A Conspiracy of Wolves

Shortly after dawn, Alisoun woke to the sounds of Dame Muriel and her mother, who had chosen to sleep the night with her daughter. Muriel talked and wept as Dame Janet stroked her hair and assured her that all would be well, she must be strong for her child. Alisoun slipped away to fetch some food and replenish the watered wine mother and daughter had sipped through the night.

In the kitchen she found Bartolf Swann snoring by the fire, the cook grumbling as he moved about his morning chores trying not to wake the old man.

‘You’ll be comforted to know that Captain Archer’s men stayed the night at the Riverwoman’s,’ he said as he gathered bread and cheese for her, and filled the jug with more wine. ‘They will keep trouble from your door.’

‘What right had he–’ Alisoun stopped herself when she saw the curious look the cook gave her. Of course he would expect her to be eased by that. ‘How do you know this?’

‘The master. After the household went to bed he talked and talked. Much of it jabber – pushing away the devils that haunt a man when he’s gone past sensible drink. He’ll drink himself into the grave. But who can blame him, poor man, his only son?’

She remembered standing at Magda’s door in the deepening evening watching the broad back of Crispin Poole as he crossed over to the bank. And that other observer, standing at the edge of the wood. Had Poole dropped the salve, or had it been taken from him? Either way, she imagined him coming to the house yesterday at dusk, needing more, and discovering the captain’s men there. He would be angry, thinking she had betrayed him. But why would she? What had his misadventure to do with Hoban Swann? Except – the dogs. How he’d insisted it was but one dog, though she was certain she’d first heard a pair. God help her.

She should not have used that particular pouch. She and Jasper had found the scrap of leather, making up a story about what had scored it, silly chatter. And now, when the captain showed it to Jasper, he’d see the mark and remember. Would he betray her? Of course he would, he would do anything to earn the captain’s approval. He was ever talking about the time he’d helped the captain catch a thief and a murderer. That was when he’d began calling him ‘da’ instead of ‘the captain’.

She delivered the jug of wine to Muriel’s chamber. Mother and daughter were at last asleep, a small miracle. By the light coming through the shutters Alisoun guessed that Jasper might be up by now, readying the shop for early customers or sweeping the street in front. She could go to him, but he would want to know why she begged the favor of secrecy. What would she say? I know of a man who was attacked by dogs but I’m certain he did not murder Hoban Swann? But how could she possibly be certain? She knew little about Crispin Poole. She did not understand why she was so keen to defend him. Because she did not trust the captain to believe his innocence?

Holy Mother, help me. Give me a sign to show me the way. Alisoun plucked her shawl from a hook by the door, hurried down the steps and through the gate into the neighbors’ back garden, taking the path to the York Tavern’s yard, next door to the apothecary. She hurried along, letting her eyes wander round the flowerbeds and fruit trees, up to the dawn sky, but suddenly she stopped, a voice in her head warning her that hurrying to Jasper to find out whether he’d betrayed her was a betrayal in itself. He would guess it was important. What could she say? Is this my sign, Blessed Mother?

Turning round, she hurried back to the Swann house, her heart pounding, frightened by her own confusion.

‘I’ve spoken with all the gate guards,’ said Hempe. ‘Sounds like Joss entered and left by Bootham Bar, both times in a hurry. On his way out, he pushed past a family who were in the queue, saying he must make haste, he’d been ordered back to the Swann home in Galtres to stand guard. Toby let him pass. “Thought it best to see the back of him before he started brawling,” he said.’

‘So he headed back to Bartolf’s home but never arrived,’ said Owen. ‘I don’t like that.’

‘Nor do I.’

‘And what of Hoban? Had he gone out alone?’

‘Alone but for a hired horse spooking at all the folk – he left just before the closing of the gates. Said he was doing a favor for his father, fetching his beloved dogs, and the warden agreed to watch for him, let him back in. Course he never came. No one apparently following him. Nor Joss when he came in early in the morning.’

‘How early?’

‘Almost the first one at the gate.’

‘So early,’ said Owen. ‘What was he doing out on that track at such an hour?’

‘Might he have heard something?’

‘Hoban would have died quickly,’ said Owen. ‘By morning there would be nothing to hear.’

‘So the manservant heard him attacked in the night, but stayed put until first light?’ Hempe suggested.