Candace Robb - The Riddle Of St Leonard's

‘He did. I fear he does not now.’

‘You might have approached him. I should think it preferable to your present circumstance.’

‘I did not wish to make trouble for someone who has always treated me fairly. Don Cuthbert is not fond of Master Taverner.’

‘Taverner?’

‘It was he who gave me the goblets. Long before the ones in the guesthouse disappeared. You may ask him if that is not so.’

If she had meant to surprise Owen, she had certainly succeeded. ‘Julian Taverner gave you the goblets?’

‘Four years ago. As a wedding present.’

If Owen had ever known she was married, he had forgotten. ‘You are widowed, then?’

‘A year after we married my husband went off to be a soldier. Whether or no I am a widow I cannot say.’

‘You have heard nothing?’

Honoria shook her head. ‘I believe he lives. I believe that I would know if he were dead. And so I wait.’

‘As a lay sister?’

‘I was sent home to my father and his young wife, who did not like my presence.’

‘What is Julian Taverner to you?’

‘I was a servant in his household when he was still in the city. He said I was much like his daughter. He was kind to me.’

How kind did she mean, Owen wondered.

‘Are you wondering whether he bedded me, Captain?’

Owen deserved the discomfort he now felt. ‘You are considerate of his reputation.’

‘As I have said, he has been good to me.’

‘And yet now you deliver him up to me.’

‘You are a friend to Master Taverner’s niece. I thought I might trust you.’

Owen thought her response much too tidy. ‘You are so comfortable in gaol?’

‘You do not believe me.’

‘You are said to be a woman who likes her comforts.’

‘I cannot also be loyal?’

‘I shall consider that, Mistress Staines.’

Bess dropped her apron on the counter and hurried after the messenger. Her uncle was ill. Very ill. He had summoned her. Damn the selfish canons. They must have released him from his bed in the infirmary too soon. It was just the sort of neglect John Cooper had hinted about.

She found Julian in his bed, soaked in sweat, complaining of a raging thirst and yet pushing away the bowl of water his elderly servant Nate tried to hold to his lips. ‘Find Anneys!’ Bess shouted to the messenger, who had accompanied her to her uncle’s.

‘I sent for her,’ Nate said. ‘She was busy with a sick child.’

‘Then Honoria.’

‘I could not find her.’

‘Sweet Jesu . Then tell Anneys Master Taverner is dying. That should stir her.’

The messenger hurried out.

‘I have been-’

‘Save what little breath God has left you, uncle. I said that to get her here. Now try to drink some water.’

She told Nate to fetch Brother Wulfstan from St Mary’s Abbey.

‘You see, uncle? I would not summon such help if I believed you to be dying.’ Though she feared she was doing just that.

What frightened Bess as she held a cup of watered wine to her uncle’s lips was the thundering of his heartbeat. It was as loud as if she had her ear pressed to his chest. ‘Uncle, you must try to lie back, calm yourself. Your heart.’

He blinked and wiped at his eyes as if the sweat blinded him. ‘Bess?’

‘I am here.’

‘Does he-’ He shook his head, gasping for air. ‘Does he live?’

‘Who?’

Julian blinked, reached his bandaged hands to his eyes. As Bess was about to restrain him, he dropped his hands to his sides. ‘They died for him. Was that not enough?’ He could manage only a whisper, but he seemed more coherent.

‘Who died? For whom?’

Julian jerked his head up, blinking. ‘Bess?’ His bloodshot eyes did not seem to be focused on her.

‘Can you not see me, uncle?’

He turned towards her voice, frowning fiercely. ‘Beware.’

‘Of whom?’

His bandaged right hand shot up, beat against Bess’s shoulder. She grabbed him by the wrist and held him still so that he would not injure his burned hand.

‘Or is it her?’

‘Who?’

‘I have been poisoned, can you not see that?’ Julian broke out of her grasp and tried to rise from the bed, but he was so weak she was able to push him down on the pillows. The effort had exhausted him. He lay still, his breath ragged and shallow.

Bess had long ago discounted the popular notion that someone was inflicting the pestilence on enemies by poisoning wells. Not all who drank from the same well sickened; nor did she think that one person could hate so many and not be consumed by his own hatred. ‘Rest, uncle. I doubt you have been poisoned. I am here to help you.’ She filled a bowl with vinegar and now and then dipped her hands in it to keep her uncle’s diseased sweat from seeping through her pores. But as she worked along his body she found no pustules. Neither did he cough. He burned with fever, his skin was flushed and dry, his eyes seemed to be failing and he went in and out of senselessness and panic, but only the fever seemed familiar to the pestilence. Might she be wrong about his ailment? ‘What happened, uncle?’ she asked gently. ‘Why do you speak of poison?’

Julian shook his head. He stared at her with wild eyes while he drank water, gulped air, and at last managed, ‘Penance. Not enough. Laurence. Me.’ He shook his head. ‘He waited so long. Or she.’

Bess was puzzling over those words when Julian sat up, clutching at his heart, tearing at his throat as if to open it for air. She threw herself across him to restrain him and was struggling to reach a sheet on the floor with which to bind him when Owen appeared. Between them they were able to restrain Julian.

‘What has happened here?’ Owen asked when Julian was quiet.

Bess was about to speak when Anneys appeared with the messenger.

‘Is it true? That he is dying?’

Bess crossed herself. ‘Listen to his heart. I do not know what causes it to pound so.’

Anneys sank down on a stool. She looked most pitiful. ‘Dear God, if he dies I blame myself.’

‘Now why would you do that? You have been good to him.’

‘I hesitated when he needed me.’

As if she were the only one caring for Julian. ‘I hope that my ministrations have not been without merit.’

Julian began to moan. Both women hurried over. ‘Bess?’

‘I am here, uncle. And Anneys with me.’

‘God forgive me.’

‘Come, uncle. Take some water.’ Bess lifted Julian’s fevered head.

Anneys handed her a bowl of water. ‘His heart beats so loud.’

‘I said so. Come, uncle. Cool water.’

But he shut his eyes and dropped his head to the side. Bess lowered him. And with a shudder, he ceased to breathe. The horrible pounding stopped.

Anneys let out a cry. Bess knelt down beside the bed, staring at her silent uncle in shock. He had been a robust man. His injuries had not been mortal. How could he be dead? She pressed her head to his chest. Silence.

Owen knelt beside Bess, closed Julian’s eyes. ‘He is with God.’

‘Mistress Merchet?’ A monk bent over Bess, his youthful face creased in concern. He made the sign of the cross over Bess and Julian. ‘I am Henry, Brother Wulfstan’s assistant. I came as soon as I might.’

‘God bless you for coming,’ Bess said, ‘but you are too late. My uncle is dead.’

‘Has he been shriven?’

‘I had no time to send for one of the Austins,’ Bess said. ‘It happened too quickly.’

‘His soul may yet linger.’ Brother Henry bent to Julian, called out his name. When he received no response, he glanced up at Bess. ‘Shall I say the prayers?’

‘I would be most grateful.’ She was not fond of the canons of the hospital.

Brother Henry intoned the prayers for the dead and anointed Julian.