The Riverwoman’s Dragon

‘You told Sam of your fears?’

‘I accused him. He swore it was not true. But I would not hear it. I said all his misery was his own fault.’ She closed her eyes as tears fell. ‘I became so bitter. So bitter. My friends fell away, weary of my biting words, my complaints. They saw us prosper– I did put coins aside and fixed up the house, dressed Sam and myself in clothing befitting his status. They saw no cause for my anger.’ Looking up at Owen, she seemed to search his face.

He could not imagine her finding anything but concern. And sadness. If Lucie were to push him away he would be lost.

‘You said you would not hear him out. He tried to explain?’

‘He swore I was wrong about Beatrice, but that he feared for her. She was between two who had plans for her, and she did not realize her peril. He feared, too, for Guthlac, when they engaged Bernard.’ She crossed herself. ‘May God welcome my Sam into eternal bliss.’

‘What do you know of Bernard?’

‘He is evil, Captain. I know evil when I smell it.’

‘Who engaged him?’

‘Gavin worked to convince the old master that he was imperiling his soul by having a pagan healer in the house. Sam came home, worried for Guthlac, saying Beatrice would not stand up for her husband. So of course I attacked him for that, told him she was a whore who destroyed our love.’ A sad laugh. ‘But after his death Lettice Brown told me I was wrong about Sam. It was Gavin who was her lover. Lettice– May God watch over her. What happened to her, her husband, her home, I cannot but wonder whether she was being silenced. I pray she is safe, though how she might have escaped …’

He might ease her mind, but it was not his choice to make. Nor did he entirely trust her. ‘What did Sam say of Gavin?’

‘He despised him. Grasping, greedy, dull-witted. I begged him to respect his master’s heir, else he would be without work when Guthlac died.’ She sobbed. ‘But the old man outlived my Sam.’

All the while he listened, Owen sensed a falseness, a woman pretending fear and a sad simplicity, but in truth shrewdly spinning a tale. He poured her more ale and waited for her to signal she was ready to continue. When she had drunk down a goodly amount of ale he asked, ‘Do you know Janet Fuller?’

She crossed herself. ‘Poor Janet. To have that leech as a lodger. I’d prayed her husband would throw him out, but now, so ill …’

‘Did she ever speak to you of a brother?’

‘That lout? Alan, in London. Why?’

‘I cannot say. What do you know of him?’

‘His master was a physician, trained in Italy. But so they all claim to be. He trained Alan as his assistant, entrusting him with bloodletting and simple cures. She said he seemed quite proud of it all when he wrote to her.’

‘What was the occasion of the letter?’

‘He said he might have cause to return to York, there was some trouble in London. His master was a foreigner and under suspicion. Janet’s husband did not want him in their home, but she did not know what recourse she would have were Alan to come when Jack was away. Perhaps that is why she took Bernard as a lodger.’

A foreign physician, trouble, an assistant fleeing London. ‘Do you recall when Bernard arrived in York?’

Gemma closed her eyes. ‘I cannot recall. I was caught up in my own worries. I am sorry.’

‘You have been more than helpful,’ said Owen. He rose. ‘I will speak with Hempe, arrange to have your home and those of your children watched until we have caught your husband’s killer.’

She had risen as well, pressing her back with weariness. ‘You believe me?’

‘I am grateful,’ he said, bobbing his head as if nodding.

‘Bless you, Captain. Bless you.’

Owen stepped out into a late afternoon heavy with the day’s rain yet crowned with a deep blue, and a sun bright where it found a way into the overhanging stories of the crowded street. He breathed in deep and set off at a brisk pace for the shop and Lucie’s counsel. On Coney Street he encountered a small pulsing knot of men and women shouting curses. Pushing his way into their midst he found Goodwife Keene, an elderly midwife, cowering as she covered her head with her arms against the blows two youths and a woman rained on her. Yanking the two youths out of the way he caught the arm of the offending woman and held it until she looked up, stepping back with a snarl as if she were a mad dog interrupted in battle. Agnes Baker. For years she had whispered ugly rumors about Lucie, who had done her the great disservice of saving her from herself. Agnes had appeared far too often to purchase certain physicks that calmed the mind and eased pain. After witnessing her stumbling about as if drunk and having difficulty when dealing with customers, forgetting what the person had requested, unable to recall what was available, Lucie had refused to continue to dispense those physicks in more than single doses.