The King's Bishop (32 page)

‘May God forgive me. Aye. ’Tis just so. But God soon put it right. Mary won my heart. I did love her, Owen. I would have done anything for her. But the one thing she begged me …’

‘She did not tell you why she wished you to stay?’

Ned shook his head. ‘I wish to God I knew why. What prevented her from confiding in me about her fear?’

‘Wyndesore’s page. What was that about?’

‘He befriended her. When I asked her why, she took it as an insult.’ Ned put his knuckles to his temples, pressed.

‘Pain?’

‘Nothing you might cure.’

‘The deaths of Wyndesore’s page and Perrers’s maid. Any connection?’

‘If there is, I am the last to know.’

‘Bardolph and Crofter, Wyndesore’s men. How can you be certain they are after you?’

‘When we began the journey, Don Ambrose feared them. After York, when he turned against me, they encouraged that, elaborated slights, made him think I placed him in particular danger.’

‘Why?’

‘They believe I murdered Daniel?’ Ned shrugged. ‘Only God knows their black hearts.’

‘Still believe it has to do with your being Lancaster’s spy?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘If they do not come after you, will you give me your word to continue to Windsor?’

A hesitation. ‘You will deliver me up to the Lord Chancellor?’

‘I will.’

Ned nodded. ‘I promise to continue to Windsor.’

Jehannes, Archdeacon of York, paced his parlour, hands clasped behind him. ‘God give me strength. This is an impossible situation, Owen. Impossible.’

Owen wished he were up and pacing, too, but one of them must be calm. He sat with his elbows on his knees, one hand pressing the patch against his left eye, in which a shower of needle pricks alerted him to his own uneasiness. ‘We are merely trying to keep Ned alive until the King’s men arrive for him,’ he said slowly, in the calmest tone he could manage.

Jehannes was suddenly within arm’s length, peering down with an anxious expression. ‘You are certain they will come?’

Owen sat back, stretched his legs. ‘Do you doubt it?’

With an exasperated sigh, the Archdeacon pulled up a chair and sank into it, grasping his knees through his gown. ‘They would take him back to Windsor and put him to death, Owen. The King does not send men after a captain unless he means to do so.’

Owen nodded. What was there to say?

Jehannes touched his palms to his cheeks, as if feeling their heat, then dropped his hands to his sides.
‘I cannot let that happen unless we know he deserves death.’

‘What?’ Owen straightened up, amazed by what Jehannes implied.

‘So.’ Jehannes nodded to himself. ‘Unless the Archbishop has managed to intervene …’ He shook his head. ‘I have never to my knowledge disobeyed my King.’

Owen grinned. ‘Think of it as thwarting a group of soldiers out for blood.’

‘Ralph was here last night, warning me that Townley might count me dangerous. That I might be his next victim.’

Bloody-minded bastard. ‘He seemed a sensible man.’

Jehannes shrugged. ‘He believes Townley murdered his comrades. It is not senseless to feel that such a man is dangerous. It is senseless to take the law into one’s own hands and eliminate the danger.’

‘Senseless and soldierly,’ Owen muttered, wondering how long it would be before Ralph and his companions descended upon the shop. ‘There is no need for you to continue feeding Matthew.’

Jehannes had turned towards the window; now he spun round. ‘You would have him guard Townley again?’

‘No. But I may have need of him.’

‘You will not tell me where you are hiding Townley?’

‘You know you trip over yourself when you attempt a lie.’

Jehannes pressed the bones beneath his brows. ‘What shall I tell the King’s men?’

‘Tell them I’ve removed Ned to Bishopthorpe.’

A frown. ‘Bishopthorpe?’

‘That is all you need tell them.’

Jehannes nodded. ‘Go in peace, Owen. May God watch over you.’

C
rowder rolled about the floor with a knot of cloth while Jasper bit his lip and poured powdered orris root into a mortar, trying not to raise dust, which would make him sneeze and ruin the physick he had worked on most of the morning. Lucie saw to customers and pretended she was unaware of Jasper’s little cries of dismay, knowing that his yelps usually signalled only his fear of an accident rather than his having made a mistake. Owen was with Ned, removing the stitches; after four days the threads were itching horribly, a sign of healing.

When the door opened, Lucie squinted, thinking her eyes tricked her. But it still looked like Brother Michaelo, though not as meticulously groomed as usual. ‘I thought you were in Windsor with His Grace.’

Michaelo closed his bloodshot eyes and nodded. ‘I left His Grace four days ago with an urgent message for Captain Archer. Is he here?’

Lucie wondered where Michaelo’s loyalties would
lie, with the King or with justice. ‘He is out at present. Might I see the letter?’

Michaelo bowed to her. ‘Forgive me, Mistress Wilton, but it is for your husband. If he decides, having read it, that you are to be privy to its contents, so be it. But that is not for me to judge.’

Lucie did not like the secretary’s solemn tone. ‘I presume it has to do with Ned Townley?’

‘God sorely tests Captain Townley. I must warn you that the King’s men are a day behind me. They come to arrest your friend.’

One day. So little time. ‘That is why you rode so hard your eyes are bloodshot and you’ve not stopped in the city to change?’

‘Just so. I refreshed myself at Bishopthorpe, but I did not risk a long pause.’

‘They will take the Captain to Windsor?’

‘Those are their orders, Mistress Wilton. Accompanying them is a clerk with a letter for Captain Archer from His Grace. But I carry a more recent one.’

The Archbishop had obviously learned something that forced him to make haste getting word to Owen. ‘Come through to the kitchen, Brother Michaelo. Tildy will give you refreshment while I fetch Owen.’

‘What of the shop?’

‘Jasper can watch it. I shall not be long away.’

Lucie met Owen on the bridge. He did not like the news.

‘Can Ned ride?’ she asked.

‘If he must. But his leg will be the worse for it later.’

They returned to the shop arm in arm. Lucie left Owen there; he took Michaelo over to the kitchen of the new house, where they made a place for themselves among the supplies Tildy was gradually
moving there. Michaelo gazed out at the apothecary garden while Owen read.

Thoresby had carefully described Don Ambrose’s fear for his life, Alice Perrers’s secret marriage, her suspicions of her husband’s part in the deaths of the witnesses, and the danger all shared who had knowledge of this. Owen read quickly, then read it through again.

‘So, Michaelo, Mistress Perrers may be a victim of her own heart, eh?’

‘Heart? I should rather say she is a victim of her own ambition.’ He sat down by Owen. ‘The King’s men will arrive tomorrow to take Captain Townley back to Windsor for trial. I rode hard to arrive before them, pausing only to sleep a few hours each night and give my horse a rest.’

‘You travelled alone?’

‘Faith no, more’s the pity. I had the companionship of Don Paulus.’

‘
Jesu
. He is at Bishopthorpe?’

Michaelo’s nostrils flared. ‘I trust he will eat through the larder and drain the wine cellar if left too long.’

‘What does the Archbishop suggest I do?’

‘That you take some of his retainers and head for Windsor with Captain Townley.’

A tidy coincidence in plans. ‘He will do what he can for Ned?’

‘His Grace is particularly eager that you should come, Captain. He wants you by his side. In return, he will give Townley his support.’

Owen slapped his thighs, rose. ‘I must discuss preparations with my wife. We must leave before the gates are barred tonight.’

‘You will tell Mistress Wilton all that you have learned?’

Owen’s eye met Michaelo’s. ‘I shall weigh the danger, you may be sure. Now let me tell you of the plan.’ He was pleased to find Michaelo agreed to it.

‘Bardolph and Crofter.’ Michaelo shook his head. ‘It was they who lifted Daniel’s body from the ditch. I’ve no doubt they hurried out so that others might not see the welts on the lad’s wrists.’

‘What about his ankles?’

‘The others were bound at the ankles also?’ When Owen nodded, Michaelo shook his head. ‘I regret I had not the leisure to examine him further, Captain. As it was I worried the men might notice my interest.’

‘Is that why His Grace sent you? Fearing you knew enough to be in danger?’

Michaelo bowed slightly. ‘Strange, is it not? He calls me his penance, yet he seeks to protect me.’

Strange indeed. But Owen had noticed the subtle changes in the secretary. It was difficult to believe he had once been the toady of Archdeacon Anselm. ‘Let us return to the shop.’

As Michaelo and Owen walked back through the garden, the secretary complained about his journey north with Don Paulus. The friar had eaten and drunk more than his share, been difficult to wake, accident-prone …

‘You must remember not to mention his presence at Bishopthorpe until Ned has ridden off ahead.’

‘I am no fool, Captain.’

‘I depend on that, Brother Michaelo.’

While Owen packed, Lucie fretted in the shop, forgetting a customer’s name, dropping a pestle, answering in monosyllables. She had seen the grim
set to Owen’s jaw. There was a danger beyond what they had discussed. Obviously something in the letter Michaelo carried. At last, able to bear it no longer, she put Jasper in charge, told him to shout up the stairs if he had an urgent need, and hurried up to Owen.

She found her husband near the door, pack slung over his shoulder.

Lucie closed the door, blocked his way. ‘You shall not pass until I know the danger you face.’

Owen closed his eye, shook his head. ‘Not this time, Lucie. The knowledge of it will place you in peril. I will not do that.’

‘Do you think anyone would believe I knew naught of it?’

‘Many men keep their business to themselves.’

‘What have you done with the letter?’

‘I have it in my pack. I shall dispose of it.’

‘How easy it is for you to deny me this. You are not the one who stays at home and waits. Worries.’

Owen rolled his eye. ‘There is no one better at worrying than me.’ He tried to take her hand.

She kept her arms crossed, hands tucked behind elbows, and told him of her mistakes in the shop. ‘They will multiply and worsen once you are gone. Better that I know the truth. My mind will conjure such horrors …’

Owen dropped his pack, pulled Lucie close. ‘I would not endanger you, my love. Or the children.’

The hands uncrossed of their own volition, wrapped round Owen. Lucie peered up at his dear face, so grim at the moment. ‘We are one household, Owen. If someone means to silence you, they will come for us for good measure. There is no escaping it with foolish silences.’

He opened his mouth to argue, cursed instead.
Backing away from her, he sat down, untied his pack, handed Lucie Thoresby’s letter. She read it by the window in the gentle spring sunshine, fighting her trembling hands as she realised the enormity of the affair. ‘But surely too many now know. They cannot all be silenced,’ she whispered.

‘Let us pray that is so, Lucie.’ She handed him the letter. He returned it to his pack. ‘Forgive me for the trouble I bring to this home.’

He
brought? ‘How can you blame yourself? It was the Archbishop who began it. But go now. Ride quickly. Get Ned to Windsor and safety.’

‘I do not know how much security Thoresby can provide.’

‘More than the open road, for certain.’

They held each other tight for a long moment.

‘They will come here in search of Ned.’

‘All for naught.’ Lucie forced a smile. ‘What shall I tell them?’

‘Tell them I heard rumours of two rough-looking men asking his whereabouts, so I took him off to Bishopthorpe, where I am steward.’

Lucie took a deep breath. ‘That is where Ned and Matthew ride off ahead?’

‘Aye. Ned believes Bardolph and Crofter are watching him and will follow when he leaves me. Michaelo, Alfred and I shall stop at Bishopthorpe overnight, then ride hard to close in on them from behind.’

‘There is much risk in the plan.’

‘Aye.’

Lucie bit her lip. ‘And how shall you explain an armed company to the gatekeeper?’

‘I shall be telling him that I’ve had word an Austin friar is hiding at Bishopthorpe and I mean to oust him.’