried past the towers, stumbling in his fear of being alone in this place best left to God and the saints at nightfall.

As the couple stepped around the northwest corner into the minster yard, a laugh rang out, echoing weirdly. Jasper stopped and crossed himself. It did not come from Master Crounce or the lady, and it was not a friendly sound. Master Crounce stumbled. To Jasper's puzzlement, the woman broke from Master Crounce and ran back toward Jasper, who ducked into the shadow of the great minster so she would not find him spying.

The laughter rang out again.

"Who's there?" Crounce demanded, though his words were so slurred with drink they hardly sounded challenging.

Two men dashed at Crounce from the darkness, knocking him to the ground. One bent over the fallen man, and Crounce's scream dissolved into a gurgle and a sigh. The other attacker reared up, a sword raised above him, and brought it down with frightening force. He stooped, picked something up, and then the attackers fled.

Jasper hurried to his mother's friend. "Master Crounce?" The man did not respond. Jasper knelt and felt Will Crounce's face. The eyes were open. The smell of blood was strong. "Master Crounce?" The boy reached to tug on the man's hand. But there was no hand-only a hot, sickening wetness. Speechless with shock, Jasper ran for the guard.

"What is it, boy? Seen an angel, have ye?"

Jasper gasped and then bent double, retching.

Now the guard was alarmed. "What is it?"

Jasper wiped his mouth with a handful of grass and then took a few deep breaths. "Master Crounce. They've killed him. They've cut off his hand!"

As daylight reached his bed in the York Tavern. Gilbert Ridley cursed and turned over. His head hammered. Too much ale, and oh, how he regretted last night's bitter words with Will Crounce. If he lived through the morning, he would go to the minster and do penance for his sinful pride and anger. Ridley turned over and held his breath as the hammers sent sparks shooting across his vision. Carts rattled by, bells rang. Blast the city. Blast Tom Merchet's excellent ale.

An odor turned Ridley's attention to the center of the room. Something lay there, right there in the middle of the room, ready to trip him. He could not remember what he had dropped there. Meat? He must have left the door ajar. How drunk had he been to pass out before closing off the sounds from below? Ridley closed his eyes, sick to his stomach. It was his bladderful of ale, that's what hurt. He sat up, clutching his head and his stomach, and waited until the room settled around him. That thing on the floor. It looked for all the world like- Oh, dear God, it was a hand. A severed hand. Ridley rushed to the chamber pot and retched.

Father Gideon had given Kristine de Melton the last rites. Now Jasper knelt beside his mother, praying that he might be taken in her place.

Jasper was frightened. On Thursday morning he had been so happy he thought his heart would burst with joy. Now it was Saturday morning, and his joy was a memory. His mother was near death, and his sponsor for the Guild had been murdered. When his mother woke, Jasper would have to tell her the awful news about her beloved Will.

What had Jasper done to be so punished by the Lord God Almighty?

"Jasper?" The hand that reached for his was icy. How could she burn with fever, yet have such cold hands?