The Bookseller's Tale (Oxford Medieval Mysteries Book 1)

by Ann Swinfen

  ‘His sister?’ Jordain said, bemused.

  ‘I think not,’ I said dryly. ‘I do not think any man kisses his sister like that.’

  Olney and the girl clung together passionately, heedless of the world around them. Every line of their bodies betrayed them as lovers.

  The two were still intertwined when a small boy appeared in the doorway. He was about Alysoun’s age, but he did not run down the path, as she would have done. One leg was withered, and he hobbled along painfully with a crutch under his armpit. The lovers both turned, then Olney lifted the child gently and held him high in the air for a moment, before carrying him into the cottage. The door closed behind them.

  I looked at Jordain, stunned.

  ‘Did you see the child?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, and without a word we turned back to the East Gate, both of us, I know, feeling the same sense of shame at prying where we should not have done.

  ‘He is the image of Philip Olney,’ I said at last. ‘Olney, vowed to celibacy, has a woman and a son.’

  Once back in the shop, I tried to thrust from my mind that image of Olney in close embrace with a very fair young woman, and then lifting his crippled son in his arms. We must prepare our substitute book and give our minds to the next few dangerous hours, but it was impossible to forget what we had seen. Could it have any bearing on the plot to steal the Psalter? Perhaps Olney needed money for the woman and child, and planned to sell the Psalter for enough to provide for them lifelong.

  What made me most ashamed was that in spying upon Olney I had seen him for once happy. And why should he not be happy? Yet the rules were strict. He could not keep his Fellowship, remain a senior member of the university, and marry. Of course, he was probably not married, although it was clearly a long established liaison, not a brief interlude with a prostitute, to which his college would probably have turned a blind eye. Such a liaison was tantamount to marriage, in the view of the university. He would not be permitted to have both – his Fellowship and his woman. The whole thing had shaken me, so that I was distracted as Jordain and I, with the two scriveners, packed up the old copy of the Meditations to look as convincing as possible in its role as the stolen book.

  Neither Jordain nor I mentioned what we had seen, but I was sure he was also pondering whether it might have any bearing on this other matter. Nevertheless, the substitute book was prepared and Walter and Roger were told about my visit to the castle.

  We were still discussing how best to prepare for the next day, whether or not the deputy sheriff returned before midday, and Roger had just closed the shutters, when the shop door opened, and Rafe wandered disconsolately in. His face was grubby and tear-stained.

  ‘What is the matter, my fine man?’ I said, laying the wrapped book aside and lifting him up. I gave thanks that all his limbs were straight and strong.

  He buried his head in my shoulder and muttered something into the cloth of my cotte that I could not make out.

  ‘What is that you say? Have you and Alysoun quarrelled? Is she playing with Jonathan and won’t let you join them?’

  He heaved away from my shoulder and shook his head vigorously.

  ‘Nay! She went off walking Rowan up the street, to show Jonathan how well she is taught. And she said she would come straight back. And that was hours and hours ago, and she didn’t come back. She just left me there and didn’t come back.’

  ‘What do you say?’ At first I could not follow what he was saying, my mind still on Olney.

  ‘She didn’t come back!’ he wailed, and burst into tears.

  I sat down with him on my lap and tried to soothe him, for I would get no sense out of him in this state. What did he mean – hours and hours? My heart was beginning to pound, but I told myself that small children have no understanding of time. Probably Alysoun had walked no further than the Mitre and was now back at the bakehouse. Still, best to make sure.

  ‘Walter,’ I said, as Rafe’s tears subsided into gasps and hiccups. ‘Will you run over to John Baker and find out what is afoot? Perhaps the older children have played a game with Rafe.’

  I made my voice as convincing as possible, but I do not think any of them were deceived.

  ‘Rafe,’ I said, ‘run along and wash your face. Then tell Aunt Margaret I said you were to have some bread and honey.’

  His distress forgotten in the prospect of honey, he trotted off. Jordain, Roger and I waited in a strained silence until Walter returned, accompanied by both John and Jonathan Baker.

  ‘Is the maid not with you, then?’ John said. ‘The children were all playing in the garden the afternoon long, then Jonathan comes in and says both of yours were gone. I was sure they were back home. Speak up, son.’

  I thought that Jonathan looked too frightened to speak.

  ‘Rafe tells us you were trying to train the puppies on the lead,’ I said, to give him encouragement. I wanted to shout out, Where is she? Yet that would but send him tongue-tied.

  ‘Aye, that’s right, maister.’

  ‘When would that be?’

  He looked vague. ‘From when she came to mine, until, maybe, three o’the clock? I heard St Mary’s bell. I think it was three. It might have been four.’

  It was now nearly six. Dear God, where was she?

  ‘And then?’ I prompted.

  ‘Well, we got Digger to wear a collar, but he wouldn’t take to the lead. Alysoun was walking Rowan up and down, showing how biddable she was, and I said–’

  He broke off and turned pale, twisting one leg around the other.

  ‘What did you say, Jonathan? I am not angry. I just need to know what happened.’

  ‘I said it was one thing to walk Rowan in the garden, but I’d wager she’d not be so biddable in the street.’ He got the words out in a rush.

  I clenched my fists but willed myself to stay calm until he had told all.

  He gulped and went on. ‘And then we left Rafe in the garden, saying we’d be back. And we left Digger with him. And me and Alysoun took Rowan out into the High Street.’

  I turned to his father. You must have seen them come through the shop. What time would it be?’

  He shook his head. ‘I would have been kneading the dough for tomorrow’s bread by then, over at the troughs, with my back to them. The door was open to let out the heat. I would not even hear the door.’

  No help there.

  ‘So you were in the High Street, Jonathan. Which way did you go?’

  ‘Toward Carfax. And I was right!’ he said, in a glow of self-justification. ‘Once she was in the street, with all the crowds, Rowan took off like an arrow, Alysoun running to keep up with her. Then she pulled the lead out of Alysoun’s hand. And Alysoun went running after her.’

  ‘And you?’

  He shuffled his feet and would not meet my eye. ‘I let them go. I said she wouldn’t stay biddable in the street. I let them go. Why should I chase after? I came back to Rafe and Digger, and we waited. When she didn’t come back, I thought she’d gone home, in a sulk with me. I told Rafe he should go home.’

  I drew a deep breath. Just children heedlessly playing. And Alysoun knew her way around Oxford, she had often walked with me. She would have been trying to catch the dog. But it had been at least two hours. I tried to keep calm, but my head was beginning to pound. I looked at Jordain, and it was clear what he was thinking.

  No! I thought, No! She is just hunting for the puppy.

  ‘Never worry about the maid,’ John Baker said comfortably. ‘She’ll be chasing after that dog.’

  He gave his son a cuff to the ear, but only a gentle one. ‘You should have helped her, lad, not left her to hunt for the dog on her own.’

  ‘I thought she would be back in a few minutes,’ he mumbled. He was red from collar to brow. ‘When she wasn’t, it was too late to go after.’

  ‘Well,’ said Walter, ‘let us not sit about here raking it over. Let us all go and search for the maid and the dog. There are six of us here, if Master Baker a
nd his son come too. Between us, we’ll surely find them.

  I jumped up. He was right, with so many looking we would soon find her. She had the sense not to go near the rivers. There would be another two hours of daylight.

  ‘I had best tell my sister what we are about,’ I said.

  To Margaret, I tried to sound reassuring, but she turned white with shock, pressing her fingers to her lips.

  ‘He warned us,’ she whispered.

  I put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug.

  ‘We don’t know that those men had anything to do with it. Alysoun loves that dog. She will search until she finds her, never thinking about how long she has been gone or how worried we will be. You and Rafe stay here in case she comes back before we do. Oxford is not such a big place. With six of us searching–’

  She nodded, and made a valiant attempt to smile. ‘Off you go, then, and start searching. A dog might make for a butcher’s stall.’

  Back in the shop, we looked somewhat helplessly at one another. Where to begin? Although Jordain and I had lived in the town since we were boys, the others had been born here and knew every street and alleyway far better than we did. It was natural that John Baker took charge, setting out for us which areas we should each search.

  ‘We must hope neither the maid nor the dog will have gone outside the walls,’ he said. ‘Let us keep to the town. We’ll all return here at dusk, with or without the maid.’

  It was fortunate that Oxford is laid out on so simple a plan, with its four main streets meeting at Carfax, and the line of Catte Street and Magpie Lane at right angles to the High, so that the whole town falls naturally into six segments, the two below the castle little populated. He assigned me the area south of the High Street, from the edge of Oriel west to Fish Street, then down as far as the South Gate. That included St Frideswide’s Priory and Canterbury College, neither of which Alysoun could have entered, but there was also a maze of small lanes lined with houses. The dog might have found her way into any of the holdings.

  Before we set off, Jordain took me aside.

  ‘I do not like this. It looks too much like your wolf trap turned on its head, with Alysoun as the lamb. You should not go into those narrow lanes on your own, with dusk coming on.’

  ‘I do not care if it is a trap,’ I said wildly. ‘Let them take me. I’ll gladly change places with my daughter.’

  ‘Take care,’ he said, ‘and keep your eyes open behind as well as before.’

  I nodded, hardly heeding him. They could not have taken Alysoun. They could not. I had until midday tomorrow.

  We hurried out into the street and dispersed in our separate directions. I found myself running up the High until I was past St Mary’s, then I slowed down and started along the north end of my allotted area, calling out to Alysoun, but with little hope she would be anywhere here. It was along this stretch of the street that she had gone in pursuit of Rowan two hours ago. Little likelihood, then, that she would be near here now. On the opposite side of the street John Baker was searching. He had set himself one of the most densely inhabited areas of the town, which also contained a number of butchers’ shops. Like Margaret he believed in following the likely route of the dog. I saw him disappear into the Mitre to ask if any had seen Alysoun.

  On my side of the street the houses were tightly packed together, although here and there a narrow alley led through a further maze of houses. I followed one of them which passed St Edward’s church, where a churchwarden was sweeping the porch.

  ‘My daughter is lost,’ I said to him, ‘running after her dog. Red gold hair. Six years old, but well grown for her age. Have you seen her?’

  He shook his head regretfully. ‘I am sorry, I’ve seen no such child. May God aid your search.’

  I thanked him and hurried on. At Canterbury College I asked the same of the porter and received the same answer. I turned my back on the college and looked to right and left. There was no systematic way to search the area. I cut back along a lane to Fish Street and ran up it in the direction of Carfax, but stopped at the Guildhall. In all the houses, people would now be making supper or sitting down to eat it, and there seemed little point in knocking on their doors. Alysoun would not be inside. If she had found Rowan, she would be on her way home. If she had not, she would still be searching the streets and any open area where the dog might have gone. There were few such open areas in this part of town. I would not let myself think about the third possibility.

  At the Guildhall I knew there would be someone about, for the town officers often worked late, but here again the doorkeeper shook his head. It was already nearing dusk when I retraced my steps back down Fish Street and all the way to St Michael’s-at-the-South-Gate. There was a large churchyard here, the sort of place where the dog might have gone chasing after cats or rodents. I walked through it, calling, so that from two of the houses overlooking the churchyard heads peered out and I was asked what I thought I was doing.

  ‘My little girl is lost,’ I said. By now I could no longer keep the despair from my voice. I found I was weeping and rubbed my face with my shirt sleeve.

  They were sympathetic, but no one had seen a little girl looking for a dog.

  Past St Frideswide’s Priory, around the back of Canterbury College, and up past Oriel to the High. I had stop calling now. I knew in my heart it was useless.

  I was the last to return to the shop but for Walter, hard on my heels after searching the area below the castle, the furthest away. Gathered again we looked at each other and shook our heads. Jonathan had been crying.

  ‘Send the boy home to his bed,’ I told John. ‘There is nothing more he can do tonight.’

  Jonathan crept away, his shoulders hunched, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

  I sank down on to the chair behind the counter.

  ‘No word anywhere?’ I asked, though I knew the answer.

  They shook their heads.

  ‘We must give up for tonight,’ I said. ‘We have tried, and I thank you.’ My voice cracked, but I could not prevent.

  ‘I shall speak to the Watch,’ John Baker said. ‘Best if they keep an eye open as they go about. They’ll have their lanterns. And their dogs may smell out another dog. I’ll warn them that it’s a part spaniel puppy, probably still wearing a collar and lead, not a stray. And I’ll describe Alysoun to them. Keep your heart up, Nicholas. She must be somewhere in the town. Perhaps she grew tired hunting for the puppy and has fallen asleep somewhere.’

  I nodded my thanks, but could not find words. When he was gone, Jordain fetched Margaret through to where we sat in the shop, and she brought ale with her, with bread and cheese. I was thirsty, but I could not eat, my stomach turned sick with fear. My little maid, she would be helpless in their hands. What would they do to her? Even short of killing, they could ruin her for life.

  As we were making our sorry little supper, there came a scratching at the door. I flew to open it. Perhaps Alysoun was too tired to knock.

  The light from within fell on the creature upon the doorstep. Muddy, bedraggled, apologetic, Rowan squirmed at my feet. I ran out, shouting.

  ‘Alysoun! Alysoun! Are you there?’

  But the street was deserted.

  By the time I returned, Jordain was on his knees examining the dog.

  ‘She’s dirty and tired but has come to no harm. She’s not been in the river.’

  That was one consolation. Alysoun had not tried to rescue the dog and been swept away. Somehow the dog had found her way home alone.

  I dropped down into my chair and clenched my trembling hands together.

  ‘We all know what this means,’ I said. ‘Margaret brought a warning from the man Gidney. They have carried out their threat. They mean to make me talk.’

  ‘But you had until midday tomorrow!’ Jordain objected.

  ‘I do not think they are men of their word,’ I said drearily. ‘Besides, that was the word of one of the underlings. Perhaps he has been ordered by t
he chief instigator to raise the level of the threat.’

  ‘I would have thought,’ Jordain said slowly, ‘that Olney was otherwise occupied.’

  We exchanged a glance. We had not mentioned what we had seen out beyond the East Gate.

  ‘I do not think there is anything else to be done tonight,’ Margaret said. ‘If the Watch keep a lookout for Alysoun, that is the best that can be done during the dark. Walter and Roger, you had best go home. And you too, Jordain.’

  ‘I shall stay here tonight,’ Jordain said.

  ‘We can stay too,’ Walter said, and Roger nodded.

  I was about to send them off, when there was another noise at the door, a furtive rustle, then running footsteps fading away down the street.

  ‘It is a note pushed under the door,’ I cried, springing to retrieve it.

  I was half expecting this. It was at least better than nothing at all. I carried the note over to the candle standing on the counter. It was merely a folded paper, unsealed. I unfolded it, though my hands shook so much that I dropped it and had to grope under the counter for it. Written boldly on a scrap of good parchment, it was brief and to the point:

  If you want to see your daughter alive again, bring the Psalter as instructed, without fail. Try any trickery, and her throat will be cut.

  I felt the room dip and swoop around me, as if I had been struck again on the head. Jordain seized the note from my hand and read it.

  ‘Well,’ he said grimly, ‘this is what we expected.’

  ‘Nay,’ I said, when I could get the words out. ‘Not quite. I know that hand.’

  ‘Can you be sure?’ Margaret said.

  ‘It is my business to know a man’s hand, whether he tries to disguise it or not.’ I said.

  ‘That is the hand not of Philip Olney, but of Allard Basset.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  The discovery of Basset’s hand on the note changed everything. For a long moment we all stood in silence as the pieces of the puzzle fell apart, then came together in an entirely new shape.

  ‘Not Olney after all,’ Jordain said slowly. ‘We thought Olney was afraid because Basset had discovered that he was behind the theft of the Psalter.’