A Conspiracy of Wolves

Thinking of Euphemia’s comment, Lucie asked, ‘So it might have been a man or a woman?’

Alisoun met her eyes. ‘That would explain it.’

Hempe was already in the hall apologizing to Janet Braithwaite, who was wringing her hands. The bailiff’s wife, an early riser, had shaken him awake with the news that two of his lads had been left on their doorstep, all trussed up and swearing they’d been attacked by wolves.

‘Tied up by wolves. Nothing between their ears, nothing,’ Hempe growled. ‘Sleeping is what they were doing instead of standing watch.’

When Owen and Corm relayed their news, Janet Braithwaite’s face was ashen. ‘How could this happen? How could he be such a fool to go with Galbot?’

Owen cursed beneath his breath. ‘With Galbot? Paul went willingly? Did you see him?’

‘The cook says Galbot woke Paul, told him he’d been following Joss and Cilla, had heard them planning to attack the kennels at the manor, and my son decided he must leave at once. He would tell the guard at Micklegate Bar it was an emergency. They’d gone down to the kitchen so as not to wake Elaine, though she followed soon after, and cook overheard them talking.’

Apparently John’s collapse the previous night had so shaken the household that the servants had forgotten that Galbot was not to be admitted. Or someone had forgotten to issue the order.

‘Elaine insisted on accompanying Paul. Cook says she muttered about being ruined as she gathered food for the journey. They were away before John and I wakened.’

‘Is there someone here who knows the way to your manor?’ Owen asked. ‘Knows it well enough to leave the main road?’

Janet gestured to a manservant who had stepped forward. ‘Alan grew up on the manor. You are welcome to take our horses–’

‘I can provide them,’ said Hempe. ‘This is my fault. I chose the lackwits who bungled the watch.’

‘My husband would assist, but …’ Janet’s voice caught.

‘Was Saurian able to help?’ Owen asked.

‘He made him comfortable, but said John must have a long rest.’ She waved away any further comments. ‘You must be off. Save my son!’

Out in the yard, Alfred waited, eager to give Owen the news that Old Bede had seen the body at the Poole home, and had identified him to Burnby the coroner as one of the men who had threatened him on the staithe the night of Bartolf’s murder.

‘Any trouble bringing him into the city?’ Owen asked.

‘None. Whoever might have wanted him …’

‘They are on the road to Paul Braithwaite’s manor, or already there,’ Hempe said.

Alfred looked from one to the other. ‘Are we off to the country, Captain? Shall I round up a few more men?’

‘Where is Stephen?’

‘With Poole, awaiting further orders – what to do about Old Bede, for one, and Bartolf’s dogs. Poole’s men found them wandering near Bartolf’s house in Galtres, injured and half-starved. They brought them to Poole.’

‘Run, fetch Stephen, and meet us at the stables outside Micklegate Bar. Tell Old Bede to stay at Poole’s house until we return. As for the dogs, I don’t know what to do with them.’

‘Bring along any of my men you might see,’ said Hempe. He ordered Corm to stand guard at the Braithwaite house. ‘You do know how to defend yourself?’

The young man straightened and his eyes went cold as he drew his knife.

Hempe grunted. ‘You’ll do, though I do wonder. All that practice at the butts of a Sunday and Captain Archer’s the only one who thinks to grab a bow and quiver of arrows when trouble arises? If he becomes our captain, I pray he’ll have you men practicing daily.’

It was a thought. For his part, Owen was glad he’d done some hunting with the bow while at Freythorpe. He knew how easily he could lose his form.

The gate captain at Micklegate Bar recalled the Braithwaites departing with their cart of goods. ‘The pair were bickering something terrible.’

‘How many in their party?’ Owen asked.

‘The Braithwaites and their servants, a man and a woman.’

‘No one else? No one who seemed to be following them?’ Owen asked.

‘We opened the gates for them only, Captain. They’d word of trouble at their manor.’

The hope was that the cart would slow Galbot, Paul, and Elaine sufficiently that Owen’s company might overtake them long before they reached the manor. It was a half-day’s ride, slightly less than the journey to Freythorpe Hadden. As they began their journey, Hempe muttered about time wasted interrogating Gisburne’s household. Owen still believed someone there had gotten word to Roger and Galbot, but to say so would be to insult Hempe, who needed to be sharp for the day ahead. And it might have been Wren, though she had not mentioned it.

When they’d had no sign of their quarry by midmorning, Owen asked the servant, Alan, if he knew a way that might bring them to the manor more quickly than by the road.

‘I know a way for men on horse, willing to jump the becks and go by hill and dale.’

‘We will follow you.’