Candace Robb - The Cross Legged Knight

‘You are certain you are not injured?’

‘Yes. Go!’

He took off out of the door.

Lucie gathered herself up and, remembering the lamp burning in the workshop, gave Phillippa orders to lock all the doors and let no one in but Jasper or Owen. Her heart was still racing, but tears threatened as she returned to the shop.

‘The viciousness of this crime makes it all the more crucial to solve, Archer,’ said Wykeham. ‘Such a thing occurring in a bishop’s home …’ He sucked in his breath, sighed it out as if willing himself calm. ‘Were my men of help to you today?’

‘Aye, My Lord. As much as they could be. But they could not explain why you had set them the task of organizing and listing the records kept in the undercroft of your townhouse.’

Wykeham hesitated, as if considering his response. He lifted a foot, studied the soft leather boot. ‘We were coming north. It seemed an appropriate time to see to the matter.’

Owen grew impatient with Wykeham’s vague responses. ‘Did it have anything to do with the Pagnell ransom — or rather the part of the funds that went astray?’

Abruptly the bishop straightened, met his eye. ‘You know of that?’ He was not pleased.

‘Aye, My Lord. His Grace understood that if I was to guard you, I must know from what.’

A momentary silence followed while Wykeham sat with eyes closed, his lids twitching with thought. ‘I wished to have a clear record of what was stored in the house. And a few days ago I set them a further task of finding land of a certain value to offer Lady Pagnell. But His Grace the Archbishop could tell you of that — it was his desire that I do this.’

The servants whispered among themselves as they set the table. Faintly, Owen heard Thoresby’s and Michaelo’s voices in the garden.

‘Would you be willing to walk the undercroft with me when it is shored up, My Lord Bishop?’

‘I am flattered, but no. You must see — that this has happened in my house makes it likely an attempt to get to me. I should be a fool to walk into such danger.’

His sojourn as lord chancellor had taught him extreme caution.

‘If you are so concerned for your safety, would it not be prudent to distance yourself from the danger, to leave York?’

‘Prudent, yes. But first I must meet with Lady Pagnell and her son Stephen.’

‘May I ask why?’

‘You forget yourself, Captain.’ Wykeham emphasized the last word.

‘My Lord Bishop, you cannot insist that the fire was meant as a threat to you yet refuse to tell me why. One of York’s bailiffs has already challenged my involvement.’

Wykeham looked away, quiet for a few moments. With a sigh, he said at last, ‘I must convince the Pagnells that the circumstances in which Sir Ranulf died were beyond my control, that I was caught between the king’s will and theirs. I must make them see that I am most grieved by what happened.’

‘You have done what you could to appease them.’

‘It is more than that. I believe it is my enemies, those now close to the king, who have turned her against me. Lady Pagnell and her son Stephen have many Lancastrian friends. I intend to confront those who are ruining my name. But for that I need information.’

‘You believe the Pagnells will confide in you?’

‘I must try to reason with them.’

Wykeham glanced up with annoyance as Michaelo interrupted them, followed by Maeve, red-faced and wheezing.

‘My Lord Bishop, forgive me,’ said Michaelo.

‘Captain, you must come at once,’ Maeve cried. ‘Eudo the tawyer is in the kitchen saying he means to murder Poins.’

Owen was well past both Maeve and Michaelo before the bishop could say anything. Weapons drawn, the guards swept into the hall and disappeared down the kitchen corridor at Owen’s command.

‘Be alert for companions.’

If Eudo were somehow involved with the Lancastrians, he might have support. Belatedly Owen thought to warn the guards not to attack except to save a life. He cursed the gossips of the city for telling the widower where Poins had been taken.

A great shriek came from the kitchen, an unearthly sound that sent a shiver through Owen and propelled him towards it. His heart was pounding in his throat by the time he heard the voice of Magda Digby, now raised in anger, but coherent.

His men stepped aside for him. One of the large screens had fallen, exposing Poins’s area. Magda stood on a stool beside Poins’s pallet, pointing a dagger at Eudo, who stood stock still at the foot of the bed, his arms spread out as if he had intended to throw himself on to the injured man. He held his head stiffly, his eyes locked in Magda’s angry gaze.

‘He murdered my wife,’ Eudo said through clenched teeth, his jowls quivering. ‘Why should I spare him?’

‘What if thou art wrong?’

‘They found him with her.’ Eudo flicked a glance sideways as Jasper, panting, joined Owen in the doorway.

In the circumstances, Owen was not happy to see his adopted son. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came after Eudo. He’d been in the shop.’ Jasper took off his cap and mopped his brow. ‘Mistress Lucie sent me to warn you.’

‘Go away,’ Eudo shouted. ‘He is mine! Away, all of you!’

‘Stay back,’ Owen said in a quiet voice to Jasper, then stepped forward. ‘Be ready,’ he said under his breath to the three men standing by him, then nodded to the bishop’s pair who stood behind Eudo.

As Eudo turned to look on the bishop’s men, two of Owen’s lunged forward and grabbed the tawyer. He struggled in vain against the men as they bound his hands behind him.

Magda sheathed the knife. ‘Thy wife’s murderer will be found, thou shouldst have no doubt of that,’ she said. ‘Shame on thee. Thy children need thee and now thou art trussed like a game hen ready for the spit.’

Hearing the commotion in the kitchen, Thoresby opened the door of his parlour and listened long enough to catch the drift of the crisis, then commanded a passing servant to fetch his secretary. None of this had figured in his plans when he invited Wykeham to lodge at the palace while conducting his business in York. First the alienation of the Pagnells and Ferribys, then the falling tile, the fire, the murder, and now an attack in his very kitchen. Thoresby grew weary of the scandal that followed the bishop, weary of everything if truth be known. He was easing himself down into his cushioned chair when Brother Michaelo arrived, breathless and damp at the temples.

‘Sit down and calm yourself before you attempt to speak,’ Thoresby said. He settled back in his chair, fighting the instinct to steel himself for bad news.

Michaelo sank down in a backless chair, dabbed his temples with one of his scented cloths, cleared his throat.

‘Now. Tell me what damage the tawyer has done,’ said Thoresby.

‘I saw little of the event, Your Grace. You might have learned more had you not summoned me.’

‘Tell me what you do know.’

Michaelo described Maeve’s interruption in the great hall, her account of Eudo rushing into the kitchen. ‘When I arrived the man stood over Poins most menacingly, yet frozen by the Riverwoman’s shriek. She stood upon a chair, threatening the intruder with a dagger.’

‘It sounds as if the matter is under control.’

‘Let us pray, else the man is a demon in the guise of the tawyer. Do you wish to speak to him before he is taken away?’

Torment him with questions in his grieving ? Thoresby began to decline, thinking it one of his secretary’s crueller ideas, but perhaps he should consider the matter. He knew that the city was abuzz with the rumour that the midwife had been murdered. It was not uncommon for a man to kill his wife, but to do so in Wykeham’s house and then call attention to himself with an attack in the palace kitchen seemed too ridiculous an idea to entertain. Yet the man had broken the peace in Thoresby’s palace, wanting vengeance, no doubt. He must be reprimanded, but also assured that Archer would find the guilty man and that Thoresby would punish him sufficiently.