A Murdered Peace

by Candace Robb

  On that day, watching her prowess, her intense focus, Elric realized she could be either a formidable foe or an equally formidable ally. He had worked hard the past year to turn her from the former to the latter, but he still felt as if he were dancing on the edge of her axe blade. After every encounter he found it necessary to review and revise his strategy. Her hard work toward paying off Simon Neville’s debts seemed a part of the discipline that had enabled her skill with weapons. That she was also so compassionate as to take in her late husband’s bastard children and love them as her own—he still wondered at that, but sensed that it came from the same place as her fierce protection of her wayward mother and her young niece. But her choice of servants—an assassin and a thief, and he had yet to discover Matt’s dark secret, and her invention of the guesthouse, a place of assignation for lovers, as a conduit for the money to buy masses for her late husband’s soul—those aspects suggested a dark cunning that unsettled him. Katherine Clifford remained a most challenging enigma. And tonight he must once again try to win her cooperation.

  At the corner, Kevin bid him a good evening and trudged off down Low Petergate to Katherine’s house where her wards awaited him. Elric put his arm round his squire’s shoulders.

  “Back into the warm glow of the guesthouse, eh, Harry?”

  “Yes! God’s blood but it’s cold out here.”

  Elric had much to tell Katherine, including some things she might not like to hear about someone for whom she cared far more than Elric liked. Best get it out and be done with it. He prayed that she would appreciate rather than resent the information.

  “Not a night to be out on the roads,” Kate said as she opened the door for the returning knight and his man, and saw the depth of the snow, the continued strength of the storm. “You are welcome to make use of one of the bedchambers tonight, wait for daylight before riding through Galtres.” She had chosen an evening for the celebration when there would be no patrons in the upper chambers, so both were available.

  Elric gave her a long look. “That is kind of you.”

  She felt herself blushing. That was all she needed. She hoped in the candlelight it just seemed her natural high color. “Harry as well, of course.” She nodded to Elric’s squire who was heading out to the kitchen to spend the time with Seth. God be thanked that Griselde had changed the plan and hidden Lady Margery in her own bedchamber.

  “I do thank you, but there is no need,” said Elric. “I’ve made arrangements at the York Tavern.”

  “I doubt Mistress Merchet’s chambers are so fine as ours. But as you wish.” Kate offered him brandywine.

  Elric held out his goblet. “And a good thing it is that I had already planned to stay in the city. On such a night the best horse and rider might lose their way in the forest.”

  “You have business in York?” Kate asked, interested.

  “I will tell you about it. First, what have you for me?”

  Sitting back with her goblet, she said, “It concerns Scarborough. They say there are pirates in the coves near the city, Spanish and French pirates, ready to harry our coast.”

  Elric’s frowning concern told her this was news to him. “Spies keen to test the crown’s ability to protect the realm?”

  “That was my thought,” said Kate. “A king deposed, a new king threatened with rebellion.”

  Elric cleared his throat. “Richard was not deposed, he abdicated.” Said as if by rote, insincere.

  “The French do not see it that way,” she said. “Nor do you, I think.” He looked down at his cup. “Nor do the rebels,” she added, thinking of the uprising that had been planned for the feast of the Epiphany, the plot to murder King Henry and his sons. “The point is, the French believe Henry might be so distracted by civil strife he would be unable to move quickly should they attack, with his soldiers already spread out in the countryside and towns searching for the rebel leaders. Is it true what they say? The earls of Salisbury, Kent, and Huntington all beheaded?”

  Elric nodded and crossed himself, as did Kate.

  “You and your fellow merchants are concerned about this because of the French and Spanish pirates threatening trade,” said Elric.

  “You see the problem. We are discussing how we might protect our ships.”

  “Hire your own pirates?” He reached for some nuts and figs.

  “It is one possibility. Or we put more armed men on our ships to ensure our defense, though that means less room for cargo. We need someone like Ralph Neville to explain the situation to the king. We would not want His Grace to see our armed men as a threat to him. It is said the Earl of Westmoreland has Henry’s ear.”

  “He does. I will send him news of this as well as your concerns.” Elric washed a fig and some nuts down with the last of his brandywine, setting it down with a sigh of contentment. “You set a fine table.”

  “As I said, you are welcome to stay. Griselde loves men with good appetites.”

  What game are you playing, Kate? Geoff hissed in her head. You do not want him here.

  “Old Bess is keen for my coin as well as news of the Lancastrian court,” said Elric. “I could use her long knowledge of the city, the families, their alliances, so I count it wise to please her.”

  Old Bess. She’s my reason for inviting Elric to lodge here. Having lived on the other side of the city until a few months ago, Kate’s only personal knowledge of Bess Merchet was a comment she made to Griselde, that a woman who flaunted wolfhounds in the city was up to no good. Other than that, Kate knew her only by reputation. Though Old Bess’s grandson Colin was the nominal owner of the York Tavern just round the corner and down Stonegate in St. Helen’s Square, the elderly widow was said to run the tavern from her parlor off the kitchen, her keen instincts keeping troublemakers away, and she made a point of knowing everyone’s business. She likely knew to the day how long Berend had been gone, and that it was long enough for him to have set off to join in the rebellion. That was what worried Kate. If the taverner had heard whispers about Berend’s absence, she might share them with Elric. It was said she had a fondness for soldiers with a bit of the devil in them, and Kate imagined Elric was just her type, especially his connection to nobility. Kate cursed herself for not having tried to befriend the woman. Perhaps she still could.

  “What are you hoping to learn from Old Bess?” she asked as she topped up both of their cups.

  “I find it best to listen without expectations.” He leaned closer. “I might not need her confidence if you can help me. Which brings me to why I will bide with her a while. On the orders of my lord the earl I am searching the city for Margery, Lady Kirkby.”

  God help me. “Lady Kirkby is here?” Kate prayed her voice was steady.

  Elric did not seem to notice anything amiss. “She is believed to have arrived in York in the past day or two.”

  “Believed. You have not seen her?”

  “No. I am to find her and hold her at Sheriff Hutton until King Henry’s men come to take her into custody.”

  “Into custody?” Thinking of the woman hiding beneath the bed in the next room, Kate felt both dread and anger. If her wards should suffer because of Margery’s naïve husband . . .

  “What are you thinking?” asked Elric.

  She had been silent too long. He watched her so closely she had to remember to breathe. “I fear for my friend,” she said. “Of what does she stand accused?”

  “So you have not seen her?”

  “A year past.”

  “The rebels you spoke of,” said Elric, “those involved in what some are calling the Epiphany Rising—”

  “You cannot believe Margery had a part in that?”

  “Not her, her husband. The king believes Sir Thomas was part of the plan.”

  Reminding herself that she must seem to hear this for the first time, she whispered, “Was?” Kate felt as if someone was slowly tightening their fist round her heart as she listened to Elric’s account, how much he knew, Thomas’s leech, the rising su
spicion about his loyalty to Richard, seemingly confirmed by the report of his earlier visit to Pontefract.

  “From Windsor he’d gone to Cirencester and was seen in the company of the rebel earls,” said Elric. “I must tell you—he was executed by the mob. Lady Margery managed to escape. Apparently with her husband’s head.”

  “His head? Margery witnessed his beheading? God help her.” Kate crossed herself. She did not need to pretend distress. She lifted her cup and drank.

  Elric was not unsympathetic. “I am sorry to be the one bearing such news”

  The brandywine helped steady her. “Why would Margery be there?”

  “Her sister claims that Lady Margery was visiting her, and that Sir Thomas had arrived unexpectedly a few days before the earls of Kent and Salisbury. But the king believes the earls had meant to join Thomas in the town and ride off together.”

  “God grant gentle Sir Thomas eternal rest,” she whispered. “I find this all—Elric, I cannot believe it of him. He sought peace, not bloodshed.”

  Elric’s blue eyes were steady, neither expressing agreement nor disagreement. “So he claimed. It is not for me to judge him or his lady, merely to find her and hold her. As you have sheltered Lady Margery in the past, I wanted to warn you. Do not take her in.”

  Too late for that. “Are the king’s men also in York?”

  “Not yet. I hope to find Lady Margery before they arrive. It will be better for everyone. Especially for you, for you are known to have hosted her fund-raising dinners.”

  “As a favor to my uncle, the dean of York Minster,” Kate clarified. “From the first I thought it a rash plot. Naïve.”

  “I know. But the king and his sons were threatened . . .”

  “What of Margery’s family?”

  “All being questioned. Thomas’s head went missing right away, a boy seen racing away with it, Lady Margery in pursuit. Sir Thomas’s body was spirited away in the night. Her sister is suspect, though why she would risk her own family—” A shrug. “Someone close to Sir Thomas has at the very least interfered with the king’s justice—the bodies and heads were to be displayed as a warning.”

  “Thomas beheaded,” Kate whispered, crossing herself, then reaching for her cup. The king begrudged her the body, including the head, for burial? Monstrous. “One body out of so many—what can it possibly matter?” she asked. “Her family is being held?”

  “No, just watched. For now. But if she is not found . . .”

  “What precisely do they want of her?”

  “Besides answering for the theft of her husband’s body and head, they believe she might know the extent of the rebellion. More names. Additional plots.”

  So the longer Margery hid, the more danger for her family. Kate did not like this. She did not like this at all. How she wished Carl had appeared after this conversation with Elric. Would she have turned Margery away?

  “But if Sir Thomas was innocent of this?” she asked.

  Elric held up his hands, palms out, quieting Kate’s protest. “I merely wish you to know the whole sad tale so that you might make wise decisions should any member of her family appear on your doorstep.” He reached for her hand. “I mean to keep you safe.”

  Did he? Or did he want to feel whether her hand might reveal something, the cold sweat of guilt perhaps? Fortunately, Kate’s hand was warm. She let him take it. “Will they execute her as well?”

  “Should I find her first, I promise you I will do my best to protect her at Sheriff Hutton Castle until someone with authority—and some modicum of calm—convinces me that she is safe in their hands. Meanwhile, I beg you to have a care. Trust no one as they jostle to gain King Henry’s favor. The slightest criticism might be reported.”

  Such as her sense that they had traded one vicious despot for another. “I understand,” she said. God help her family.

  Elric poured them both more brandywine. “There is more.”

  There always was. Kate took a deep breath. “Tell me.”

  “I know that Berend has been gone a while.” Kate flinched. Elric glanced down at her hand in his, then looked her in the eye. “I can understand why you would hope no one noticed.”

  “Bess Merchet noticed?”

  “If she has, she has said nothing to me. I heard it elsewhere. Not from my own men, mind you. It seems you have earned their loyalty.”

  Bless Kevin. “So Berend is away. What of that?”

  “You do know that he was once in the service of Baron Montagu?”

  She withdrew her hand, though she was certain he had already sensed her surprise, her fear.

  “I see you did not know. Katherine, I am sorry. I want only—”

  “To protect me. Yes, you said. You mention his service because Montagu’s son, the Earl of Salisbury, was one of the rebels?”

  Elric nodded. “In his will, Salisbury’s father left Berend a modest property. A house and land to the east of York. The property was deeded to Berend ten years ago, on Montagu’s death.”

  “His son and heir, Salisbury, is he—was he not King Richard’s champion?” Kate asked.

  Elric nodded.

  Kate crossed herself. No wonder he was curious about Berend’s absence.

  Salisbury had been in Ireland with Richard when word came that Henry of Lancaster had landed in Yorkshire. King Richard had sent Salisbury back to England to secure Chester for him. When Richard was captured, Salisbury stayed by his side in Chester Castle. She remembered Kevin sitting in the kitchen telling them about it. He had just heard it from someone in the city.

  And Berend, who had been kneading bread as he listened, said, An honorable man, Salisbury, to stay with his lord. Was that where Berend was? Was that the meaning of Petra’s dream, that Berend had felt honor bound to obey the summons of his lord’s son? Why?

  “Richard’s champion, and part of the uprising, butchered in Cirencester. I am sorry to be the one to tell you,” said Elric.

  “Yes.” Her voice stuck in her throat.

  Berend had referred to himself as an assassin. Kate had presumed he was a mercenary, with no allegiances. But his lord the baron had gifted him with property. If Berend had wealth of his own, what was he playing at, working as a cook in her home?

  “How long has Berend been gone?” Elric asked.

  Long enough.

  “You have remembered something?” he asked. “Something that might help me?”

  Had she frowned? She must have a care. He observed her so closely. She shook her head. “You have me questioning how well I know anyone I count a friend,” she forced the words past the lump in her throat. She had trusted Berend implicitly.

  “Forgive me, but there is more. Berend was seen in Pontefract, met with Salisbury in Oxford, and was seen in Cirencester on the day the mob murdered the earls and Sir Thomas.”

  Now Kate’s hands were cold. She felt the chill in her extremities, flowing toward her heart. “Berend?” she whispered. “But the plot—it is said they meant to kill the king’s sons. Berend would never condone that. Never.”

  “If it is of any comfort, I cannot believe it of him either. But his movements—You can see why he, too, is being sought.”

  “By Westmoreland?”

  “No. Sir Ralph mentioned only Lady Margery.”

  “So if Berend is caught, you will not protect him, as you have said you will protect Margery?”

  “I will not be under orders to protect him. But he will come to no harm. I’ll do all that I can to keep him safe at Sheriff Hutton, as I will with Lady Kirkby. You have my word.” Elric wrapped his hands round hers and leaned close, his breath sweet with the brandywine. “Forgive me for upsetting you. It was such a pleasant evening.”

  Damn him for saying that. She fought tears. “It was,” she whispered. She must remember that just as Simon and Berend had played her, so might Elric.

  “Allow me to walk you home,” he said.

  She nodded. It was time to return to the children so that Griselde could come home,
see to her husband and Margery. Margery, damn her.

  Elric kissed her hand and released it, pushing his chair from the table. “I will fetch Harry.”

  “Tell Seth to come along so that he might escort Griselde back here.”

  “There is no need for Seth to go out. We’ll escort her. The York Tavern is not so far from here.”

  No, not so far. More’s the pity. Margery would be imprisoned in this house. For it would be watched, as would all Kate’s properties. All whom she loved were in danger. All.

  4

  THE YORK TAVERN

  Kate awoke haunted by questions about Berend, doubting all that she had believed they shared. And Margery Kirkby—the tragedy of her husband’s violent death chilled Kate. A man who had risked his life and reputation to broker peace between the warring royal cousins, only to be accused of treason by the victor. How was Margery to prove him innocent? Was he? Was Berend? Kate had so much to lose, so much that she had hoped to build on to secure good lives for her wards.

  Her head pounding from last night’s wine and her heart bruised, she dressed quickly, throwing on a warm mantle before stepping out onto the landing. There she paused in awe. Snow blanketed the rooftops, softening them, mirroring the pale clouds that vaguely muted the darkness of the predawn sky, the steeples and chimneys reaching out of the ethereal whiteness, calling on heaven to look down at the beauty. Each limb of the great oak rising up from her back garden was outlined in white and lit by the light spilling out from the kitchen window and doorway down below. Even the sounds of the carts on the cobbles were muffled by the snow.

  Another time, the quiet scene would bring her great peace, but not today.

  She reminded herself of her morning’s mission, telling her partner and former neighbor Thomas Holme that she had done it, she was free of Simon’s debt. He would be pleased. She was no longer burdened with her brother-in-law as a partner in her husband’s former business; now she would trade in her own right, as Katherine Clifford, femme sole. With her own property, her dower, and her inheritance from the Clifford estate in Northumbria plus the gift of her uncle Richard’s house and horses, she had established her guesthouse—a business her clients protected with silence for the sake of their own reputations. She had also formed a small trading concern with her wealthy friend, the widow Drusilla Seaton, buying materials for silk purses and other small items to be made by Jennet and one of her mother’s beguines, both skilled sempsters. Simon’s former partner had already expressed interest in partnering with them on a shipment. With those prospects and the rents on her houses, Kate might be quite comfortable. Might be.