The Riddle of St Leonard's by Candace Robb Read Free Book Online

well, Mistress Lucie,’ she had cried, and collapsed on her mistress’s shoulder. Lucie had commented that evening that she felt they had adopted a daughter, not hired another servant. Owen had smiled at her ambivalent tone. And then they had grown silent, thinking of their own absent daughter.
    Owen found the shop crowded. Lucie and her young apprentice, Jasper, worked together behind the counter. A half-dozen customers waited in various tempers. The air was heavy with warring scents. It had been so the previous day when Owen had spent the afternoon dispensing the confused assortment of protections from the pestilence that folk wanted. There were the fragrant sachets such as Magda had given him; balls of ambergris for the wealthy, held to the nose to prevent the intrusion of infectious vapours; foul-smelling herbs to be strewn in doorways and beneath windows; sweet herbs to be strewn in bedchambers to ward off the devil; vinegar-soaked sponges to hold to the nose – and those were only the most common requests. Each day brought new recipes.
    Lucie’s voice was calm, her hands steady, but her face was ashen, her temples damp. She had just finished with a customer and was about to greet Mistress Miller. Slipping behind the counter, Owen drew Lucie aside and quietly asked her to step into the back room with him for a moment.
    ‘I have customers, as you can see,’ she said in a soft but firm voice as she blotted her damp forehead with her sleeve.
    ‘Jasper can take them for a moment. We have matters to discuss.’
    A flash of interest, but still Lucie hesitated. ‘We are falling behind even with both of us working.’
    ‘Then I shall help him while you rest in the garden,’ Owen said.
    Lucie glanced at him, frowned, then turned back to Mistress Miller, who looked so forlorn that Owen felt guilty for interrupting.
    ‘Is it Master Miller’s trouble?’ Lucie asked.
    The pale woman nodded, leaned forward to say softly, ‘Aye, still bladder-stones, Mistress Wilton. Harry’s been soaking in sweetwater baths, and they do ease his pain nights so he might sleep.’
    ‘It is a long, painful process, I fear.’
    The miller’s wife shook her head. ‘Oh, I’ve not come to complain, Mistress Wilton. Harry sits there nights and says “God bless Apothecary” over and over. I’ve come for more mallow, is what. Lot fell off shelf and dog ate it.’
    As Lucie turned to fetch the mallow jar, Owen saw her bite back a smile.
    He leaned over the counter. ‘How is the dog?’
    ‘Empty!’ Mistress Miller said with a loud guffaw, then covered her mouth to hide her rotten teeth as she continued to shake with laughter.
    ‘He would be that,’ Owen said.
    Lucie nudged him out of the way. ‘Do you need something for the dog?’
    ‘Nay, Mistress Wilton. She’ll be better for it.’
    As Lucie wrapped the mallow, Mistress Miller leaned forward again. ‘Two dead at Fosters’,’ she whispered, ‘little ’uns.’
    Lucie crossed herself. ‘Are you burning juniper wood or rosemary?’
    Mistress Miller nodded. ‘Rosemary. But I wondered. I see folk with pouches to noses …’
    ‘Many think it effectual, but I can promise naught.’
    ‘I don’t want to cure him of stones to lose him to that, eh? Two pouches. And a stop at minster for a good, long prayer.’
    When Lucie had wrapped Mistress Miller’s purchases, she whispered something to Jasper, who nodded, never looking up from his work. Then Lucie led Owen through the beaded curtain. In the workroom which had once been their kitchen, she spun round with a look of irritation. ‘Now what was—’ She clutched at the table, put her other hand to her head. ‘ Jesu . I am dizzy.’
    Owen was beside her at once, steadying her. ‘You began the day early, sewing the pouches. It is warm, the odours in the shop are overpowering. Come.’ He led her out into the garden and to a shaded bench. ‘Sit there while I fetch water.’
    Lucie held on to Owen for a moment, then sank down on