The Guilt of Innocents (5 page)

‘Heresy? Master Nicholas?’ This was the first Lucie had heard of heretical teachings. Word of this could get him stripped of his parish of Weston as well as his little school here in York.

It had been Owen’s inspiration to send Alisoun to Master Nicholas’s school. He’d noticed how closely she watched Lucie writing up the shop accounts and how eagerly she asked Jasper about his lessons. Owen’s guilt over his insistence that she leave her post when the baby was born was assuaged by her obvious appreciation of the gift.
She was careful to fit her school work in around her duties in the household. She would be horribly disappointed if her grammar master brought ruin upon himself by insisting on keeping his school where it was – or, even worse, teaching heresy to his students. York had few good schools that accepted girls. How awful if Alisoun lost both her job and her school at the same time.

What a wealth of worry because of the girl’s chatter, Lucie thought, and in her condition she was a consummate worrier. She wished Alisoun would quietly work at her letters or at least take up a happier topic. Or that Aunt Phillippa would wake from her doze by the fire and join them. Lucie looked forward to the end of the children’s meal when Kate handed them over to Alisoun and she would be busy once more.

Relief came from an unexpected quarter. Lucie’s good friend Bess Merchet, mistress of the York Tavern just beyond the apothecary, knocked on the street door and then opened it to announce herself. She entered the hall before Lucie was on her feet. Her ample curves and the pale red hair that escaped her cap belied her age. She breathed life into a room merely by entering it.

‘Sit, my friend,’ Bess said as she hugged Lucie, always the hostess even in another’s house. The ribbons on her cap quivered as she glanced around the room. ‘Where are your men?’

‘Owen and Jasper are not yet home,’ said Lucie. ‘Edric is in the shop.’

‘Pity.’ Bess eased herself down across from Alisoun. To Lucie, at the head of the table, she said, ‘Your new apprentice is a comely lad.’

Lucie laughed. ‘Trust you to notice, Bess.’

‘Edric is no lad,’ Alisoun blurted. ‘He’s eighteen.’

Her outburst and its accompanying deep blush surprised Lucie. Edric had not seemed to her a young man who would catch a young woman’s interest. But considering him now, she realised he was comely in a delicate way, though part of that impression might be his shy demeanour. Still, she’d thought Alisoun preferred Jasper.

Bess leaned forward on her strong forearms to peer at what Alisoun was doing. ‘I see you are practising your letters. What a fortunate day it was for you when you joined this household, eh?
And
when Nicholas Ferriby opened his school. Let us pray that the dean and chancellor hear nothing of your grammar master’s peculiar ideas about the bible being translated into the common language or, even worse, how unacceptably wealthy the canons of York Minster are.’

So these were his heretical ideas. He sounded like a follower of John Wycliff, an English priest both famous and infamous. Lucie’s stomach burned, and she took a slow, deep breath for the baby. With the dean and chapter already feeling threatened by the laity they would certainly pounce on the heretical idea of lay people
bypassing their priests by reading and interpreting the bible for themselves.

‘Master Nicholas’s ideas are tavern talk?’ Alisoun asked in amazement.

‘On dull evenings,’ Bess said with a wink. ‘But tonight people have something of more substance on their minds – or less, depending on your taste. Have you heard that Drogo the steersman almost drowned today?’

‘Who is he?’ Lucie asked.

‘He’s a pilot on the Ouse?’ Alisoun asked. ‘I should think they were often nearly drowned.’

‘That is so.’ Bess crossed her arms, relaxing. ‘But not from the barges anchored at the Abbey Staithe, and not because one of the scholars of St Peter’s School pushed him overboard.’ She grinned at the surprise in both her listeners’ eyes. ‘Let us pray that he lives, or Captain Archer will be sent out to find the lad who pushed him in.’

‘I pray Jasper was not among them,’ Lucie said, worried because he was not yet home, though she could not imagine him doing such a thing. But neither could she imagine his fellows pushing a man overboard, and said so.

‘Ay, but this steersman had kept a scrip one of the scholars lost in their last skirmish onboard the barges,’ said Bess.

‘Jasper told me about that,’ said Alisoun. ‘Hubert de Weston. He’s a charity student at St Peter’s this year. His father was in a siege in France – all of our countrymen died there. The
Spanish devils got them. Master Nicholas told us about it.’

‘La Rochelle?’ Bess asked.

Alisoun nodded. ‘Jasper said that Hubert was very upset when he lost the scrip.’

Lucie vaguely remembered hearing something about the incident from Jasper. ‘It sounds as if the lad can ill afford a loss like that. But why didn’t the boys send Master John to speak to the man?’

‘Why would they think he’d still have the scrip?’ Bess asked. ‘Sounds to me as if they just wanted to punish him, and it went much further than they’d intended.’

‘You keep saying “they”,’ said Lucie. ‘So it was not Hubert who pushed the man into the river?’

Bess hesitated, frowning as she considered all she had heard. ‘Everyone speaks as if the lad wasn’t there.’

‘What will they do to the boys?’ Alisoun asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Lucie, distracted by her concern. ‘Owen might know what –’ She paused, hearing the street door.

Jasper stepped into the hall, red-faced from the cold outdoors. He took in the occupants of the room and then took a step backwards as if wanting to retreat. Lucie could imagine his discomfort with all their eager eyes fastened on him, and him most likely tired and hungry.

‘You’re just the man we need,’ Bess said. ‘Come,
sit beside me.’ She patted the bench on which she sat.

Jasper shuffled towards the table with a glance towards Lucie that appealed for help.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked. ‘Kate is feeding the little ones and I’m sure she’ll give you something. You’ve only to go ask her.’

But Bess was not to be cheated of hearing an account of the excitement from a potential witness. ‘Alisoun, why don’t you see to some food for Jasper while he rests his growing bones beside me?’

Alisoun grudgingly pushed herself away from the table and rose.

At that moment, Edric stepped into the hall through the garden door. Throwing a smile his way, Alisoun stepped quite cheerfully towards the doorway in which he stood, brushing against him as she slipped out to the kitchen.

Edric, for his part, did not turn to watch Alisoun depart, but was already bobbing his head in greeting to Lucie, Bess, and Jasper.

‘There’s much talk of someone almost drowning,’ he said with excited delight as he took the seat Alisoun had vacated. ‘Do you think Captain Archer will be the one to catch the guilty one?’

‘I pray that he isn’t,’ said Lucie. She wanted the baby to be welcomed by both its parents. ‘Was the shop busy this afternoon?’

‘Yes,’ said Edric. ‘The weather has folk sniffing and coughing, and their bones aching from the
damp cold. I shut the shop to come eat something, but I promised several folk they might return later for their physicks. Why don’t you want Captain Archer to search for the one who pushed the pilot, Mistress?’

‘Because it’s dangerous work and keeps him away from home,’ Jasper snapped.

Edric blushed. ‘Oh. Of course.’

Bess glanced towards Lucie, lifting her eyebrows in curiosity. Lucie noticed, but did not meet her friend’s eyes, not wanting to irk either of her apprentices. Jasper had appeared so glad of Edric’s presence at first, but gradually he’d begun to behave as if he resented him, and that resentment seemed to have grown stronger and stronger, for no cause apparent to Lucie. Edric worked hard and deferred to Jasper’s long experience in the shop while also sharing the things he had learned from his former master. Now she wondered whether Alisoun was the thorn. That would be a great pity, for there was no remedying that sort of rivalry.

Still eyeing Edric, Jasper said, ‘You would not be smiling had you seen the man pulled from the water.’

‘Were you there?’ Edric’s eyes were alight.

Lucie suspected that he had no idea how Jasper felt about him.

‘Yes.’ Jasper turned to Lucie. ‘The captain has gone to the abbey infirmary to see the man’s wounds.’

Lucie inwardly groaned – Owen was involved.

‘Wounds?’ Bess murmured. ‘I hadn’t heard of wounds.’

‘Do tell us what you saw, Jasper,’ said Edric.

Jasper loudly sighed as he raked his straight, flaxen hair from his forehead. ‘There was a crowd, and I saw little. I only heard that Drogo had gone into the river. I did not see him until he was pulled out.’

Lucie wondered whether had Jasper not been there Owen might have avoided becoming involved. She wished the lad had kept his promise to stay out of the skirmishes between the scholars and bargemen.

Alisoun had returned with a tray of food, and cups for both young men.

‘So what of these wounds?’ Bess asked.

‘Someone had cut him on the face and neck, but most people did not see the cuts until they began to bleed.’ Jasper glanced at Alisoun and sat up straighter when he found her eyes on him. ‘Unfortunately Master Nicholas had just approached Drogo when his wounds began to bleed. The crowd began murmuring that he was a murderer.’

‘Heaven help us,’ whispered Lucie. ‘Why him?’

‘Because he was there when they saw the blood,’ said Jasper. ‘By then everyone was cold and tired and ripe for trouble. They’d been pushed around and their feet had been stepped on and their stomachs were growling. Rumours spread that didn’t
need to make any sense once the people were ready to explode. So when they saw the blood I wasn’t surprised they cried out that Master Nicholas was a murderer even though Drogo’s still alive.’

‘My grammar master would never hurt anyone!’ Alisoun cried.

‘They’ve already hanged him in their hearts,’ said Bess, ‘especially Drogo’s fellow bargemen. They protect their own and they’re not gentle about it.’

All at the table crossed themselves, and grew quiet.

‘I did hear some good news,’ said Jasper, smiling at Lucie. ‘Hubert’s father and his lord are safely home in Weston.’

‘God be praised,’ said Lucie.

Later, after Edric and Jasper had returned to the shop and Alisoun had retired with the children, Bess said to Lucie, ‘I thought Jasper was for the monastery. Did his calling die with Brother Wulfstan?’

‘He still speaks of it, but now it is usually as a threat when he feels unappreciated.’ Lucie smiled, remembering how she’d mourned that such a handsome young man would close himself off from the world. ‘I have some doubt that he has a true vocation.’

‘Not with the way he looks at Alisoun,’ said Bess.

Indeed. ‘This evening it appeared as if her heart
lies elsewhere,’ said Lucie. ‘I am both relieved and sorry for that. Poor Jasper.’

‘Aye, but she would be a difficult partner, wilful and moody.’

‘He sees none of that. But what do you think of Edric’s behaviour? I didn’t notice his eyes lingering on her.’

Bess shook her head. ‘No, they linger on his mistress. And don’t pretend to me that you’ve not seen that.’

Of course Lucie had noticed, and God help her but in her clumsy stage of pregnancy she enjoyed the flattery, though she took care to discourage it and keep Edric focused on his work. ‘He is under my roof, in my protection. I do not allow myself to fret about it, and Owen is blind to it – at least he seems to be. Faith, he sees little of Edric, which is for the best.’ In fact it felt to Lucie that Owen saw little of
her
, which was
not
for the best. She did wish he were not away so often, that Thoresby did not rely on him so much. When Lucie had been pregnant with Gwenllian, their firstborn, Owen had taken pains to tell her how beautiful she looked, how she still stirred his desire, how excited he was about the life they had begun. Now he seemed merely worried about her health and relieved when she reassured him that she felt well.

Smiling, Bess patted Lucie’s hand. ‘Owen would understand, I think. Edric is comely, but to his elders he’s coltish, young and awkward.’ She tidied
her cap. ‘Speaking of your handsome husband, I dare not linger until he returns. I’ve already stayed away from the tavern longer than is wise.’

‘God go with you, my friend. I pray the tavern is quiet.’

Bess chuckled. ‘If I thought it would be quiet I’d feel free to bide with you a while longer. The customers will be eager to recount what they saw and heard at the staithe and the abbey gate over and over, and it will take several tankards for most of them.’

Lucie walked Bess to the door and watched her turn towards St Helen’s Square. She felt restless now, not at all in the proper temper to work on the accounts. In the kitchen, she found Kate drowsing beside the hearth. She thought of her apprentices working into the evening. Jasper’s day had been long already, and Edric had been alone in the shop for long stretches. They might welcome her help for a little while.

She slipped past Kate and, taking an old cloak from a hook by the door, went out into the garden. Breathing in deeply, she felt the crisp air begin to revive her spirits. No wonder Magda advised her to walk outside as much as she found comfortable. She took the path through the garden to the apothecary. She found Edric in the workshop, hands on hips, considering an assortment of jars, a scale, and a mortar and pestle.