The Apothecary Rose (26 page)

'I have to talk with my aunt, Bess. I need to know
some things, that's all.'

'That's all, is it?' Bess took off her cap and reworked
the pile of curly red hair, stabbing horn hairpins into it
with a brutal impatience that made Lucie wince. Bess
tested her work with a vigorous shake and, satisfied
when that did not undo it, put back her cap and
leaned across the little table towards Lucie, her eyes
fixed on her friend's. 'Now why don't you just begin
at the beginning?'

And Lucie, despite herself, poured it all out to Bess,
what Wulfstan had discovered, what she had overheard,
the entry in the records.

'Merciful Heaven,' Bess muttered at the end of
Lucie's account, 'you have carried a load of worries
on those delicate shoulders. Have you asked Nicholas
about all this?'

Lucie rubbed her temples, a weary gesture. 'How
could I do that? He's so ill. To upset him with questions
that brought back disturbing memories -'

Bess nodded. 'Well, at least you've given it thought. I tell you what, you have in your household someone who ought to hear all this. I'm sure that he could help
you.'

Lucie shoved the cup aside and rose. 'You're push
ing me at Owen again. Do you think of nothing
else, Bess? Why would I confide in my apprentice?
He's almost a stranger. How do I know I can trust him?'

'I know you can, love. I'm not suggesting it to play
at matchmaking, not this morning. Not when you've such trouble.'

'I'll take care of this myself.'

'John will go for your aunt.'

'No. I'll send Owen.'

'Please, love. It makes sense to send John. He
knows the way. He knows where the Highlanders lie in wait. We've sent him hither and yon for supplies,
and he's never failed us. He's young and fearless. He
thinks it's a lark.'

Lucie saw that Bess's argument was sound. 'All
right. Please send him. And thank you, Bess.'

'You're like my own, child. I could not do less.'

Lucie hugged her friend. 'Forgive my temper.'

'You have good reason to have your feelings so
ready at hand. I've taken no offence.'

'If you see Owen Archer, send him to the shop.
He's more than late.'

Owen had to wait while Magda dressed a man's wound.
Every moment he waited made him later getting to the
shop. It frustrated him. But if he gave up, he would have
wasted the trip, and if Lucie was to be mad at him,
he wanted it to have been worthwhile. At last Magda sent the man on his way and joined Owen by the fire,
wiping her hands and nodding with satisfaction. ' Tis
a good mornin's work, saving Kirby. A good fisherman.
Best eel catcher on the Ouse.'

'How was he wounded?' The man had a gash across
his stomach.

'Folk come to Magda knowing she'll not tell their
sins. The man cut his gut, 'tis enough for thee to
know.' She sliced some bread from a hard loaf on the
table beside her, and spread it with a ripe cheese that
turned Owen's stomach. 'But thy business, now, what
might that be?'

'I can trust you to keep as quiet about my business
as you are about the eel catcher's?'

'Aye. Thou wert Potter's friend. Potter's friend,
Magda's friend. Except for the one he thought a
friend who was never anything like. That Archdeacon.
Carrion crow. 'Twas him killed Magda's boy.'

'You know that for a fact?'

She spat into the fire. 'Magda has many friends.
There were eyes by the tower that night. They saw the crow push Potter down. Too far into the mead
bowl he'd dipped. And the crow took the chance.'

'Why?'

'Thou know'st why. To protect his sweetheart.
The soft-eyed Nicholas.'

'You know what Potter thought Nicholas had done?'

'Oh, aye. And Potter came too close to knowing
all the truth.' She wiped her hands on her skirt, cut
another hunk of bread, and spread it with the cheese.
' 'Tis good cheese. Thou art a fool to sniff at it.' She
grinned.

'What was the connection between Nicholas and
Geoffrey Montaigne? Why would Nicholas kill him?'

'The lady's fair knight once tried to kill Nicholas.
Mayhap he would try again. Or stir up trouble that
had been put to rest.'

'I need to know about this, Goodwife Digby. I need
to know who else Anselm might want to silence.'

She shrugged. 'Magda. Sir Robert D'Arby and Dame Phillippa. Perhaps even the girl Lucie. Married to soft-
eyes, isn't she? Phillippa was silly to agree to that. Magda told her. No good would come of that.'

'Why would no good come of it?'

Magda
peered at him. 'Digging deep, Bird-eye. What's
an archer to do with such history?'

Totter told you my purpose.'

'Mighty Thoresby wants to hear all this?'

'It seems that Fitzwilliam's death came from all
this trouble. He means to understand it.'

'Back to Cain and Abel, eh? But Fitzwilliam's death
cannot be undone.'

'He would not want that, in any case. His ward
was an embarrassment. But he must make sure there
is nothing in this that could endanger his own person.'

'He need not fear.'

'Why was the marriage a mistake?'

'Thou know'st the history of Anselm and Nicholas?
That Anselm of the visions took the pretty, sickly boy
Nicholas under his wing and into his bed?'

'Anselm had visions?'

Magda laughed. 'Canst thou look at the crow and see
a comely boy in him? Nay, he lured him with stories
of Mary, Mother of God, and the boy Jesus. Anselm was
to befriend Jesus and care for him. Clever, eh?'

'Abbot Gerard knew of this?'

'A fool. He would have bought the rotting arm
from Fitzwilliam.'

'So what are you saying about Nicholas and Anselm?
That they continued to be lovers?'

Magda shook her head at him. 'Nay. If 'twere
so, none of this would happen, eh? Nay, Nicholas
had not the nature for it. But he believed the crow's
visions.'

'So Anselm could influence him.'

'Magda has watched folk crawl on bloody knees
where their saints beheld visions, Bird-eye. Tis power
ful stuff for some.'

'You told Dame Phillippa of this?'

'Aye. Much good it did’

'You were friends?'

'Oh, aye. Magda helped her deliver the girl Lucie.
Amelie D'Arby had been foolish. But thou carest
naught for women's complaints. Tis enough to know
the soft-eyed boy was bewitched by Lady D'Aiby. So
she used him instead of Magda when the fair-haired knight's babe quickened in her. Poor, foolish soft-eyes.
Magda would not have been so foolish. The lady killed
herself with his help. And Montaigne blamed Nicholas
Wilton. 'Tis that simple.'

An abortion gone wrong? Was it that simple? Tell
me about Amelie D'Arby's complaints.'

Magda shrugged. 'Lord D'Arby brought home a war prize. A pretty French girl to breed. A year passed and
she did not grow big with child. Lord D'Arby lost his temper. The girl's silly maid brought Lady D'Arby to Magda. She must bear him a son or he'd find a way to
be rid of her. Magda did not doubt it. Gave her pennyroyal
and madder. And a mandrake root to bury beneath her
lord's window. Not that any man needed encourage
ment to lie with Amelie D'Arby. A beauty she was.'

'Did it work?'

'Nay. So she sought out soft-eyes. Thought he
could do better.'

'She did not go to Nicholas's father?'

'Aye. But he sent her to church to pray. So she
teased help from the boy. Foolish girl.'

'And she had Lucie.'

'Oh, aye. Twas only a matter of time. Child had suffered much in the war. She needed time to forget
her brother's head on a pike. But the birth almost
killed her. Nicholas trusted her to be cautious with
the potions. The lady was too frightened to be wise.
Magda could see that. But soft-eyes was young and
bewitched.' Magda shook her head.

'And he still hadn't learned when she went to
him to prevent a birth later?'

'Soft eyes’ Magda pointed at her eye, 'soft head’
She tapped her head. Cackled.

'Why did she not want the second babe?'

Magda shrugged. 'Phillippa could tell thee.'

'You never asked?'

Magda snorted. 'Every day they come to Magda. How can she care about them all?'

'You said Nicholas was bewitched by Lady D'Arby.
Do you mean he was in love with the mother of the
woman he married?'

Magda grinned. 'Too rich for thy taste, eh?'

'Why did Potter never summon Nicholas Wilton
to answer for this?'

'Potter did not know so much. Wasn't safe for
Potter to know. Magda promised the crow never to
breathe a word.'

'What power did the Archdeacon have over you?'

Magda shrugged, spat in the fire again. 'Magda
must not make enemies. She has no protection. The
crow could burn down Magda's house, take away her
power to heal. Ruin Potter.'

'And yet you're telling me.'

'When the crow killed Potter, he forfeited Magda's
silence. He must be punished. Thou'lt see to it. Magda
knows.'

Owen felt like a fraud. He had no intention of
taking the law into his own hands. If Archbishop
Thoresby decided to punish Anselm, that was another
matter. But chances were Thoresby would overlook his
Archdeacon's crimes. 'Nicholas Wilton should not be
trusted as an apothecary.'

'Soft-eyes is weak, not evil. Such a fool to poison
Montaigne. Man was dying. All this trouble for lack
of mother wit to tell him when to wait.'

He had to ask. 'Is it possible that Lucie Wilton
mixed the poison? To avenge her own mother's death?'

Magda frowned. 'How so? 'Twas her husband killed
her mother, not Montaigne.'

'How could Lucie agree to marry Nicholas Wilton?'

'Phillippa told the girl little, to be sure.' Magda
laughed at the look on Owen's face. 'It sickens thee,
this story. But the lady asked for the death soft-eyes
gave her. 'Twas her own doing.'

'Do you think he loves Lucie? Nicholas, I mean.'

Magda peered at Owen until he felt the need to
shift in his seat. She snorted. 'As much as Bird-eye
loves the girl?' Magda laughed afresh at his attempt
at denial. 'Thou'rt too far gone to hide it. Magda can
see.' She shook her head, her sharp eyes merry. 'But aye, Nicholas loves her well enough.'

It was late morning by the time Owen left Magda's
house.

When Lucie returned from the York, she was furious
to learn that Owen had still not arrived, but she bit
her tongue and thanked Tildy for her watchfulness.
'Master Nicholas did not wake?'

'I heard him greet the Archdeacon when he went
up, but -'

A shiver ran through Lucie at those words. 'Arch
deacon Anselm is up there with him?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Did you not tell him that your master slept?'

Tildy nodded. 'I did so, but he would go up. You did not say he could not.' Her eyes were wide with
the fear that she had done the wrong thing.

'You are quite right, Tildy, I said nothing to you of
the Archdeacon. You've been a great help. Go on now
with your chores.'

Lucie climbed the steps. Nicholas's voice was raised
in a frightened whine. 'We are cursed’ Nicholas cried.
'You have cursed us.'

It was not good for him to get so excited. He would
be worse for it. The Archdeacon would surely kill him with his visits. Lucie could not stand back and let that
happen, no matter what Nicholas said. She opened the door. Anselm was kneeling beside the bed, clutching
Nicholas's hands and whispering something to him.