A Conspiracy of Wolves

While waiting, the widow spoke of her husband, his love for the children and the land, and the hounds. ‘I hated Bartolf Swann for encouraging Paul’s passion for the hounds. Nothing was so important as those curséd dogs. I always feared they would be the ruin of him. When he told me what he’d done to that young woman so long ago, I knew I was right.’

‘He told you?’ Owen had not expected that.

‘After Crispin Poole’s return Paul feared to sleep for the nightmares. He thought if he confessed to me, and also made his confession to a priest, he might be free of the demons.’

‘Did it work?’

‘I believe it did for him, until the trouble began. For me – I will ever carry the darkness of his monstrous act in my heart. He told me he crushed her head with a stone, strangled her for good measure, and sent her floating in the Ouse – all for blinding his favorite hound. I will never understand. Devil dogs. They possessed his soul. They were his undoing, yet he clung to them, as if his devotion would absolve him. I want them gone. My son loves them, but I cannot bear to have them here.’

Cilla appeared leaning heavily on Hempe’s arm, her head bowed, a much-patched gown rendering her more human in appearance.

‘Come. Sit with me and tell me what you remember of Gerta,’ said Elaine.

An unexpected request.

Cilla raised her eyes to the widow. ‘What game is this?’

Elaine held out a cloth. ‘No game. But first, wipe the paint off your face.’

‘Does it offend?’ Cilla smirked.

‘If you wish me to believe anything you say, you will wipe that off.’ Elaine pushed a bowl of water toward the woman.

To Owen’s surprise, Cilla dipped the cloth in water and began to work at the paint, at first merely smearing it, but, as the water grew dark, her features emerged.

When Elaine was satisfied, she gestured to the bench beside her. ‘Now sit and tell me of this young woman my husband murdered.’

Owen and Hempe withdrew.

‘I need to stretch my legs, breathe the night air,’ said Owen, heading for the door.

‘It is raining.’

‘Even so.’ The day had wearied Owen in body and soul. Almost he wished he had ridden home tonight. But he thought better of that. He would not inflict this mood on Lucie and the children. Let the rain wash it away.

In the morning, Owen sought out Dame Elaine to express his gratitude for her hospitality.

‘I will pray for you and your children,’ he said.

She thanked him for the sentiment, but assured him that the family would derive satisfaction from the crown’s justice. ‘For the perpetrators will hang.’ Her flinty eyes challenged him, as if he might suggest a different outcome.

‘Cilla’s words did not move you?’

‘That wretch?’ Her lips curled in disdain. ‘As for Paul, he was but a boy when he killed the charcoal-burner’s daughter and might have been forgiven, but he chose for himself an honorable death. Our children can be proud of that.’ Again, she watched Owen, her eyes daring him to object.

To take one’s own life was a mortal sin. She knew that, yet chose to ignore it. Would her children be so confused? And what of compassion? Cilla, Galbot, and Roger had lost their father because Paul had not the courage to admit his crime. Joss had lost his sister to the man for the blinding of a dog.

As he rode out with Hempe and the others, Owen felt sullied by his part in taking the prisoners they now escorted to York. He was not at all sure that justice had been served. His companions were likewise quiet, as were the prisoners. Otto’s body remained behind, awaiting the coroner’s examination.

In late afternoon they entered the city, heading straight for the castle.

‘Leave them to stew overnight,’ said Hempe. ‘I’m for home, and Lotta.’ The name brought a smile to his beaky face. ‘Bless that woman. I’ve not once worried about the business through all of this, knowing she had it all in hand. God’s grace brought her into my life.’

‘God’s grace? It was a murderer threw you together as I recall.’

Hempe poked him with an elbow. ‘You know what I mean.’ As they reached the York Tavern, the bailiff hesitated. ‘One before we part?’

‘Bess will want to know all,’ Owen warned.

‘Ah. I’ve no mind to talk of it tonight. I will come by after I’ve been to the castle in the morning.’

‘You’ll not be charging the girl?’

‘Wren? I see no cause. But she’ll be alone. They’re all for hanging, Owen. They’ve more than disturbed the king’s peace. And whether or no they wielded the weapons, they assisted. When you’re captain of the bailiffs, this will be your task.’

‘If I accept I’ll not be a bailiff. My understanding is that I would not be called upon unless your men cannot cope.’

‘We’ll work you hard, Owen. Never doubt it. But so would the prince. Your skill with the bow yesterday was worthy of a captain of archers. If His Grace should hear of that … I’ll not be the fool to speak of it, but it will be all over the taverns of York tomorrow.’ Hempe slapped Owen’s back and continued on toward Stonegate and home.