Candace Robb - The Apothecary Rose

'It is a lie,'

'You are a fool, Archer. Whom will it hurt?'

'Are you a man of God? Are you not to lead us on the path of righteousness? To show us how to choose between good and evil?'

Thoresby bit back a smile. Could Archer be so naive after all his years in the old Duke's service? 'I am the Archbishop of York and Lord Chancellor of England. Good and evil I must judge in the light of the common weal.'

Owen paced in front of him. 'You sent your Archdeacon off to Durham hoping that he would be ambushed.'

'Not hoping. I told you I had signed his death warrant. What did you think I meant? The soldiers were my soldiers.'

'And Brandon?'

'I had to send someone from the abbey, or Anselm would have been suspicious. Young Brandon knew the plan. He rode off, but he didn't need to. My men knew not to harm him.'

'It was dark out on the moors, Your Grace. How could they be sure they had the right man?'

'The lad is resourceful. He might think to identify himself.'

'And what if the Highlanders had found them first?'

'I trusted in God. Brandon is a strong lad from the borders. He knows how to defend himself.'

'Against Highlanders? What do you know about fighting alone? You, who have been coddled from birth. Tis the same in battle. You sit in your fancy tents and plot and scheme, then move us around the field mimicking tactics you read about in books. You find it exciting. A challenge. You make wagers. Clever tactician, that Thoresby, he lost only fifty men.'

'As a soldier you would have valued such a man.'

'Why did you send the novice? Why not Michaelo?'

'I could not trust Michaelo not to try to save Anselm at the last.'

'You are too cold.'

Thoresby chuckled. 'I like your moral outrage, Archer. I want you to remain in my service. I can use a man like you.'

'Why would you want me? I have made a mess of it.'

'How so? You solved the riddle of Fitzwilliam's death. I am pleased his death was accidental. I do not feel such a failure with him knowing that he was not yet so evil that God struck him down.'

'I don't understand you.'

'You are not yet accustomed to the ways of the world, Archer. In battle the sides seem clear. They are not, you know. Out in the field you see none of the play behind the lines. Today's enemy is tomorrow's ally, sometimes over a mere strip of land along a river. You are behind the lines now, seeing the muddled truth of things. Nothing is so clear as you thought. You have lost your innocence.'

'I fear I have lost my soul. You once gave me a choice between yourself and Gaunt. I chose you, thinking you were more honourable.' Archer looked disgusted with himself. 'Dine with me tonight. We will talk.'

Thoresby found Owen in the hall at the appointed hour, darkly watching some soldiers who hovered round a cask of ale, trading stories, comfortable in their brotherhood.

'You could return to that life. Would you like that?' Owen shook his head. 'The reasons I left have

not changed. With one eye I am less reliable. I need

to work alone. That way I risk only my own life.' 'Good. I can use you in my household.' 'I would rather find more honest work.' 'Honest. Ah. What did you have in mind?' 'What will become of the Wiltons' shop?' Thoresby cocked his head to one side. 'You would

be interested in it? But you're merely an apprentice.' 'I would like to continue my apprenticeship with

Mistress Wilton.' Thoresby raised an eyebrow. 'I have not decided

whether she will keep the shop.'

'You would be a fool to take it from her. She may

prove to be even more skilled than her husband.' 'And hence your interest in apprenticing with her.'

Thoresby smirked. Owen glowered at Thoresby. 'You think I mean

to bed her. But it is the life I want. It is honest work.'

'You killed my Archdeacon for her, not for me,

didn't you?' 'At that moment it mattered not a whit who it

was up there. I could not let him hurt her.' Thoresby thought back to the funeral. There had been no signs of affection between them. 'Have you discussed your plans with her?'

'No.'

'What if she refuses to keep you on?'

'Then I will look for a similar post.'

'I see. Either way, I am to lose you. Pity. I liked that you hated the work. It is what keeps a man honest.'

'When will you decide about the shop?'

'Soon.'

'I mean to spend some days at St. Mary's.'

'Honest work and prayer. I wonder if your old comrades would recognise you?'

'Ever since you made up the story for me that I had lost the heart for soldiering. .' Owen shook his head. 'I don't understand it. But I can't forgive myself for Digby.'

Thoresby put a hand on Owen's shoulder. 'We can never predict the losses that we find hard to bear. Come. Let us eat.'

Bess sat on the bench in Owen's room, watching him assemble his belongings to take to St. Mary's. ' Tis a good thing to do, pray and think, after what's happened. You have a head on those broad shoulders, Owen Archer.' He had told her everything. Even his hope for the future. 'And when you get back, Lucie may be ready to think about you in a different light.'

1 cannot hope for that so soon, Bess. But you're a good friend to say it.' Owen put his pack down beside Bess, lifted her to her feet, and hugged her hard.

'My.' Bess took a step backward, flustered. 'If she doesn't look forward to that, my friend Lucie is not near as smart as she seems.'

'Look after her, Bess.' Owen hoisted his pack.

'The room will be waiting for you,' Bess called to his departing back. But would Lucie Wilton, she wondered. The young woman had a mind of her own, and a stubborn will. Bess could not predict her reaction

to Owen's plan.

Lucie rose to get more mulled wine for the Archbishop. He waved her down. 'I cannot stay longer. You are satisfied with the terms?'

She examined the paper with what seemed inordinate care, but he wondered how much of that was show. Her pale, drawn face spoke of her grief and her ordeal. The bruises were dark against her white wimple. It was too soon after her husband's death and her confrontation with Anselm to bargain for her future. And that was precisely why he had chosen the day after the funeral. No time to stew over it, begin to question any of it. She would have what she wanted as long as she vowed to remain silent. That was where he wanted her.

'I am happy with it. What does Guildmaster Thorpe say?'

'He intended you to take over the shop. He need not know that his plan would have been blocked had you refused to co-operate.'

Lucie studied Thoresby's face far longer than he found comfortable. 'I think I am right in trusting you,' she said. 'I hope I do not find I was a fool.'

'As long as you keep your side of the bargain, all will be well.'

'And what of Owen Archer?'

'He is disillusioned by his service in the Church. He means to find honest work.'

'Can you let him do that?'

'It depends. Has he said anything to you?'

She shook her head. 'We will talk when he returns from the abbey.'

'Ah, yes. He is praying over it.' Thoresby rose.

Lucie rose. 'Your Grace, his eye. Could he still be Captain of Archers with one eye?'

Odd question to ask him. 'Certainly. An archer closes one eye to aim. The sighting is not the same, but the old Duke said Archer had almost attained his old accuracy’

'So why did he leave that life?'

'He did not trust himself any more’

'That is what he says. But what do you think, Your Grace?'

Thoresby smiled. He liked her. 'I believe him. And I think he was done with killing. He lost that eye because he saved someone's life who did not find his life anything to be grateful for. Archer is an innocent. Was. I think he has learned something in my service.'