shook his head. 'I can take no credit for your cousin. I have no business with the pilgrims to the abbey.' He rose stiffly, made the sign of the cross in blessing, and shuffled off.
'I knew Fitzwilliam,' a voice said behind Owen.
Owen turned. A chubby monk with bright eyes and a cheery smile stood rocking back and forth, hands tucked in his sleeves. 'I am Brother Celadine, the Cellarer.'
'Of course. He would have sought you out.'
'Do you have permission to speak with us about your cousin?'
The question surprised Owen. Brother Celadine had begun in a friendly mode. 'I do not have permission as such. I came with a letter of introduction to Brother Wulfstan. But I thought as long as I was here -'
'You were close to your cousin?'
'I remember good times.'
Celadine nodded. 'Most of the brothers tolerated Fitzwilliam because he was the Archbishop's ward. But I was fond of him. It is not easy being ward of a powerful man such as His Grace. Fitzwilliam was watched. His every transgression was noted. He was bound to rebel. But I don't think he was at heart an evil man. Oh, I had no delusions that he would go forth and sin no more, but he tried to be better.'
'How did you come to know him so well?'
Celadine chuckled. 'I once caught him in the cellars. Partaking of more than was his portion.'
'And he repented?'
'He did not repeat the offence.'
'How did he seem this last time?'
The monk looked out at the cloister garden, think ing. 'Quieter than usual. Pale. I think he was ill when he arrived.'
'Was something bothering him, do you think?'
'He never came here by choice.'
A door opened at the end of the cloister walk.
The Cellarer glanced over at the door with an anx ious look. 'I must be about my business,' he said abruptly, 'God be with you.'
Owen turned to see Abbot Campian approaching with a determined stride. The frown on the Abbot's face told Owen the game was up.
'I gave you permission to speak with Brother Wulf stan. Now I hear you are interrupting the brothers' meditations to ask questions about Sir Oswald Fitz william, You take advantage of my hospitality, Captain Archer.'
'Forgive me. I thought as I was here -'
'St. Mary's is a place of meditation and prayer.'
'I apologise for my transgression.'
'I will have Brother Sebastian show you out.' Campian motioned a young monk from the shadows. Owen humbly followed the young monk to the front gate. 'Is your Abbot very angry with me?'
Brother Sebastian smiled. 'Not angry. He demands order. He expects all to obey the rules.'
'He is fortunate to have a world well ordered.' 'We are fortunate to have him as our Abbot.' Owen took his leave with a feeling of frustration. He had learned nothing about Fitzwilliam that would explain his death. In fact, the brothers of St. Mary's seemed to find it reasonable that the man died of a winter cold. Owen wondered for the first time whether Thoresby had sent him on a fool's errand.
Perhaps he would learn more from his visit to the Archdeacon.
An ascetic, Owen thought, as Anselm gestured to him to be seated. Tall, gaunt, dun-coloured even to the eyes. A chill to the voice that ensured dis tance.
'I understand you visited the Archbishop's secretary yesterday.'
So this was a territorial matter. Owen relaxed. Thoresby had rehearsed him on this.
'His Grace the Archbishop does a favour for the late Henry, Duke of Lancaster, in providing me with a letter of introduction and the funds my late lord meant me to have. He had me transact the business with Jehannes because it is as Lord Chancellor that he does this favour for the late Duke.'
'A letter of introduction? What is your business in York?'
'I seek employment.'
The cold eyes looked him over. 'What did you do for the late Duke?'
'I was Captain of Archers.'
'The present Duke did not wish to keep you on?'
'I am finished with soldiering. I want to learn a trade, apprentice to a master.'
Anselm's nostrils flared. 'A Captain of Archers con tent now to become a humble
'I knew Fitzwilliam,' a voice said behind Owen.
Owen turned. A chubby monk with bright eyes and a cheery smile stood rocking back and forth, hands tucked in his sleeves. 'I am Brother Celadine, the Cellarer.'
'Of course. He would have sought you out.'
'Do you have permission to speak with us about your cousin?'
The question surprised Owen. Brother Celadine had begun in a friendly mode. 'I do not have permission as such. I came with a letter of introduction to Brother Wulfstan. But I thought as long as I was here -'
'You were close to your cousin?'
'I remember good times.'
Celadine nodded. 'Most of the brothers tolerated Fitzwilliam because he was the Archbishop's ward. But I was fond of him. It is not easy being ward of a powerful man such as His Grace. Fitzwilliam was watched. His every transgression was noted. He was bound to rebel. But I don't think he was at heart an evil man. Oh, I had no delusions that he would go forth and sin no more, but he tried to be better.'
'How did you come to know him so well?'
Celadine chuckled. 'I once caught him in the cellars. Partaking of more than was his portion.'
'And he repented?'
'He did not repeat the offence.'
'How did he seem this last time?'
The monk looked out at the cloister garden, think ing. 'Quieter than usual. Pale. I think he was ill when he arrived.'
'Was something bothering him, do you think?'
'He never came here by choice.'
A door opened at the end of the cloister walk.
The Cellarer glanced over at the door with an anx ious look. 'I must be about my business,' he said abruptly, 'God be with you.'
Owen turned to see Abbot Campian approaching with a determined stride. The frown on the Abbot's face told Owen the game was up.
'I gave you permission to speak with Brother Wulf stan. Now I hear you are interrupting the brothers' meditations to ask questions about Sir Oswald Fitz william, You take advantage of my hospitality, Captain Archer.'
'Forgive me. I thought as I was here -'
'St. Mary's is a place of meditation and prayer.'
'I apologise for my transgression.'
'I will have Brother Sebastian show you out.' Campian motioned a young monk from the shadows. Owen humbly followed the young monk to the front gate. 'Is your Abbot very angry with me?'
Brother Sebastian smiled. 'Not angry. He demands order. He expects all to obey the rules.'
'He is fortunate to have a world well ordered.' 'We are fortunate to have him as our Abbot.' Owen took his leave with a feeling of frustration. He had learned nothing about Fitzwilliam that would explain his death. In fact, the brothers of St. Mary's seemed to find it reasonable that the man died of a winter cold. Owen wondered for the first time whether Thoresby had sent him on a fool's errand.
Perhaps he would learn more from his visit to the Archdeacon.
An ascetic, Owen thought, as Anselm gestured to him to be seated. Tall, gaunt, dun-coloured even to the eyes. A chill to the voice that ensured dis tance.
'I understand you visited the Archbishop's secretary yesterday.'
So this was a territorial matter. Owen relaxed. Thoresby had rehearsed him on this.
'His Grace the Archbishop does a favour for the late Henry, Duke of Lancaster, in providing me with a letter of introduction and the funds my late lord meant me to have. He had me transact the business with Jehannes because it is as Lord Chancellor that he does this favour for the late Duke.'
'A letter of introduction? What is your business in York?'
'I seek employment.'
The cold eyes looked him over. 'What did you do for the late Duke?'
'I was Captain of Archers.'
'The present Duke did not wish to keep you on?'
'I am finished with soldiering. I want to learn a trade, apprentice to a master.'
Anselm's nostrils flared. 'A Captain of Archers con tent now to become a humble
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