Free The Guilt of Innocents by Candace Robb Page A

know young Hubert de Weston by sight?’
    ‘I’d thought of that. No, I don’t, but Jasperknows him, and his presence would be reassuring to the lad.’
    ‘You might take Nicholas Ferriby,’ Thoresby suggested. ‘There is no need to involve more in your household.’
    ‘Jasper already feels a part of all this, Your Grace. He’s fond of Hubert, and remembers how he felt when his father died.’
    ‘You don’t trust Ferriby,’ said Thoresby.
    ‘If that were true I would not have sent Alisoun to his school. Even so, whether or not I trust him is beside the point, Your Grace.’
    ‘Do you think Drogo’s bleeding was a sign of Ferriby’s guilt?’ A hint of a smile played on the archbishop’s thin lips.
    ‘No. But his imprudent decision about the grammar school –’ Thoresby had touched on something Owen had been trying to ignore – ‘I do question his motives now.’ And I worry about what he’s teaching . ‘But there was no bleeding corpse, Your Grace. Drogo was alive.’
    ‘So be it,’ Thoresby said. ‘I am counting on you to save my friend Emma Ferriby from more grief.’
    So that was his interest in this. Lucie’s good friend was the daughter of an old, very dear friend of the archbishop’s. His death the previous year had aged Thoresby even more than had the death of Queen Phillippa, whom he’d worshipped. Owen and Lucie had both become involved in the aftermath of Sir Ranulf’s death, and he understood why Thoresby wished to spare the family.
    ‘Emma considers her brother-in-law a fool for placing his school in the liberty,’ said Owen.
    ‘He is still her husband’s brother,’ said Thoresby. ‘I want this settled as quietly and as quickly as possible.’ The fire was visible in his eyes now.
    Owen emptied his cup of ale.
    Thoresby rose. ‘I’ll tell Michaelo that you will be choosing some horses from the stables, and he’ll prepare a letter of introduction for you. It might be helpful to talk to the family’s landlord, Baldwin Gamyll.’
    Owen bowed. ‘Your Grace.’
    ‘Do not disappoint me, Archer.’
    ‘That is not my intention I assure you, Your Grace. I shall do my best; the rest is in God’s hands.’
    Thoresby grunted and waved him out the door.
    The archbishop rarely took Owen’s faith as sincere. It was one of many aspects of their relationship that puzzled Owen, that Thoresby trusted him, counted on him, but considered him a man of little faith.
    As he stepped out into what had become a sunny but chilly day, Owen decided not to leave the minster liberty at once, but to stop at the lodgings of Nicholas Ferriby. He assumed the man was not still hiding in the abbey.
    Unfortunately, Nicholas already had a guest, his brother Canon William.
    Nicholas gestured to Owen to take a seat bythe brazier. His brother had taken the one seat with a back, which Owen guessed to be the schoolmaster’s chair during the school day. The room was tidy except for a cupboard from which books, papers, rolls poked out every which way, giving the impression that the knowledge was reaching out into the room to grab the nearest mind.
    Nicholas settled down near him. The sweat on his brow and upper lip belied his assurance that he and William had been idly chatting and welcomed another participant. Something uncomfortable had transpired between them, Owen thought.
    ‘This is a pleasant room,’ said Owen. ‘My children’s nurse, Alisoun Ffulford, is one of your scholars and speaks highly of your skill in teaching.’
    The schoolmaster forced a smile. ‘Alisoun. Yes. She has a quick mind, Captain. I am gratified to hear she speaks well of my little school. I am delighted to have several young women attending.’
    After a pause, in which Owen tried but failed to come up with a comment that could not be construed as referring to his troubles with the dean and chancellor, Nicholas filled in the silence.
    ‘Did Archbishop Thoresby assign you to guard me, Captain?’ he asked. ‘The crowd was vicious