Candace Robb - The Riddle Of St Leonard's

‘A queer thing.’

‘Grandame said Mama punished her for abandoning her in Scarborough.’

Owen wondered who had been punished more — Anneys or Alisoun. The child was silent for the rest of the journey.

The gatekeeper at Bootham Bar stopped Owen. ‘Abbot Campian prays you hasten to his house.’

‘Brother Wulfstan?’

The man bowed his head, made the sign of the cross.

‘I can take them from here, Captain,’ Erkenwald said. ‘Sir Richard’s squire Topas will stand watch with me.’

‘I thank you. You have been a great help to me.’

‘God forgive me, but it has been my pleasure, Captain. Now hasten to your friend.’

A time-consuming task that did not require a clear mind was Lucie’s way of surviving the horrible evening of worrying about Owen and dreading word of Wulfstan’s death. A farmer had delivered swine gall the day before. Lucie and Jasper had transferred it to their own jars earlier, but now she must seal the lids with wax or the odour would foul the storeroom. It was hot work melting wax in the workroom. When Lucie came to a point at which she could pause, she stepped out into the garden.

The evening had grown cool, with a welcome breeze. As she sat on the bench, she fought sleep, and was drifting off when sounds in the shop caught her attention. She had asked Jasper to tidy up, but he should have been finished long ago. Fearing an intruder, she picked up a knife and moved through the workroom towards the shop. Through the beaded curtain she saw light; an oil lamp flickered on the counter. That relieved her. A thief would not be so bold — unless he had not heard her in the next room. How long had she dozed on the bench?

She stood against the curtain and waited for the intruder to come into sight. Praise God, Jasper crossed behind the light. He carried a leather pouch. Lucie slipped through the curtain.

Jasper looked up, startled, then swung the pouch behind him, out of sight. ‘Mistress Lucie. I thought you slept.’

Sweat beaded on Jasper’s upper lip and glistened at his temples. Was it the heat from the workroom? Or was he nervous, Lucie wondered.

‘I must have slept. You should have waked me. The spirit lamp is lit in the workroom.’

‘I saw. I was watching it.’

‘From in here?’ Lucie took a few steps to the left.

Jasper moved so that his body still hid the pouch.

‘What is in the pouch?’

‘What-’

‘No, Jasper. Do not play the fool, or mistake me for one. I saw you carrying a pouch. What is in it?’

He set the pouch on the counter.

Lucie did not look into it. Not yet. ‘What are you doing?’

Jasper tossed his head to clear the hair from his eyes. ‘I mean to continue Brother Wulfstan’s work.’

‘You are no physician.’

‘Neither is he.’

‘Jasper.’

‘I can apply ointments, make a tisane to ease pain, lance boils.’

‘No.’

He grabbed for the pouch, but too late; Lucie already clutched it to her.

‘Come to the house with me,’ she said.

‘I mean to do this.’

‘You will obey me, Jasper de Melton. You are my apprentice and you live under my roof as my son. Come to the house.’

He followed.

The warmth of the sickroom soon dried Owen’s clothes and soothed his joints, particularly the knees on which he knelt beside the sick-bed. Brother Wulfstan was near death, his breath rattling in his shrunken chest. But he opened his eyes, recognised Owen.

‘I am comforted. Lucie and Jasper are in your hands, and God’s, and both of you are trustworthy.’ Wulfstan signed a blessing over Owen, then closed his eyes. ‘Peace, now.’ He smiled slightly.

Owen bowed his head and prayed. Not so much for Wulfstan’s soul; he had no doubt the infirmarian would die in a state of grace. Rather he had recognised the smile, one he had seen on the mortally wounded after battle, when they wearied of fighting for life and welcomed the peace of death. Owen prayed that Wulfstan’s suffering would soon be over.

When at last Owen rose, Abbot Campian asked for a word. Merciful Mother, what now?

The abbot looked as if he would be the next victim, his face pale and shadowed from lack of sleep and food, his eyes red-rimmed.

‘You must rest, my lord abbot.’

‘Soon enough. While my old friend still breathes, I shall stay with him. I ask a favour for him, Captain. I do not like it. Nor will you. But it is Wulfstan’s wish that I intercede for the man John, save his life so that he might dedicate himself to God. Brother Wulfstan believes there was a reason the man survived the pestilence, that he is to devote his life to praying for the victims of the pestilence in York.’

Owen did not like it. Not at all. But when he looked into the abbot’s grief-ravaged eyes he could say only, ‘I shall present the case to Sir Richard on the morrow, my lord abbot.’

‘Jasper means to return at first light. You will not prevent him?’

‘I would not try.’

Some wine and a quiet talk with Lucie, perhaps some bread and cheese. Owen did not ask for much. His heart sank as he walked into the hall and heard Bess’s voice up above. He sat down on a bench and rubbed his knees. ‘What are they about up there, Kate?’

‘I do not know as I ought to say, Captain,’ Kate whispered, her eyes bright with worry. ‘Perhaps it is best you go up.’

Slowly he climbed the stairs; he had left his shoes below.

Bess was saying, ‘All those churches right there, in Spen Lane or near, and not a priest came out to help Brother Wulfstan. I tell you, Lucie Wilton, it-’

‘For pity’s sake, be quiet!’ Lucie snapped.

Owen wished he could back down the stairs and let them be, for he knew such behaviour from Lucie meant trouble. But he would not be able to rest below for wondering. He stepped on to the landing. From a chair placed before the door to the children’s room, Lucie looked up, startled. Her eyes were swollen. Had she begun her mourning for Wulfstan? Bess stood against the rail of the landing, arms folded over her middle. Though she had not been crying, she looked grim. He thought to cheer them.

‘Fortune smiles on me this evening, to find two beautiful women at the door of my chamber.’

‘Jasper’s chamber,’ Lucie said.

‘It does not sound as poetic.’

Neither woman smiled.

‘Why are you sitting there?’

‘The door has no lock, so I am barring it.’

‘Who is within?’

‘Jasper.’

‘What has he done?’

‘It is what he meant to do.’ Lucie told Owen how she had discovered Jasper in the shop.

Bess nodded. ‘He is a good lad. He means well. But she is right, you know, it is not the place for a young boy, working among those dying of pestilence.’

Were they both mad? Did they truly think the boy would disobey Lucie? ‘Why are you here, Bess?’

‘To hear what happened at Ffulford farm.’

‘I have brought Anneys, the child, and the stolen items to St Leonard’s. That is all you shall hear tonight, Bess.’

Her face as red as her hair, Bess turned from him with a little gasp and sought a sympathetic look from Lucie.

‘I pray you, leave us,’ Lucie said.

When Bess had snapped her skirts and marched with a good bit of noise down the stairs, Owen said quietly, hoping to control his anger, ‘You cannot be doing this, Lucie.’

A cold stare. ‘Do you disbelieve your eye?’

‘You have stood back and let him grow as he would. Why do you stop him now?’

‘Do you want him dying of pestilence?’

‘No.’

‘Do you want him out on the streets at night, stumbling among the sick?’

‘You exaggerate-’

‘Do you?’

‘Come away from there. Let me talk to him.’

‘He was stealing from me , Owen. He meant to disobey me , his master.’