The Riverwoman’s Dragon

‘Do you know how Gavin made his acquaintance?’

‘Master Bernard’s? Out of town, I think. Wolcott’s party told him of old Masterton’s death, that there was need for another physician in York. Saurian is getting old. Oft refuses to come out after dark.’

‘So Bernard was seeking work?’

‘I see what you’re doing. You want to push the blame on him. Well, the Riverwoman is your friend and I understand you must do what you can to protect her. And her spawn. But you’re captain of the city now, and you’ve a duty to us. You will find plenty folk with tales of her misdeeds. And in such times, with God testing us so sorely as might come to pass this summer, you must do your duty.’

‘Whose misdeeds – Dame Magda’s or her daughter’s?’

‘Matters not a whit. Both are witches.’

Arrogant little man. Owen controlled himself, forcing a blank face and a submissive nod. ‘Which is why I am here. If I might speak with your daughters and the servants–’

The man shook his head. ‘I’ll not have you upsetting them with your twisty questioning. I’ve told you all that we will say on the matter. I don’t thank you for pulling my Ned away from his work here in the yard to chase round after you and your mate Hempe. He’d never have helped the Riverwoman sneak into my home had you not filled his head with ideas.’

‘The Riverwoman’s daughter, you mean. Do you know that Ned sneaked her into your home?’

‘It was not my wife or my daughters. They are Christian women.’

Rising, Owen left with a mere nod of courtesy.

From Cooper’s house Owen headed to the King’s Staithe, where he found George Hempe talking to the laborers unloading a merchant ship.

‘Any witnesses to the start of the fire?’

‘No. Late in the day, no ship arriving at that time, the staithe was quiet, it seems.’ Hempe nodded at Owen’s expression. ‘You’re thinking what I’m thinking. Well planned. And you? Learned anything?’

‘Little. You’ve spoken with the warehouse workers and the neighbors?’

‘I went round with your man Alfred. He puts folk at ease. No one noticed anything out of joint that day.’

‘Then it’s time I talked to Sam’s widow about the witnesses, watch her reaction. Was it you who spoke with her?’

‘Poole. As coroner for Galtres, where Sam was found. I warn you, Gemma Toller is a shrew.’

Owen found Sam’s widow working in a small kitchen garden behind her home, jabbing at the weeds as if thinking that would convince them not to re-seed. Dressed in a gown of faded blue, worn and patched, she was a handsome woman despite the hostile eyes and pursed lips. Bitter about her husband’s attentions to Beatrice Wolcott, the woman did prove coarse in her accusations, but even more so in pointing the finger at Magda as the murderer. Yet as she spewed her venom Owen was distracted by how she spoke, the hesitations and repeated phrases, slightly corrected, as if she were misremembering something she had learned by rote. She did have a helpful, hopeful piece of news – Lettice Brown was away at her daughter’s home outside the gates for her first lying in. By the time he left the house he was convinced that only her resentment toward Beatrice Wolcott and her fear of what would become of her and her children were real. Nothing in her claim that Sam accused Magda Digby of poisoning Guthlac Wolcott and that he was pushed into the river from Magda’s rock was true. Nor did she believe it.