The Riverwoman’s Dragon

After escorting Alice home, Owen headed to the York Tavern. He would have preferred going straight back to Lucie to tell her all he had heard from Gemma Toller, but she had deliveries to store after closing the shop.

Seeing his face, Bess drew him into her quiet space next to the kitchen and poured two goodly cups of brandywine, handing him his and tilting her head, ready to listen.

‘Where to start?’ he wondered.

‘Not a comforting beginning.’ She took a drink. ‘I understand you sent Agnes Baker and her loathsome eldest off to do penance for their sins. We may never see them again. I toast you for that.’ She lifted her cup to him and took another drink.

‘Not surprised you heard. Folk are on edge. Guthlac Wolcott is dead.’

‘I heard. Not pestilence, but folk won’t believe it. And being buried out in the kirkyard here. We will be busy with folk wanting to drink and gawk.’ She knew more than Owen did. ‘Though the family has suffered much this past year – the little ones, then their factor’s death, now Guthlac, I have a bad feeling about that son and the young wife.’ She leaned toward Owen, studying his face. ‘I see you have somewhat to say about that. Tell me.’

While Owen was telling her about Gemma Toller’s suspicions regarding Beatrice’s children, Hempe arrived.

‘Tom told me you were here,’ he said. ‘I hoped for a word.’

Bess motioned him in, fetching another cup from the shelf behind her, offering him brandywine. She summed up for him what Owen had just said.

Hempe shook his head. ‘She told you all that? How did you charm her? She never said aught of use to either me or Poole.’

‘We disregarded her as a shrew,’ said Owen. ‘Which she may be, with a purpose. Or she may provide insight. I’ve not yet decided.’

‘What changed your mind about her usefulness?’ Hempe asked.

‘It was something Lucie said when we spoke of Dame Beatrice’s condition.’

Bess gave him a look as if to say, of course. ‘What of Guthlac’s death?’ she asked. ‘Did she find blame with Bernard?’

‘I sensed no opinion on that except that Bernard may not be who he claims.’ Owen told them what he knew and suspected.

‘Fled trouble in London and changed his name?’ Hempe said softly. ‘And climbed from barber to physician, educated in Italy.’ He held out his empty cup for more. ‘Might he be an executioner for those willing to pay well?’

‘I wonder,’ said Owen.

‘Did I hear you say that Dame Beatrice is with child?’ asked Hempe. ‘Is Gemma certain?’

‘Dame Magda is,’ said Owen. ‘And there is more.’ He told them the rest of what Lettice had told them, of her conviction that the Wolcotts were behind her tragedy.

‘God in heaven,’ Hempe whispered.

Bess shifted in her seat, setting the ribbons on her cap dancing. ‘Bad seed, that Gavin. I have always thought that. To think that he would so coldly plot his father’s death. And what of his friendship with the mayor? Is Graa part of this?’

Owen marked that Bess knew of the friendship. ‘No one has suggested so. But the warehousemen who beat Lettice’s husband were Graa’s men.’

‘So we keep this investigation to ourselves until we know what is what,’ said Hempe.

They spoke more, Hempe talking of disturbances throughout the city. When Owen rose to leave, he declared his intention of calling on the Fullers the next morning, after the burial.

‘I pray you, do not cross the threshold,’ said Bess. ‘You do not want to bring home the Death.’

Hempe rose as well. ‘Lotta and I will attend the vigil at the Wolcott home tonight. For a short while. Dame Beatrice attended Sam’s requiem, and would have come to the vigil the night before, I think, but that she knew of his widow’s animosity toward her. I will tell you whether I notice anything of interest.’

‘Have a care, both of you,’ Bess warned.