Candace Robb: The Guilt of Innocents

‘Osmund had not told you to steal the cross.’

Ysenda shook her head.

‘I wish you’d told me why you wanted me to stay the last time Master Osmund came,’ said Hubert.

She tearfully thanked Owen for the wine and sipped it, seeming to calm a little. ‘I could not bring myself to tell you, my son. I could not.’

Owen believed she loved Hubert in her way, and that it pained her to be exposed in front of him. But he had to ask the final question.

Ysenda spoke first. ‘Captain Archer, is your son with you?’

‘No.’ He did not like the question. ‘Why do you ask, Dame Ysenda?’

‘I’ve been trying to remember what Osmund said about him. It was that day he came and called me a whore and a thief, and held my hand in the fire.’

‘Ysenda, no,’ Aubrey cried. ‘Did he start the fire?’

She’d bowed her head and was now sobbing quietly as she cradled her bandaged hand.

‘Why was he so desperate?’ Baldwin asked.

She drew a jagged breath. ‘Drogo said I was only one of several thieves — and he reckoned he was only one of several sellers. Osmund has much to protect.’

Owen could not wait in courtesy. ‘Dame Ysenda, is my son in danger?’

‘God protect him, for I fear that he might be,’ she whispered. ‘Osmund might use him to distract you.’

‘Then I must leave as soon as possible for York, you can understand that. I must get to Jasper before Master Osmund does. I beg you, tell us about that day.’

She took another deep breath. ‘He’d heard from Sir Baldwin of your coming to Weston asking the questions, and that you’d stayed at the hall. He said I must have known I must die, that he could not risk my talking about what he’d stolen. We’d had some cider, too much for me. I stood up and was dizzy. I stumbled, and when he grabbed me he put my hand in the flames and held it there. He said that was the way they dealt with thieves in the city. I fought him. Holy Mother of God, the pain was worse than childbirth. Then he hit me in the head.’ She touched her bandaged forehead. ‘I remember that, I remember falling, and my hem beginning to burn. I remember rolling away. Snow — I remember snow. Icy water that stopped the pain. A wagon ride. Then I woke here.’

Aubrey sat down on the bed, took her good hand and kissed it.

‘And sometime in the attack he mentioned my son?’ Owen asked.

‘Yes,’ she sobbed.

‘There was a ring in the scrip Hubert had taken to York,’ he said, ‘Drogo’s mother’s ring.’

‘Sweet Jesus, oh dear Drogo — ’ Her voice broke and she looked away from Aubrey.

Owen asked Hubert to find Alfred and tell him to get their horses ready.

‘And mine,’ said Sir Baldwin. ‘If you apprehend Osmund, I want to be there.’

Hubert nodded and withdrew.

‘Thank you, Captain,’ said Ysenda. ‘At least he won’t hear — I loved that ring. Drogo had given it to me when we made our vows long ago, in front of friends. But then I discovered I was with child, my lord’s child, and — I confess I thought I might do better. I went to Sir Baldwin and he named Aubrey as a man worthy of me.’

‘You were wed to Drogo?’ Aubrey cried. ‘Do you even know whose son you bore? Christ, how could I have loved you?’ It was his turn to look away.

‘I was too far along for it to be Drogo’s child,’ she said. ‘A woman knows these things. Was the ring in the scrip when Drogo returned it?’

‘No.’

She looked crestfallen. ‘I thought — I’m foolish, but I thought for a moment that Drogo meant for me to have the ring. That he’d put it in the scrip to give to Hubert.’

‘We believe it was stolen from Drogo’s home after he died,’ said Owen. ‘Did Osmund know the significance of the ring?’

‘I spoke of it to him, yes. I wanted him to know that someone had truly loved me, wanted to wed me — he liked to remind me that his father had coaxed Aubrey into wedding me.’ She was looking at the back of her husband’s head. ‘I learned to love you, Aubrey.’

‘You were never my wife,’ he said in a broken voice.

Owen still did not understand why Osmund or anyone would add the ring to the scrip, but at present that was not his greatest concern. He must protect Jasper.

As Jasper stepped out to the street on his way to school he laughed at the shrieks coming from the garden — Gwenllian and Hugh had rushed out to attack the snow. He remembered feeling that way about it.

He had not told Dame Lucie about seeing Osmund Gamyll the previous evening, fearing she’d worry and find reasons to keep him home until the captain returned. That would not do, because Jasper felt a responsibility to let Master Nicholas know the man had been trying his doors. He’d felt guilty all night for not having told the guard. He headed for the archbishop’s palace.

Brother Michaelo showed him in at once, escorting him to the chapel where Master Nicholas knelt in prayer. Jasper was awed by the great hall they passed through, and the stone passage to the chapel. It was a house such as a king might live in, he thought.

His account frightened Master Nicholas, that was plain.

‘I have never trusted Osmund Gamyll,’ the master said, ‘and he’s betrayed me to my brother, telling him about my admiration for John Wycliff’s honesty. William could not hide his disappointment in me.’

Alisoun had told Jasper about his heretical ideas.

‘They’ll add it to their case for my excommunication.’ Nicholas groaned. ‘My dear boy, thank you for telling me this. I will be careful once I’m back in my school. If I’m ever so fortunate.’

As Jasper was leaving, Michaelo warned him to go to school and leave the sleuthing to his father. He did not need to warn him of that, Jasper thought. He must think him a fool.

When they found an inn for the night, Sir Baldwin went to the church across the way to pray. He had talked a little whenever they paused to rest the horses, about his hopes for more children, his memories of Osmund when young and innocent, and it was plain the man was struggling with the knowledge of his son’s guilt — for it seemed certain that Osmund had murdered both Drogo and Nigel.

The inn was a much better one than the last, and Owen and Alfred settled near the fire with well-deserved tankards of ale. Owen recounted all that Ysenda had said, as much to mull it over as to fill in Alfred.

‘Now I understand why he’s not talking,’ said Alfred. ‘Poor man. Do you think he’ll tell all to his new lady? I don’t think I would.’

‘How else would he explain his son’s arrest? She must know all in order to understand Sir Baldwin’s acceptance of Osmund’s guilt.’

‘If Osmund’s hurt Jasper, do we kill him?’

Owen closed his eyes, trying not to picture Jasper floating in the river, but there it was, a horrible image. ‘Yes. We kill him.’

It was a dreary morning, the icicles dripping from the rooftops, the snow, so pretty the day before, now slush. Jasper felt left behind, powerless, frustrated that there was nothing more he could do than he’d done the previous day, warning Master Nicholas. It seemed a puny thing. Alisoun had given him a warm smile last evening when he’d returned from school, and she’d been impressed that he’d been to the archbishop’s palace, asking more questions than he could answer. But when she’d asked him what else he meant to do, he’d admitted he didn’t think there was more that he could do until the captain returned, and she’d lost interest.

He’d been watching his feet as he walked along the city streets, avoiding puddles, but he had to look up to navigate around the people crossing every which way at the meeting of Stonegate and Petergate, and he thought he saw Osmund Gamyll walking quickly in the direction he’d taken the last time Jasper had seen him. His mood lifted. He did not think the man would risk trying the doors at Master Nicholas’s school again, for surely he’d think it possible Jasper had told the guard of his attempt the previous day, but he was curious where Osmund was headed. It might prove important.