A Conspiracy of Wolves

Lucie drew out a jar of the salve Owen used to keep the skin of his blind eye soft and malleable. ‘This will soften the skin on your face,’ she said. ‘A little each morning and each night.’ She handed it to the girl. ‘A gift.’

A twisted smile. ‘The man with the hellhound came for her in the night.’

‘Grace!’ A woman plucked the jar from the child and handed it to Lucie. ‘We do not need your pity.’

‘Forgive me,’ said Lucie. ‘I am–’

The woman withdrew with the child.

Michaelo touched Lucie’s arm. ‘Come. We are not welcome here.’

‘The child was about to tell me something.’

‘No matter.’ Michaelo took the basket from her arm and guided her away.

As they picked their way among the dwellings, Michaelo asked a few whether they knew where Cecelia had gone. The question was met with uneasy glances as folk shook their heads. At the edge of the camp a woman fell into step with Lucie.

‘They are afraid of the hellhound,’ she whispered. ‘But the beast cannot harm Cecelia.’

Lucie turned to ask the woman how she knew, but she’d vanished.

‘In faith, she was there yesterday,’ Michaelo was saying. ‘Forgive my error. When I inquired after her wellbeing earlier and heard she was away I took that to mean for the moment.’

‘Who was the woman who spoke to me just now?’

Michaelo frowned down at her. ‘I did not see.’

Wrapping Dame Muriel against the evening chill, Alisoun led her out onto the solar landing, walking her back and forth to work out a cramp in her calf. The landing stretched the length of the house, affording a view of the Fenton garden, the York Tavern, and, at a slight angle, Lucie Wilton’s apothecary garden. Dame Janet would be horrified to see them out there, believing as she did that her daughter must remain in bed. But Muriel was no longer hobbled by the cramp, and she breathed with more ease. Even such a simple exercise might induce a deeper, more restful sleep. They continued their pacing, saying little, both lost in their own reveries, until Alisoun caught a movement near the rear door of the Fenton house. As she watched she saw a man gesture to an animal so large that as it began to dart away he hardly needed to bend over at all in order to catch it by the scruff of its neck and make it stay.

She must alert Ned without alarming the household. ‘I pray this has encouraged your appetite, Dame Muriel.’ She hoped her companion did not hear the tremor in her voice as she tried to lead her toward her bedchamber.

But Muriel resisted. ‘A few more turns. My leg feels so much better.’

Alisoun rubbed Dame Muriel’s shoulders. ‘We will stay out longer in the morning.’

Muriel shook her off and stepped over to the railing. ‘Is that the new servant in the Fenton garden? What was his name? Ned. Yes, like my cousin. Why would he trespass?’

Alisoun joined her. Ned was indeed stealing toward the Fenton house. The man and dog were no longer in sight. She felt a wave of relief.

‘He is following Captain Archer’s orders, guarding your household,’ said Alisoun. ‘The Fentons’ house being empty, he’s right to check it.’

‘Bless him. Bless all of you.’ Muriel touched Alisoun’s forearm. ‘I could not ask for more loving care. I believe I might eat something now.’

Alisoun hurried down to the kitchen herself, telling the cook what she wanted, that she would return for it in a moment. At the gate into the Fenton garden she saw no one. Hurrying to the house, she found the door ajar. She pushed it open and was stepping through when someone grabbed her from the shadows, holding a dagger to her throat.

‘Be silent. You are safe so long as you say nothing. You did not see me. You were not here.’

Feeling the stump of the arm pressing into her chest, she knew it to be Crispin Poole.

He pushed her out the door and shut it behind her.

Back in the Swann yard, she vomited in the midden.

Jasper stepped out from the apothecary workshop as Owen passed on his way to the tavern. ‘Brother Michaelo was here again, talking to Dame Lucie. Are you both working with him?’

His mind on other matters, Owen nodded. ‘He believes he’s found Cilla.’

‘Oh.’

The disappointment in Jasper’s voice got Owen’s attention. ‘What’s troubling you?’

‘How can you work with the man who poisoned Brother Wulfstan?’ The infirmarian at St Mary’s had survived the poisoning, living to save Jasper’s life the following year, becoming a beloved spiritual guide to the orphaned boy while he lived.

‘I believe in the power of redemption,’ said Owen. ‘Happens he’s …’ He lost the thought as Ned hurried through the gate. ‘Trouble?’

‘A man and a dog, standing beneath the eaves of the Fenton house just now.’ Ned took a breath. ‘Watching Alisoun walking Dame Muriel on the landing above.’ Another breath. ‘And then he was gone. I thought you’d want to check the house with me.’

‘What did he look like?’ Owen asked, thinking of Braithwaite’s man Galbot and the dog Tempest.

‘He stayed in the shadows so I could not see his face. A short man, or the dog is uncommon tall.’