The Lady Chapel (26 page)

"What was the groom from the York Tavern doing up there?" the bailiff asked.

Owen went over to the family huddled by the fire. They looked dazed. "Was there another boy up there?" Owen asked them. "Younger? Blond--no, red hair?"

Joanna Fletcher shook her head. "We saw someone running down the alley. Such a commotion. It's what woke us. And when I realized the noise was up there, in that empty room, I woke Matt and we went up together. With sticks. And there was this lad by a spilled lantern. Lord knows the house might have burned down around us if I hadn't heard 'em and gotten up to set that right. The

lad's face was burned, like you see, and there was all that blood--" She broke off, staring down at John's bloody body.

"But you did not see Jasper de Melton?" Owen asked.

Joanna Fletcher looked back up, surprised. "Jasper? Is that what this is about? Was this lad after the boy? Was he the murderer?"

"No, Mistress Fletcher. He was Jasper's friend."

"So what did they want up there in the middle of the night?"

"They'd gotten some silly idea to come look for a longbow that Jasper's mother had kept in the chest up there."

"But it's down here, waiting for Jasper," Joanna cried. "Why'd he not come to me?"

"I don't know, Mistress Fletcher. I wish I did."

"The poor lad. Where's he got to, then?"

"This person you saw running," Owen said, "could it have been Jasper?"

Joanna Fletcher stared over Owen's head, considering. "Nay. The person was taller than Jasper. And didn't run like a lad."

" 'Twas a woman, is why," Matt Fletcher said.

Joanna snorted. "It was never a woman did that to this strong young man."

"I swear to you, Captain Archer, that's what I saw. 'Twas a woman running away." Matt nodded to emphasize his certainty.

The woman again. Owen would give a year of his life to find this strong woman who hounded Jasper. And perhaps had killed John. "I thank you for this information. If you remember anything more--or if you see anything else suspicious--please let either myself or the bailiff know."

With great solemnity, the Fletchers vowed to do so.

Owen went back to the bailiff. "The body should be taken to the Merchets. They will want to bury John."

"Where are you off to?" the bailiff asked.

"I must see if there are any signs of Jasper. The boy could be injured. Or just frightened. I would like to go up and see if I can learn anything from the room."

The bailiff nodded. "As long as you let me know what you learn."

"I will." Owen paused over John's body, said a silent prayer. There would be much grieving in the two houses this day.

With the snow still falling, Owen did not expect to find much to help him outside, but he must try. With the aid of a small lantern, he examined the ground beneath the stairs and found a bloody handprint on the wall--the size of a child's hand--and blood and the contents of someone's stomach on the ground. He was able to follow the trail of blood for a few feet, then picked it up a few more times down the alley, but he soon lost it completely as the alley opened up in a small square where the snow fell freely. Disappointing, but a hopeful sign. Though wounded, Jasper might yet be alive.

Retracing his steps, Owen climbed to the room where Jasper and Kristine de Melton had lived. Beside an old chest, the floor was scorched where the lantern had fallen. The floor in front of the chest was smeared with blood. A puddle of blood was near the door. But there was no sign of Jasper.

If the boy was badly injured, he had probably crawled into some cranny. If Jasper was able to walk the distance, Owen suspected he would go to Magda Digby's, where he'd gone before when he was in trouble. Owen wrestled with the idea of returning first to tell Tildy and Lucie what had happened, but he should get to Magda's. The Riverwoman had eyes and ears throughout the city. She would alert her people to Jasper's danger.

And if Owen was very lucky, Jasper would be sitting by Magda's fire.

Owen made his way through the quiet city, cursing the snow-flakes that had to be blinked away and his birdlike sight that required his turning his head this way and that to watch his footing on the snow. If he pulled his hood far enough over his face to ward off the flakes, the hood covered what little peripheral vision he had. The going was slow.

Magda pulled the curtain around a patient in the corner bed, then invited Owen to have some ale. "Customer gave it to Magda last night. Bird-eye will find it suitable."

"I'm wishing that's Jasper de Melton you hide in the corner," Owen said. He'd taken off his boots and now sat cross-legged by the fire holding his hands out to the warmth. "If Jasper's out in the snow and injured, I've little hope for him."

"Jasper? Nay, 'tis not the boy who lies there. What's amiss with the lad now?"

Owen told Magda what had happened. "He came to you in need before; I hoped he'd done it again."

Magda frowned over her ale. Her eyes were shadowed.

"You look tired. Is the patient very ill?"

"A night of fever dreams. Magda is aged enough to have passed through the need for much sleep, but a little is a good thing, and she's had none for two days."

"I am selfish to come here with my problems, never thinking of yours."

Magda smiled. "Thou dost not come with thine own problems, Bird-eye. Thou art a good man. And thou shouldst not despair yet."

Owen protested.

"Nay, Magda sees the darkness descending over thine eye. Injured limbs move slow. Jasper might still come."

"Would you spread the word among those you trust? And tell them Jasper's hair is red at present. With henna."

Magda's tired eyes opened wide. "Henna?" She snorted. "Didst thou think to hide him with bright colors?"

"If I'm searching for a blond boy, a red-haired boy might not catch my eye." Owen felt defensive about the business--perhaps with reason. It had seemed so sensible at the time, but in Magda's terse summation, it sounded foolish.

Magda drank down her ale, wiping her mouth on her sleeve with a brusque motion. "Past is past. Magda will put forth the word, and thou shalt hear as soon as may be. What dost thou know so far, Bird-eye?"

Owen told her about Jasper and the cloaked woman, and also his suspicion that Jasper's friend Martin and the stranger Lucie had befriended were both Martin Wirthir, who sometimes stayed with the Town Wait Ambrose Coats. He also told Magda about Coats bringing the hand to Lucie.

"Poor Ambrose lives in fear his hands will stiffen so he can't make his music. Was it a cruel joke?" Magda laughed, then turned serious. "Ambrose's Flemish friend is this Martin Wirthir? Magda may know him."

Owen was amazed. "You know Martin Wirthir?"

Magda rubbed her eyes and shook her head, as if waking herself up. "Magda must rest tonight. There is naught else for it. Aye, Magda thinks she knows this man. 'Pirate' is what she calls the rogue. Sounds like him. Watches out for Jasper, though he's not so good at it, being in hiding himself."

"Who does he hide from?"

Magda shrugged and yawned. "He has come to Magda because she does not ask such questions. It is good that Pirate is the one. He cares about the boy. Word will reach him. Not as soon as thou wouldst like, but there is no remedy. He protects Ambrose Coats by never letting the poor man know where he is to be found."

"Why do you call him 'Pirate'?"

Magda shrugged. " Tis something about him. Speech. Flemish, Magda guessed before thou didst say it. Like the weavers under the King's protection. So what does such a man, not a weaver, want in York, Magda asks herself. And why does he hide? Ah, she thinks, perhaps he smuggles the wool that the King wants to steal from the merchants for his war."

Owen was amazed. Magda--not he--should work for Thoresby. She even knew about the King's war finances. Owen gulped the rest of his ale. "Has this Pirate ever mentioned the name Martin Wirthir?"

Magda wrinkled up her face in thought. "Nay. But 'tis the sort of name he might have." She nodded. "Thou art clever in thy bones, Bird-eye. Thou hast put much together."

Owen felt ridiculously pleased by her praise. "I begin to think I should watch Ambrose Coats's house."

"As Magda says, Pirate is careful for Ambrose. They are secretive about their friendship."

"Why? Because Wirthir is Flemish?"

Magda shrugged.

"How do you come to know Wirthir? Did he bring his leman to you? An unwanted child?"

Magda chuckled. "Nay, Bird-eye. Pirate is not the sort to bring a lady to Magda's hut."

"He is a loyal friend, concerned about Jasper, and does not bring you compromised women. A paragon of virtue. So why does he come here?"

Magda burst into one of her barking laughs. "Magda hears what thou thinkst of her. Well, hear this with surprise, Bird-eye. Martin Wirthir is a friend to Magda Digby, simple as that. He likes to talk with her."

Owen made his way slowly home through the still falling snow. He dreaded bringing the news of John's death to Lucie and Tildy. After such news, how could he assure them that Jasper was probably hidden somewhere, wounded but alive? He did not know whether he believed it himself.

Owen stopped in the minster to pray for Jasper's deliverance, then went among the artisans and asked if any had seen the boy. He particularly asked the carpenters, those men of Jasper's father's craft, who would want to help one of their own. They had not seen Jasper since the morning of the storm, when the boy's cloak was found in the unfinished Lady Chapel. But they promised Owen they would look out for Jasper and get any news to him as soon as they could.

Archdeacon Jehannes caught up with Owen in the unfinished chapel.

"Why so glum, my friend?" Jehannes asked.

Owen told him.

"May God guide him to a safe harbor." Jehannes crossed himself. "The boy lives under a cloud of misfortune. I left him some food once in a while when he was sleeping in the hole in the wall here. I discovered that if he guessed someone was pitying him, he disappeared, so I could not do it often without frightening him away."

"I had hoped he would trust us enough to return to us if he was in danger."

Jehannes shook his head. "The boy has learned that it is best for him to trust no one. No amount of goodness on your part can change that for him. It will change only when the danger is past."

"Do you know an embroiderer named Felice? A widow who lives in the liberty?"

Jehannes thought about it. "No. But I have little to do with the embroiderers. Shall I ask about her?"

"No. She must not suspect that anyone is interested in her. 1 just thought you might know whether she had a daughter visiting her."

"I will keep my ears pricked for her name. Something to do with the murders?"

"Perhaps. 1 am no closer to finding the murderers than when I began. 1 am not the man for this work."

Jehannes patted Owen on the back. "You have said that with every task His Grace has given you, and always you have satisfied him. You will find the sinners, Owen, and you will deliver them. Perhaps there is one line of the riddle that you have yet to hear."

"You have an overabundance of faith, Jehannes."

Jehannes laughed. "A priest can never have too much faith, my friend." He grew serious. "But do not think I am not concerned for the boy. I would mention it in chapter, only I hesitate, since whoever committed the murder Jasper witnessed had some connection with this liberty. I do not like to think that one of our chapter could be guilty, but even if one's only sin is to know the guilty ones, a word in the wrong ear could be fatal to the boy."

Owen agreed.

"But 1 almost forgot. A Father Cuthbert from Ripon came to mass this morning. He asked if I could get a message to you. Mistress Anna Scorby is at St. Clement's Nunnery. He said you would want to know."

"Thank you, Jehannes. I will go to her when 1 can. At the moment, I must go deliver the news of John's death to those who loved him."

"God give you strength in your dreadful task."

19/ Grief

Bess opened the kitchen door to a nightmare. Her John, a boy as dear to her as her own children, slung between two of the bailiffs servants. Blood stained John's smock and leggings. An angry burn had already begun to pucker the right side of the boy's lovely face.

"Sweet Savior, this is an evil day." Bess caressed John's left cheek with her hand. "God bless you for bringing him home. Put him just inside." She walked past the servants to the bailiff. "Tell me what happened."

"Your neighbor Captain Archer will do better with that, Mistress. He will be along soon." The bailiff gave her the bare facts.

"So Owen hunts for Jasper?" Bess looked out into the falling snow. " 'Tis a hard day for such a pastime." She gestured to the bailiff to enter the kitchen. "Sit yourself down, Geoffrey. And your two boys who carried such a grim burden."

She poured them all some spiced wine, watered down for the morning.

The bailiff took a drink and tipped his hat to Bess. "We think the young man might have been dead from the wounds before his face was burned, Mistress, which is to be hoped."

Bess crossed herself and wiped her burning eyes on her apron. The bailiff cleared his throat and asked without looking at Bess, "Now this lad that Captain Archer says was with your John--was he staying here, too?"

Bess shook her head. "He was under Captain Archer's protection. And Mistress Wilton was treating him. The boy has had one horror after another come upon him."

"Were John and this Jasper de Melton friends?"

"John took an interest in poor Jasper. I'm sure there was something in the boy's misfortunes that reminded John of the dark time in his own past."

"Ever know how your John lost the fingers?"

"Not the how or the why. His fingers were crushed and in an awful state when we found John sleeping in the stables in a high fever. Master Wilton, God rest his soul, sent for the barber, who removed the pitiful things. Then Master Wilton treated the wounds and the fever. We none of us asked any questions, except whether any kin were to be notified. He told us he had none living. Not anymore. And that was that. If he had wished us to know, he would have explained. He seemed most grateful that we did not ask."