Candace Robb - The Cross Legged Knight

On the sunlit path between the kitchen and the great hall Magda paused, blinking in the brightness, then headed to the cool shadows behind the hall. ‘He has not spoken again since that first night,’ she said.

Owen noted that she looked pale. ‘Have you left his side since then?’

Magda wagged her head. ‘Now and then. But Poins is thy concern, not Magda.’ She glanced away, summoning her thoughts. When she spoke again her tone was quiet, as if even out here the patient might be affected by her words. ‘His body will mend, but the burns will leave terrible scars, flesh that will pucker and misshape him even with daily salves. And the lack of an arm — ’ She touched her right shoulder with a vein-patterned, wrinkled hand. ‘As he heals, worries will gnaw at his heart. What occupation can he have, a man who has been a servant, fetching and carrying, helping his master to dress? What woman will wed him?’

‘Aye.’ Owen remembered his own awakening to the change the knife of the jongleur’s leman had made in his life. He felt again the upwelling of anger that had carried him along for a time, and eased only to leave a void more terrible than either the anger or the physical pain. Death had beckoned, and he had decided to pursue it by sailing to the Continent to take up the life of a mercenary. Thoresby had offered him an alternative just in time.

‘Thou art deep in thy past,’ Magda said, settling down on the ground beside the hedge, where the afternoon shadows had lengthened.

Owen crouched down beside her, noticed how straight her fingers were, despite the age of her hands. ‘I would talk to Poins, hear his tale of the fire.’

‘Aye, Magda knows what thou needst. Thou wilt be called at once when he is ready.’

‘So he truly has not spoken?’

‘Thou knowest well that Magda does not lie.’

‘Is it that he cannot, or that he will not?’

‘To Magda, there is no difference between the two, not in speech.’

‘Would that were true of sight as well.’

Magda tilted her head to study him. ‘Dost thou so wish? And what wouldst thou do? Take up thy bow and fight for Lancaster? The crow thou dost serve needs no captain of archers.’

‘I may have erred in valuing the archbishop above the new duke, but I made the choice, my life is here now.’ Owen had been devoted to the former Duke of Lancaster, Henry of Grosmont. He had gladly followed him into Normandy and fought with confidence that his was a righteous cause. But the present duke was not Henry’s son; he was the son of King Edward, son-in-law to the old duke, and far from his equal. Over time, Owen had grown to respect him despite his shortcomings. How Thoresby had guessed his change of heart he did not know.

‘Thou didst not trust thy aim, that is truly why thou didst not stay with Lancaster. If thou couldst use thy left eye, what then?’

‘I would change nothing in my life.’

Magda wagged her head. ‘Easily said, Bird-eye.’

Her teasing unsettled him. ‘Have you changed your mind about my eye? Do you think I might yet have the use of it?’

Magda chuckled. ‘Would Magda not tell thee?’

‘I wish I knew.’

‘Thou wouldst do well to search thy heart before wishing for what thou hast lost.’

Owen’s knees ached. He rose slowly, silently cursing his weariness. ‘I have much to do. When should I come again to talk to Poins?’

Magda reached up a hand. Owen took it and helped her rise, wincing at the strength of her grip.

‘Come tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Whether he will talk or keep his silence, that Magda cannot prophesy.’

The gentle breeze and plentiful sunshine lifted Lucie’s mood a little as she neared the river. Though she had hoped the walk would quiet her mind, instead she worked on the problem of how she might present the gloves to Emma and Lady Pagnell. Little by little, she pieced together a lie that might work quite well with two women so devoted to elegant dress. Checking her steps, she headed back up Ousegate to Hosier Lane.

A servant greeted Lucie at the door and led her through the hall. John and Ivo barely glanced up from their lessons as she passed the table. Their tutor took more note of her, but when she caught his eye he nodded curtly and went back to the lesson. Ever since the family had received word of Sir Ranulf’s imprisonment there had been a pall over the house, but never so thick and soul-dampening as this.

Emma sat alone beneath an apple tree, paternoster beads in her hands. The old tree shone golden in the sun and a quince glowed a fiery red. Catching sight of her visitor, Emma kissed the beads, laid them aside and came forward, arms outspread. ‘Oh, my friend, it is good of you to come.’

The warm greeting heartened Lucie, but Emma’s bloodshot eyes and poor colour concerned her. ‘The sleep draught is not helping?’

Emma shook her head. ‘But your physick is not to blame. Even the most potent elixir would not have helped me sleep last night, not after learning that my sons kept such a secret from me.’ She pressed her square hands to her cheeks. ‘What are we to do? What will Wykeham do? Has Owen spoken to him?’

‘I have not heard.’

Emma drew herself up, motioned Lucie to join her on the bench where she had been sitting in the shade of the apple tree. ‘Come, sit down, do. Are you thirsty?’

‘No. And I should not stay long. I have left Jasper alone in the shop too much of late.’ Only as she settled beside Emma did Lucie realize how tired she was, and she sighed with the relief of being received with affection by her friend.

‘Whatever time you can spare, I thank God for it,’ Emma said. ‘I had not thought to see you today and I am sorely in need of your counsel.’

Lucie felt uneasy, coming there as she did with the gloves, and the dread that they might link Cisotta with Emma or Lady Pagnell. ‘My counsel? I do not know the Bishop of Winchester, not in the way you need. I do not see how I might guide you.’

‘We slept little last night. Peter believes that John is frightened about something greater than what we learned of. He has been so quiet of late, and has no appetite.’

‘He was so fond of Sir Ranulf. Could it not be that?’

‘ I believe so. John wept most bitterly when Father departed for France. And when word came of his imprisonment, both he and Ivo spent many hours at St Crux praying for Father’s safe release. That must be what tears at his heart. And that he almost injured Wykeham — he understands the damage this will cause to our name if it becomes widely known.’

‘Ivo is not so disturbed?’

‘He is a child of quick moods. It is his nature. John is different, stolid, unflinching.’ Emma pressed a hand to her forehead for a moment. ‘Perhaps there is more to it — I cannot understand their not telling us. It has made it all so much more serious. I pray that Wykeham is wiser in this than he was with my father’s ransom.’

‘You can be assured that Owen will speak well of the boys.’

‘I am grateful for that.’

Emma shifted on the bench and in doing so knocked the Paternoster beads to the ground. She was retrieving them when Matthew the steward stepped into the garden. Seeing Lucie, he bowed curtly and began to withdraw, but paused when Emma straightened.

‘So you have returned?’ Emma said with such an edge to her voice that Lucie glanced at her. ‘Surely by now you have covered all the properties under consideration, walked every bit of ground, climbed every tree. It seems to me the choice should be left to our neighbour, as it is he who must be pleased with the trade.’

Expressionless, Matthew bowed deeply to her. ‘My lady has entrusted me with this task, Mistress Ferriby, and I mean to be thorough, weighing all with care, in the hope that Master Tewksby will be pleased with the first offering. Is my lady above?’