Speaking with Joanna, picking her way with such care, drained Lucie of energy. And today Joanna seemed worse than ever. Dame Isobel had warned Lucie that Joanna’s agitation had increased with frightening results. The past evening Joanna had thrown a heavy cup at the maid, Mary, cutting her above the eye.
Lucie felt lost. How was it that Joanna saw herself as both Mary Magdalene and a virgin? It was as unlikely a combination as Lucie could imagine. What was the point? He is cruel. Joanna’s lover?
Lucie returned to her seat by Joanna. ‘Has someone told you not to touch him?’
Joanna cocked her head to one side. ‘You are with child.’
Lucie realised she had been pressing her stomach with one hand, her lower back with the other. She clasped her hands behind her back. Letting Joanna know something so intimate bothered Lucie, a feeling she recognised as hypocritical when she was trying to discover such intimacies about Joanna. ‘Does what Christ said to Mary Magdalene remind you of something that happened to you?’
‘Do you know about St Sebastian?’
Lucie closed her eyes, took a deep breath. She wanted nothing so much as to shake Joanna, make her stop playing this game. But they needed answers. ‘He is the patron saint of archers.’
‘What do you know of archers?’
‘What do you know?’
‘My brother Hugh had a seal that showed St Sebastian with the arrows piercing his body.’
‘His seal was that of an archer?’
‘Not his.’ Joanna frowned. ‘So? What can you tell me of archers?’
‘The Welsh longbowmen have won many a battle for the King.’
‘How would you know that?’
‘My husband is one. Was one. He was captain of archers for Henry, Duke of Lancaster. Who used the seal of St Sebastian, Joanna?’
Joanna closed her eyes. ‘I thought I might go to France.’
Lucie clutched her hands behind her, afraid she would strike Joanna in frustration. ‘Go to France with whom?’
A long pause. ‘Will Longford seemed a kind man. He gave me wine when I was so cold. I’d been caught in a storm.’
‘When you took the relic to him?’
Joanna sat up suddenly, her eyes wide open. ‘The wine was a sleep potion. So that I would sleep while he thought what to do with me. And then the potion he gave me for my burial. To keep me still. It was too strong. For days they could not wake me.’
‘Who, Joanna?’
Joanna shook her head and suddenly lay down, pulled the covers up to her chin. ‘Must sleep now. It poisons me yet.’
Lucie leaned against the door of the abbey guest house, letting the sun and the summer breeze caress her face. She was glad that she had followed her inclination this morning and rejected the wimple. She wore instead a short, light veil that let the breeze cool her neck. She felt the heat so much more this summer. The babe in her womb warmed her. She noticed Daimon up on the abbey’s river wall. Without Sir Robert. Daimon must have tired of kneeling with his master in the abbey church. Lucie looked up at the sun. Quite early. Sir Robert would not be expecting her yet. If Daimon would agree to keep a secret from Sir Robert, he could escort Lucie to Magda Digby’s house. Lucie could talk with Magda and return with enough time to get back to the shop. She needed Magda’s advice about Joanna.
Lucie asked the hospitaller how she might get up to Daimon on the wall.
Brother Oswald looked at her with horror. ‘I shall send someone up to him.’
Lucie smiled reassuringly. ‘There is no need. I would rather go myself.’
The monk shook his head. ‘Forgive me, Mistress Wilton, but I cannot permit you to go up there.’
In the end, Brother Oswald sent a boy up to Daimon, who came down chattering enthusiastically about the river traffic.
Lucie used his interest to coax him into going to Magda Digby’s hut. ‘It sits on a rock at the edge of the river.’
Daimon grinned. ‘I should like to see it.’
‘You agree that we need not disturb Sir Robert?’
Daimon readily consented.
They were soon making their way down to the riverbank through the paupers’ camps that clustered outside the abbey’s beggars’ gate. ‘I see why Sir Robert would not like us coming here. Why do folk live like this?’ Having grown up on the manor, Daimon had never seen such poverty.
‘The reasons are as countless as the stars, Daimon. Some come to the city to disappear, some have been given false hopes of riches, some have lost their land through no fault of their own. Others have lived like this through so many generations they know no other way. In a city it can be difficult to feed yourself. You must pay for food or trade for it. Jasper de Melton, the boy who is to be my apprentice, could tell you how hard it is to find food on the streets of the city.’
Daimon looked round at the makeshift huts, the rats that scurried underfoot, fat and aggressive, the ragged people, skinny and despondent, then back at the walls of the abbey and those of the city beyond. ‘But these people are not even in the city.’
Lucie nodded. ‘And once they have lived here, it is difficult to find their way through the gates.’
Daimon’s shoulders slumped; his steps lost their spring.
Lucie was glad to see Magda’s house up ahead. ‘Look, Daimon. There, just at the water’s edge.’
The queer home of Magda Digby crouched on a rock. The hut was built with the beams and planks of old boats, with an overturned Viking ship for a roof. The Riverwoman sat outside the door, in the shade of the dragon at the Viking ship’s prow. The dragon leered upside down at the approaching visitors. Magda wore her usual patchwork gown. Her grizzled hair was tucked up into a cap, leaving her neck bare. As they drew closer, Lucie saw that Magda was mending a fishing net.
‘Are you about to cast it out, Magda?’
‘Nay. ’Tis late in the tide to catch a worthy fish this morning. Magda will fish by moonlight.’ The old woman’s intense blue eyes studied Daimon. ‘Thou hast brought a soldier, eh? Dost thou carry such evil news thou’rt fearful Magda will attack thee?’
Lucie laughed and sat down on the bench beside the Riverwoman. Daimon stood and looked round, uncertain where to place himself.
Magda squinted up at the lad. ‘Thou’rt Daimon, son of Adam, steward at Freythorpe Hadden.’
Daimon looked frightened. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Magda brought thee into the world of men.’
‘But babies all look the same.’
Magda shrugged. ‘Not to Magda. Thou also lookst the image of thy father.’
Daimon relaxed. ‘You know my father?’
‘Aye. A good, brave man. Magda made a salve for thy father’s shoulder when first he came here from the wars. And she taught Dame Phillippa how to press and pull and loosen thy father’s shoulder joint.’
‘Why have I never met you?’
Magda shrugged. ‘When Midwife Paddy lived upriver, Magda did not have as much work as now, got around more. Now Magda goes away for a day and a night, folk are camped out on the rock when she returns.’ She shook her head.
‘Why do you use a ship for your roof?’
‘Ever ready for a flood, eh?’ Magda gave a barking laugh. ‘Thou needst a stool. Hie thee within, bring out what suits thee.’
When Daimon had gone into the hut, Magda put down her mending and touched Lucie’s check. ‘Thou’rt hot-blooded with this child. A good sign.’
‘I was worried.’
‘Then cease thy worry.’ The sharp eyes studied Lucie. ‘How does Sir Robert?’
Lucie wondered what Magda read on her face. ‘He is well enough.’
‘And Joanna Calverley?’
Lucie glanced round for Daimon. She was uncertain how much to say in front of him.
Magda noted her hesitation. ‘The lad will tarry a while. He has the wide-eyed look of a child. He will explore Magda’s treasures. Thou canst talk freely.’