The Lady Chapel (16 page)

"I do not think one indiscretion makes you a Mary Magdalene. In any case, your husband did not seem a particularly sensitive man, Mistress Ridley. I noticed because it is my business to study people when I am working for the Archbishop."

Cecilia dropped her head and made a great business of smoothing her skirt. Owen guessed she hid tears. Her voice, when she spoke, verified that. "Will Crounce was a gentle, loving man." She took a deep, shuddering breath, still with her head bowed. "We were thrown together so much. He was kind. Always ready to help.

He was what I had thought Gilbert would be. He was more my husband than Gilbert ever was."

"I am not here to judge you."

Now she looked up. Her dark eyes shimmered with tears in the light of the fire. "But the last months, after Will died, Gilbert became a husband. He took Will's death hard. It transformed him, as if somehow God's grace moved from Will to Gilbert. Had I known Gilbert could be so kind"--Cecilia shook her head--"I never knew him. I was his wife for twenty-five years, but I never knew him. I regret so much." She buried her head in her hands and wept, the sobs coming from deep within her, a sound painful to hear.

Owen sat quietly.

"Please." Cecilia rose suddenly, wiping her eyes. "Excuse me." She ran up the stairs, to the confusion of Sarah, who had just come through the door with a tray of food.

Owen hated himself for forcing Cecilia to reveal such intimate feelings. It explained her guarded behavior. She suffered because she had betrayed her husband with his best friend, a wrong she could never undo. Owen did not think it possible now that Cecilia had prepared the physick.

He ate and then went out to the Steward's house to find out why he made Kate Cooper so nervous.

No one answered his knocking. He stepped inside, saw no signs of a traveler just arrived. Perhaps Kate Cooper had already tidied up. Owen left the house and headed for the stables. He met Jack Cooper on the way. The man looked angry.

"So you've been to my house? Did you see Kate? Is it true she's back?"

"I saw her in the kitchen this morning. I just went up to your house hoping to speak with her, but there's no one there."

"Kate's not there?" Jack started to walk quickly toward the house, burst through the door as if trying to catch someone who was eluding him. He spun on his heels and faced Owen angrily. "So where's she got to--that's what I want to know."

Owen wanted to know that, too. And why Jack was so angry. "When she left the kitchen this morning, she said the children were waiting for her."

Jack shook his head. "I've just taken the children to the kitchen

for some food. Angharad asked me how many meals the children wanted to eat today. She thought Kate had come back to the house to feed them, just as you say. But Kate's not here. There's no sign of her, is there?"

Owen looked around. A large pallet in the corner looked as if it had just been left, rumpled blankets and all, when the children and their father got up this morning. There were no traveling packs in evidence. Nor did Kate Cooper's cloak hang on the wall. "I'd say you're right, Jack. Not a sign of her anywhere. Where had she been?"

"With her mother."

"How far away?"

"York. Just like yourself."

"Your wife was in York? Did she travel there when Gilbert Ridley went?"

"Oh, aye, they went together, those two."

"But that could be important." Owen was excited. "Why didn't Mistress Ridley tell me that, I wonder?"

"That's easy enough to answer. We didn't tell her. I've learned it's best to let the Mistress forget Kate."

"But your wife was stranded in York when Ridley was murdered. Surely you were worried. I wonder you didn't mention it to me."

"Nay, not stranded."

"What do you mean?"

"Kate did not expect to travel back with Master Ridley. Thought she would be gone longer--her mother was that sick, you see. Kate would find a way back. Or has, I guess. Where could that woman have got to?" Jack had closed the door to the house. Now he turned about as if deciding where to head.

Owen tried to piece things together. Cecilia had caught Kate with Crounce, whom Cecilia loved. Kate went to York with Ridley. Ridley and Crounce were murdered. Someone had been poisoning Ridley. Owen could not fit all the pieces together yet. But something about Kate Cooper bothered him.

"How often does your wife travel to York?" Owen asked.

Jack Cooper shrugged. "I don't suppose I should complain. Her mother's alone. Kate's all she has for family."

"How often, Jack?"

"Well, let's see. This Martinmas. Last Corpus Christi--"

"She was there for the Corpus Christi procession?" Owen thought of Crounce's cloaked companion.

"Oh, aye. And I was with her. But that time wasn't so much for her mother. A family wedding up in Boroughbridge. We took her mother up."

Owen tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. "How many days did you spend in York at Corpus Christi?"

"Well, let's see. We would have been there a day before Corpus Christi and a day after."

"So you left the night Crounce was murdered?"

"Well, now, no, we left the morning after. But we didn't hear about it till at the wedding. He was from Boroughbridge, you know, so word got up there quick." Jack frowned. "Why all these questions?"

"I'm just trying to place who was where at the time of the murders, Jack."

"You're not accusing us of anything?"

"Not so long as you don't seem to be hiding anything. Why should I?"

Jack shrugged. "It's just all these questions."

"How did you and your wife feel about Crounce's death?"

"Kate and I were grieved, you can be sure. 'Twas a terrible thing to happen to as good a man as ever lived. Well, he was no saint, as I've told you--about him and the Mistress."

"Were you apart from your wife at any time during your stay in York, Jack?"

"Nay," Jack said, then shrugged. "Well, there was the night Kate felt sickly, you know, and I went to a tavern. Being in York and all. I couldn't see just sitting and watching her mother work all evening."

"And what night was that, Jack?"

Jack squinted at Owen. "Why do you want to know?"

Owen thought quickly. "Crounce was in a tavern--the York Tavern--right before he was murdered. If you were there that night, you might have heard something. Seen someone approach him?"

"Well, it was that night, but not the York Tavern, so I can't help

you. How would you and your men like to help me track Kate down, Captain Archer?"

They searched for Kate Cooper all day, but found no trace of her.

Owen took his leave of Cecilia Ridley and Anna Scorby the next morning. He asked Anna to send word when she arrived at St. Clement's Nunnery. He might need to speak with her.

He made a last visit to Jack Cooper, hoping that Kate might have returned during the night. The man was glumly dressing his three children.

"What is Kate's mother's name, Jack?"

"Felice. Fancy name for an embroiderer, eh?"

"Embroiderer? In York?"

"Aye. Mostly vestments and altar cloths--you know the sort of thing."

"Does she live in the minster liberty?"

"Inside the gates, aye. Very humble, is Felice. For all that fancy name of hers."

Owen had slept little the night before, trying to get the facts about Kate Cooper to fall into a neat pattern. And now this. Someone who could easily come and go through the minster gates. But Owen could not think why Kate Cooper would murder the two men. He threw his things together in a hurry, eager to return to York and talk all this over with Lucie. She often saw connections that he didn't see.

Cecilia came out as Owen tied his pack to his horse. She offered him a stirrup cup. "Have you learned what you need to know?" she asked as he drank.

"Not yet."

"And the poisoned physick?"

"Forgive me for questioning you about that last night, Mistress Ridley."

"You had to."

"But I am sorry."

Cecilia smiled and, reaching up and pulling Owen's head down to her level, kissed him on the mouth. "I forgive you with all my heart, Owen," Cecilia whispered in his ear.

Thank God he was leaving. Owen straightened up, noting how Alfred and Colin grinned. He was determined to leave on a more official note. "This Martin Wirthir who worked for your husband. You said he was a soldier?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "Martin Wirthir? Yes. Gilbert wanted me to have nothing to do with him. He said Wirthir had the habits of a life of soldiering. I'm not certain what he meant by that."

Owen glanced back at Alfred and Colin. "Perhaps I do. Did your husband say anything else about him?"

"He thought Wirthir acted as a liaison between French prisoners of war in England and their families on the Continent. A dangerous business."

"You never met him?"

Cecilia shook her head. "I wanted to. Gilbert and Matthew both called Martin Wirthir a dangerously charming man, but I was never given the opportunity to judge him."

"Are ye ready, Captain?" Alfred called.

"Aye." Owen mounted his horse.

"God go with you." Cecilia touched his gloved hand.

Owen felt Cecilia's eyes on him as he rode out of the yard. He prayed that he did not need to return to Riddlethorpe for the Archbishop.

Lucie had exclaimed at the state of Owen's cloak, stiff underneath, where it had frozen when it was still damp, and covered with a crust of snow. She'd insisted that his first business was to thaw out and get his fingers and toes warm. He was quite warm now, his legs stretched out toward the fire, a cup of Tom Merchet's ale in his hands.

As Lucie dished up the stew she had kept warm for Owen, she told him about Jasper, pleased to have such a surprise for him.

"Thank God the boy's safe," Owen said. "Where is he? I have questions to ask him."

Lucie smiled at Owen's relief. "He's sleeping now. You can wait till morning."

But Owen was already frowning. "Who brought him from Magda Digby's?" It was the tone that usually led to an argument.

Lucie wanted no arguments. She nodded at the stew. "Eat that. You've been riding for two days. I am sure you have not eaten well in that long."

Owen ignored the stew. "Did you go down to Magda Digby's to get Jasper?"

Lucie sighed. "I wish you would eat before we talk. You know your temper when you're hungry."

"Did you, Lucie?"

"I did not go alone, Owen. Don't treat me like a child."

"It is dangerous down there. And with all the rain and snow, it must be flooding."

"I said I was not such a fool as to go alone. A friar, Tildy, and one of Tildy's brothers accompanied me. We had the use of a boat and Bess's donkey cart. We were quite well prepared."

"Did you take care to keep Jasper concealed?"

"Of course I did!" Lucie was getting angry.

"You went at night, didn't you?"

"Yes, Owen. And now you're going to tell me how foolish that was."

Owen banged his fist on the table. "Do you realize how dangerous it is to row across a flood in the dark?"

"Sweet Jesu, what would you have me do, Owen? Leave the boy down there? It was you who cursed John Thoresby for not protecting Jasper."

"And who's protecting you? Whenever we're separated, you take risks. Last time you traveled, you returned with a stranger. Now you've risked your life rowing across a flooding river at night. What am I supposed to do with you?"

Lucie stared at Owen. "What are you talking about? You were worried about the boy. He turned up at Magda Digby's, and she sent the friar to ask if I could take the boy in. I brought him here safely. He is recovering. I did it for you. Now, instead of thanking me, you're looking for an argument. I don't understand you."

"You did not have to go yourself."

"I wanted to."

They stared at each other, both angry, for a long, quiet moment.

Then Owen closed his eye, shook his head. "Forgive me, Lucie.

I am tired, disappointed in the results of my journey, aching from the ride, and my stomach is in turmoil from a greasy stew I ate on the way." He caught Lucie's hand. "Damn it, we always ruin homecomings with an argument."

"It is you who have ruined it, not 1.1 gave you what I thought-- what any sensible person would think--good news." Lucie pulled her hand from Owen's and stood up. "I'm going up to bed. You will digest your food better if I am not in the room."

Owen pushed his bench away from the trestle table and pulled Lucie down on his lap.

She kept her head turned from him and stared at the fire.

"You were on my mind all the time, Lucie." Owen stroked her hair. "I did not like leaving you when you were so sad. Please forgive me. And forgive my ingratitude."

Lucie had to admit that was a beginning toward apology. "I cannot deny I had misgivings about going, Owen. But I took precautions. You go on as if I were a child."

"So how do I dig myself out of this?"

"You finish eating your stew and then come up to bed." Lucie tried to wriggle out of Owen's grasp, but he held tight.

"God allows even the greatest sinners a chance to redeem themselves. Will you not grant the same?"

Lucie could not help it; her humours betrayed her. She felt the corners of her mouth twitch, and she turned away to hide her smile.

"Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa." Owen pressed his head to her chest.

Damn the man. He was too good at being charming. "You know I will forgive you. I always do."

Owen hugged Lucie. She turned and put her arms around him, burying her face in his wiry hair.

"I am not as hungry as I thought," he said, getting his arms under her and beginning to rise.

Lucie lifted her head. "Then go on up. I will tidy up down here and follow."

Owen let Lucie stand up. "We will tidy up. What am I going to do up in that cold bed waiting for you?"

"Contemplate your sins?"

Owen snorted.

Lucie laughed and gave him a kiss. "I did miss you, you scoundrel."

He held her tight, and she could feel his heart pounding. "This is what I thought about all the way back." Owen's voice was different now, soft and affectionate. "Why does it always take so long to get to this point?"