A Conspiracy of Wolves

‘Come here, Dun.’ Geoffrey motioned for him to sit down on the path beside Alisoun. He gently lifted her by the shoulders, her thick hair coming loose and fanning out over one shoulder. Geoffrey’s breath caught in his throat. He’d thought of her as a warrior, but she was suddenly a fragile, beautiful young woman whose life might depend upon him. ‘Move closer.’ Dun shifted. ‘Sit cross-legged.’ When the man was in position, Geoffrey arranged Alisoun so that her head was cradled in Dun’s lap, her hair held away from the blood pooling on the path. She moaned softly.

‘Where is Master Crispin?’ he asked Dun.

‘Called away to Master John Gisburne’s home in Micklegate. Wore his best clothes. Meaning to join the mourners at Swann’s after seeing to business?’ A shrug.

Gisburne. A familiar name, a wealthy merchant for whom there was no love in Owen and Lucie’s household. As for Poole joining the mourners, Geoffrey very much doubted that to be the case, but as he was already headed there to find Lucie and Owen, he would ask. ‘Stay right here, with your hand on her shoulder so that she feels your presence, and talk to her, tell her tales, keep assuring her that help is coming.’

‘Tales?’

‘Anything that coaxes her back to us. Sing, if you’ve a voice that won’t pain her.’

‘I can sing.’

To Geoffrey’s relief, the man raised a competent voice in a love ballad. It would do. He left Alisoun with her troubadour and went to see about Dame Euphemia. The elderly woman whimpered as he approached, curling into a tighter ball.

‘I will bring help,’ Geoffrey said softly.

Dun broke off his singing to say, ‘My fellow servant, Eva, she will be hiding in the kitchen. She can calm my mistress.’

‘The kitchen?’

‘Dogs frighten her. Even ladies’ lapdogs.’

And that particular hound … Geoffrey found the woman under the work table beneath two overturned laundry baskets. Hardly invisible.

‘The hound is gone, and his handler. You must see to Dame Euphemia.’

The woman peered out. ‘The wolf is gone?’

‘I have no time to waste, your mistress and the young woman who saved her are injured. Look to your conscience, find your courage, woman.’ He left her with that.

Outside, Dun had paused in his singing.

‘Another song,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I told you, sing her back to us. I will return as quickly as I might.’

As he hastened down the alleyway, Geoffrey noticed the Tirwhit maidservant standing at the edge of the street. When she saw him, she turned aside as if to pretend she was just passing. He’d come to know her on his watches, a young woman most curious about her neighbors. He would test her purpose.

He hurried forward. ‘I’ve often observed you watching this house, now is your chance to befriend the Pooles. Your neighbors, are they not? Are you not employed by Adam Tirwhit?’ He caught her arm as she made to walk away.

‘Is that blood on your sleeve?’ she asked.

So it was. His heart ached to see Alisoun’s blood on his cuff.

‘I dare not–’ She tried to shake him off.

But Geoffrey did not let go. ‘They have suffered a grievous trespass. I pray you, see what you might do to make Dame Euphemia more comfortable.’

She gasped and reared back, her eyes seeking escape.

‘Useless wench.’ He pushed her away and hurried off.

Owen stood sharply as Geoffrey rushed into the Swann hall, his hat awry, an urgency in the way he searched the room. So he’d been right in predicting an attack, but wrong about the location. Owen was out of practice, idle too long, his wits dulled.

‘Blessed be, you are here.’ Geoffrey wheezed out the words. ‘Forgive me, it’s been a long while since I ran so far. You must come with me. And Lucie. We need her healing skills.’ He tugged on his jacket and straightened up, as if suddenly aware he was in public in disarray. His sleeves were bloody.

Touching the cuff of one, Owen found it saturated. ‘Whose?’ he asked.

‘Alisoun Ffulford’s, God help her.’

‘My dear Alisoun,’ Lucie whispered, lifting Geoffrey’s arm, ‘and so much blood? How? Where is she?’

‘At Poole’s home. Dame Euphemia is injured as well, but Alisoun – I fear most for her, a head wound. The animal pushed her down and she fell against a stone wall. She bleeds from the head.’

‘I knew she was in danger,’ said Ned, appearing from nowhere. ‘I will come.’

‘You will stay here in my stead,’ Owen commanded. ‘Watch the room. Note everyone’s movements.’

‘But–’

‘I need you here.’ Owen stared down the young man until he saw him awaken to his duty and nod.

Geoffrey was straining to see all at the long table. ‘Is Crispin Poole among you?’

Owen met Lucie’s gaze as Geoffrey explained why he’d asked. ‘A convenient coincidence,’ Owen said.

Lucie raised a brow.

‘I pray you, come quickly, both of you.’ Geoffrey edged toward the hall door.

The crowd had grown quiet, the guests craning their necks to hear and see what news the late arrival brought with him. Owen considered their expressions, especially the Swanns and the Braithwaites. All looked frightened.

‘Come.’ Owen led Lucie and Geoffrey out into the afternoon.