Owen nodded to one of the Graa clan, wealthy, powerful, and assured the man he would soon give the mayor his decision regarding the position of captain of bailiffs.
‘We need you, Archer. Today’s attack makes that plain. A blind widow?’
Hempe was grinning about the support for Owen as captain when Owen said, ‘Crispin Poole approaches.’
The man they sought was obliging them by making his way toward them through the throng of folk on the bridge. As Crispin grew near, Owen heard people hailing him to express concern for his mother. Graa hastily took his leave.
‘God’s blood, they’ve attacked my home?’ Crispin growled as he reached Owen and Hempe. ‘I hope you are on their heels.’
‘We’re on yours, to be frank,’ said Owen. ‘What did Gisburne want of you this morning?’
‘I couldn’t say. No reason for a sudden summons.’ Crispin glanced at the folk pressing round them, eager to hear.
‘Move on,’ Hempe called out.
‘Damnable woman,’ Crispin muttered. ‘I feared – is my mother alive?’
Damnable woman? ‘Yes,’ said Owen. ‘Injured, but I do not believe her life is in danger.’
‘God watches over her. Heaven knows why.’ Crispin’s eyes flicked between Owen and Hempe. ‘Are you come to escort me home? Both of you? Do you think the attack was meant for me? That I might be attacked on the way?’
‘The man who came at your mother shouted something about vengeance for his father’s honor,’ said Owen. ‘He seemed to be addressing her, according to Chaucer.’
Crispin blanched, there was no other word for it. White round the mouth, which opened a little in a prolonged sigh. ‘I see.’
‘Do you? We would like to know what exactly you see,’ said Owen.
‘It is a long tale.’
‘Has it anything to do with the death of a young woman named Gerta?’ Owen was rewarded by Crispin’s muttered curse. ‘We will talk later. At your house.’
‘Not now? You are not headed there?’
‘I would like to watch Gisburne’s face as he’s told about your mother’s ordeal. You were summoned to Micklegate – John Gisburne’s home, and while you were away …’
‘You are thinking Gisburne arranged for me to be away?’ Crispin looked aside, as if working to control his temper. ‘I will accompany you.’
‘Then come,’ said Hempe, breaking his silence. ‘We continue to draw a crowd.’
Owen glanced round, nodded to folk who began to ply them with questions. ‘If you will let us pass,’ he said, beginning to push through them.
‘And how readily the crowd parts for the captain,’ Hempe muttered, still amusing himself about how the folk venerated Owen.
‘How did Gisburne behave?’ Owen asked Crispin when they were clear of the worst of the crush of curious onlookers.
A shrug. ‘Friendly. He served wine, cheese, and bread, asked how I liked the house in Colliergate – with the air of having arranged it for me.’
‘Had he?’
‘No. Olyf … Dame Olyf and I met by chance in the market a while after my return. I complained about the damp in my mother’s house and she mentioned that their neighbor was letting their house. Large, airy, empty.’
‘You and she were childhood friends?’
A glance as if checking Owen’s meaning, then a nod.
‘So what was the urgency?’
‘None that I could tell. He told me he will be in York for at least a fortnight, likely longer, and he means to fulfill his promise of introducing me to the prominent merchants in the city, see to it that I found satisfactory trading partners.’
‘Promised you?’
‘No. I’m of little value to him in myself. Who do I know? What luster might I add to his crown? No, he promised …’ Crispin seemed to be surveying the crowd with a worried frown.
‘Promised whom?’ Owen asked. ‘Is it Alexander Neville, His Grace the Archbishop of York?’
Crispin looked at him, startled. ‘You knew?’
‘I guessed.’
‘I see why the prince and the city want you to spy for them.’
‘Spy for the city?’ Hempe grunted. ‘We’ve no need of spies.’
Oh, but they did, with worms such as Gisburne and Neville about. Owen was sorry to be right. Neville and Gisburne. Now that was a pairing to turn a sour mood bitter.
‘A Neville,’ Hempe said, as if things began to make sense to him.
‘What are you to Alexander Neville?’ Owen asked.
He did not like Crispin’s reaction to the question, how he sped up and averted his eyes, pretending sudden interest in the fishmongers on the south end of the bridge.
‘Why should Neville care how you are received in York?’ Owen guessed, of course, but he was keen to hear how Crispin would phrase it.
‘I am a member of his household, in a sense, here to smooth the way for him with the citizens of York, provide him a list of those with influence.’
‘And Gisburne has presented himself as one who should appear on that list?’ Owen asked.
A small smile. ‘He has. But His Grace wishes an independent assessment.’
‘Then Gisburne would hardly cause you trouble.’
‘I would think not. I – he did impart some news. I suppose he wants me in his debt …’
‘That would be his way,’ said Owen. ‘This news?’
‘He traveled here in the company of the archbishop’s secretary, Dom Leufrid. On the archbishop’s barge.’
‘And this Leufrid could be expected to inform you of his arrival in York in short order?’ asked Hempe.
‘Not before he has received all the gossip available from the prior of Holy Trinity across from Gisburne’s house.’
‘So Gisburne did you a favor,’ Hempe noted.
‘He does not do favors, he makes deals,’ said Owen.
‘Might this attack have nothing to do with the recent murders? Bartolf and Hoban?’ Hempe wondered aloud. ‘You are aware that Gisburne retains an unusual number of armed servants, Poole?’
‘So I am told,’ said Crispin.
‘The man is a menace,’ said Hempe.
‘Even so, this attack on my house, I fear – in truth, I am quite certain it is related to the Swann murders. I will explain later.’
‘Something to consider,’ said Owen. ‘One of Gisburne’s household servants might have let slip your impending visit to someone who decided to make use of your absence.’
‘Hence your curiosity about Gisburne’s purpose,’ said Crispin. ‘I see. I have much to learn about the undercurrents in the city.’
‘It seems you are being forced to learn quickly,’ said Hempe.
Still standing at the southern edge of the bridge, Owen had begun to question his motive in confronting Gisburne himself. Hempe might handle it, allow Owen and Crispin to return to the scene of the attack.
‘Let us leave Gisburne’s household to Hempe and his men, Poole,’ said Owen.
‘And where will you be?’ Hempe asked.
‘At Poole’s house.’
Hempe grinned. ‘Good plan. It will be my pleasure to discomfit King John.’
Michaelo was expected back momentarily, Jehannes’s servant informed Geoffrey, and the archdeacon was also away. He invited Geoffrey to wait in the hall. When he’d left, Geoffrey turned slowly, absorbing the beauty of Jehannes’s hall, the painted vines, the hangings, and then, out the window, the garden planted with a thought to pleasing the eyes. He had never guessed the archdeacon a man of such refined taste.