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…
‘She took up your cause.’
‘She did not know I had already been on the hunt. Or – perhaps she did.’ He opened his palm. ‘This knife was in her scrip. It has Monsieur Ricard’s mark on it. So do the tools Alan dropped. She might have seen them and noticed the mark, known this knife was proof.’
‘It does explain why he snatched it from her. How did you trace him to York?’
‘A chance conversation with a taverner at the edge of the city a few months after he left. He seemed eager to gossip about travelers, so I asked about Bernard. “Ah, the sly barber sold himself to a York merchant as a physician educated in Italy. Rode off with him.”’
‘The taverner said nothing to the king’s men?’
‘I did not ask. To my shame I thought only of how Asa and I might benefit from his trouble if we followed him to York.’
‘Did he mention what York merchant?’
‘Called him a young fool traveling with several others who were angry with him when they discovered he had invited Alan along.’
‘So you told Asa where he had gone …’
They had then come to York, and in short order heard of the rumors about Magda Digby, some of the accusations so close to Asa’s manner of speech that Einar realized Alan must be using her confidences. He said nothing until he met Magda himself and found her not at all how Asa had described her, but rather a woman from whom he wished to learn, a woman of wisdom and honor. When Asa complained about Alan, Einar laughed at her.
‘By then she disgusted me as much as he did. I hoped that with Dame Magda I might learn healing. If I could convince her that I am called to it … So I told Asa that once I ferried her across the river I wanted no more to do with her.’ He bowed his head. ‘She did not deserve what she’s suffered.’
‘No.’ Owen said nothing for a while.
Einar rose, stepped down to the edge of the rock, stuck a hand in the water. ‘I like it here on the river. I pray Dame Magda will forgive me.’
‘You have told her all this?’
‘I did. But all she said was that you were the one to hear it. She did not throw me out, but she will.’ A heavy sigh.
‘You said Asa used Alisoun’s mandrake to make the poppet. She knew Alan feared them?’
‘She said they held a particular terror for him.’
‘When did she steal it?’
‘I don’t know. She showed it to me the day I rowed her across the river. She stole a number of household goods from Dame Magda as well.’
‘I thought she had used the mandrake root earlier,’ said Owen. ‘There was another, or so Edwin Cooper claimed.’
‘I know nothing of that.’
‘No matter. How long were you here in York before going to Magda?’
‘A fortnight or more. Asa tried to find work, but the fear of strangers was already spreading in the city and she found few who would open the door to her. Folk hurried past her on the streets, cloths over their mouths, though she looks neither ill nor unkempt. Dame Celia Cooper seemed to welcome her, and she hoped that might lead to more work. For a time it did. Until Cooper threw her out and his thugs beat her. She cannot move fast with her bad leg. Lincoln is a city on a steep hill. Several years of climbing it visiting the sick crippled her. She expected York to be easier for her, though the journey from Lincoln was difficult. But despite having the coin to pay, the only lodging we could find here was up a steep set of steps often slippery with rain. She tried to come down only once a day and back up in the evenings. But it meant she was out on the streets all day, walking. After the beating she decided it was time to find her mother and ask for help.’ Einar settled on the bench beside Owen. ‘I cannot think where Alan’s gone.’
‘Nor can I. If he’s in the city, Hempe’s men will find him.’
They were interrupted by Twig, stepping out to tell them that Asa was moaning and licking her lips.
‘Let me help you with that. Oof! That’s a load.’ Jasper laughed as he backed through the beaded doorway to ease his side of a large package down onto the floor where it would be out of the way.
His companion bobbed his head to Lucie. ‘Mistress Wilton. I am Tomas the weaver.’ His accent identified him as a Fleming. ‘This is the fustian the captain ordered for the Riverwoman.’
She had forgotten. ‘Bless you for delivering it.’
‘I try to keep busy. It is hard at present, with the sickness. Folk do not like to come near foreigners.’ He and his family had lived in York a long while. But Lucie knew it was true the Flemings were avoided.
‘Did the captain pay you?’ she asked.
‘More than enough. I have coins to return.’ He counted them out, placing them on the table just inside the door. ‘We were glad for the order. Will the Riverwoman be making clothes for the poor?’
‘She is giving work to a family in need of it. Enough for them, and sufficient to make more to sell and display their skill.’
‘If I might be of help. We have a table at the Thursday market and we could display some of their work. Good for them, good for us.’
‘I will tell Magda of your generous offer.’
He bobbed his head and withdrew, thanking Jasper for his help.
Curious, Lucie untied the cord and lifted the waxed cloth to reveal a fustian unlike anything she had seen in shops, so soft as to seem far costlier, yet with a tight weave for long wear. She would see what she might do to stir up more business for Tomas.
‘I could borrow Bess’s cart and take it to Magda this afternoon,’ said Jasper. ‘I would like to see her.’
‘And Asa?’ They had heard of Owen’s solemn progress through the city and out Bootham, gossip spreading fast.
‘No. Just–’
‘You need not explain. For months you have been chained to the shop with little chance to stretch your legs and see something else. I accept your offer. Remember to take the coin.’
In the early morning Magda had been called to a home halfway to Easingwold. A child had tumbled from a roof. Setting the bones of a young child was ever the most difficult, and Magda had been weary of heart and spirit by the time she went to the glade to see how Helen and her twins fared. The family’s joy cheered her, and when the children invited her to share a meat pie they had made from their father’s catch she welcomed the chance to prolong her time in the healing place. So it was that she turned home long after she had intended. She had not forgotten that she would be needed, but she had sensed Bird-eye’s presence, and knew that whatever the problem, he could cope until her return.
Raven chided her along the way, urging her to walk faster. Asa, then. Magda reached out to her daughter, finding confusion and pain, a great deal of pain, but no anger. Broken bones, broken spirit. Tears. She quickened her pace, but a flood of memories slowed her – Asa’s childhood of broken bones, torn skin, loosened teeth, sprains, screams, curses, high fevers, but never tears. By the time she bore Asa, Magda knew that children survived illnesses and injuries that felled older folk. Some criticized her for allowing her child to run wild. But Asa was wild, a creature of the moors, buffeted by winds, nurtured by storms and inconstant sun. Four-legged animals and those with wings spoke to Asa more clearly than the two-legged folk among whom she lived. She’d sought out the ancient trees, sitting on their roots through the day, drinking in their wisdom. Among her own kind she was ever ready to erupt in fury, chilling in her delight in cruel barbs and japes. She had only disdain for her brother Potter, but she had loved her father, whom all called Digby. He carved and chiseled life out of wood and rock, humming as he worked, or weaving stories as folk in the village brought out their own work to listen. Strong, a man of few words when he was not telling tales, he comforted and cajoled his wild daughter, encouraged his quiet, curious, awkward son. When Magda felt the call to go south to the forest of Galtres, Digby had blessed Potter’s decision to accompany her, expecting both to return before long. Asa had cursed both of them, angry about their defection, though except for her mother’s healing skills she had wished to have nothing to do with them. And she had cursed Magda again on her return, blaming her for both the deaths of her father and her brother. Now she came for healing. The pungent scents of the woodland rooted Magda in the present as she remembered, propelling her homeward.