Free The Apothecary Rose by Candace Robb Page B

Mistress Wilton looked beyond him to the doorway, the colour drained from her face.
    Owen turned to see what wretch disturbed her. The Summoner, Potter Digby. Owen had acquired a second shadow.
    Mistress Wilton did not move. Owen picked up the salve pot. 'I've been using what I had twice daily. Is that appropriate for the new mixture?'
    The blue eyes moved, focused on him. Colour re turned to the cheeks. 'Twice daily? It must bother you very much. How long since you were wounded?'
    'Three years.'
    The Summoner stepped up to the counter on Owen's left side. His blind side. Sneaking wretch. Owen con trolled himself. With a slow, casual air he rested his right elbow on the counter and turned to look at Digby.
    The Summoner nodded at Owen, then said to Mis tress Wilton, 'I inquire after the health of Master Wilton. God grant he is better?'
    'He improves with each day, Master Summoner. Thank you for your good wishes.'
    Owen noted that as much as he had irritated her, she had not sounded nearly so cold as this. He hoped she never used such a tone with him.
    Digby seemed oblivious. 'I remember Master Wilton in my prayers.'
    'We are most grateful.'
    No, they weren't. At least she wasn't, that was plain.
    'God be with you.' The Summoner bowed slightly and slithered out the door.
    A riddle. A visit from the Summoner would be welcome by few, but Mistress Wilton's reaction was beyond distaste. It seemed she and the Summoner had old business. Owen tucked the incident away to digest later.
    Mistress Wilton held on to the countertop, her knuckles white. She closed her eyes. Opened them. Seemed surprised to see Owen still there. He hated himself for bringing that shadow with him into the shop.
    'An unpleasant character,' Owen said.
    'They say he is good at his job.'
    'Why should a Summoner smell of fish?'
    'It's his mother. She lives on the river.'
    'Oh, aye. A midwife, I think.'
    Mistress Wilton tensed. 'Why would a stranger know about her?'
    Damn his tongue. 'I encountered the Summoner earlier. I was told he was the son of the Riverwoman.'
    Mistress Wilton nodded.
    'But the fishy smell. Surely he does not live with her? As Summoner he would live close to the minster?'
    'Yes, he lives in the city. But, being unwed, he has his mother see to his clothes.' Mistress Wilton glanced at the beaded curtain in the doorway behind her. 'I must check on Master Wilton.'
    'Of course. Thank you for the salve, Mistress Wil ton.' Owen put a shilling on the counter. 'Will this cover it?'
    'That would pay for six such pots, Master Archer. Two pennies will suffice.'
    He put out the appropriate change. 'I hope your husband truly does improve with each day.'
    She smiled a wan smile. There was a sadness about Mistress Wilton that he found intriguing.
    Outside, Owen paused at the gate that led around back to the garden. If all went well, he would be spen ding his days near the fair Mistress Wilton. He would exercise all his charm on the Guildmaster to make that so.
    Owen returned to the inn to ask directions to the public baths. He expected to need a bath more than ever after his visit with Magda Digby.
    Alone again in the shop, Lucie fought against trem bling hands and fears that threatened to distract her from her work. A life was in her hands. Alice Baker's sleeping draught must not be too strong. Lucie must stay clear-headed. But why had the Summoner come? Did he know something? The Summoner could destroy them. Would Archdeacon Anselm allow that? Surely he loved Nicholas too much for that. And Potter Digby was too much a toady to antagonise the Archdeacon. At least she prayed that he was. How wretched to be grateful about the Archdeacon's unnatural love for her husband.
    Enough of this. Brother Wulfstan had nothing to gain by telling anyone but her. The Summoner could not know. Nor could the Archdeacon. She forced her thoughts away from her troubles and finished the draught, labelled it. As she put it aside, her hand brushed the honey pot, still down on the