Candace Robb - The Riddle Of St Leonard's

Owen gladly allowed him time to consider. The brandywine was easing his aches, and the drama playing out between Ravenser and Thoresby was lightening his mood.

At last Ravenser turned. ‘Given Brother Wulfstan’s years of selfless work for this city, I cannot disregard his wish. But it is not enough that Finn can read; I do not trust that test. I shall look into it, see whether anyone will come forward and support his claim. If so, and if the wording of the deed proves to be in his favour’ — he nodded once in his uncle’s direction — ‘Brother Wulfstan’s wish will be granted. But if the man ever sets foot outside St Mary’s, his life is forfeit.’ He paused. ‘And if there is no proof of his taking orders, or if the deed proves against him, he will hang for breaking the King’s peace. Douglas will write up my decision.’

Owen thought Ravenser more than fair, and said so.

‘You have done well by me, Captain Archer. I am grateful.’

But Thoresby plainly could not believe what he had heard. ‘You would grant the man a comfortable life at St Mary’s in exchange for his prayers? You are no nephew of mine. Of what possible value are the prayers of a thief and a murderer? It is as much an abomination as your allowing harlots to live under your protection as lay sisters. If this man is not excommunicate it is only because of a poorly composed deed.’

Ravenser did not flinch. ‘I have restored peace here in St Leonard’s.’

‘Owen Archer has restored the peace.’

‘Very well. And I am grateful to you for his help. Nor will I go forth with Brother Wulfstan’s wish if I find no proof that Finn is due benefit of clergy.’

‘Benefit of clergy. Every snivelling coward in the land memorises the lines we use as proof.’

‘I have said I shall not accept that.’

Thoresby waved him silent. ‘What of the child’s part in this?’

‘She is a child, uncle. She is to return to her kin, though not the family she lately left.’

‘What a kind man you are. At least Anneys will presumably have the good grace to die before you reward her for her considerable sins.’ Thoresby rose from his chair. ‘Come, Archer. Let us retire to your house and leave Sir Richard to one of his headaches.’

Ravenser held out a hand to Owen. ‘I am grateful, Captain. I shall make it worth your trouble.’ He turned to his uncle, who was already at the door. ‘You will return to dine with me?’

‘Tomorrow. I dine with Archer and Mistress Wilton today.’

Dine with them? It was news to Owen. As he followed the archbishop he wondered how to tactfully ask Who invited you? What do you want? Much puzzled him. It was out of character for Thoresby to allow Owen to witness a family squabble. But most he worried about Thoresby dining at his house. Kate would be frantic. And the household was in mourning. What sort of cheer might they offer His Grace?

He was slightly relieved when Thoresby turned to him at the East Gate and said, ‘Good work, Archer. Godspeed. I have some business to attend to in the city, but I shall follow you shortly.’

Lucie slumped on to the stool in the shop. ‘He could not choose a time when he would be more unwelcome.’

‘I had the same thought. But how does one refuse hospitality to the great John Thoresby?’

‘One does not.’

Jasper, still pale, turned from his customer. ‘Go to Kate, Mistress Lucie. We are not so busy today I cannot manage the shop.’

Lucie pressed his hand, slipped away with Owen. But she did not immediately go to Kate. She pulled Owen down on to a bench along the path to the roses. ‘Come. Tell me all you learned. I would know the outcome of all these troubles. Thoresby’s feast can wait.’

Owen had little desire to repeat what he had just reported to Ravenser, but Lucie had listened so patiently to his worries. And it might distract her. He did not like the shadows beneath her eyes and the tremor in her hands. So he told her all he had learned from Finn and Anneys, and amused her with the conflict between Thoresby and Ravenser.

‘Think how much greater a burden it is to be Thoresby’s nephew than it is to be his steward and spy.’ Lucie rose, pressed her fists into her lower back. She still looked weary, but she smiled. ‘You might take comfort in that.’

‘Small comfort. But, aye, it was good to see him abuse someone else today.’

Lucie’s smile faded. ‘“How might one unwittingly commit a sin? If none suffer but the guilty, has a wrong been done?” I understand the first part now. They could not know Adam Carter would turn back. Nor did they know he had two children. How did Laurence de Warrene and Julian Taverner become involved with such a man?’

Owen put an arm round Lucie’s shoulder. ‘They were younger and hungrier than when we knew them.’ They slowly walked towards the house. ‘Strange that it was Laurence who posed the riddle, but Julian who seems to have felt the strongest guilt.’

‘It seems so to us, but we have only Julian’s account. Laurence may have felt his wife’s poor health was a terrible penance; Matilda took a long time dying.’ Lucie’s voice was sad. She and Matilda had enjoyed trading seeds and clippings from their gardens.

Owen thought to cheer her. ‘They are tending Matilda’s garden at the hospital. She would be proud of it.’

‘I am glad of that.’ Lucie was quiet a moment. ‘You know, in the end, the second part of the riddle was wrong. Not only the guilty suffered. And think what that woman almost did to the hospital that raised the daughter she abandoned.’

‘And what of the penance? Were they responsible for Adam Carter’s death? Or the fate of his leman and children?’

‘That, my love, is a question for our dinner guest.’

‘I think I shall leave it for another day.’

From dawn onwards, all employees of the York Tavern felt the brunt of Bess’s frustration. If perfect cleanliness was possible, they would achieve it this day. Scrubbing, dusting, sweeping, polishing, and Bess herself doing the work of three. She could not believe the ingratitude shown her the previous evening by Owen and Lucie. Shoving her out of the house as if she were any old busybody. For pity’s sake, it was her uncle’s death and his claims about Laurence’s death that had made folk see that something was amiss. And all the days she had sacrificed to assist Owen. Small thanks she received for it.

By midday, she was exhausted. ‘I shall have a rest now, Tom. See that they don’t slacken their pace.’

Up in her bedchamber, she flung open the shutters to get a breeze. It had all begun here, when she had smelled the fire. The sky was blue today, and but for the tolling of St Mary’s bell, it was passing quiet. That was another frustration; after all her effort, Brother Wulfstan had passed away. What was God about these days?

And what was that? She leaned farther out of the window. Merciful Mother, it was His Grace the Archbishop of York coming out of Stonegate into the square with a dark-haired child clutching his left hand, a babe in his right arm. Brother Michaelo walked behind him carrying a large basket. She squinted. The babe had flame-red hair. Bess turned and hurried down the stairs.

‘Tom! You will never guess what the archbishop has returned to us. Stop that noise and listen to me.’

Tom paused with a wooden mallet in mid-air; he was trying to hammer a pewter plate flat once more. ‘What is it, wife?’

‘Gwenllian and Hugh. His Grace has brought them back from the country.’

‘There is a tale to tell in that, I would guess.’

‘I should attend them. See whether they have enough food.’

‘You would do better to wait until summoned.’

But she was already mounting the stairs. A splash to her face, neck and hands, off with the apron and on with one of her beribboned caps and she would be presentable, even to an archbishop.