whether John’s earlier claim of indifference about Nicholas Ferriby’s school might have been an attempt to deflect questions about the conflict. ‘It is natural that you would resent Nicholas for threatening your income.’
John gave an elaborate shrug. ‘The status and funding of St Peter’s School are Chancellor Thomas Farnilaw’s responsibilities. I am merely the schoolmaster. I’ve no cause to resent Master Nicholas. I am glad that Abbot Campian is giving him sanctuary.’
Owen believed John did resent Nicholas, but that his feelings embarrassed him, being of a mercenary nature.
Dame Agnes had returned with a tall, well-builtolder scholar with a man’s stubble on his chin and a sullen set to his mouth. ‘This is Geoffrey Townley, Captain,’ she said. ‘Geoffrey, this is Captain Archer, who wishes to ask you about what happened on the barges.’
‘I did not push him into the river,’ said Geoffrey in a wounded tone.
‘That is a good start,’ said Owen. ‘I understand you saw Drogo. Can you tell me all that happened? All that you noticed about him?’
The young man still looked uncertain. ‘You’re not accusing me?’
‘No. I’m asking for your help.’
Geoffrey seemed to think about that for a moment, then nodded. ‘I am sorry I spoke to you so, Captain.’ By his blush Owen understood that he’d been frightened, which was hardly surprising. The young man repeated what Master John had already told Owen about Drogo tossing the scrip to him, but with an additional piece of information. ‘He smelled of ale, Captain, and I thought he was drunk, the way he moved, like he had to think about lifting his hand and turning his head. But when he bled in front of the Virgin I understood that he’d been injured.’
Ale. He hoped Hempe learned something at the tavern. ‘Did you see him go into the water?’ Owen asked.
Geoffrey shook his head. ‘The crowd was thick round him. I feared the barges would start taking on water.’
‘When did you realise the scrip was empty?’
‘The lads crowded round me while we waited for Drogo to be pulled from the river. They asked me to look inside.’ Geoffrey paused, shifting a little, shrugging. ‘I wasn’t going to look, thinking it wasn’t right without Hubert there. But I thought I might feel around, see what I could learn from it, and I felt just the leather. Then I looked, and my fingers had been right. I was holding just the scrip, nothing in it.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘Tricked. Cheated. So were we all. But I don’t understand. Why return it if it was empty?’ Geoffrey nodded as Owen was about to speak. ‘I know, he satisfied me and was able to get away, but he did growl something about returning it to Hubert.’
So he’d mentioned the boy by name. Owen wondered whether Drogo had known him or had learned the lad’s name after he’d taken the scrip. ‘Even if you’d looked right away, it sounds as if he quickly disappeared.’
Geoffrey sighed. ‘He did. He was very fast.’ The sullen expression had softened into disappointment. ‘When I realised he’d tricked me I was glad he’d fallen into the river.’
‘Geoffrey!’ Dame Agnes need say no more, all the shock and disapproval clear in her tone.
The young man crossed himself. ‘I didn’t feel that for long. I was just angry.’
‘I would have been angry to find I was holdingan empty scrip,’ said Owen. ‘Did anyone else catch your eye? Odd behaviour? Someone out of place?’
Geoffrey shook his head.
‘Do you know who Master Nicholas is?’
‘Who? Oh, yes. He was blamed for Drogo’s wounds.’
‘Did you see him on the barges? Take a moment to think back. They sound as if they were crowded.’
The young man lifted his gaze to the ceiling, frowning as he thought, and finally shaking his head as he lowered his gaze to Owen once more. ‘No. Do you think it was Master Nicholas who was drinking with Drogo?’
‘I doubt it, though I can’t say why. If you
John gave an elaborate shrug. ‘The status and funding of St Peter’s School are Chancellor Thomas Farnilaw’s responsibilities. I am merely the schoolmaster. I’ve no cause to resent Master Nicholas. I am glad that Abbot Campian is giving him sanctuary.’
Owen believed John did resent Nicholas, but that his feelings embarrassed him, being of a mercenary nature.
Dame Agnes had returned with a tall, well-builtolder scholar with a man’s stubble on his chin and a sullen set to his mouth. ‘This is Geoffrey Townley, Captain,’ she said. ‘Geoffrey, this is Captain Archer, who wishes to ask you about what happened on the barges.’
‘I did not push him into the river,’ said Geoffrey in a wounded tone.
‘That is a good start,’ said Owen. ‘I understand you saw Drogo. Can you tell me all that happened? All that you noticed about him?’
The young man still looked uncertain. ‘You’re not accusing me?’
‘No. I’m asking for your help.’
Geoffrey seemed to think about that for a moment, then nodded. ‘I am sorry I spoke to you so, Captain.’ By his blush Owen understood that he’d been frightened, which was hardly surprising. The young man repeated what Master John had already told Owen about Drogo tossing the scrip to him, but with an additional piece of information. ‘He smelled of ale, Captain, and I thought he was drunk, the way he moved, like he had to think about lifting his hand and turning his head. But when he bled in front of the Virgin I understood that he’d been injured.’
Ale. He hoped Hempe learned something at the tavern. ‘Did you see him go into the water?’ Owen asked.
Geoffrey shook his head. ‘The crowd was thick round him. I feared the barges would start taking on water.’
‘When did you realise the scrip was empty?’
‘The lads crowded round me while we waited for Drogo to be pulled from the river. They asked me to look inside.’ Geoffrey paused, shifting a little, shrugging. ‘I wasn’t going to look, thinking it wasn’t right without Hubert there. But I thought I might feel around, see what I could learn from it, and I felt just the leather. Then I looked, and my fingers had been right. I was holding just the scrip, nothing in it.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘Tricked. Cheated. So were we all. But I don’t understand. Why return it if it was empty?’ Geoffrey nodded as Owen was about to speak. ‘I know, he satisfied me and was able to get away, but he did growl something about returning it to Hubert.’
So he’d mentioned the boy by name. Owen wondered whether Drogo had known him or had learned the lad’s name after he’d taken the scrip. ‘Even if you’d looked right away, it sounds as if he quickly disappeared.’
Geoffrey sighed. ‘He did. He was very fast.’ The sullen expression had softened into disappointment. ‘When I realised he’d tricked me I was glad he’d fallen into the river.’
‘Geoffrey!’ Dame Agnes need say no more, all the shock and disapproval clear in her tone.
The young man crossed himself. ‘I didn’t feel that for long. I was just angry.’
‘I would have been angry to find I was holdingan empty scrip,’ said Owen. ‘Did anyone else catch your eye? Odd behaviour? Someone out of place?’
Geoffrey shook his head.
‘Do you know who Master Nicholas is?’
‘Who? Oh, yes. He was blamed for Drogo’s wounds.’
‘Did you see him on the barges? Take a moment to think back. They sound as if they were crowded.’
The young man lifted his gaze to the ceiling, frowning as he thought, and finally shaking his head as he lowered his gaze to Owen once more. ‘No. Do you think it was Master Nicholas who was drinking with Drogo?’
‘I doubt it, though I can’t say why. If you
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