The Lady Chapel

by Candace M. Robb

  Lucie motioned to the two men to sit down at the table. "It is not a small thing. Someone broke into your house and destroyed something valuable and dear."

  Tom had been examining the contents of the basket. Now he pulled out a bottle and held it up to Owen. "Gascony wine even older than the one we drank earlier--look at this odd bottle. They have not made these in a long time." He beamed. "Three bottles of it. And two bottles of brandywine."

  "It is the time of night for brandywine, I think," Martin said.

  When Tom had poured a round, Owen nodded to Martin. "Tell us what you know."

  Martin took a gulp of the brandywine. "What I have told you so far is all true. Believe me. But the rest--I hoped it would not be necessary to tell."

  "We are your allies," Lucie said.

  Martin lifted his glass to her. "I hope that is still so when I've finished." He took another drink. "When I heard that Will's murderer had cut off his hand, I thought I knew what old trouble had caught up with me, and that Will had been murdered by mistake. You see, for a long time I'd feared that John Goldbetter had told the King whence came the information that I'd obtained for him to make his peace with your King."

  Owen frowned. "Why would he reveal his source?"

  "It is an unfortunate aspect of my business that I make many enemies, and that my employers are not keen to protect me. So such as myself often become scapegoats."

  "I am not certain that I understand what your business is," Lucie said.

  "I like to think of myself as a negotiator between the Continent and your fair isle. An ambassador--albeit a secret ambassador--for wealthy merchants and landed families."

  "Magda Digby calls you 'Pirate,' " Owen said.

  Martin smiled. "Magda teases me with that name. I do not actually touch the goods. I negotiate for their transport."

  "And the severed hand--it made you think of what old trouble?" Owen asked.

  "A merchant I had betrayed. He went to the Fleet prison. He

  learned of my part in his misfortune and swore that he would cut off my right hand for a thief when he got out."

  "Who was this merchant?"

  "Alan of Aldborough."

  "Ah," Bess sighed.

  Martin looked at her. "You knew him?"

  "We have just spoken of him tonight. Or, rather, his wife and daughter."

  "Why did this man consider you a thief?" Owen asked.

  "I had taken money from Alan in exchange for a promise to keep silent about something I'd learned about his business. 1 took the money without ever thinking clearly about what I was promising. I just wanted to escape an uncomfortable situation."

  "An uncomfortable situation?" Lucie asked.

  Martin glanced at Ambrose, who sat watching him raptly. "It is awkward. His son, David, was a passionate young man who had become attached to me."

  Ambrose flinched and looked down at his wine.

  "It was David who told me of his father's dealings with the Flemings, how Alan sold wool to them despite the King's ban. When I told David that he should marry the woman his father had selected for him, that he would ruin his life and live in poverty if he persisted in his pursuit of me, David told his father that he had told me everything, that he must go off with me to keep me silent. Of course his ploy did not work. He was the only son. Alan offered me a tidy sum to disappear and keep my mouth shut." Martin shrugged. "But I foolishly told Gilbert Ridley one night when we were in our cups. I did not guard myself with Gilbert. He was my employer. I learned that I should not have been so trusting. When Gilbert wanted to help Goldbetter by giving him a name, he gave Alan's. And named me as the informer when pressed. He was, however, discreet enough not to tell Goldbetter how I had gotten the information."

  "And yet you came up here to warn Ridley of some other trouble?" Lucie said. "One would think you would have resented him."

  "We had worked together a long time. Most people employ me once or twice, rarely more. Gilbert provided me steady work. And

  in all that time, he had betrayed me only that once." Martin nodded at Owen. "1 understand he even told you that there was no reason for me to be in York any longer, once Will was dead."

  Owen nodded.

  "He knew about Ambrose?" Lucie said.

  "Exactly. He knew I would not stay away from York. But for the one indiscretion, Gilbert had been good to me. So I went to Riddlethorpe and told him about your King's new friends, for whom I'd arranged shipments to Flanders and then later reported when they'd paid far less than they'd agreed to pay for such a dangerous enterprise. I feared they would think Gilbert was also a voice to hush. I also wanted to tell Gilbert about Alan's threat. I had no idea whether Alan was out of the Fleet or not, but it seemed likely. That is when I learned that Will's hand had been left in Gilbert's room. We both found that a riddle." Martin sipped his brandywine. "And then Gilbert was murdered in the same fashion as Will had been, which made me more confident of my theory. Alan or a hired murderer had mistaken Will Crounce for me, but they got Gilbert right--the one who had offered the name to Goldbetter. I had no trouble believing Goldbetter had betrayed Gilbert. I went down to London to find out whether Alan had indeed been released from prison. While I was gone, Jasper disappeared again. And Gilbert's hand showed up at Ambrose's front door. Meanwhile, I could learn nothing of Alan's fate."

  "He died in the Fleet," Owen said. "Could it be his son David?"

  Martin's expression changed. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No," he said in a voice not much louder than a whisper. "No, it was not David."

  "How can you be certain?" Lucie asked.

  "David took his own life when his father was sent to prison."

  "Deus juva me," Lucie whispered, crossing herself.

  The room grew quiet enough to hear the hiss of a damp log on the fire and the rumble of Melisende's purr.

  "If not the son, could it be Alan's wife or his daughter, Kate Cooper?" asked Lucie.

  Martin frowned. "Cooper? I know that name. Someone at Riddlethorpe, I think."

  "Did Ambrose know any of the family?" Owen asked.

  Ambrose shook his head. "Until this night, I never heard the name." He looked at Martin, then away.

  "Then someone has been watching the two of you, to know to leave the hand with Ambrose," Owen said. "And yet you think they mistook Will Crounce for you, Martin?"

  Martin sighed. "As I have said, Will might have been presumed guilty because of our partnership. I don't know. I just wonder how many will die before we discover the murderer. And there's the poisoning. How does that fit?"

  Owen glanced at Lucie, who shook her head slightly.

  "The poisoner had nothing to do with the murders," Owen said.

  "You have discovered who was poisoning him?" Bess asked.

  "It has no significance," Owen said.

  "It might," Ambrose said.

  "No. Lucie and I are both certain of that."

  "I have other sins," Martin said. "Gilbert's death made me think it more likely that another family is after me. Except that the hand was so much the mark of Alan."

  "How many enemies do you have?" Ambrose asked. He sounded as if he regretted having instigated his friend's confession.

  "I have no idea how many people I have ruined. Or who blame me for their ruin. I confess I never gave a thought to it until Will's murder. Not really. I was good at it. It was like gaming. Thrilling. I don't deny it. I don't apologize for myself, either. I am no worse than any of them."

  "This other family?" Lucie said.

  Martin poured himself more brandywine and poured for the others who were empty, all but Lucie and Ambrose.

  "I will not name them," Martin said. "It is too dangerous for the rest of you. But Gilbert and I were involved, and it would seem likely to them that Will was, too. I had arranged for their wool to be smuggled to Flanders, money to be returned. They were a greedy lot, and I despised them when they cheated me. So 1 got even. I sold their name to Chiriton and Company."

&n
bsp; "Martin!" Ambrose's eyes were wide with amazement. "How could you?"

  "If you knew them you would hate them, too. About twelve or thirteen years ago Chiriton and Company gave John Goldbetter s

  name to the King as one of their debtors. Goldbetter proved he'd paid the debt and went one better, claiming that Chiriton owed him money. Chiriton settled the debt by giving Goldbetter the information I'd sold them about the family. Enough information for Goldbetter to extract pleasant sums of money from them."

  Owen remembered Cecilia's account of the mysterious settlement out of court. Gilbert was even more extravagant than usual on my birthday that year.

  "So this family is after you for the money you've cost them?" Lucie asked.

  "It is worse than that. Suddenly, Heaven knows how, they were in favor with your King. They had power. They turned on Goldbetter and had him exiled. Goldbetter went to the Count of Flanders, who convinced King Edward to pardon him. They did not interfere. They did not want to draw the Count's attention to them, and they knew that Goldbetter would keep quiet. But Gilbert and I--ah, we were under no one's protection; on us they could take revenge."

  "Why do you think this has to do with them?" Lucie asked.

  "They had a small partner in their dealings."

  "Alan of Aldborough?" Owen guessed.

  Martin nodded. "Why were you speaking of Alan's widow and daughter this evening, Mistress Merchet?"

  Bess looked over at Owen. "Ask him. I think perhaps I've become too involved as it is."

  "The daughter Kate is the wife of Gilbert Ridley's Steward. She traveled with Ridley to York before both murders. And she disappeared when she discovered me at Riddlethorpe. We believe her to be involved. Probably the woman who lured Will Crounce to his murderers. And, being left-handed, she may be the woman who attacked Jasper at his old lodgings and murdered John, the Merchets' groom."

  "Sweet Mother in Heaven, could she hate all of you so much?" Ambrose asked.

  Martin wiped his forehead. "Most assuredly. She and her mother would see me as the cause of David's death and their father's ruin. She has more reason to hate us than the others."

  Owen was quiet, thinking about the Archbishop's letter concerning Alan of Aldborough. His death had been a surprise to the warden. Poisoning? The suddenly powerful family wanting to silence him as well as Wirthir and Ridley?

  "Merde!" Martin banged his cup on the table, rousing Owen from his thoughts. "The woman who came looking for Jasper in Goodramgate. I could not see her face, but there was something familiar. David's sister was tall, like her. And she had his way of gesturing."

  Owen nodded. "Kate Cooper. We must set someone to watch Felice d'Aldbourg."

  23/ St. John's Day

  Two days after Christmas, on St. John's Day, Thoresby sent for Owen. An unpleasant surprise. Owen had not expected the Archbishop to return from the Christmas court for at least another fortnight.

  "St. John's Day." Lucie looked up from her work. "He cannot have stayed at court for Christmas. What could be wrong?"

  Owen found the Archbishop glumly staring into the fire. Shadowed eyes and a lassitude in his movement as he raised his hand for Owen to kiss his ring suggested illness. It was too bad, because Owen had intended to point out the Archbishop's role in Jasper's misadventures. But if the Archbishop was ill . . .

  "You did not stay for the Christmas court, Your Grace?"

  "No. I held my own Christmas court at Bishopthorpe." The deep-set eyes were unreadable.

  "I hope that the cause was not illness."

  "If I were ill, I would hardly choose Yorkshire over the Thames valley for my convalescence, Archer. Why? Have you made no progress?"

  "Progress, yes. But there is still much to sort out."

  "Did the information about the unfortunate man in the Fleet prison help you?"

  "Indeed. And I thank you for sending word. It is almost certain that the man's surviving daughter, Kate Cooper, wife to the Steward at Riddlethorpe, is involved. She attacked Jasper de Melton twice, by the way, seriously injuring the boy both times. She would have killed him the second time, but was stopped by the boy's friend, my neighbor's groom, who died defending Jasper."

  "Another death? What are we dealing with? Lucifer's spawn? And you say it is a woman?"

  "I am certain she is not acting alone. But she is violent. And determined."

  "Why is she not in my jail in the palace?"

  "She is missing, Your Grace. She disappeared before I knew she was guilty."

  "I am glad that it is not a matter of your falling in love with your suspect again."

  Owen considered how satisfying it would feel to strangle Thoresby with his Chancellor's chain. "I wish to point out that the death of the young man-- and Jasper's injuries--might have been prevented had you agreed at the beginning that Jasper should be protected. But, as I recall, the boy was too unimportant."

  Thoresby closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "It would be more useful if you confined yourself to the facts and kept your emotions for your own fireside."

  "Can you discard a young man's life so easily as that?"

  Thoresby sighed. "I do not need someone to count off my sins to me. I am of late too aware of my sins and my mortality for comfort. I sleep little. Have no appetite. And I wonder if my Lady Chapel will be ready in time. Does that please you, Archer? Does that satisfy your desire that I suffer as I've made others suffer?"

  "So you are ill."

  "Perhaps I am."

  "Then I shall be brief. I have at last made contact with Martin Wirthir."

  "Excellent."

  "He believes the murders are the result of a curse Alan of

  Aldborough laid on him for betraying him to the Crown. Alan swore he would cut offWirthir's hand for thieving. Wirthir thinks that Aldborough might have decided that Ridley and Crounce were also involved. Wirthir is therefore the next--and probably the last--intended victim."

  "What is this Wirthir like?"

  "He told quite a tale of betrayal and treachery. A rogue, and not entirely repentant, I think."

  "And this Kate Cooper is the one slitting throats and cutting off hands?"

  "As Aldborough's only surviving child, Kate Cooper seems to be acting with a man or a group of men. There is possibly another family involved, in favor at court right now and eager to eliminate all detractors. As she has disappeared, I cannot question Mistress Cooper. Wirthir leaves for the town of Aldborough today, to discover who was to inherit the estate that is now forfeit to the Crown."

  "This powerful family--what is their name?"

  "Wirthir will not say. Claims it is too dangerous for us to know."

  "Hmpf. Probably hopes for money from me. What about Ridley's condition? The stomach complaint? The wasting away?"

  Owen had prepared an answer that would not incriminate Cecilia Ridley. Both Owen and Lucie felt Cecilia's own remorse was punishment enough. "I doubt that Ridley's complaint had anything to do with the murders. Unless it was his own feeling of guilt."

  "Why was Will Crounce murdered first?"

  "Wirthir thinks that the murderer might have mistakenly believed that Crounce was involved. But he really does not know. It appears that Crounce knew nothing of the betrayal. Indeed, knew nothing of Aldborough's business."

  "And you say the de Melton boy was injured?"

  Owen told Thoresby about Jasper's two encounters with Kate Cooper.

  "It sounds to me as if the second attack and the death of the young man happened under your ineffective protection, Archer. So how effective do you think mine would have been?"

  "You can be certain that Lucie and I feel the burden of guilt."

  Thoresby got up, stood in front of the fire, hands clasped behind

  him, head bowed. "I cannot fault you, Archer. You should not blame yourselves. I am merely disappointed. It sounds more and more as if Ridley's gift was conscience money. Blood money. I cannot accept it for my Lady Chapel."

  "To my mind, all money given
for charity or to the Church is in some way conscience money, Your Grace. What else would motivate merchants, who work so hard to accumulate wealth, to give it away?"

  "In that sense, I agree with you. But it sounds to me as if Ridley found it far too easy to forgive himself for acquiring money at another's expense. Or using others to get himself out of trouble."

  "He offered you the money in good faith. You accepted it. No matter how he acquired the money, he believed he was making amends by offering the money to the Church, for God's house--at least partial amends. Is that not enough for you?"

  Thoresby stared at Owen for a long while before he said, "Let us see this matter to its conclusion if possible, Archer. That is all I ask of you. I do not ask for your counsel, excellent as it may be." He played with his ring, thinking. "What of Ridley's son and heir? Matthew, is it not?"

  "He is in Calais, managing the business."

  "Curious that he would not come howling back to see that his father's murderer is caught. Would you be so indifferent?"

  "No."

  "Most unnatural."

  "I confess, I had not given Matthew Ridley much thought."

  "Perhaps you should have."

  As Owen rose to take his leave, Thoresby held up a hand. "Aldborough. Do you think I might impose upon this Martin Wirthir to deliver a letter to the Dean of Ripon?"

  Owen shrugged. "I will ask him. Ripon is close enough to Aldborough."

  "Excellent. Michaelo will bring the letter to Coats's house within the hour."

  Owen snarled at Michaelo as he passed him on the way out. His conversation with the Archbishop had left the unpleasant taste of ashes in Owen's mouth. How unlike the Archbishop's almost sympathetic behavior before he left for the Christmas court. Something

  must have happened to cause Thoresby's early return and his present mood. Something that put Thoresby out of humor and made him think of his mortality. That made Owen smile.

  After the brief nones service, Brother Henry returned to the infirmary to give Brother Wulfstan a chance to nap. It was a dreary afternoon with a chill rain falling, and the infirmary was dark. But it should not be quite so dark. Henry was uneasy as he stepped inside. Wulfstan should have lamps set around his worktable or a reading lamp near his chair. Henry found the old Infirmarian nodding in the chair beside Jasper's cot. He lit a lamp in haste to check the boy. Mercifully, Jasper slept. Henry said a prayer of thanksgiving.