by Candace Robb
“Are you ready to trust me, Katherine?”
She felt a slight lightening of her burden. His cooperation could only be to her benefit. As long as she had a care to protect her heart. “I am,” she said. But only so far as she would any man. And not yet with Margery’s secret.
He proffered his free arm, but she had a lead in each hand.
“Perhaps one of these days you might train me to hold one of those,” he suggested.
She smiled, but thought it unlikely.
Bess sat on a high-backed chair by the door to the public room, hands on the carved wolf’s head atop her cane, her eyes snapping. “I do not like the grim looks on both your faces. Who was lurking outside the tavern?” she asked Kate.
“Parr and Sawyer, the men who came to York wearing Lancastrian livery and claiming to be on a mission for the king.”
“Ah. I’ve heard about them. How did the hounds know to warn you?”
“As I said, I have quite a tale to tell.”
“And your grim faces?”
Kate told her what she had learned from Sister Dina and at the warehouse, adding Lille and Ghent’s part in finding something that might provide a motivation for the crimes, patting the pouch Elric carried.
“Skulker, curse that vermin,” Bess growled. “My grandson was foolhardy enough to hire him. Lasted one day. All ears and mouth, no work. The dockworkers will see to him. No place for sneaks. His young bones will wash up with the tide.” Bess rose with a grunt, shrugging off Elric’s proffered assistance with a shake of her beribboned cap. “I am not yet so old that I cannot rise from a chair on my own two legs.”
Bess leaned on her cane and cast an eye on Lille, then Ghent. “They have proved themselves to be beings I would do well to befriend.” The old woman took a deep breath, as if to fortify herself. “Come along to my ‘parlor’,” she said, motioning for Kate and the hounds to enter first. “And Sir Elric is to join us?”
“If it please you,” said Kate.
A nod.
Elric settled at the end of the table, and Bess took her usual seat.
“Well then, let us resume,” said Bess. “The tavern is about to fill up for the evening.”
When Kate and the hounds had settled, Bess called for a kitchen maid to bring Lille and Ghent a bowl of water.
“Begin your tale, I pray you, Dame Katherine,” said Bess as she poured brandywine. “I do not wish Berend to spend any more time in that dank, soulless place than necessary.”
Kate took a few sips of the wine while she gathered her thoughts, reviewing what she had learned, trying to separate what seemed most likely true from her speculations and those of others regarding all that had happened. She felt the responsibility of it, how much was at stake.
“I do not yet see it as a whole, how it all fits together. I depend on you to help me to sift through it all, find the patterns.” Kate settled back in the chair, closing her eyes for a moment, then began.
With but a few interruptions from her companions, she told them all she had gleaned—or most of it. She gave a general description of Berend’s visit, including the fact that he knew Merek and did not admit to traveling with Lady Kirkby, nor did he seem to know Parr and Sawyer, or, at least, did not know why they would be in York. She gave a more detailed account of their nighttime intrusion in her home, as well as what she had seen at Jon Horner’s house—how they had found him, the evidence of a room turned upside down in search of something—leaving out the glove and the mysterious clump of something possibly herbal—and her conversations with Old Cob and Coffey the smith. Lastly, she recounted in full her visit with Lionel, what Sister Dina had observed of Berend’s capture, her conversation with Paris, and what she had learned from the men in the warehouse. She opened Berend’s pack, showing them that there was no blood on his clothing.
“Nor did the warehousemen notice any new injuries.”
“That is something,” Elric muttered.
She omitted Carl’s murder lest she slip and suggest she had seen him earlier, or mention Lady Margery.
“If Parr and Sawyer are after the jewels, Berend’s capture might propel them to take risks in searching for them,” said Bess.
“Which was why I wanted Horner’s home watched,” said Kate. “And Merek’s lodgings. Do you have someone at Merek’s?” she asked Elric.
He was not certain. He would see to it.
“I know the woman who keeps his lodgings,” said Bess. “Goodwife Mary will cooperate with you. She likes life tidy and lawful. I will send word that she tell you of anyone attempting to trespass.”
All three fell silent. Lille and Ghent shifted beneath the table, settling deeper into their slumber. It had been a long day for them.
“Berend was seen with Merek earlier in the evening, then intervened on his behalf when he found Horner attacking him,” Elric said softly, as if to himself, as he helped himself to more brandywine. “Why then would he return to slit his throat?” Settling back, he said, “I will send to Sheriff Hutton for more men. We need to scour York for Parr and Sawyer. That Jennet’s tribe has been unable to sniff them out makes me uneasy.”
“Who killed Merek, that is what we need to know,” said Bess. “And Horner. We need to prove Berend’s innocence.”
“The fact that no one has noticed blood on Berend’s clothing is not proof that he is innocent,” said Elric. “I need to examine him, see whether he is so well bandaged it does not show.”
Kate agreed. Berend might have rid himself of his bloody clothing. And what of the casket of jewels and gold that sat at Elric’s elbow?
As if he could hear her thoughts, Elric drew the casket from the leather pouch and set it on the table. “We also need to know what Berend was doing with this.”
Bess reached out to touch the casket. “You have opened this?” Elric nodded. “Berend had this?”
“I cannot otherwise explain how the hounds tracked it,” said Kate.
As Elric was describing how it had been placed in a large crate tucked back in a corner of the warehouse, out of the way, he lifted the lid, revealing the contents.
“Mary and all the saints,” Bess whispered. “I never took him to be a thief.”
“What of Merek?” asked Elric. “Is it possible that Berend found it in Merek’s belongings and hid it?”
“And the warehousemen had not noticed it?” Bess looked at him askance. “He took a risk with the men. And John Paris.”
Kate thought it time they saw exactly what was in the casket. “Is it safe to examine the contents here, with your servants coming past?” They sat in an alcove opened to the passage between the kitchen and the public room.
The old woman lifted her cane and pointed toward a folded wooden screen leaning against the far wall. “I use that to afford myself privacy when I am doing the accounts and do not wish to be disturbed. It is sufficient to hide us from prying eyes. Sir Elric?”
He had already risen, and with Kate’s help, they drew it across the opening while Bess used one lamp to light two others.
“Now,” she said, her expression one of gleeful anticipation as she plucked a cloth from a nearby shelf and shook it out, laying it on the table, smoothing it. “Let us see what we have.”
Kate, still standing, began to lift items from the casket and place them on the cloth. A gold ring, several gold chains, including the one with the swan pendant, a jeweled crispinette—diamonds, a small pouch of pearls, the bag of coins, both gold and silver, from various countries, and a small pouch bearing a crest, a trio of red diamonds quartered with green eagles.
“Salisbury’s coat of arms,” said Elric, shaking his head. “I am sorry to see this.”
So was Kate. She fumbled with the knotted leather tie, finally tipping the contents out onto the cloth. A signet ring with the initials JM, and a delicate gold ring with a ruby in a heart-shaped setting.
“A posey ring?” Kate wondered, lifting the ruby ring and holding it close to the light to read the inscription encircli
ng it. “C’est mon désir.” She glanced up.
Bess asked if she might see the posey ring, squinting at it as she turned it this way and that, light glinting off its many facets. “A man’s ring, and his wife’s? Why would Berend have possession of these?”
Elric frowned over the coat of arms and the signet ring. “JM for John Montagu, Earl of Salisbury. He entrusts one of his men to hide a treasure that will support him in exile. It is a common practice. The posey is a love token. Included to remember his beloved while they are apart?”
“And you believe this was Berend’s mission?” asked Kate. “To hold this treasure for his lord’s son?”
“It would explain part of his travels,” said Elric. “Not all. How he managed to protect this . . . Fortune was on his side.”
“No longer,” Bess whispered. “This looks ill for our friend.”
Indeed it did. Kate collected the rings and pouch and put them aside, reaching for a leather bag that lay beneath the hoard. Inside was yet another pouch, this one of silk, holding . . .
“Lady Margery’s jewels,” she whispered, recognizing the necklaces, a ring, a bracelet, a gold circlet, two crispinettes, one gold with diamonds, one silver with sapphires. All items she remembered her friend wearing. “What are they doing here?”
“You said Berend denied being with Lady Margery?” Elric asked Kate.
“He did not admit to it.”
“He did not wish to lie to you.” Elric looked Kate in the eye.
As she disliked lying to Elric. Remorse choked her. A casket with jewels belonging to Lady Margery and to the Earl of Salisbury. What could it signify but that she or Lord Kirkby had joined the rebels? And Kate was hiding her. God have mercy. And somehow Merek and Horner discovered it?
“Is it possible that this is what Merek and Horner died for?” she asked. “The wealth in this casket, and what it might reveal?”
“People have been murdered for far less,” said Elric. “Or Salisbury might have entrusted Merek with this, to hand over to Berend, and when it came to that, he was reluctant . . .”
All three pairs of eyes met over the sparkling hoard. Mystified. Saddened. Frightened.
“No,” said Kate. “No. The Berend I know would not murder Merek and Horner to silence them about this.”
“Of course not,” Bess said, sounding far more certain than Kate. “We’ve no time for riddles. Sir Elric will confront Berend, find out how he came to possess this. But first we must hide it. Somewhere safe. I certainly do not want it under my roof.”
“Katherine?” Elric looked at her.
She knew of one woman adept at hiding gold—her mother. But would she agree? Even more to the point, would moving it to the Martha House endanger her mother and the beguines?
“What about the house of your cousin, soon to be mayor?” Bess asked quietly, so as not to be overheard. “They say his home is a fortress, guarded night and day, and surely he has a place where he hides the jewels Isabella so loves to flaunt.”
“I must think.” Kate put Margery’s jewels back in the silk pouch, tucked that into the leather pouch, and returned it to the casket, layering the rest on top. She closed the lid and slipped the casket into the leather pouch Elric held open.
“I will escort you home,” he said.
“My house is not far from here. And I have Lille and Ghent. You have a more pressing task—you must go to the castle, talk to Berend. He might be able to explain.”
“They will permit you to see him, won’t they?” asked Bess. “Westmoreland’s captain in the city?”
“They would not risk either the king’s or my earl’s ire by denying me,” Elric assured them. “I pray I find some answers. And no open wounds on Berend.”
“Amen,” Kate whispered.
“Find out who has murdered two men and pointed the finger at Berend,” said Bess. “And God help you if you fail, Elric of Bigod,” she growled. To Kate, she said, “Trust Sir Elric. You need his help.” With a nod, she rose, cautious not to disturb Lille and Ghent. “I would not have believed it had I not witnessed it myself. You trained them well.”
Kate bowed to her. “They know a friend when they meet one.”
The taverner touched Kate’s forearm. “We will save him, the three of us.” A sad smile. “I will call on my neighbor, Gwenllian Ferriby. Apothecaries hear much in their shops. The smallest detail might provide the clue we need to connect all these troubles.”
“I met Gwenllian at Lionel’s,” said Kate. “She is seeing to his wounds.”
“Good,” said Bess. “I will not feel guilty bringing her into this as she is already involved.”
“Would you ask her if I might talk to her? If I described Jon Horner—how he looked, smelled—she might have an idea what the poison was, how it might have been given to him. Perhaps she might examine the room, if it’s not already cleaned.”
Bess looked uncertain. “Her mother would have gladly assisted you, but Gwenllian might be hesitant. I will see what I might do.”
Kate thanked her.
“I do it for Berend,” said Bess.
“As do I.”
As Kate led the hounds through the public room, which was filling up, the patrons made much of them being permitted in the tavern.
“Do not for a moment think you all may bring your dogs in here,” Bess bellowed from the doorway. “Lille and Ghent are privileged guests.”
Already stepping out into the yard, Elric turned to Kate. “If someone in that tavern recognizes the bag, they will follow you. The wolfhounds or no, I am escorting you home.”
Glancing back at the curious faces, Kate could not but agree. “No need to lead anyone into temptation,” she laughed at his surprise as she handed him the bag. She quietly thanked him as she separated the hounds’ leads, one in each hand.
“I am honored.”
Would he be so honored if he knew what she hid from him? She averted her eyes, making a study of the Ferriby house as they passed it. An uncommonly fine home for an apothecary, but then Gwenllian’s husband Tom Ferriby was a prominent mercer, like his father, and his maternal grandfather had been a knight. So had Gwenllian’s maternal grandfather, though her mother had been an apothecary—a knight’s daughter becoming an apothecary, there was a story in that, she’d wager. She had knights on the mind, or one in particular, tall, strong, handsome, with a way of carrying himself that set her thinking about the best chamber in her guesthouse and what they might do there. But it would never happen. Too many lies and half-truths. How she regretted that.
They were a quiet pair as they walked, nodding to folk hurrying home as night closed in over the city and the streets grew treacherous, the shadows deepening beneath the jutting overhangs, the slush refreezing underfoot. Lille barked at a clerk who ventured too close as he swept the area in front of a shop, making him give way.
“Imperious,” Elric said with a laugh.
Kate smiled. She liked his laugh. It began in his chest, a deep, rich sound.
Upon reaching the door to her hall Kate stopped, suddenly awkward.
Elric saved the moment. He bowed and kissed her hand. “I will come straight to you with an account of my mission to the castle.”
“I will be waiting,” she said.
He handed her the casket and Berend’s pack. “Keep them safe!”
She held up the pack. “Perhaps he could use the extra clothing?”
“Better that I leave it with you for now, see where they are holding him.”
“Of course. Godspeed!”
You are more than a little fond of your knight, Geoff said in Kate’s mind as she watched Elric stride off down the street.
He’s not— She caught herself evading her own realization. I am. More’s the pity.
He is a good man.
So you keep telling me.
I would give much to travel in his mind for this meeting, Geoff said as Kate made her way round the house to the kitchen.
I would as well, Geoff. But mor
e than that, I wish I could be the one to go to Berend. I need to know whether I’ve been a fool to hide Margery.
Better that he break his silence with Elric, man to man. And then you will hear all that he told Elric.
Perhaps. If he confides in him. Why should he?
Then it will be your turn.
10
THE KING’S PEACE
Before opening the kitchen door, Kate decided on the simplest explanation for both the pack and the pouch, “Berend’s belongings,” and then whispered several Hail Marys as she composed herself. Pushing open the door, she found Petra and Marie standing side by side, slicing turnips with an air of gloom. Holy Mother, how she loved them.
“Such sad faces,” she said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “You will curdle the cream.”
“There is no cream in this dish,” Marie snapped, eyeing Jennet with disgust. “Almond milk. Pah. Watery peasant food.” She gave a shiver of disgust.
“Peasants cannot afford the almonds for milk. They rely on their goats and cows,” said Petra, eliciting a snarl from her companion.
“I don’t suppose you thought to ask Bess Merchet whether she knows of someone who might help in the kitchen?” asked Jennet, her voice weary as she stood over the fire, sleeves rolled back, face damp with the heat, stirring the pottage.
“I had much else on my mind,” said Kate.
Marie continued to mutter her dissatisfaction.
Petra elbowed her. “You want Berend back, don’t you?” she hissed, her eyes brimming with tears.
“You will salt the pottage with your tears,” Marie said, sticking her tongue out at Petra. “You think I do not know that he is in danger?”
Time to distract them. “I have a mind to work on the loom for a while before we sup. Do you mind waiting a while?”
“No one is hungry,” said Jennet.
Kate understood. “But Mouser spilled my silk threads and they are all atangle.” She leveled her gaze at Petra, who had found the cat and insisted on adopting her, and Marie, who had promised they would keep her from underfoot. To their credit, the girls had tried to shut the cat from the hall, but Mouser was a cunning adversary. “So the two of you will take Lille and Ghent to the hall and work on that while I talk to Jennet and Matt.” The hounds’ presence would ensure Mouser’s absence. Though they found her but a nit, not worth fussing over, she clearly feared them.
