A Conspiracy of Wolves

Chaucer stepped to block Leufrid’s way. ‘Master Antony wished you to meet his friend. He will be most disappointed should you miss this opportunity.’

‘Meet him? To what purpose?’

‘He will explain that. I pray you, sit.’ Chaucer looked up at the hospitaller. ‘Might we have some wine while we wait?’ He stepped over and knocked thrice on the door.

When the signal came, Antony was just telling Owen that John Gisburne had paid a visit to Neville’s secretary, attempting to besmirch Crispin Poole, offering to provide him with a better spy in the city.

‘But Dom Leufrid informed me – he dined at the abbot’s table yesterday – that he is pleased with Poole, particularly his connection with you. Though having heard your tale I wonder at his impression of a bond. It would seem the new archbishop hopes to learn much from Thoresby’s spy.’ A grin. ‘Much we might learn from him.’

‘It could be of use,’ said Owen. ‘And now, if I might introduce you to the man who will be writing to you, and traveling with me as my scribe, Brother Michaelo.’

A raised eyebrow. ‘The late archbishop’s personal secretary?’

‘The same.’

‘An excellent choice.’

‘I also asked Chaucer to send for Dom Leufrid.’

‘To alert him to your new role?’ Antony nodded.

‘Not only that.’ Owen explained the tense relationship between the former archbishop’s secretary and the present one.

‘Pray, spare their lives, call them in at once.’

17 A New Beginning

Lucie studied the handsome man standing in her doorway, tall as her husband and with a similar temperament, it seemed. His elegant robes warmed the entryway, and a subtle smell of spice added to his exotic presence. His eyes were warm, his voice deep and rich, and his smile began from his heart – one not only saw it, but felt a deep sense of well being.

‘How shall I address you?’ she asked. ‘Master Antony?’

‘Perhaps Dom Antony,’ he said, bowing over Lucie’s hand. ‘I am master of none.’

‘You are most welcome in our home, Dom Antony. Might I introduce you to the children?’

‘I was hoping they would be present. I want to meet all your family, Dame Lucie.’

Shy at first, Gwen and Hugh quickly warmed to Antony, taking his hands and giving him a tour of the garden. Owen put his arm round Lucie and watched them moving along the paths.

‘He has been eager to see it, though you will be a better guide. And he wants to see your shop as well, learn all about your physicks.’

‘Is that how you first became friends? Discussing healing herbs in the camps?’

Owen seemed surprised by the question, but then admitted that is what they discussed in the beginning. ‘He also wishes to meet Magda.’

‘She has agreed to join us for dinner, though she insists Alisoun remain in the kitchen, resting for her short journey home to the river house on the morrow.’

Owen grinned. ‘It is a good thing, to have Antony here.’

Seeing Owen’s contentment, Lucie let go the months of worry over what the future might hold without John Thoresby. At last she could let her mind settle on her day-to-day concerns.

Bess glanced behind Owen as he appeared in the doorway of the York Tavern. ‘Are you alone? The latest emissary from the prince is too grand for my inn?’

‘Another evening, he promises. But tonight he is drinking in the wisdom of York’s finest apothecary and Dame Magda. I could not entice him away.’

‘He is a healer?’

‘A man hungry for knowledge about every corner of our world.’

‘Corner? Hmpf. He does not know the earth is round?’

Tom joined them, putting a full tankard of ale in Owen’s hand. ‘Drink up, Captain. Your friends are ahead of you.’

‘They are indeed,’ Bess noted, nodding toward her handsome neighbor’s favorite table back in the elbow of the room. ‘And they are a jolly pair, George and Geoffrey. You’ve chosen to accept both positions, have you?’ Well, she had already known that, truth be told. She and Tom had delivered several jugs of his latest ale to Owen’s home and heard the news.

‘I did, yes,’ said the captain absentmindedly as he took in the unlikely sight of Old Bede dancing a jig to Tucker’s fiddling, the crowd clapping him on.

‘He’s cock of the walk for one night,’ said Bess. ‘Free tankards all round to toast his courage, and you see the result.’ She laughed. ‘I never thought to do such a thing for that old gossip. But the tavern wasn’t the same without him.’

‘Soft in the head, wife,’ said Tom. ‘He’ll expect it every night.’

‘So he will,’ said Owen. ‘Would you join us for a tankard, fair Bess?’ He turned to her with that intoxicating smile, and how could she refuse?

Tom handed her a tankard and a jug for herself and the table. As she turned, the music quieted for a moment, the customers raising their tankards to Owen.

‘Help me up, husband,’ said Bess. Once she was on the stool she raised her tankard and called out, ‘To Owen Archer, finest Welsh bowman in the land, and captain of York!’

Across the way, Lucie raised her head, hearing the cheers.

‘They are celebrating their new captain,’ said Antony. ‘I am glad for him.’

‘Bird-eye is well loved,’ said Magda.