Candace Robb - The Nun's Tale

‘Corodies are an excellent source of income. What do they propose instead?’

‘Economies, to get through the crisis.’ Ravenser nodded at Louth’s laugh. ‘You see the folly of such thinking, why can’t they? They refuse to admit that the Petercorn and the income from the manor farms are steadily falling. They shall not improve until we are free of pestilence and blessed with good harvests for a while. Economies now will only prolong the problem.’

Thoresby, tired of his nephew’s frequent tirades about the backward economics of the Augustinians of St Leonard’s, made a noisy entrance as he joined them at table. ‘Are your retainers set to any tasks today, Nicholas?’

Louth straightened. ‘Doubling up the guard at the abbey gates as they have been doing, Your Grace.’

‘I would like two of them to talk with Alfred, learn all they can about where the assault occurred, and then go look round, talk to the folk who live there, find out if anyone saw or heard anything, knows anything.’

Louth rose. ‘I shall see to it at once, Your Grace.’

Ravenser dabbed at his sticky hands. ‘What about Owen Archer? Should he perhaps be with them?’

Thoresby shook his head. ‘I have other plans for him. He will be off to Leeds on the morrow. I want him to talk with the Calverleys. Find out all he can about Joanna. Why the family disowned her.’

Louth had almost reached the door. Now he turned round. ‘Your Grace, might I accompany him to Leeds?’

Thoresby sat back in his chair, steepling his hands and peering at Nicholas de Louth over them. ‘Why?’

Louth returned to the table. He stood by Thoresby, his fingertips pressing into the table. ‘I feel responsible for much of this situation. I wish to do what I can.’

‘Archer is quite competent.’

‘Indeed.’ Louth cleared his throat and kept his eyes on Thoresby’s hands. ‘I thought I might learn something by observing him, Your Grace.’

Thoresby considered Louth’s pampered paunch and fussy clothes. He could not imagine him riding with Archer. ‘I doubt he will be keen for your company.’

Louth took a step closer. ‘I pray you suggest it. He can but refuse.’

Thoresby shrugged. ‘I shall suggest it. Get your men to work at once — in case Archer surprises me and agrees.’

Louth smiled, bobbed his head and hurried from the room.

The day was overcast, cooler than it had been of late, the high clouds holding no rain. John Thoresby sat on the low wall separating the kitchen garden from the formal garden and looked back towards the house. The paths of the kitchen garden were edged in santolina and hardy lavender. Camomile blossoms gave off an apple scent even though they were closed up against the morning chill. Bees already buzzed among the borage blossoms. Thoresby looked up at the archbishop’s palace, two storeys of well-matched stone with small glazed windows, a third of whitewashed wattle and daub with wax parchment windows for the servants. It had been a beautiful house, worthy of entertaining even the King. Not so lovely now. Thoresby approved only essential repairs now that he stayed here infrequently. Because the dean and chapter of York Minster had become increasingly jealous of their autonomy, Thoresby usually chose Bishopthorpe as his residence when seeing to business in York. It was several miles south of the city, but close enough, and it was even lovelier than this, with gardens rolling down to the river.

He was a fortunate man to have palaces to choose from — he had several more, scattered about the countryside and one even in Beverley. It was a great privilege to be Archbishop of York. He sat in the King’s Parliament, ruled over a goodly portion of this great city of York, and, through his archdeacons, over all Yorkshire.

Yet it gnawed at him that William of Wykeham was poised to take the chancellor’s chain from round his neck. Why? With his increasingly uncertain relationship with King Edward, it should please him to see an escape.

But it did not. He liked the power he wielded as Lord Chancellor. And he still hoped to guide the King in ruling his kingdom fairly and firmly. He had tasted too much power to be satisfied with just an archbishopric now.

Owen was puzzled to be shown out into the palace garden. Thoresby sat on a bench near the cloister wall, arms crossed, legs stretched out before him, chatting with the gardener. The scene struck Owen as false, set up for a purpose. He wondered what Simon thought of this sudden friendliness.

Simon looked up, saw Owen standing at the end of the path. ‘Captain Archer. Good day to you.’

Owen nodded. ‘Simon. Your Grace.’ He strolled on down the path as Simon loaded his garden cart, prepared to make his escape. Lucky man.

‘Godspeed, Your Grace,’ Simon said, starting forward. He grinned at Owen as he reached him. ‘You’ll be a father before Martinmas, eh? Rest easy. Mistress Wilton is in good hands with the Riverwoman.’ He trundled on by.

Thoresby drew in his legs and dusted off the front of his gown. ‘Is the training progressing well?’ He gestured for Owen to sit on his left.

‘Well enough,’ Owen said, settling down. Perverse of Thoresby to choose to meet in the garden on an overcast day.

‘Can Lief and Gaspare continue on their own?’

Owen turned his good eye fully on the archbishop’s face. He was up to something. ‘I’ve a few more things to show them.’

‘Might that be done today?’ Thoresby turned to face Owen and shook his head with a mocking smile. ‘Why do you frown upon me with such ferocity?’

Owen had not been prepared for such a blunt question. ‘’Tis the light, Your Grace. Though overcast, there is yet a glare out here.’

Thoresby chuckled. ‘Evasion does not become you. I believe it is not the tasks I set you to: you enjoy the challenge. So it must be me. You disapprove of me.’

‘You send me after the truth for the wrong reasons.’

The archbishop’s eyebrows rose. ‘And what reasons are those?’

Lucie would tell Owen to mind his peace, the archbishop had been generous to them. But Lucie was not here. ‘Ambition and pride. You care nothing for the victims, you merely wish to restore order.’

Thoresby crossed his arms, leaned back again, stretched out his legs. ‘It is my duty to keep the peace in my liberty.’

‘No doubt that is true.’ The conversation struck Owen as pointless. He changed the subject. ‘Why do you ask whether I can finish training Lief and Gaspare today?’

Thoresby chuckled. ‘Back to the matter at hand. Fair enough. I want you to go to Leeds, speak with the Calverleys, find out all you can about Joanna.’

‘What is your interest in the matter?’

‘I must decide whether to order Dame Isobel to accept Joanna Calverley back in St Clement’s or whether to send the woman elsewhere. Before I impose the nun on anyone I must know whether she is in any way responsible for the deaths of Longford’s cook and his maid. Or Longford’s disappearance.’

Owen nodded. He saw the sense in it. ‘Someone else might make the journey faster, Your Grace. I am off to Pontefract in a few days for the Duke of Lancaster.’

‘Leave tomorrow, stop in Leeds on the way.’

Owen bit back a curse.

‘And take Sir Nicholas de Louth with you.’

‘Who?’

‘He is a canon of Beverley and clerk to Prince Edward. He had been watching Longford’s house in Beverley for a long while.’

‘A churchman? What use will he be to me? If I must be off to Leeds, at least let me choose my travelling companions.’

‘He has requested this, Archer. And it has occurred to me that it would be good to have him with you at Pontefract. Lancaster will be interested in what Sir Nicholas has to say.’