The Lady Chapel (25 page)

"We'll know soon enough, and we just get away as fast and quiet as we can." John held up the cloak he'd been about to put on. "Maybe we should leave these. They get caught on things in the dark."

Jasper was already cold. "My teeth will chatter too loud if I have no cloak."

"It'll keep you moving fast. That's good."

Jasper didn't like the excitement in John's voice, but it seemed too late to back out, and just because he was frightened. Jasper reluctantly shrugged out of his cloak.

They stayed close to the buildings, creeping past the inn, past the

apothecary, then crossed the street where the shadow was deepest, rounded the corner. The new snow made walking treacherous, hiding the icy patches. John slipped once and landed on his behind with a disgusted grunt. Then they both flattened themselves into a doorway as a night watchman strolled by. Jasper had been right, his teeth chattered so loudly that John could hear them and jabbed him with an elbow. When the watchman was out of sight, John signaled Jasper to move on. Jasper must go first. He knew the way.

Mistress Fletcher's house was dark. They crept around to the side steps and climbed. Eleven steps, shallow and high.

"Lord," John whispered, "this is more like a ladder than stairs. We can't carry a chest down this way in the dark."

"We'll just get the bow. And maybe my jerkin," Jasper whispered back.

He tried the door. It moved. Not bolted shut. Good. He lifted it slightly and pulled outward, just far enough to slide in. John slid in after him. Jasper opened the shield on the little lantern he carried. The light was weak, but strong enough to show him that the chest stood just where he remembered it. He knelt down in front of it, opened it. His heart sank. It was empty. He could smell his mother's lavender, but there was nothing in the chest.

Behind him, John made a funny noise, as if he'd bumped into something.

"Sshh," Jasper whispered as he turned to tell John what he'd found. Sweet Mary in Heaven, the blade of a knife hovered just beyond Jasper's face.

"So I was right. You came back for your things." It was the voice of the woman in the cathedral, the woman who had hidden the hand.

Jasper could just see John's feet by the door. He was lying down. No blood was visible, but that didn't matter. It was a bad sign that his friend was lying so still while a woman held a knife at Jasper. That meant John was at least in a faint.

Still holding the knife at Jasper, the woman leaned over and picked up the lantern. She held it up to Jasper's face. He turned away from the light, but the knife guided his chin back so that Jasper was looking into the woman's eyes.

"Well, little boy," she said softly, "what am I going to do with

you, eh? He wants you dead, you know. You were foolish to tell anyone what you'd seen. If you'd just run away that night, said nothing to anyone, your life would not be forfeit."

"I didn't see faces." The knife had cut Jasper under the chin, and the cut stung. His knees were wobbly where he knelt on the rough wooden floor. He felt a splinter digging in.

The light flickered across the woman's face. She studied Jasper.

"I knew you were behind us that night--did you know?" Her voice was calm, as if this was an ordinary conversation. "I saw you waiting with me at the tavern. I felt you turn to follow. Such an earnest boy." She caressed his cheek with the knife blade. "I heard later that your mother was dying. The beautiful Kristine. Will Crounce meant to marry her, you know. I was just trifling with him so that when the time came I could lure him to the ambush. Just as I used John to get to you."

Jasper gasped.

"Yes, your friend and I play together. He thought he was bringing you to be initiated. But I had other plans."

Jasper tried to see his friend through his tears. So John wasn't so smart. "Is he dead?"

The woman chuckled. "What a fool I would be to kill my pet, don't you think? I suppose you could be my pet, too." She caressed his cheek with the blade again. "You could have stayed silent, boy. I was not going to tell him you'd seen. What did I care? I didn't kill poor Will Crounce. His own greed killed him. He was not as brave as you, Jasper. Not nearly as brave."

She moved the lantern so close to Jasper he felt its heat. When he jumped, she laughed and pulled it away.

"You had such pretty blond curls. This red is not so pretty." She flicked a curl with the point of the knife. "Such a sweet boy." A frown replaced the laughter. "How could I hurt such a sweet child?" she whispered as she touched the tip of the knife to Jasper's cheek. He felt the prick and the wetness. "I told you the next time I would have a sharpened knife with a good point, didn't I?"

Jasper lifted his hand to his face. It was not a big cut, but it bled a lot. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked.

"What do you think I ought to do, my love? I am as guilty as he. Neither of us raised a hand to kill them, but we set their deaths

upon them." Her eyes moved down Jasper's body. The knife followed, hovering at his groin, picking at the material. "We had such delicious fun planning this. He is a big man. I wonder if you'll be a big man like him someday."

Jasper felt a rush of wetness. Not blood, but urine. She either saw the dark stain or smelled it, because she laughed. "Fear is so humbling. We should have asked Will before he died whether Jesus wet himself on the cross. I'm sure after all those years playing Jesus, Will would have known. Wouldn't you like to know that?"

Jasper shook his head. "It's blasphemy to talk like that."

She knelt down to him, placing the lantern on the chest behind Jasper. Grabbing his shoulders, with the knife terrifyingly close to his ear, she peered into his eyes. "I frighten you, don't I, Jasper? But tell me this. Don't you hate us for killing Will Crounce?"

Jasper nodded.

"Imagine that hate festering over the years. While you watched boys who had the life you would have had. Envy would fill you like a poison, burning through you from the inside out. That's how much I hated Will Crounce and Gilbert Ridley. I prayed for their suffering. They destroyed my father. And God answered my prayer with Ridley in such a mysterious way. Ridley the boar dwindled to Ridley the frightened, frail little man." She flicked Jasper's ear with the point of the blade and laughed when he flinched. "Your blood is so red, little boy, so healthy."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jasper saw one of John's feet move. Oh, please, God, let him wake up. Jasper did not know what John could do. He didn't think John had brought a weapon. But perhaps if John just scared her . . .

The woman clenched Jasper's shoulder with the hand that held the knife, and leaned over, closing the lantern shade.

All was dark. She pressed Jasper to her, fiercely, digging her fingers into the small of his back and his shoulder. "I don't want to kill you, my pretty baby," she whispered in the darkness, "but I must. Or I'm much afraid he will kill me." The hand that held the knife eased off Jasper's shoulder. She pulled back to thrust the knife. Jasper held his breath, waiting for death.

But she toppled sideways, dragging Jasper down with her. The knife slit his face, then his side as they fell.

"Run, Jasper!" John hissed in the darkness. "Run!"

Jasper squeezed out beneath the woman as she thrashed. He lurched to his feet and stumbled to the door, knowing the room well enough to find his way without thinking. Halfway down the stairs, he doubled over, coughing, which made his side burn. He stumbled, then fell the rest of the way, landing in a trembling heap at the bottom of the steps. He crawled into the shadows, his heart pounding, whimpering in pain. He must get to Captain Archer and bring him back for John. But the steps and the building and the snow swam around Jasper. If he closed his eyes for just a moment, everything would settle down.

Jasper closed his eyes.

When he opened them, snow was coming down thick and heavy. He shivered uncontrollably and yet his side burned, his cheek felt ripped wide, his head felt hot. He was sheltered from the brunt of the storm by the overhanging second story, but his feet were wet with melting snow. He tucked them under him and reached to pull his cloak around him. No cloak. He remembered. John. He must go help John.

People were coming down the steps, a halting, heavy sound. "Merciful Heaven," Mistress Fletcher said, "whatever was this young man doing up there? Who attacked him up there while we slept? God has forsaken us. Ever since the pestilence. We will none of us die peacefully. None of us sinners. Sweet Mary, he's a heavy one."

"That's why they call it deadweight," Master Fletcher muttered. "We should have called the coroner and bailiff before we moved him, you know."

"And who knows when they would come? We must take him below in case he's not dead. Come on. Let's get him by the fire."

"I know a corpse when I see one, Joanna," Master Fletcher said.

Jasper was alert enough to understand. John was dead. And it was Jasper's fault. He had left John up there with the woman, and she had killed him. No one could ever forgive Jasper this. And she would be more determined than ever to kill him. She would find him wherever he was. He must get away. He must trust no one. He had trusted John, and John had led him to her. Had he known who she was? Oh, John, is that why you told me to run but you stayed?

Jasper's head swam and he wanted to vomit, but he forced himself to stay still until the Fletchers were inside. Then he managed to stand up against the wall. He emptied his stomach, and the pain in his side from the spasms made him gasp and crumble against the wall. But he must move. Must get inside. Somewhere dark. Where there were no eyes. Where there was no snow. The sky was white with snow, but it wasn't dawn yet. Time to hide.

18/ Tildy's Secret

When Tildy went to wake Jasper, he wasn't there. Only Melisende slept on the cleverly mounded

covers.

Tildy checked the snowy garden. Jasper wasn't out there, either. It was no use looking for footprints, it was snowing too hard. She ran back in and went out to the shop hoping against hope that he was just in there, tidying up for Mistress Lucie perhaps. He did that some mornings.

But Jasper was not there. Jasper and John must have gone to Mistress Fletcher's. Unless Jasper had just gone to talk to John about it.

When Lucie came downstairs, Tildy was taking off her shawl.

'Where were you so early?" Lucie asked. Then she saw Tildy's face. "What's the matter? What's happened?"

"Oh, Mistress Lucie, Jasper's gone. He's not in his bed or the shop or the garden. And John's not in the stable. And Jasper's cloak--" Tildy held it up to Lucie and started to cry.

"Where did you find Jasper's cloak, Tildy?" Owen asked, coming into the kitchen.

Tildy tried to stop crying. "It's John's fault. He got him all excited about getting his father's longbow."

"Where was Jasper's cloak, Tildy?" Lucie asked.

"The stable where John sleeps."

Lucie took Tildy by the shoulders and led her to a chair. "Sit and calm yourself."

Tildy took some deep breaths and dabbed her eyes with the corner of her shawl.

When Tildy was reasonably calm, Lucie asked, "What's this about John and Jasper and a longbow?"

Tildy told them about the chest Jasper had left behind at the Fletchers' and John's idea that he and Jasper should see whether it was still there.

"I went there once looking for the boy," Owen said. "It's close. I'll go see what's happened."

"I'm sure it's too late," Tildy cried. "She got him. She got both of them. Oh, sweet Mary, Mother of God, why did Jasper listen to him?"

Owen turned around at the door. "Who are you talking about, Tildy? Who is 'she'?"

Tildy's eyes opened wide. She shook her head.

"Tildy, you must tell us," Lucie warned.

"I can't tell you, Mistress. I swore."

Swore. Lucie remembered their conversation over the horseradish. "Tildy, I told you that it was all right to swear if the secret hurt no one. But you know something about the danger Jasper is in. Something Captain Archer should know before he goes out there."

Owen knelt down in front of Tildy and took her hands. "Jasper is the only one who saw what happened to Will Crounce, Tildy, and the murderers must know that--all the city knows it. If I were a murderer, I would want to get rid of anyone who might recognize me and tell someone what I'd done. Wouldn't you do anything to save your own life, Tildy?"

"But he didn't see who did it." Tildy did not want to believe Jasper could be in such danger. And John. Dearest John.

"I know that Jasper says he could not identify the men," Lucie said, "but they might not want to risk that, Tildy."

"I promised," Tildy said in a weak, uncertain little voice.

"Right now, keeping the secret might hurt Jasper," Lucie said gently, "if we can't find him, if those men find him first."

Tildy hated this. She was confused. She had thought that keeping Jasper's secret would help him. But Mistress Lucie and the Captain said differently. They were smart people. So maybe she should listen to them. She knew that they would not hurt Jasper. It was Jasper who didn't trust them, even though he wished he was the Captain's son.

"Will you tell him why I told you, Captain Archer?"

"I promise you I will, Tildy. Just tell me what you know-- quickly."

"There's a woman he saw on Corpus Christi, talking with the second man who died. Jasper saw her again when he was sleeping in the minster. She had a bloody bundle. It fell, and it was a hand. Sweet Lord, deliver him." Tildy crossed herself. "And then she told Jasper she'd kill him if he ever told. And she said something about someone else--the murderer, Jasper thought, who wanted him dead. And oh, the woman was the same one he thinks was walking with Master Crounce when he was murdered. So you see, she's after him."

"Did he describe her?" Owen asked.

Tildy thought about it. "He said she was pretty. And strong. She dragged him in the minster."

Owen and Lucie exchanged worried looks; then Owen was off.

The bailiff and the coroner were already at the Fletchers' house. Owen, prepared to find Jasper dead or wounded, stared with confusion at John.