Free The Guilt of Innocents by Candace Robb Page B

last night. Vicious.’ He pressed his hands together and shook his shoulders as if shivering. It was an incongruously comical gesture as it was plain in his eyes and voice that he was upset.
    ‘I heard, yes, but they were clearly wrongheaded – the man was still alive. Did you know Drogo?’
    The schoolmaster shook his head, wide-eyed and quick to add, ‘Why would I?’
    ‘I thought perhaps you might have the occasion to travel by boat between Weston and York and might have had occasion to hire him as pilot.’ Owen did not actually believe this, but he thought he might see something in the man’s response.
    ‘A costly means of travel,’ William noted, ‘and slow, considering the weirs and rapids on the River Wharfe. It would waste time.’ Weston sat on the Wharfe’s north bank west of Leeds.
    Owen was disappointed to learn nothing from Nicholas’s reaction. ‘So you’d never met Drogo, but you stepped up to say prayers over him last night?’ Owen allowed his tone and frown to add that he found that puzzling.
    ‘I am a priest, Captain.’ Nicholas’s voice cracked slightly, and he blushed and glanced away. ‘I would do so for any poor soul.’
    ‘For that I can vouch,’ said William. The canon was a quiet, expressionless man, quite a contrast to his brother.
    Owen pretended to be satisfied. ‘My business is with Hubert de Weston, whose lost scrip seemed to be at the core of this trouble. The lad’s been missing a week. As you are pastor of Weston I wondered whether you might have had news of him.’
    Nicholas shrank back a little, and had begun to shake his head when William spoke up.
    ‘My brother saw his father at Mass on Sunday, didn’t you, Nicholas?’
    A pale nod met this betrayal. Owen wondered why Nicholas had not wished him to know the father was safely at home. ‘I did see Aubrey de Weston, yes. But not young Hubert.’ He avoided looking at William.
    Owen wondered whether Nicholas hadn’t wanted to reveal that he’d been in Weston the previous Sunday, or whether he was merely picking up echoes of the brothers’ conflict.
    ‘It would have been a kindness to tell Master John of St Peter’s that Hubert’s father was safe at home.’
    ‘Tell Master John?’ Nicholas sputtered. ‘I am hardly one to say anything to Master John at present, though he is not as vicious as the dean and chancellor.’ He glared at his brother, who dropped his blank gaze to the floor.
    A mere courtesy might go a long way to soothing tempers, thought Owen, but he went straight to his purpose. ‘I’ve come to ask the way to the lad’s home.’
    ‘You’re off to Weston?’ asked William.
    ‘I am.’
    ‘But why, Captain?’ Nicholas asked.
    ‘In the hope of finding the lad and talking to him about Drogo,’ said Owen. ‘So. Can you tell me how to find him? And the Gamyll manor?’
    ‘Why the Gamylls?’ Nicholas asked.
    ‘As a courtesy. I’ll be on their land.’
    ‘But of course,’ said Nicholas, and pulling a wax tablet from a stack nearby he drew a map.
    As Owen left the minster liberty he found himself anxious to arrive in Weston before something more happened. He was quite certain that Nicholas had not wished to be completely open with him, but why he felt that he was not sure. He would have Alfred keep an eye on him.

Three
     

JOURNEYS
     
    S everal days earlier, Hubert de Weston had approached his home with caution. Despite being hungry, thirsty and sore of foot, he’d hesitated to make himself known to his mother, for the closer he’d come, the more he’d doubted she’d be glad to see him. She had insisted that he return to school, believing that with an education he would be ensured a good life. So she would not be happy that he’d run away. But he would be so relieved to see her – that was his goal, and to make sure that she was all right. Then he could return to school with a clear conscience, though he dreaded the journey back. He’d also dreaded discovering that his mother was