King's Bishop (Owen Archer Book 4)

by Candace Robb

  Owen’s eye met Michaelo’s. ‘I shall weigh the danger, you may be sure. Now let me tell you of the plan.’ He was pleased to find Michaelo agreed to it.

  ‘Bardolph and Crofter.’ Michaelo shook his head. ‘It was they who lifted Daniel’s body from the ditch. I’ve no doubt they hurried out so that others might not see the welts on the lad’s wrists.’

  ‘What about his ankles?’

  ‘The others were bound at the ankles also?’ When Owen nodded, Michaelo shook his head. ‘I regret I had not the leisure to examine him further, Captain. As it was I worried the men might notice my interest.’

  ‘Is that why His Grace sent you? Fearing you knew enough to be in danger?’

  Michaelo bowed slightly. ‘Strange, is it not? He calls me his penance, yet he seeks to protect me.’

  Strange indeed. But Owen had noticed the subtle changes in the secretary. It was difficult to believe he had once been the toady of Archdeacon Anselm. ‘Let us return to the shop.’

  As Michaelo and Owen walked back through the garden, the secretary complained about his journey north with Don Paulus. The friar had eaten and drunk more than his share, been difficult to wake, accident-prone …

  ‘You must remember not to mention his presence at Bishopthorpe until Ned has ridden off ahead.’

  ‘I am no fool, Captain.’

  ‘I depend on that, Brother Michaelo.’

  While Owen packed, Lucie fretted in the shop, forgetting a customer’s name, dropping a pestle, answering in monosyllables. She had seen the grim set to Owen’s jaw. There was a danger beyond what they had discussed. Obviously something in the letter Michaelo carried. At last, able to bear it no longer, she put Jasper in charge, told him to shout up the stairs if he had an urgent need, and hurried up to Owen.

  She found her husband near the door, pack slung over his shoulder.

  Lucie closed the door, blocked his way. ‘You shall not pass until I know the danger you face.’

  Owen closed his eye, shook his head. ‘Not this time, Lucie. The knowledge of it will place you in peril. I will not do that.’

  ‘Do you think anyone would believe I knew naught of it?’

  ‘Many men keep their business to themselves.’

  ‘What have you done with the letter?’

  ‘I have it in my pack. I shall dispose of it.’

  ‘How easy it is for you to deny me this. You are not the one who stays at home and waits. Worries.’

  Owen rolled his eye. ‘There is no one better at worrying than me.’ He tried to take her hand.

  She kept her arms crossed, hands tucked behind elbows, and told him of her mistakes in the shop. ‘They will multiply and worsen once you are gone. Better that I know the truth. My mind will conjure such horrors …’

  Owen dropped his pack, pulled Lucie close. ‘I would not endanger you, my love. Or the children.’

  The hands uncrossed of their own volition, wrapped round Owen. Lucie peered up at his dear face, so grim at the moment. ‘We are one household, Owen. If someone means to silence you, they will come for us for good measure. There is no escaping it with foolish silences.’

  He opened his mouth to argue, cursed instead. Backing away from her, he sat down, untied his pack, handed Lucie Thoresby’s letter. She read it by the window in the gentle spring sunshine, fighting her trembling hands as she realised the enormity of the affair. ‘But surely too many now know. They cannot all be silenced,’ she whispered.

  ‘Let us pray that is so, Lucie.’ She handed him the letter. He returned it to his pack. ‘Forgive me for the trouble I bring to this home.’

  He brought? ‘How can you blame yourself? It was the Archbishop who began it. But go now. Ride quickly. Get Ned to Windsor and safety.’

  ‘I do not know how much security Thoresby can provide.’

  ‘More than the open road, for certain.’

  They held each other tight for a long moment.

  ‘They will come here in search of Ned.’

  ‘All for naught.’ Lucie forced a smile. ‘What shall I tell them?’

  ‘Tell them I heard rumours of two rough-looking men asking his whereabouts, so I took him off to Bishopthorpe, where I am steward.’

  Lucie took a deep breath. ‘That is where Ned and Matthew ride off ahead?’

  ‘Aye. Ned believes Bardolph and Crofter are watching him and will follow when he leaves me. Michaelo, Alfred and I shall stop at Bishopthorpe overnight, then ride hard to close in on them from behind.’

  ‘There is much risk in the plan.’

  ‘Aye.’

  Lucie bit her lip. ‘And how shall you explain an armed company to the gatekeeper?’

  ‘I shall be telling him that I’ve had word an Austin friar is hiding at Bishopthorpe and I mean to oust him.’

  ‘What of Jehannes? What will you tell him?’

  Owen shook his head. ‘Nothing. It is my revenge for his silence.’

  ‘Poor man. His house will be turned up so down.’

  Owen grinned.

  ‘Should you collect more men, Captain?’ Michaelo fretted as they led five horses from the stable of Matilda’s father.

  ‘More might be useful but I cannot ride out with a group of men without alerting Ralph and his mates; they would follow, you can be sure of that.’

  They led the mounts slowly through the narrow streets to the Old Baile.

  Tom Merchet had alerted Alfred, Matthew and Ned earlier so they would be ready when Owen and Michaelo arrived. The three crept out from the vine-clad wall, slogged through the muck of the old moat, Alfred and Matthew assisting Ned so that he might not slip and open his wound.

  ‘The innkeeper gave us no reason for the haste,’ Matthew complained.

  ‘He knew not the reason, and neither will you, Matthew. If you obey orders, ask no questions, it will be better for you.’

  Matthew straightened up. ‘Aye, Captain. I meant naught—’

  ‘The less talk the better.’ Owen handed him a rein. ‘We ride out Micklegate for Bishopthorpe. Lead your mount until we are out of the gate.’ The procession quietly began.

  Harold opened the door to the King’s men with trembling hands. The Archdeacon had warned him that they were bound to come soon.

  ‘God go with you,’ Jehannes called from the parlour, ‘come in, come in.’ Six of them; tall, broad-shouldered, well-armed soldiers looking travel-stained and stiff from riding. Jehannes offered them ale and a repast of vegetable stew, cold meats, cheese, and bread.

  ‘Where is Captain Townley?’ the gruff spokesman of the company asked. He was a burly redhead named Rufus.

  ‘The Captain is in a safe place,’ Jehannes said, grateful that he was already damp with nervous sweat; Rufus would hardly notice an increase of what was already there.

  The men sat and ate.

  The delay was not absolutely necessary, but Jehannes wanted to give his servant Ann time to warn Lucie Wilton that the men would soon be at her house.

  ‘Has the Duke of Lancaster been notified of the pending arrest of his man?’ Jehannes asked as the appetites slowed.

  ‘This is King’s business, not the Duke’s,’ said Rufus, rising and adjusting his belt to his full stomach. ‘But my lord of Lancaster would not wish a murderer to go free, his man or no. We will go to Captain Townley now, if it please you, sir.’

  Jehannes nodded. ‘You must ride south, I am afraid. To the Archbishop’s manor of Bishopthorpe.’

  Rufus shook his head. ‘We were told he was in your custody.’

  Thinking quickly, Jehannes said, ‘He slipped out of my house while in my custody. I thought it best to hand him over to someone more practised in such matters.’

  ‘And who might that be, sir?’

  ‘Captain Archer, captain of the Archbishop’s guard.’

  Rufus frowned. ‘Are you mad? They fought together under Henry of Grosmont.’

  Jehannes nodded. ‘I am aware of that. But Captain Archer is an honourable man.’

  Rufus mutt
ered something Jehannes did not care to decipher and strode from the house, shouting to his men to follow at once.

  Lucie greeted the soldiers in the shop, informed them of Owen’s departure for Bishopthorpe, saying he had gone the previous day. ‘But stay.’ She walked over to one of the soldiers who held a bandaged hand close to him, nodded to another with a nasty cough. ‘Let me put your men at ease before you ride forth.’

  ‘Where’s your husband, Mistress Wilton?’ Rufus demanded.

  Lucie did her best to look puzzled. ‘I have told you. He rode to Bishopthorpe yesterday.’

  ‘How many men with him?’

  ‘Captain Townley, his man Matthew, and one of Owen’s men. Three travelled with him, Captain.’ It seemed unwise to mention Michaelo. Rufus turned to his men, ordered two of them to the quarters of the Archbishop’s guards. ‘See whether any others rode along.’

  Lucie could not believe the insolence. ‘I would thank you for trusting me, Captain. I am Master Apothecary in this city. I am not accustomed to having my word questioned.’

  ‘I pray you pardon me, Mistress Wilton, but I don’t like what I find here. I shall find the truth for myself.’

  Lucie bit her tongue. The sooner the arrogant knave was out of her shop the better.

  Jehannes suddenly appeared in the shop doorway as Rufus paced back and forth. ‘’Tis a crowded house you have here, Mistress Wilton,’ Rufus muttered. ‘Pity the only man we want is missing.’

  Archdeacon Jehannes stepped into the room. ‘Benedicte.’ He blessed them all. ‘I must warn you, Captain Rufus, that Mistress Wilton and her family are under the protection of Archbishop Thoresby, who is godfather to young Gwenllian.’

  Rufus glared at the Archdeacon. ‘Mistress Wilton is seeing to my men before we depart once more, sir. I would not harm the innocent family of a soldier, no matter what he had done.’

  Jehannes sank down on a stool, fanning himself. Lucie feared he might faint. ‘Go to the kitchen. Tildy will give you something to drink,’ Lucie told him. ‘I will not have you passing out in my shop.’ She herself looked forward to a good measure of brandywine when the men departed.

  Twenty-three

  Unlikely Alliances

  Ralph rapped sharply on the Archdeacon’s door. Harold informed him, and the three standing behind him, that the King’s men were searching the house and his master could not be disturbed.

  ‘It’s Captain Rufus I would see,’ Ralph said with an unfriendly snarl.

  Harold withdrew quickly. Ralph stood with hands clenched behind him and waited until the red-haired captain darkened the door. ‘We were part of the company sent up from Windsor, Captain. We would join you in your search and return with you to our station.’

  Rufus peered past him. ‘How many?’

  ‘Curan, Edgar, Geoff, and myself, Captain.’

  Rufus considered. ‘You have your own mounts?’

  ‘Aye, Captain.’

  He nodded. ‘Then return at dawn. It is too late to depart tonight.’

  At mid-morning, within sight of the gates to Bishopthorpe, the company halted. Owen brought his horse alongside Ned’s. ‘No unnecessary risks, eh? We mean to be right behind you, ready to close in when they appear. You are to lure them, not dispose of them.’

  Ned grinned, slapped Owen on the thigh. ‘No pinning them to a couple of sturdy oaks to await their fates?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Pity.’ Ned turned, noted the alarm on Matthew’s face, and shook his head. ‘You know me better than that, you daft man.’

  Owen watched the two ride off with a gut full of worry. But they must move ahead.

  The three entered the gates of Bishopthorpe and rode into the yard of the Archbishop’s favourite home, an imposing stone house with chapel and extensive stables. Owen was pleased to see men at work on a corner of the roof. But he was not pleased by the news that Don Paulus had departed the previous day.

  ‘How can that be?’

  Maeve, the Archbishop’s cook, hurried from the kitchen wiping her hands and shaking her head. ‘I had my doubts, Captain Archer, but the two were wearing King’s livery. And I can’t say as I was sorry to see the fat back of that friar.’

  Her descriptions fitted Bardolph and Crofter. ‘A day ahead of us.’ Owen wondered whether they were now in flight and would not rise to the bait. ‘Damn them. They must have seen the King’s men headed this way, thought to take the friar prisoner just in case.’

  Michaelo was crestfallen. ‘Does this mean we ride tonight?’

  Owen stared at the secretary. ‘Are you mad? I would charge after Ned and Matthew to alert them if they were not riding slowly because of Ned’s injury. Even so, we can afford to stay only long enough to gather what provisions Maeve can spare. We leave after midday.’

  At midday on their second day out from York, Owen’s company came upon two familiar men and a third having some food and a rest. Owen, Michaelo and Alfred crept close to the camp site as the men were mounting. With Bardolph and Crofter was a black-robed friar. ‘Do you recognise the friar, Michaelo? Is it Don Paulus?’

  Michaelo’s delicate nostrils flared. ‘Can you not smell the corruption?’

  It was odd that Wyndesore’s men did not appear to have the friar bound, nor did they watch him so much as they watched their backs. The friar sat his horse comfortably, his expression one of enjoyment. The three men picked up speed as they reached the road.

  ‘Shall we take them, Captain?’ Alfred asked.

  ‘Expecting trouble, they are,’ Owen said, reining in. His companions followed suit. ‘We shall do best to keep them in sight. When they find their prey, we shall surprise them as they think to surprise him.’

  ‘How is it we come upon them before the Captain and Matthew?’ Michaelo wondered.

  Owen shook his head. ‘Ned is riding faster than I’d thought? They allowed Ned and Matthew to pass? God help me, I wish I knew.’

  Thoresby’s nights of little or no sleep finally took their toll at supper in the great hall of Windsor. As a Welsh harper played a sweetly pensive melody, Thoresby listened with thoughtful pleasure. But soon his eyelids fought to close, his focus blurred, his head nodded forward. Worst of all, he caught Alice Perrers glancing at him with amusement.

  She bent to the Queen. ‘My lady, I would confer with the Lord Chancellor on the legal matter we spoke of earlier.’

  Queen Phillippa, her own lids heavy with wine and the smoky room, glanced over at Thoresby, inclined her head towards Alice. ‘Speak with him now, child, then come to my chamber and amuse me till I sleep.’ The Queen laboriously pushed herself from the table. A servant was immediately behind her to assist her difficult rising.

  The King smiled at Alice, Queen Phillippa. ‘My ladies desert me so early in the evening?’ He kissed Phillippa’s hand. ‘May God grant you sweet dreams,’ he said gently.

  Alice rose, curtsied to the King and Queen. Thoresby stood, feeling revived. He had meant to seek Alice out. It had occurred to him last night, as he tossed on what only weeks ago had been a comfortable bed, that Alice had omitted an important item in her story: who had informed the King of her marriage?

  ‘Let us walk out into the courtyard, take some air,’ Alice suggested. ‘There is a legal matter I wish to discuss with you.’

  Thoresby bowed and gestured for her to precede him. Heads turned, tongues wagged as they passed the lower tables. Gilbert and Adam raced each other to open the door. Gilbert won. Thoresby thought it a tribute to him that his lad had not needed to learn speed in order to avoid physical abuse. He knew Gilbert was frequently slapped.

  The damp, chilly evening was a relief after the hall. Thoresby drew his cloak round him and began to stride forward.

  ‘More slowly, please, Your Grace,’ Alice cried. ‘I wear dancing slippers, not boots.’

  Thoresby paused.

  Alice lifted her skirt to show him the delicately embroidered velvet shoes in the lantern light provided promptly by Gilbert.

  Thoresby
bowed. ‘Forgive me, Mistress Perrers. I must be more accustomed to your booted stride.’

  Gilbert did not raise the lantern to reveal his mistress’s expression.

  ‘I am amazed that a man who so recently nodded over his wine now strides forward with such energy and purpose,’ Alice said with false sweetness.

  Enough of this babble. ‘I have thought long on the matter we discussed, Mistress Perrers, and I find myself with more questions.’

  ‘Oh?’ A brief pause. ‘Walk ahead, Gilbert, gossip with Adam.’

  That brought another question to mind. ‘How is it that Gilbert has been spared?’ Thoresby asked. ‘Why was he not a witness?’

  ‘William said he needed but two, one from each household.’ The voice was flat.

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Was that your question, Your Grace?’

  ‘Oh no, quite a minor matter about Gilbert. No, I wondered … you see, it seems to me that you strove for secrecy and then … my good Mistress Perrers, who betrayed you to the King?’

  Alice cleared her throat. ‘The question is one I have asked myself over and over, Your Grace. Who indeed?’

  ‘Come now. You are too shrewd to have let that go unanswered, Mistress Perrers. Far too shrewd.’

  ‘I swear I do not know, Your Grace. I hope to discover it. I would know my enemies. But where do I look?’ Alice sighed. ‘Your Grace, I see that you mean to learn all that you may about this affair.’ She paused, touched his arm, a fleeting, importunate gesture. ‘If you learn anything – I pray you will tell me.’

  Indeed. Tell her what she already knew and refused to tell him. ‘Of course. I would be remiss to keep it from you. Now what was the legal question you wished to discuss?’

  ‘It is a matter of my property and how my marriage affects it.’

  ‘I should require the deeds, Mistress Perrers. The wording is critical. I suspect the King has been careful with it, as I was when I prepared the contract for your house in Windsor town.’

  ‘You would not mind reviewing this matter for me?’

  ‘It would be my pleasure.’

  ‘God bless you. I shall send Gilbert with the deeds in the morning.’

  Thoresby smiled as they parted. It would be enlightening to see the extent of Alice Perrers’s holdings.