The Riverwoman’s Dragon
- Автор: Робб Кэндис
- Серия: Owen Archer #13
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Severn House
- ISBN: 978-1-4483-0563-6
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «The Riverwoman’s Dragon». Краткое содержание книги:
When the wise woman Magda Digby is suspected of murder, Owen Archer sets out to prove her innocence in this intricately plotted medieval mystery.
May, 1375. Owen Archer returns from London to find York in chaos. While the citizens are living in terror of the pestilence which is spreading throughout the land, a new physician has arrived, whipping up fear and suspicion against traditional healers and midwives. With the backing of the new archbishop, he is especially hostile towards Magda Digby, the wise woman who has helped and healed the people of York for many years. At the same time, Magda is uneasy about the arrival of two long-lost kinsfolk. Though they say they are seeking her help, she senses a hidden agenda.
Magda’s troubles deepen when she discovers a body in the river near her home – and finds herself under suspicion of murder. Days later, fire rips through a warehouse in the city. Amongst the charred debris lies the body of a man – not burned, but stabbed in the back. Could there be a connection to the corpse in the river?
Determined to prove Magda’s innocence, Owen sets out to find answers – but the more he uncovers, the deeper the mystery becomes…
‘Sip some of that.’
By the time he had mixed a paste for the wound, Einar was asleep. Owen cleaned the wound and examined the arm, the direction of the arrow. Calling Twig to him, he tested the strength of his grasp. Good and strong. Confident the boy could keep the patient from flailing, or at least dampen the blows leveled at his tormentor, Owen settled on the procedure, waking Einar to explain the steps in full and assigning tasks. The lad asked no questions, simply gathered the things he would need and nodded when ready. Einar assured Twig he would do his best to cooperate.
The tide was high, but it was in, the current no challenge, as Owen rowed Twig back to shore. Smoke still swirled about, embers from the fires snapping loudly in the unusually quiet settlement, punctuated now and then with the cries of fretful children. Watching, wary, ready for more trouble, folk moved among the tumbledown structures, some holding torches or lanterns. Owen learned that Alfred had been unable to discover the marksman, and had returned to the city to stand guard through the night at his captain’s home. That was one worry eased. Owen escorted the lad to his mother, who they found sheltering in a home close to the walls.
Twig ran to her. ‘Mother? Is our house–’
‘One spark and it was gone.’ She held him close for a moment, stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head. ‘Your father rescued this.’ She held out a small battered jar, shaking it. ‘Your treasure.’
‘We will use it to rebuild,’ said Twig, handing it back to his mother.
Owen praised Twig to his mother, describing how much he had helped. ‘Bide here with your mother tomorrow, Twig. Einar will be on the rock for a few days.’ Michaelo would lose his assistant for a time. Then, excusing himself to permit them their time to grieve for their loss, Owen went back out to walk among the watchers, learning what he might, before returning to the rock.
As he rowed back he made out the figure of Einar standing beneath the dragon, her great claw – but that was not possible. The carving was but a long neck and head. Yet he could swear a great claw rested on the young man’s shoulder. When he reached the rock he rubbed his eye, looked again, and saw nothing but the head hanging upside down, leering. Even so, Owen crossed himself and whispered a prayer of protection.
‘Is there much damage?’ Einar asked, seeming unaware of anything untoward.
‘A few homes, including Twig’s. We found his mother. His father is walking the watch. Such a loss is devastating to those who have so little.’
‘And for what?’ Einar cursed. ‘I saw the clerics out there. One of them was the one who accosted Asa. He was bragging of it. I punched him.’
‘Have you seen Asa?’
‘No. I searched for her after I heard of the assault, but I found no one who could tell me where she is.’
Owen noticed how Einar touched his bandaged arm. ‘Someone said the leech Bernard might know where she is staying, that she had seen her at his lodgings, but he denies knowing her.’
‘Of course he would,’ Einar muttered.
A splash in the river. Both of them glanced round, on alert, but saw nothing.
‘Where were you headed with the coracle?’ Owen asked.
‘Here. To Dame Magda’s rock. They said Twig was here with the cat. I feared for him. I was halfway across when I was shot.’
The archer had made use of Owen’s distraction with the crowd.
‘Had you been long on the riverbank?’
‘No. I had just come from my work with Brother Michaelo.’ A pause. ‘You think it was not an accident that he aimed at me?’
‘I prefer to talk in the house.’ Owen opened the door and stood aside.
Einar stumbled as he bowed to clear the low doorway. Owen caught him and helped him to the cot. It was a wonder he had been up and about at all, much less appearing alert. He was young, yes, but such an injury and the loss of so much blood were bound to take their toll, not to mention the effect of the herbs in the brandywine.
‘I will stay the night, wait for Magda,’ said Owen.
Eyes closed, Einar said, ‘In truth, I could not trust myself to protect the house tonight. But I asked you a question. Do you think I was the archer’s target?’
‘You do not think it an accident,’ said Owen. ‘Whom do you fear? Bernard, or someone connected to him?’
Einar started, as if Owen had splashed cold water on his face. ‘Why Bernard?’
‘Who is he to you?’
‘Not me, Magda.’
‘It was not her but you he would have seen on the riverbank.’
‘Then I am wrong.’
Owen was not convinced, but the young man was fading. ‘Did Bernard lie to me? Does he know Asa?’
‘He knows her. I saw them together often in Lincoln. But I know not the nature of their acquaintance.’ He spoke slowly, pausing to lick his lips, his words beginning to slur.
‘She did not speak of him with you?’
A long pause. ‘Not until he departed Lincoln. She claimed he misrep–’ Einar looked confused. ‘Said he was no leech.’
Owen remembered Einar’s amusement when Jasper spoke of Bernard as a physician on St George’s Field. ‘A barber posing as a physician? It might explain much.’
‘I did not know Alan is the one who has spoken out against Dame Magda.’
‘Alan?’
‘Bernard. I grow confused.’
‘Enough for tonight. Rest.’ Owen saw that he was settled, then went to check the kitten, snuggled in a basket lined with soft cloth. Asleep. Holda’s sweetness turned his thoughts to his children. Pouring a small measure of brandywine, he settled by the fire and let his mind roam free. But he kept returning to the question, Who was Alan?
Magda stood under the stars, reaching her mind toward her rock. Smoke. Three homes of the poor gone up in flames. Bird-eye on the rock with Einar. Quiet now. She would go to Einar, but the new mother might need her in the night. The bleeding had stopped with a strong draft of yarrow and comfrey and Helen now slept, but Magda could not in good conscience leave just yet despite Lettice and Tess hovering about her, rocking the newborns, and Fergus sitting beside his wife, stroking her hair.
Seeing the fires in her mind’s eye, Magda was glad she had removed this family from danger before the births.
Waking in darkness, Owen saw Einar stoking the fire, adding a few pieces of wood. They quickly caught, the flames lighting the cot where Owen lay. The kitten had managed to leave her basket and curl up beside him. Observing the injured man rise to fetch some items from Magda’s food cupboard, Owen judged him well enough to fend for himself a while longer and closed his eye, returning to slumber. When next he woke it was to a draft from the open doorway. Finding the kitten gone, he bolted from the bed to the threshold. Outside, Einar stood guard over the little being as she was scratching to cover her business.
‘Dame Magda’s trained her to paw at the door. I observed them together while Asa was here.’
Laughing, Owen moved off beyond them to relieve himself in the river. A turn round the house assured him that it had suffered no damage. By the time he returned to the door Einar had taken Holda inside. Closing his eye, Owen reached up to touch the dragon. Warm, though the sun had not yet hit it.
Inside, Owen poured himself some ale from a jug in the cupboard, noted it was almost empty. He would ask Tom to send some out to Magda. He settled by the fire across from Einar, who was feeding the kitten a bit of milk. ‘Does Asa wish you harm?’
Einar glanced up. ‘She’s no cause to wish me ill. I’ve been of use to her. Though not so much now.’