Candace Robb - The Cross Legged Knight

Owen ignored the question. ‘I understand that both of you have been much at the house on Petergate, working in the records room in the undercroft.’

‘Such a dungeon,’ said Alain. ‘His Grace wished us to record what was there, but everything was in disarray. We spent our time trying to create order so we might work.’

‘Oh?’ This was news to Owen. ‘What records were kept there?’

‘God have mercy,’ said Guy, ‘has the fire destroyed all trace?’

‘I have not had the opportunity to make a search,’ said Owen. ‘But I suspect all is ruined.’

‘I had not realized the extent of the fire.’ Guy shook his head.

‘They were records for the bishop’s Yorkshire properties,’ Alain said.

Guy nodded. ‘Forgive me, yes, property records. We have been most concerned about them, particularly the deeds, which of course should not have been kept in such a place. When will we be permitted to survey the damage?’

‘After such a fire, the undercroft must be shored up before any search begins. What other records were there besides the deeds?’

‘Some accounts, letters.’ Alain waved the penknife. ‘Including accounts from properties no longer in my lord’s possession, which explains our assignment.’

To Owen it explained nothing. ‘Had you planned to come north for this purpose before Bishop William decided to escort Sir Ranulf’s remains?’

‘That you must ask my lord,’ said Guy.

‘By your questions are we to understand we are suspect?’ Alain asked.

‘Did either of you know Cisotta?’

Alain shook his head. ‘Thank heaven, no. It is enough to deal with the fire.’

‘What business would I have with a midwife?’ Guy looked puzzled.

‘Tell me what you saw in Petergate last night,’ Owen said to Alain.

‘In faith, I can tell you little that you did not see. I arrived to find a street full of people running this way and that with buckets and pots, shouting directions to the nearest wells, forming lines to pass the water along. I know few people in the city, so I cannot provide you with names.’

‘And you were all the time in the minster in prayer?’ Owen asked Guy.

The clerk bowed his head. ‘I was, Captain.’

‘Neither of you had been working in the undercroft yesterday evening?’

‘We did not work there at night,’ said Alain. ‘Rats — I am brave about most things, but not those hideous creatures.’

He must have been brought up in a wealthy household in which he was protected from such creatures. It brought the Pagnells to mind.

‘I understand you have been involved in the negotiations with the Pagnells. In fact, you delivered property deeds to them.’

Alain rolled his eyes. ‘They mean to squeeze everything they can from Bishop William.’

‘Were the deeds among those in the bishop’s undercroft?’

‘They were,’ said Alain.

Owen wondered at Guy’s silence in this. ‘Have you also an unfavourable impression of the Pagnells?’

Guy blinked nervously. ‘They have suffered a great loss in Sir Ranulf. I do not think it fair to judge them at such a time.’

‘Well said.’ Alain clapped his hands and laughed. ‘Only the other day you were about to explode with indignation after an encounter with Stephen Pagnell.’

Guy winced. ‘He is a most discourteous man. Even so, he has some cause for his anger.’

Feeling his lack of sleep clouding his thoughts, Owen hastened to conclude. He stood, leaned against the table and glanced at the parchment on which Guy had been writing. Wykeham’s signature already graced it, although the bishop had not touched it. Guy must have the bishop’s complete trust. Thoresby had mentioned that Wykeham had had charge of the clerk’s education from the beginning and that they were as father and son.

‘I cannot think how the son and heir tolerates the steward Matthew,’ Alain was saying. ‘I envision them spitting venom at one another over the accounts.’

‘Enough, Alain,’ Guy muttered, his balding pate pink with his discomfort. ‘Might we have a look at the records room, Captain? See whether we might salvage some of the more important documents?’

‘Resolve that there is nothing worth a cress,’ said Owen.

Alain breathed a curse. ‘Leather-wrapped boards and thick parchment, they do not burn so quickly. I cannot believe nothing is left.’

‘You witnessed the fire,’ Owen said. ‘What is not ashes is sodden and unreadable, I warrant.’

‘We might save something if — ’

‘I’ve told you it is not safe,’ said Owen, interrupting Guy. ‘But in time you will have access to what is there.’ He straightened. ‘If either of you remembers anything you have not told me, be so good as to send me word.’

As soon as Jasper returned with the vinegar and sugar, Lucie withdrew to the workroom behind the shop and began to make the syrup that formed the base of the electuary, standing the bowl in which she had mixed the ingredients over a pot of water so that the syrup warmed, but did not burn. As she worked she became aware of a feeling of light-headedness. Perhaps she had stopped taking Magda’s tonic too soon. She should have considered how much blood she had lost. She found the jar on a shelf and mixed some in a cup of water, then pulled over a stool and relaxed with the drink, leaning over occasionally to stir the syrup. The warmth and the pleasant scent of warming sugar began to make her drowsy. She woke to find Jasper reaching past her to stir the syrup.

‘It is good you were heating it in a pan of water,’ he said, smiling to let her know there was no harm done. ‘Would you rather stay out in the shop?’

Lucie’s thoughts were muddled as she focused on Jasper.

His expression changed in an instant from teasing to worried. ‘Are you unwell?’

‘I am exhausted, that is all,’ Lucie said, as her head cleared. Being caught nodding over her work made her feel like an old woman. Like Phillippa. She rose to stir the syrup, thanking God it had not burned. ‘It is warm enough to add the rest. I shall bring it out to you in a little while.’

Jasper stood watching her for a moment, as if uncertain whether to believe her reassurances, but a hail from the shop decided him and he withdrew to see to the customer.

Lucie fell into a stew thinking about Cisotta. She must have been horribly disfigured by the fire for Owen not to have recognized her. Merciful Mother, do not let Anna and the boys see their mother’s ruined beauty .

‘Master Eudo!’

Lucie’s head jerked up, hearing the tension in Jasper’s changeable voice.

‘Where is he? Where is the man who killed my Cisotta?’ Eudo’s voice was shrill, his words slurred.

‘I do not know whom you mean, Master Eudo.’

‘Tell me!’

Peering through the beaded curtain, Lucie saw the tawyer, wild-eyed and flushed with rage, bear down on Jasper, who stood behind the counter. Eudo slammed his hands down on the wood. Lucie crossed herself, her heart pounding. Jasper backed away just enough to push shut the bolt that locked down the opening part of the counter. Then with one foot, his eyes still on Eudo, Jasper slid a wooden chest into the opening.

The man had no weapon that Lucie could see and Jasper was holding his own, but still she choked back a sob of fear. She must calm herself and think what to do. Eudo might come next to the house. Kate must be warned to keep the children away from the kitchen. She did not want them frightened. And Phillippa, dear God, Lucie had no idea what her aunt would do if Eudo stormed into the house.

Backing up, Lucie turned and slipped to the back door, opened it with quiet care, pulled it shut and hurried out through the garden, seeking the guard posted there. The stitch in her side slowed her for a moment, but she pushed past the pain, searching the garden for the guard who should be by the kitchen door. Finding no one, she ran round the house to the front gate, biting back pain and growing fear. She found no guard there, either.