A Conspiracy of Wolves

A shiver ran from her hand to Lucie’s, who sat there a moment, head bowed, praying that Owen might safely bring the monsters to justice. Safely, I pray you, Lord. ‘He is already out and about, asking questions,’ said Lucie. ‘And he’s placed one of his trusted men in your home, to listen and observe, to go where Alisoun cannot go while she is with you. You are protected.’

Muriel pressed Lucie’s hand. ‘Bless you, both of you.’ She sat back as the servant returned with the broth.

Alisoun added the physick, then brought the bowl of broth to Muriel, recommending that she sip it while it was warm. Lucie was gratified to see the woman’s sunken cheeks flush with the warmth, and accepted a cup of watered wine to sip, appreciating the peaceful moment.

Out of the quiet, Muriel asked the servant to wait outside. As soon as the young woman drew the door shut behind her, Muriel said, ‘I should have come to Captain Archer about my suspicions. If I had done so–’ A deep breath. ‘You must tell him to look at Hoban’s circle, his sister, her husband, and my brother Paul.’ She crossed herself and turned to gaze out the window, her hand to her heart.

His circle? Lucie glanced at Alisoun, who shook her head. She was about to ask what Muriel meant when she gave a little moan, pressing a hand to her stomach.

‘Rest now,’ Lucie whispered, stroking Muriel’s back to relax her.

But Muriel shook her head. ‘They keep some secret, I’ve always felt it. Hoban kept things from me. At first I told myself he protected me, sheltered me in his love, but …’ She caught her breath and pressed Lucie’s hand, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘I do not like to say it of him. He was so happy about being a father. And I loved him so.’

‘A little more of the physick, Alisoun,’ Lucie said, ‘in some watered wine.’

Muriel shook her head. ‘No. No first let me tell you what you must tell your husband. Since Crispin Poole returned – you know of whom I speak?’ Lucie nodded. ‘Since then, they’ve whispered and argued under their breaths. Frightened. Or angry. Both?’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘How can I be certain of anything when he would never tell me? Nor would she, Olyf–’ She crossed herself. ‘Poor woman, she has lost brother and father. I do not like speaking ill of her. But she is a shrewd one, though she plays the innocent.’

Alisoun knelt in front of her charge and took her hands, catching her eyes and holding the gaze, calming her.

As Magda would do. Lucie asked if she should go.

‘No!’ Muriel broke away from Alisoun and took Lucie’s hand. ‘Crispin Poole. As I said, since his return, they’ve not been the same. The captain must hear this.’

‘Poole,’ Alisoun whispered, so softly that Lucie almost missed it.

She glanced at her. The young woman seemed lost in herself. Crispin Poole. He had consulted Lucie earlier in the summer about pain in what remained of his right arm. The haunting of the lost hand and forearm. She had sent him to Magda Digby, who knew how to work with such soul wounds. Owen knew him better than she did. ‘I will tell my husband what you have said,’ Lucie promised.

Muriel nodded. ‘My brother asked me if I wanted his dog Tempest here. Stupid man. A dog? After what a dog did to my husband? I’ve always hated his dogs.’

‘Whose? Your brother’s? Has Paul always kept dogs?’ Lucie asked.

‘Breeds them for hunting. Wealthy men come from far and wide to purchase his beasts. I believe his wife – Elaine – I believe she hates them as much as I do.’ She gave a sob. ‘Hoban never blamed me for being barren, ever. He was the most patient, loving man. When I told him I was at last with child … How his eyes lit up …’ Muriel stared out the window, her body shaken with sobs.

Alisoun handed Lucie a cup of watered wine containing more of the physick. ‘For the baby’s sake you must rest,’ said Lucie.

Muriel drank it down quickly, then rested her head against the back of the chair with a sigh. ‘I can sleep now. Captain Archer will know what to do.’ Alisoun helped her rise, supporting her with an arm round her waist as she slowly crossed the room to the bed.

When Muriel was asleep, Alisoun joined Lucie on a bench by the window, thanking her for coming. ‘Your presence is a balm for her.’

Lucie noticed shadows of exhaustion beneath Alisoun’s eyes. She wanted so much to ask about the pouch, but it was not the time. ‘Would you like me to stay with her while you rest?’

Alisoun let her shoulders slump. ‘Would you? I’ll just lie down here. If Dame Janet or Dame Olyf should come–’

‘I doubt Janet Braithwaite will have the time to visit her daughter today, but if she does, she can wait in the hall. The same for Dame Olyf.’

‘Bless you.’

Lucie poured the weary young woman a cup of wine, then told the servant to shutter the window. In the dim quiet, Alisoun slipped out of her dress and beneath the bedclothes, and Lucie settled beside the sleeping widow, letting her mind quiet before sorting through Muriel’s tearful confidences.