Candace Robb - The Riddle Of St Leonard's

A whinny stopped him halfway to the house. It had come from behind the kitchen. Drawing his dagger, Owen crept back to the kitchen, flattened himself against the wall, moved round until he saw the horse. It was tethered to a thick vine that climbed the wall at the back of the property. Alisoun Ffulford’s nag. Owen crossed himself. He began to feel as if the horse haunted him. At least it seemed to be alone here at present. He noticed a bulge in the vine to which the nag was tethered. Parting the vine, Owen whistled at his discovery — a tooled leather saddle and a pouch containing a chess board and chessmen. At last things were adding up. He left the items where he had found them for now.

As he returned to the house, one of the lay brothers told him that Don Erkenwald had called for Owen to join him.

Dagger in teeth, Owen climbed the ladder. The stench was worse as he rose. Once up, he crept with care round the brightly painted partition. Erkenwald knelt on the floor holding the hand of a sickly pale man who lay on a blanket, with another covering him, his eyes wide in his bony face as he caught sight of Owen.

‘Who is this? I asked for sanctuary.’ His voice had the querulous timbre of the ill.

Erkenwald patted the man’s hand. ‘Captain Archer is Brother Wulfstan’s friend. It was he brought me here to fulfil the good monk’s vow.’

The man shrank into himself as Owen moved closer, but he did not take his eyes from Owen’s. ‘The monk is ill?’

A nod. ‘Pestilence. I pray God for a miracle.’

‘God grant him health,’ the man whispered. ‘He saved me.’

Owen considered the man. A long face, made longer by a tonsure. ‘You are a cleric?’

The man fought to keep his drooping eyelids open. He was yet weak. ‘I took minor vows. I wish to serve at St Mary’s.’ Owen had to lean close to hear the man’s fading voice.

Erkenwald met Owen’s eye, raised an eyebrow in question.

Owen shook his head.

Erkenwald bent to the sick man. ‘The captain and I have no right to make such a decision. We must take you to St Leonard’s Hospital. But we shall tell them your wish.’

The man clutched Erkenwald’s habit. ‘No.’

‘It is best for you. We can care for you there.’

‘Why do you prefer St Mary’s?’ Owen asked. ‘Is it because you stole from St Leonard’s?’

‘Trade with me. I know where you can find the woman and child.’

‘He has Alisoun Ffulford’s horse out in the yard,’ Owen told Erkenwald. ‘And he has tucked away an ivory chess set and a saddle fit for a king.’

‘Has he now?’

‘I must ask you some questions, John,’ Owen said. ‘Telling me where they have gone is not enough. I had already guessed they would go to the Ffulford farm.’ He nodded at the flicker of disappointment in the man’s eyes.

‘He is very weak,’ Erkenwald said.

‘Not so weak he cannot think to bargain. Who is Anneys to you?’

‘Swear you will take me to St Mary’s.’

Erkenwald nodded.

‘We journey together. Sometimes a woman is a help to me, sometimes a cleric or a man is a help to her.’

‘You thieve together?’

‘We live as we can.’

‘What does she want with the child?’

‘Anneys says she is her grandchild.’

‘Do you believe that?’

‘Anneys does not lie to me.’

‘What do you know of the three corrodians of St Leonard’s who have been murdered?’

‘I know nothing.’

‘Come now. That chess set has passed time in Walter de Hotter’s garden.’

The man turned away from them.

Owen smelled guilt on him. It was enough for now. He did not wish to spend any more effort questioning the man at this time. Rising, Owen shrugged the coil of rope from his shoulder. ‘We can lower him to the men below.’ He handed Erkenwald an end.

When the lay brothers had John on the stretcher, Erkenwald knelt to him with the rope and trussed him up. He fought, but feebly.

Owen grinned. ‘A nod is not your word?’

Erkenwald glanced up as he secured the knot. ‘I was nodding at my thought — once a thief, ever one, eh?’

The lay brothers looked confused.

‘We shall accompany you to the top of Lop Lane,’ Owen said. ‘You will take him to the hospital, explain to Don Cuthbert or whoever needs to know that he is to be guarded. The hospital gaol is the place for him, I have no doubt.’

‘And we?’ Erkenwald asked.

‘We take shovels, arms, and ride to the farm.’

On Petergate they met the bailiff Geoffrey. ‘I thought you should hear, Captain. A woman and a girl stole the Riverwoman’s boat.’

‘How long ago?’

Geoffrey looked up at the sun. ‘Long enough to be well away.’ He nodded at the man on the stretcher. ‘Restraining the sick?’

‘He may be one of our murderers. And a thief.’

‘You have done a good day’s work.’

‘It is not over, Geoffrey. Will you escort them to the hospital?’

‘That I shall do, Captain. You need not worry that he will be brought there.’

‘The men know what to do with him.’

‘You are off to catch his partners?’

‘Aye. And to return the Riverwoman’s boat, God willing.’

Bess Merchet was sitting with Lucie in the kitchen when Owen rushed through in search of the shovels he had packed.

‘You must listen to what Bess has learned,’ Lucie said.

‘I must hasten to catch Anneys and the child before they slip through my hands again. Did Jasper return?’

‘He did. He is in the shop.’

‘Good.’

Bess jumped up to follow Owen. She would not be brushed aside when she had worked so hard. But she was mindful to be brief.

Owen sat a moment beside the pack of shovels. ‘You give me much to think about.’

Bess did not think he was sufficiently impressed. ‘Do you not see? Honoria and Uncle Julian were at odds. Sir Richard’s clerk says my uncle made a new will. Perhaps she thought to murder him before he had the chance.’

‘When did Douglas tell you of the will?’

‘When he told me of my share.’

‘Do you know that Honoria received less in the new will?’

A pox on his reasoning. ‘No.’

Owen nodded. ‘I am more intrigued by Julian’s remorse over Adam Carter’s death. It seems more than the thieving bastard was due.’ And with that, Owen rose, threw the pack of shovels over his shoulder, and rushed out.

‘That is the last time I assist your husband,’ Bess declared.

Alisoun paused in her hunt for shovels to watch Anneys, who sat in the doorway of the house alternately wiping her brow and drinking from a jug of well water. What had she done that made her so hot? The day was mild for summer, and Alisoun had done most of the rowing. They would have made more progress by now if the woman had helped more.

It was mid-afternoon. There might yet be enough light to dig up the treasures, but by then it would be too late to return to York. When Alisoun mentioned this to Anneys, the woman assured her that they had left ample food and drink for Finn.

‘But what of us?’

‘We can sleep in the house, child. It was good enough for you once.’

‘I shall sleep in the barn.’

‘Why not the house?’

‘It is full of ghosts.’

Anneys made the sign of the cross and told Alisoun to go find the shovels.

Lame John and his son Rich lay in the tall meadow grass at the far end of the field watching Alisoun and Anneys work. They had retreated after creeping close and seeing the wealth the two were collecting.

‘What devilment is this?’ Lame John muttered. ‘Where did my brother’s child get such things?’

‘They brought no horses,’ Rich said. He wriggled backwards until he could stand behind a tree. His father joined him more slowly.