by Candace Robb
“Did John Paris witness what happened?”
A nod.
Kate would ruin Paris for giving Berend up to the sheriffs. His infirm wife had died in late autumn, so she would feel no guilt in depriving him of income.
“Berend was away,” she said, “but he returned recently. I believe that you did see him.”
Dina crossed herself, her eyes filling with tears. “Why would they take him? He is a good man.”
“They are mistaken.” Kate would say no more to Sister Dina, who had endured her own ordeal in the summer, the attack in which Kevin had been injured rescuing her. “Was there anyone else with him?”
Dina frowned up at her. “You ask if he was only prisoner?” She nodded. “Only him.”
Kate peered out the window, saw no one outside the Castlegate end of the warehouse, but she did spot John Paris strolling out the back, down Hertergate toward his home. Alone.
Thanking Dina, Kate picked her way back down the steps.
“Was she able to help?” asked Brigida.
“She was. Forgive my interruption. I will leave you to your students.”
“You are always welcome, Dame Katherine.”
The girls whispered good-byes to Lille and Ghent, their voices sad with lost opportunity.
Signaling the dogs, Kate stepped out and went round the side of the warehouse to the rear, then down the alley into Hertergate. John Paris had not stopped at his house, but was still walking in the direction of the river. Heading to the staithes? She slipped the leads from the hounds’ collars and motioned for them to halt Paris, taking her time following. Let his fear of them work to her benefit. For a man as terrified of Lille and Ghent as she knew him to be, it would be an event out of his nightmares to have them appear out of nowhere and crowd close. It should render him eager to tell her anything in exchange for calling them off.
“Foiled, were you?” she said when she reached him. “How much had the liveried men offered you to give Berend over?”
“I—It was not like that! I sent for the sheriffs, not those men.” Paris was shivering and trying to shrink himself into something so tiny Lille and Ghent might forget about him. “I—It was my duty to Thomas Graa, who owns the warehouse. Berend is wanted for the murder of Merek the spice seller. It matters not a whit whether or not you or I believe him guilty. If the sheriffs discovered that I harbored a murderer in Graa’s warehouse, which he entrusts to me, I would be ruined. I sent word to the castle. But Skulker—he brought those other men, the little bastard. I’ve warned him to stay away, and my workers know to keep him out of the warehouse.”
Kate was seething, she’d seen his shoulders slump when he spied Parr and Sawyer, but she needed information. “Where are Skulker and the two men now?”
“Gone. They wanted to go in, search, but I told them the sheriffs’ men had taken everything.”
“Did they?”
“I did not see them take anything. Just Berend. But the two men looked like trouble. Faith, anyone in Skulker’s company is trouble.”
“You did not see where they went?”
“I did not watch.”
“How did you learn Berend was there?” Berend would have known to stay out of sight of Paris, knowing he was untrustworthy.
“Could you call off your dogs?” Paris whined, the sweat darkening the hair sticking out of his hat.
“I will when I believe you have told me all you know. How did you discover that Berend was in your warehouse?”
“I smelled cooked meat, well spiced, when I went into the warehouse after dinner today. A little thing, but I had heard of the search for Berend, and I remember such a scent coming from the kitchen when you lived near. So I waited. I saw him sneaking in the back, and I sent for the sheriffs’ men.”
Clever. She would not have believed it of him. “Was Berend injured?”
“By the constables? I do not believe he was.”
“Before they came?”
Paris began to shake his head but stopped, as if fearing the dogs would take it as a signal. “I caught only a glimpse of him. Enough to recognize him, that is all.”
“So you would not be able to say whether he’d been injured when he returned to the warehouse?”
Another slight shake of his head, eyeing the dogs with terror.
“The men Skulker brought here, had they been here before?”
“I had not seen them before. But my men would be better able to tell you.”
“They are well dressed. Why would you think them trouble?”
“I told you, anyone who would arrive with Skulker . . .”
“I don’t believe you. I think they’ve come to you before. Shall I tell the sheriffs you are protecting them?”
“Why would the sheriffs care about them?”
“You thought they were trouble,” said Kate. “The sheriffs might agree.”
Paris dropped his head. “They might have come to my home, asked me whether I knew him.”
“Go home,” she said. “I will think what to do about you.”
“What? Dame Katherine! I was only—”
She signaled the hounds to herd him back toward his house.
“I had to raise the hue and cry!” he shouted over his shoulder as he stumbled toward his house.
Once he had slammed the door behind him, Kate called Lille and Ghent back to her, commending them as she led them back to the warehouse. There the workers talked over each other, apologizing, assuring her they had done their best to keep Berend’s presence a secret. One of them offered to show her where Berend had slept. But Lille and Ghent beat them there, prowling round a quiet spot behind stacked barrels, ears perked, as they sniffed at a pack sitting atop a stack of blankets.
Kate recognized Berend’s traveling pack, old, worn leather with bright new buckles Jennet had sewn on for him as a Christmas gift. The girls loved to slip little gifts into it when it sat by the door, awaiting his departure. Blessed Mother, may they have the chance to do that again. Calling Lille and Ghent to her side, Kate opened the pack: a shirt, leggings, a leather vest, a pouch of the salve for his scars, especially his ruined ear, a twist of spices, a small cook pot, wooden spoon, and, wrapped in leather, a good skinning knife. Her breath caught in her throat as she touched these pieces of Berend’s life. The shirt carried his scent. It had been worn. That it was not bloody gave her hope. She closed up the pack, nodded to the blankets.
“Were these Berend’s?” she asked the men, who had followed her.
“No. They’re ours. We let him use ’em,” said one.
She signaled the hounds to rest while she questioned the men. She wanted no distractions. “Have you seen Berend with anyone?”
They had not. “Quiet, he was. For the first day he just slept,” said one. “We kept watch that no one bothered him.”
“Did he ask for anything to clean a wound?”
All the men shook their heads. One mentioned his limp, and the cut beneath his eye. “But it was already healing when he arrived.”
Nothing new. “Bless you for giving him sanctuary,” she said.
“He’s a good man,” said the one who had offered to show her Berend’s spot.
“Skulker is a dead lad,” muttered one of the others.
Kate imagined so, either Berend’s friends in York or Parr and Sawyer would see to that. The lad would be smart to run away.
“The pair Skulker brought—have they been here before?”
Nods. “A few days past. Claimed they’d come on Merek’s behalf to collect what he had stored here. We’d never seen them before so we told them to return with proof Merek had given them the authority.”
“I commend you.”
A shrug. “There was little left. Merek had sold most of the spices and such. He was moving on, he told us.”
Moving on, now Berend had returned? “And you thought it odd they were here to collect his wares?”
“We had a laugh about it. For all their livery and fine speech, they were easy t
o foil.”
Or they like people to think so, catch them off guard.
“Can you show me where Merek stored his wares?”
They led her to a shelf that held a sack, a few jugs. Certainly nothing the two men would have gone out of their way for. “This is it?”
A nod.
“I see why you found it amusing. Did you see the direction they took?”
“Back down Castlegate, toward the city.”
She signaled to Lille and Ghent to rise from where they had been resting and gave them a good whiff of Berend’s pack, then told them to look about. Just in case.
“We might’ve done better,” said one of the men. “Bloody Paris.”
“How did he find Berend?” Kate asked.
“Had a barrel got loose, Berend was helping us get it in hand and Paris saw him. Ran out into the street screeching like he’d seen the dead rise up.”
“Why didn’t Berend run?”
All the men shrugged. “He seemed to just give up,” said one.
“Paris tells a different story about how he discovered Berend.” She told them what he’d said.
They exchanged guilty glances. “We did ask for one of his stews.” “Course he smelled it. That’s why he came in when he did and caught him.” “We’re as guilty as Skulker.”
“No. You did make a mistake, but so did Berend. He was grateful, wanted to repay you, and he forgot that the scent would linger.”
They hung their heads. Their friend had been taken, and they realized they were, in part, to blame.
Going in search of the hounds, Kate found them sniffing round a crate tucked in a dark corner. She called for some light. The dogs circled, ears pricked, sniffing, then Lille stood on her hind legs, paws on the top of the crate, licking her lips and glancing back at Kate. Ghent also rose, then leaped up atop it, pawing at it. The men, one of them holding up a lantern, began to argue about what was stored there.
Signaling the hounds to come sit, Kate rubbed their backs as she listened to the men, learning that Berend had borrowed a tool and disappeared in this direction in the early morning, shortly after they had relieved the man on night duty.
When she had heard enough, she asked for a tool that would open the crate, preferring not to reveal the battle axe in her skirt.
One of the men unhooked a long iron bar from his belt and handed it over. She considered its heft, balance. It would do. As she turned back toward the crate, she kicked something that went skittering. “Bring the lantern closer.” Several bent nails lay where they must have fallen when someone else opened the crate.
“Two of you, watch the doors,” she said. “Call out if anyone approaches.”
She fell to, prying up a corner.
“The earl’s knight approaches,” one of the watchers called out. “He is with the one who saved Sister Dina.”
Elric and Kevin. Damnable timing.
That is habit, Kate, Geoff whispered in her mind. You need Elric to help Berend.
But will he?
He said he would. And you seemed to believe him then.
Habit. Of course it was. He seemed sincere about helping. Pray God he did not blame Berend when he learned she’d hidden Margery all this while. “Bring them to me.”
She went back to work, prying another corner loose, and had just engaged the one who had stayed with her in lending a hand to pull it open when Elric and Kevin reached them.
“Can we help?” Elric asked.
She motioned to her companion and they both backed away. Elric and Kevin finished the task with ease.
“What do you see?” Kate asked as they peered in.
The man with the lantern stepped closer, shining it inside. “Jars of oil, those are.”
“Large jars, standing upright, cushioned by straw,” said Elric.
“Looks like one has been removed,” said Kevin. “Just a pile of loose straw in that far corner.”
Kate poked at the straw with the tool she had borrowed, raking some of it away until she saw what looked to be leather. “Something’s hidden beneath the straw.”
“If you will permit me.” Elric lifted out a pouch. It was small, but clearly heavy. “There is a box of some sort inside.” He set it on a barrel near them and stepped back.
Kate untied the leather thong holding the pouch closed and drew out a small carved wood traveling casket secured with leather straps, the sort used to carry valuables.
Elric leaned close and whispered, “I don’t know what has happened here, but this might be something the warehouse workers should not see?”
Kate looked round at the men who had been such a help. “I need you to guard the doors. We do not want to be surprised.”
As they dispersed, she unbuckled the straps. The casket was secured with a small but strong lock. “I should have brought Jennet.”
“I knew her lessons would be of benefit someday,” said Kevin. “Might I try?”
He drew a small pick out of his scrip, and, leaning close, one ear to the lock, he worked it. In but a few moments he stepped back with a proud grin.
“Your time in Dame Katherine’s household was well spent,” Elric said softly. “I pray you, Dame Katherine, do not keep us in suspense.”
Hoping against hope that it was nothing incriminating—a bloody dagger, a blood-soaked shirt—she held her breath as she lifted the heavy lid. “Holy Mary, Mother of God,” she breathed. “A treasure.”
She lifted up a gold ring set with rubies and diamonds, a chain on which hung an exquisite pearl swan with sapphire eyes. The casket was filled with such jewels. She lifted out a small pack, opened it, “Gold and silver coins.”
“A hoard,” said Elric.
What was Berend doing with this? Geoff whispered in her head.
Or was it Merek’s hoard? Kate prayed God it was.
“How did you find this?” asked Elric. “To whom does it belong?”
She told him how the hounds had sniffed it out. “Berend must have been the one to open and then secure the crate,” she said. “His scent must have been all over it for Lille and Ghent to lead me to it. He hid this in the crate. But whose hoard it is, and why he had it, why he would hide it here, in this warehouse . . .” She shook her head. It made no sense to her.
“Someone will be back to search for this,” said Elric. “We must not linger here.”
Closing the casket, Kate wrapped it in the leather pouch. “One of you must carry this, and Berend’s pack. I have the hounds.”
“Your remarkable hounds,” said Elric. “Did the warehousemen know of this?”
“No.”
Elric slung Berend’s pack over his shoulder and handed the pouch to Kevin, and the five of them made their way to the door opening onto Castlegate. The light was fading. Late afternoon.
“Was it anything of use?” one of the warehousemen asked.
“It might help us discover why Merek was murdered,” said Kate. She thanked them once more, promising to send word of Berend, then followed Elric and Kevin out into the gathering shadows.
Once outside, in the cold, Lille and Ghent shook themselves as if shaking off the dust of the warehouse. Blessed, blessed companions, Kate thought.
“How did you happen to come to the warehouse?” she asked Elric.
“I had heard about the sheriffs being called to it,” said Elric. “How did you happen to be there?”
“I was following Sawyer and Parr—I will tell you the whole tale. Come with me.”
“Perhaps Kevin should escort you and I should go straight to the castle. I would rather Berend did not spend the night in their dungeon.”
She would as well, but there was much Elric needed to know in order to ask Berend, and the sheriffs, the correct questions. “First come to the York Tavern with me. I prefer to tell the tale to you and Bess at the same time.”
“Bess Merchet?” said Kevin. “Why would you share this with her?”
“She believes in Berend’s innocence.”
“I
had heard you were there,” said Elric.
“Oh?” Kevin seemed surprised.
“I found her leaning on her cane awaiting your return,” Elric told Kate. “I had just sat down with an ale when Kevin came for me.”
Kevin nodded. “The men watching Horner’s house were called away. They’d been told that the sheriffs’ men were headed to Graa’s warehouse to apprehend the murderer.”
Foolishly confident, Geoff whispered in Kate’s mind.
Agreed.
“Kevin, would you mind watching Horner’s house?” Kate asked. “I would like to see who takes the opportunity to search it. Do you agree?” she asked Elric.
He nodded. “If someone is anxious to retrieve anything, they will have been awaiting this chance. Do you have anyone in mind?”
“I wish I did,” said Kate.
Looking disappointed, Kevin handed Elric the pouch with the casket and took his leave of them, heading up Coppergate toward Davygate.
“Whose jewels?” Elric wondered as he weighed the casket in his hands. “And what is Berend’s connection to them?”
“Or Merek’s,” said Kate. “He might have had the casket hidden in the warehouse. But Lille and Ghent would not have marked it had Berend’s scent not been on it.”
And the discovery bode ill for his release. A man with Berend’s history in possession of such a treasure? Had Salisbury entrusted it to him?
The slush was hardening as the gathering twilight drew in the chill from the river. She had not worn her warmest cloak, not expecting to traipse across the city, and her feet were cold in her boots.
“Where will they put him in the castle?” she asked.
“Accused of murder and of being a traitor to the crown, with no lord to protect him?” Elric shook his head. “I warrant they’ll put him in the dungeons. That is why I need to talk to the sheriffs, offer the protection of the earl.”
“You would do that for him?”
“Did I not promise I would?”
They were walking through the market and Kate paused for a moment to look into her companion’s eyes, check the sincerity. His cheeks flushed with the cold, his blue eyes brighter than ever, and steady as they met her gaze.
