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.
"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."
The Lady Chapel Page 20