Candace Robb - The Lady Chapel

"Come on, under the covers before your toes fall off. I'll behave for a jew moments."

Lucie wriggled under the covers. "Holy Mary, Mother of God, it's cold this morning. I cannot feel my toes."

Owen reached under the covers and grabbed her icy feet, holding them in his warm hands. "Now tell me this decision."

"You are going to Ambrose's house, as planned, but instead of escorting him to the Abbey, you will warn him and Martin to leave the city."

"A good plan if Martin were in condition to travel."

"The Perrers family will destroy him, Owen. He cannot go to Windsor with Thoresby. And once at St. Mary's, how can he escape?"

"I'll talk to Brother Wulfstan. Perhaps he can devise a plan."

Lucie shook her head. "Martin must not go."

"I don't want him to go to Windsor either, Lucie. But he cannot escape the city right now. He is too weak."

"Then we'll hide him."

"Where?"

"I don't know yet, but we will."

"Thoresby is no fool."

"I should have gone to warn them before you woke. But I thought you would be reasonable. That you had a heart and a conscience."

"I do, damn it. I just cannot see how we can hide a wounded man from the Archbishop."

Lucie bit her lower lip and thought. Suddenly she sat up, smiling. "We'll take him to my Aunt Philippa."

"Lucie, what would she think?"

"She will agree when she hears what he faces."

Owen thought about it. Freythorpe Hadden was a large manor. Surely they could keep Martin hidden there.

"All right. I will take him there today."

Lucie threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, then pushed him away. "Now hurry."

He stared at her bare shoulders, bare breast where the shawl had slipped away. He moved her feet so that she could feel how she affected him. "You mean for me to go at once?"

She let the shawl fall the rest of the way. "Not quite yet."

As Owen crossed St. Helen's Square, he began to have doubts about the plan. How could they be certain that Lucie's father, Sir Robert, would agree to hide Martin? Freythorpe Hadden was his manor, not Philippa's. And even if Sir Robert agreed, could they trust him not to give Martin up when the Archbishop's men appeared? Not so much perhaps the Archbishop's, but Thoresby was also Lord Chancellor. Sir Robert had been long in the King's service. Would he be able to put aside that habit of loyalty?

By the time he reached Ambrose's door, Owen had decided to make the offer of Freythorpe, but to be honest with Martin about the flaw in the plan.

He knocked. Waited. Knocked again. Waited. Put his ear to the door, heard nothing. But then it was a thick door. He pushed with his shoulder. The door opened. The house was dark, though a few glowing embers in the brazier assured him that someone had been there recently. And had covered the fire.

Owen felt around, found an oil lamp, lit it from the embers, climbed the ladder. A chest in the loft sat open, empty. He went back down the stairs, lit a few more tapers. It appeared that anything of value had been removed from the room. On the floor was a bloody length of rope, and by the back door a bloody footprint. He opened the back door, stepped outside into a pearl gray dawn. No one out here. A few steps from the door the ground was blood-soaked. Some bloody rags had been discarded nearby.

Owen did not know what to make of it. Could something have caused Martin's wound to bleed so much? Or could someone have broken in last night and attacked Martin and Ambrose? But who? Only the gatekeeper had fled the Scorbys-unless the servants had released Jack and Tanner. Owen could think of no reason the servants would trust that the men would not harm them if released.

Could Martin and Ambrose have staged the blood to confuse him? Had Lucie actually come here during the night and warned Martin? No. She would not have gone through the exercise this

morning of coming up with a plan if she'd already set one in motion. That was not the way her mind worked.

With all their personal possessions gone, Owen had little hope of finding Martin and Ambrose at the Abbey, but he closed up Ambrose's house and went on to St. Mary's anyway.

He knew he was right about Martin not being there as soon as he saw the pleased surprise on Brother Wulfstan's face.

"Good morning, Owen. I was about to take Jasper to the refectory. Will you join us?"

Owen looked at the boy, standing straight and smiling shyly. "You are so much improved you can eat in the refectory?"

Jasper nodded. "I like eating there. Someone reads while we eat, and everyone is quiet. I have never been in such a quiet place."

Wulfstan put a fatherly hand on the boy's shoulder. "So. Did you come to visit Jasper before the shop opened, or did you have another errand?"

"The Archbishop asked me to escort a man here this morning- Martin Wirthir. But Martin is not at his lodgings, and I see that he is not here. Have you heard anything of this?"

Wulfstan shook his head. "Perhaps Abbot Campian knows of this man. If it will not upset Lucie to have you gone so long, come to the refectory and share our humble meal. You can ask Abbot Campian after we have broken our fast."

Owen accepted the invitation. While he ate, he thought about what he had meant to do this morning-disobey his lord. Who was he to judge the Archbishop's motives? And yet to obey blindly was to join company with Jack, Tanner, and Roby, who had obeyed their master Paul Scorby without question.

So had he been wrong, all those years in Lancaster's army, to obey blindly and expect his men to do so? Now that he knew the personal, selfish reasons the King had for the war in which Owen had lost his eye, he knew he could never go back into service and not question his superiors.

Had he been a fool? Would he be damned at the Last Judgment for all the lives he'd taken?

The reading ended. Wulfstan tapped Owen on the shoulder and nodded toward the Abbot, who had risen and was turning to leave.

Owen crossed over to him. Abbot Campian nodded, motioned to Owen to follow him.

They did not speak until they reached the Abbot's chambers.

"What brings you here so early on a winter morning?"

"I was to escort an injured man to Brother Wulfstan this morning-Martin Wirthir, a Fleming. But when I went to his lodgings, I found him gone. It occurred to me he might have come ahead, though I held little hope of that."

"Why?"

"His lodgings had been packed up."

Campian frowned. "A disturbing development. I did receive a message from His Grace last night warning me of this man's arrival. But no one has come."

"I thought not."

"So you think he left the city?"

"It was not only Martin, but also the friend he lodged with. All of their belongings are gone. Surely they did not both move to another house."

"But if one of them is injured, how can they travel? And why?"

"I don't know."

The Abbot fixed a keen eye on Owen. "Forgive my contradicting you, Captain Archer, but you do know why." Campian held up his spotless hands. "Do not worry. As it is the Archbishop's business, I would not presume to insist that you explain."

"Thank you, Father."

Lucie had already opened the shop when Owen returned. "You have been gone a good while. Have Martin and Ambrose come with you?"

"No. They are nowhere to be found. And there was something passing strange at Ambrose's house." Owen told her about the blood.

Lucie was as puzzled as Owen was. "I wish they had told us their plans. Now we will wonder about them."

"I stopped at St. Mary's, though I knew it unlikely they had gone there. Not after packing up the household."

"Did you see Jasper?"

"He is doing well. Limping, but going to the refectory and chapel."

Lucie smoothed Owen's hair back from his face. "You feel chilled. Go back to the kitchen and let Tildy give you something warm. Then 1 need you out here to see to customers while I sew up some bedstraw pillows for Alice Baker."