The Lady Chapel (29 page)

Cecilia Ridley sat carefully at the edge of the bench near Lucie. "You asked to come? Why?" Her eyes were a little too wide open. Lucie realized Cecilia Ridley was frightened. "And why are you called Wilton, not Archer?"

"I was made Master Apothecary after my first husband died. The Guild insisted that I keep Nicholas's name."

"So you and Owen are indeed married?"

Lucie found it a strange question. "Many women do not take their husband's names."

"It is a custom that is changing. In France most women now take their husband's names." Cecilia Ridley gazed down on Lucie, the fear now gone from her eyes. It was replaced by a chilly glare.

"Please," Lucie motioned to Cecilia to sit down, "I came here to speak with you about the murders of your husband and your friend. We must find the murderers before more people die. A child is missing--a boy who witnessed Will Crounce's murder and whose life has been threatened by a woman who may be Kate Cooper."

"Cooper. 1 always said she would amount to no good."

"What can you tell me about her?"

"Why did you come? Why not Owen?"

Lucie noticed a warmth in the way Cecilia spoke Owen's name. She pushed that aside. "1 am concerned about the boy, Jasper. I want to help find these people before they harm him."

"How noble."

Lucie had not expected Cecilia to be hostile, just secretive. Was she hostile because Lucie had come in Owen's place? This did not bode well. "Forgive me for intruding on your visit with your daughter. I will try to be brief. Please, just tell me about Kate Cooper."

Cecilia sat as if perched to depart without warning. "Kate Cooper. I know little about her. Did not care to know. There is a bitterness, a hatred in the woman that men are blind to. They think her passionate, but she feeds on them. Conquers them because she hates them."

"Can you describe her to me?"

"Tall. Long limbs. Light brown hair, brown eyes, square jaw, large mouth--like a leech."

"The woman who attacked Jasper was quite strong."

"She would be. Her hands are very large for a woman. That's why I noticed how she used them. She lifted her spoon with her left hand. The mark of the Devil."

"She is left-handed?" Lucie thought of Jasper's injuries, his broken arm, his leg, all on the right, where a left-handed person would have grabbed him if facing him. "Are you certain?"

The dark eyes stared coldly. "Why would I say it otherwise? What makes you think she is involved?"

"It is Owen's theory."

"Ah." The eyes softened a little. "He would be more perceptive than most men."

"I certainly did not think so when I first met him."

"Really?" The voice expressed interest. "How did you meet?"

So be it. Lucie could see how Cecilia's questions might lead in exactly the direction she must go. "Owen came to York to look into two deaths at St. Mary's. Poisonings. First he flirted with me, then he decided I might be the poisoner. He even thought for a while that I was poisoning my husband to keep him quiet. Much as he suspects you of poisoning your husband." Lucie watched with interest as Cecilia Ridley went pale. "Does that make Owen more perceptive than most men?"

Cecilia put a hand to her heart. "He suspects me of poisoning Gilbert?"

"He does not like thinking it, but he feels that you are hiding something."

"He believes me capable of such a thing?" Cecilia whispered.

"I know how you feel. I remember how outraged I was by Owen's suspicion." Lucie paused. This was not easy to speak of. She reminded herself of Jasper. "You see, I felt so guilty myself. And I knew I could never explain my feelings to Owen."

Cecilia brushed an invisible mote of dust from her skirt. "What do you mean?"

"My husband Nicholas poisoned someone. When I realized what he had done, I hated him for it. And for things that I learned about our marriage. I wanted to hurt him. I did hurt him, but not in the way Owen thought."

Cecilia Ridley was quietly watchful. "How did you hurt him?"

Lucie bowed her head, hiding tears. It would not do to appear weak in front of this woman. But this was the hardest part to say aloud. "I hurt Nicholas in the worst way. As he lay dying, he asked for forgiveness. I refused him."

The room grew dark with the winter afternoon. The young nun came in, lit a few lamps, shuffled back out again.

Cecilia Ridley stood up, went to a small window, looked out at the darkening garden. Still turned away from Lucie, Cecilia said, "I do not understand why you are telling me this. Did Owen make this up to catch me?"

"No. I am doing it for myself. It does no good to confess it. I have tried that. I cannot explain. I want you to know that I hated the man I loved, who had been good to me, and in that moment of hatred,

I punished him. And I regret it bitterly. It cannot be undone. Ever. I kneel at his grave and beg his forgiveness."

Cecilia had turned back to Lucie.

"Owen does not understand," Lucie said.

"How could he?" Cecilia sat down again near Lucie. "But you love Owen now?"

Lucie nodded. "I cannot imagine life without him."

"Is it different from your first marriage?"

"Quite different."

"How?"

Lucie squirmed under Cecilia's intense regard. But she must finish what she had begun. "I loved Nicholas in a different way. He was a comfort to me. My love for Owen is darker. More reckless. Frightening."

Cecilia dropped her gaze to her hands, which she clasped tightly in her lap. Lucie worried that she had said too much. Then the dark eyes moved back to Lucie.

"The way you love Owen, that is how I loved Will Crounce," Cecilia said in a voice tight with emotion. "I would have done anything to keep his love. When I heard that he was dead, I thought my life was over. I wanted to punish everyone who still lived. And then I wanted to die.

"I watched Gilbert. He'd become secretive. Nervous. Suddenly solicitous of me and the children. I began to put things together. Just before Gilbert went to York at Corpus Christi, we'd had an argument. He knew what was between Will and me. Had known it for a while. He said he was home now and it had to stop. I was his wife. Remembering that argument, I decided that Gilbert had killed Will. He had gone to York with that purpose. I hated Gilbert at that moment. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to feel the pain of my grief for Will." She touched Lucie's hand. "I never meant to kill Gilbert. Just make him suffer."

The light in Cecilia's eyes frightened Lucie. So it was true, and she had made Gilbert suffer for so long, so horribly, to teach him her own pain. Lucie shivered.

The dark eyes filled with tears. "I would undo it if I could. Gilbert changed. He became so like Will, thoughtful, gentle. I told myself the suffering purified him." A sob shook Cecilia. "I am the Devil. Gilbert was innocent. I should burn in Hell for all eternity." She put her head in her hands and wept silently.

Lucie moved to the bench beside Cecilia Ridley and put her arms around her. "How awful you must have felt when Owen brought you the news of Gilbert's death."

"I felt God had taken him to punish me."

"To punish you?"

Cecilia looked up, wiping her eyes. "I can never beg Gilbert's forgiveness."

Lucie felt she was looking into the eyes of her own pain. They sat quietly for a long time. Then the Prioress arrived, bearing wine. Dame Isobel seemed momentarily startled by the tearful faces. "It is almost time for our evening meal. Will you join us, Mistress Wilton?"

Lucie looked at Cecilia.

Cecilia took her hand and nodded.

21/ Martin Wirthir

Martin hid for a while in the alley to see whether anyone would return to the scene. If it had been an attempt on the boy's life, the assailant would want to know whether he'd succeeded. Last night Ambrose had told Martin about Jasper's latest trouble. Two weeks the boy had been on the streets with festering wounds. He must be a strong lad. Even so, a fever ravaged the boy's thin frame. Martin judged it best to know who he was up against, but it was difficult to resist getting the boy to safety immediately.

Martin's watch was soon rewarded, but not by the man in the cart. It was a woman's voice he heard, stopping people in the street--"They say that a boy was hit by a cart in this street," Martin heard her say, "I wondered-- my son is missing. More than a week ago. He is wounded--his father--it was a terrible argument. The boy they described--it sounded like my son. Can you tell me? Was a boy hit in this street? Do you know where he is?"

Martin peered out to see this excellent actress. The woman was tall, with a queenly carriage. He could not see the face beneath the hood, but there was something about her that seemed familiar.

Folk could give the woman no information. There had been a reckless driver down the street, yes. And some thought perhaps they'd seen a boy running. But no one had actually seen a boy hit. Eventually she gave up, going off in the direction of the Shambles.

Martin hoisted Jasper over his shoulder and headed for the apothecary.

Owen and Tildy had waited for Lucie to return from St. Clement's, but as the hour grew late, they decided to eat the stew that Tildy had prepared, then Owen would go out after Lucie. When the knock came at the shop door, they both looked up in fear. Lucie would not knock, but if someone had found her . . .

Owen was at the door in a few strides. When he saw the body slung over Martin's shoulder, Owen feared the worst. "Lucie! Sweet Heaven, I should never have--"

"Peace!" Martin held up a hand. "Not Mistress Wilton. This is Jasper. I have found him. Almost didn't find him in time. A man tried to run him over with a cart."

Martin turned so Owen could see the boy's face, with its awful wound, feel the boy's fever. Owen touched the hot cheek. "I hope you have brought him in time."

Martin carried Jasper to the kitchen.

"Sweet Mary in Heaven!" Tildy exclaimed.

When Owen saw the extent of the boy's wounds, he shook his head.

"This is more than we can deal with here. He needs Brother Wulfstan's ministrations."

"Where is this Wulfstan?" Martin asked.

"At St. Mary's Abbey. He's the Infirmarian."

"Good. That is not too far. Let us go at once."

Owen turned his head to get a good look at Martin. "I take it you are Martin Wirthir?"

The man nodded, shrugged. "Forgive me. My worry over Jasper has robbed me of my manners. I am Martin Wirthir. I heard that Jasper was missing and in danger. I went looking for him."

"Thank God you did."

"We must get the boy to the Abbey at once."

Owen nodded. "Very soon. You can help Tildy clean his wounds first, get him into dry clothes, and try to get some wine into him. I must go out. Lucie is at St. Clement's talking to Cecilia Ridley."

"She is outside the city walls at night?"

"It was daylight when she left. I cannot think why she is so long returning."

"Someone must go for her," Martin agreed. "I propose that I do, and you take Jasper to the Abbey infirmary."

"No. I go for Lucie."

"I delivered Mistress Wilton safely before. The boy needs attention now. They know you at the infirmary--"

"I must find Lucie first," Owen insisted.

"Be sensible, man. I know my way among the night people of York."

Owen bristled. "I did not ask for your approval of my plan. It will be time enough to take the boy after I've found Lucie."

They both turned as the kitchen door opened, letting in the cold. And Lucie. She looked at Martin with some surprise, then down at the boy lying in front of the fire. "Sweet Jesus, you have found him!" Lucie rushed over to Jasper. She looked back at the two men who stared at her as if she were unexpected in her own house. "What is the matter?"

"What kept you so long?" Owen demanded. "And how did you get back here in the dark?"

"I spoke with Cecilia, and then I ate with the sisters. The Dean of the Minster brought me back with him. He is the brother of Isobel, the Prioress, and had dined there." Lucie looked from one to the other. "What were you arguing about?"

"We were discussing how we will get Jasper to St. Mary's Infirmary tonight," Owen said.

"St. Mary's?" Lucie bent over Jasper, lifted the torn shirt to examine his side, touched his wounded cheek. She crossed herself, whispered a prayer. "We must get him to Brother Wulfstan at once. Shall I ask Bess for the use of her donkey cart?"

"It will be faster if I carry him," Owen said.

"Shall I come with you?" Lucie asked.

"No," Owen said, with more force than necessary. "You stay here with Tildy and keep out of trouble."

Martin raised an eyebrow, looked back and forth between Lucie and Owen.

Lucie's face reddened. She clasped her hands behind her back. "Then go quickly. God be with you."

Tildy had managed to clean the boy's face without causing much pain, but the water roused him. Jasper looked up into Tildy's concerned eyes and whispered, "John is dead. Can you forgive me?"

Tildy's eyes brimmed with tears, but she managed enough voice to say, "There is nothing to forgive, Jasper. He brought it on himself." She dabbed his forehead.

Lucie knelt down to him. "Owen is going to carry you to our friend at the Abbey, Jasper. He will dress your wounds and make you comfortable. And you will be safe there."

The boy squeezed her hand.

Wulfstan had been called from the chapel to Jasper's bedside. He shook his head as he studied the boy's wounds. "In this most sacred of seasons, how sad it is to see what man has become. God give me the grace to undo this." He looked up at Owen. "God be with you, Owen. Go home to Lucie now. Henry and I will get right to work."

Martin had stayed back by the door to the infirmary, keeping out of the way while Owen explained what he and Lucie had noted about the wounds and Jasper's condition. Now Martin came forward. "You must know that the boy is in grave danger. Someone tried to kill him today. And those knife wounds would have been mortal had not another young man come between the attacker and Jasper."