Candace Robb - The Apothecary Rose

'Perhaps he feels York is dangerous. Enemies could be anywhere. It was one of our brethren who tried to poison the Infirmarian. Brother Michaelo, acting for the Archdeacon. Perhaps my Abbot suspects he has more agents.' Sebastian frowned, fearful he had said too much. 'But I am only a messenger.'

'And where is the Archdeacon now?'

'On the road to Durham.'

'And if Anselm doubles back,' Lucie asked from the doorway, 'and finds us.gone, will he not think to go to my father's house?'

Brother Sebastian bowed to her. 'God be with you, Mistress Wilton. My Abbot is concerned for you. He says Owen Archer and Sir Robert's retainers can better protect you at Freythorpe’

'Owen can protect me here. My husband has just died. I want to bury him here, among the people who loved him.'

'Nicholas is dead?' Owen went over to her.

Lucie held herself stiffly, as if any softening would undo her. Her face was pale, making her eyes look huge in her face. 'Please thank Abbot Campian for his warning and his concern. Tell him that we will be watchful.' Lucie excused herself and went back up the stairs.

Brother Sebastian gave Owen a worried look. 'My Abbot will not like it.'

Owen considered him. 'Did Brother Michaelo say that the Archdeacon meant to kill Mistress Wilton?'

'I do not know.'

'I understand the Archdeacon was sent to Durham. Surely not alone?'

'Brandon, a novice, accompanies him.'

'And who else?'

'Just Brandon.'

'That is all? One novice?'

Sebastian looked uncomfortable. 'Brandon is strong’

Owen laughed in disbelief. He was surrounded by fools. 'One strong man is no match for the Highlanders on the road.'

Brother Sebastian shrugged.

Owen patted him on the shoulder. 'I know none of this is your doing. I do not mean to badger you. But you must see that I cannot argue with Mistress Wilton on the night of her husband's death. I am afraid you must tell your Abbot what she said.'

The messenger gone, Owen climbed the steps. Lucie sat beside Nicholas, studying him with a faraway look.

'I sent Brother Sebastian on his way.'

Lucie shook herself, rubbed her forehead. 'I will not bury Nicholas at Freythorpe Hadden’ she said.

'Why not?'

'That place brought only sorrow to both of us. I wish I could bury him in his garden. But certainly not at Freythorpe. Sir Robert pushed me away. There is no love there for me or Nicholas.'

'But it was your home.'

She gave him a strange look. 'You chose not to return to the place where you were a boy. Perhaps you were right.'

Owen could think of no response to that. 'What can I do to help you?'

'Aunt Phillippa must sleep. Ask Bess to come help me prepare Nicholas for burial.'

Owen took her hands in his. 'Your aunt is not the only one who needs sleep.'

'I cannot sleep.'

'Lucie, think what you've been through the past two nights. The fire. Now Nicholas.'

'I will prepare him. Then keep vigil.'

'Let someone else keep vigil.'

'No. I will do it. I killed him. I will keep the vigil.'

Owen's heart sank. Killed him? Had they come full circle? Was she the murderer after all? Had Nicholas been killed by a slow poison so he would never recover enough to remember and possibly accuse her?

Lucie laughed, a brittle, chilling little laugh. 'You are shocked that I killed my husband.'

'I'm confused. How did you kill him?'

Even lacking sleep and in the first stages of mourning, Lucie could look at him with those eyes of hers and make him feel that she could see into his soul. 'I'm not a poisoner, if that's what you're thinking.' Spoken without anger. She sounded merely tired. 'I told him that his friend had tried to kill me. I blamed him for my mother's death. When he tried to tell me that he had killed Montaigne for me, I turned away from him. And then 1 went downstairs. I should have been with him.' Gently she smoothed the grizzled hair back from Nicholas's forehead.

'He was already dying, Lucie.'

She kept her eyes on her husband. 'I was wrong to blame him. All of this has been the fruit of the Archdeacon's unholy love for Nicholas, a mean, suffocating love. It is Anselm who will burn in Hell for all this, not my Nicholas.'

'Think about this tomorrow.'

Lucie was not listening. 'I came and found Nicholas whimpering in his sleep. I tried to comfort him. I told him I forgave him. But I don't know if he heard.'

'I am sure he did.'

'You say that because you want me calm. Then you can persuade me to take him to Freythorpe.'

'That's not true, Lucie.'

'Go fetch Bess.'

Owen, seeing she would not be comforted, went for Bess.

A cart came up behind Anselm, rumbling and squeaking. It was a farmer's cart. It trundled by, then stopped. The farmer looked back, took in the priest's garb and its state, tipped a greasy cap. 'What is this, the thieves don't even respect the cloth now? Have you been overtaken, Father? Lost your horse?'

Anselm dragged himself to the man, steadied himself against a wheel. 'We were attacked. My companion is dead. I must get to Wilton's apothecary in York, by the minster. Can you get me there?'

That I can. I be heading there for market. The Lord is good to put me in the way of helping one of his priests. I'm sinner enough to need the indulgence it should get me.'

Anselm soon lay among baskets and sacks, comforted by this sign of God's grace.

Bess shooed Lucie down to the kitchen after they had prepared Nicholas's body. Then she set a cup of brandywine in front of her friend, saying, 'I'll send the stable boy for Father William at first light.' He was their parish priest.

Lucie nodded. She stared somewhere beyond her hands, her eyes unfocused. Bess and Owen exchanged looks.

The shop bell jingled.

'Who in God's creation?' Bess went to see, scurried back with a flush to her face. 'My Lord the Archbishop’ she announced, her cap ribbons aflutter.

Thoresby strode into the room even as Bess spoke, making the sign of the cross to bless the house.

'Mistress Wilton’ he said, taking Lucie's hand, 'your husband was respected in York. Nicholas Wilton was a fine apothecary. He will be missed.'

Thank you, Your Grace.'

'You must forgive me for intruding on your mourning. But circumstances force my hand. It is most unfortunate.' He nodded to Owen, glanced at Bess. She excused herself to go sit with Nicholas.

Lucie took a sip of the brandywine. Her hands trembled. 'Please sit down, Your Grace’ she said quietly.

1 will not stay long. I meant simply to assure you that I have arranged everything. Two of my men will bring a cart and a coffin shortly. At dawn, I and four of my men will accompany you to Freythorpe Hadden.'

'You need not concern yourself with us, Your Grace. The Wiltons have served your purpose.'

'What are you talking about?'

'I know that Owen is your man. I suppose I am to be grateful that you allowed me to have his services for a time.'

He paused, but only for a moment. 'Mistress Wilton, this is not the time for injured pride. I am trying to prevent my Archdeacon or his young men from causing any more distress’

Lucie rose, flushed and trembling with anger. 'I do not mean to sound ungrateful, My Lord Thoresby, but I cannot accept your gift, I do not intend to bury my husband at Freythorpe Hadden. That is not where he belongs.'

Thoresby stood. 'I chose a bad time, I can see. Forgive me, Mistress Wilton.' He signalled for Owen to follow him out the kitchen door. Lucie eyed Owen darkly as he passed.

Out in the wet garden, Thoresby dropped the pleasant courtesy. 'Damnable woman. Does she think we play a game, Archer? Does she not know how precarious her position is?' He pulled up his hood.