A Murdered Peace

by Candace Robb

  “But I want to hear,” Marie whined, winning herself another jab of Petra’s sharp elbows. “Merde.”

  “That is Berend’s pack,” said Petra, pointing.

  “You are quite right,” said Kate.

  “What have you in the bag?” Marie demanded.

  “More of his belongings. I brought them here for safekeeping.” Kate bent to Lille and Ghent, apologizing to them for the assignment. She looked up. “Well? They are waiting. Tell Matt we are waiting.”

  Wiping their hands on their aprons, the girls went over to the bench by the door and stepped into their wooden pattens, lifted their cloaks from the hooks above, and, ready for the slushy yard, held out their hands for the hounds’ leads. Kate drew them both into her arms and held them a moment, whispering assurances that she was doing all that she could to bring Berend safely home. “Now,” she released them and handed them the leads. “See to the silks. Sir Elric is on his way to the castle now. I will tell you what he learns as soon as I know.”

  When the girls had tramped out, Kate left the door ajar, so they might hear the hounds bark, and settled at the table with Jennet, talking idly about the girls while they waited for Matt. As soon as he joined them she recounted the events and discoveries of the day. As she came to the revelations at the warehouse, she opened Berend’s pack, showed them the contents, and then heaved up the leather pouch, drawing out the casket. They listened closely, asking few questions until Kate opened the casket.

  “Heavenly hosts,” whispered Matt.

  Jennet usually laughed at his saintly exclamations, but not this time. Her eyes were busy taking it all in. “What is Berend doing with all this?”

  “That is what Elric has gone to ask him,” said Kate. She showed them the two rings, explained the possible significance.

  “The Earl of Salisbury. The traitor.” Matt looked so unhappy. “Why would Berend support him?”

  “And there is this.” Kate lifted out the sack of Lady Margery’s jewels, opening it.

  Jennet glanced up. “So now Sir Elric knows that she is in the city?”

  “If you are asking whether I have told him, no,” said Kate.

  “With Carl’s death, now this, might it not be time?” Jennet lifted the posey ring, turning it this way and that, clearly admiring how the ruby caught the light. Was a time when she would have run with it. A remarkable day’s catch. Now she treated it as information. “If Lord Kirkby was part of the uprising . . .” She was shaking her head. “The risk . . . Let Lady Margery explain herself to Sir Elric.”

  “I am of a mind to tell him tonight,” Kate admitted. “I believe I can trust him.”

  “Good. That is good.”

  Matt tapped the table. “How is this connected to Merek’s and Horner’s deaths?”

  Kate reminded them of the exchange at the market, something small, gold. From this hoard? “Merek was on a mission for Salisbury. It is possible that this casket was entrusted to him, and he betrayed the earl’s trust.”

  “And then it came to Berend,” said Matt. “How?”

  “Pray Berend enlightens Sir Elric,” said Kate. She did not want to think how Berend might have wrested it from Merek.

  “Did Kevin find anything in the documents strewn about his office?” asked Jennet.

  “If he did, he did not say,” said Kate. “We were busy with other things.”

  Jennet sat back with a sigh. “What a day. And Dame Bess befriending Lille and Ghent.” She shook her head.

  “Am I right to trust her?” Kate asked. “What do your eyes and ears on the streets think of her?”

  “They admire her. She’s a cautious woman, it takes much to gain her trust. And somehow you have managed that in one visit.”

  “I confess I did not expect to like her so well,” said Kate. “She has been of help.”

  “Good,” said Jennet. “She is a worthwhile ally in this part of the city.”

  “Ay, she is that,” said Matt. “As is her friend Gwenllian Ferriby, or so says Bella.” His cousin the healer. “If Horner was poisoned, she might recall who had the means. Though she’s not the only source of such a draught. Interesting that Merek was not a simple spice seller, but dabbling in potions. And an envoy for the earl of Salisbury. Maybe selling stolen jewelry as well?”

  “A possibility,” said Kate.

  “About Merek being an envoy for Salisbury,” said Jennet, “it might have helped to know that sooner.”

  Jennet’s expression chastened Kate. She should have told her what Berend had said.

  “I am sorry.”

  A shrug. “I know now.”

  “You have more information for your eyes and ears.”

  Jennet nodded. “I will go deliver new instructions to my eyes and ears after supper.”

  “You are wasted in the kitchen,” said Kate. “You both deserve help. Now, let’s get this casket safely out of sight. I need to find a place to hide it.”

  “We all know who proved to be remarkably clever about hiding treasures,” said Jennet.

  Kate laughed. “I had the same thought about my mother. But for tonight . . .”

  “The hearth in the hall has a loose stone,” said Matt. “Someone used it for this very purpose. The casket will fit.”

  Jennet touched Kate’s arm, said nothing until she knew she had her attention. “You will confide in him tonight? We can use the additional protection with such a treasure in the house.”

  “I know. I will, though I dread it.”

  “You care for him.”

  “Once he knows, that will not matter.”

  “If a comrade in arms came to him in such need, do you believe he would turn him away?”

  “He will understand my helping her. What he will not forgive is my deceiving him.”

  Jennet could not deny that.

  The colors of the silks soothed Kate—deep blue, vibrant green, bright yellow, warm brown. They were a pleasure to work. It had not been merely a ruse to send the girls away while she conferred with Jennet and Matt, Kate had sought solace at the loom, needing to calm her mind in order to see the way forward. And she was grateful—Petra and Marie had created order and even improved on how the colors were arranged. Buoyed by her praise, they had gone back to the kitchen arm in arm, leaving her with the hounds and Matt, who was repairing a shutter.

  Weaving forced Kate to draw in her thoughts as she began, remembering where she had left off, what threads to work in next. Then, as she settled into the pattern, she was able to let her mind play over the events of the past few days, exploring possible connections. She was just beginning to relax when someone knocked on the door.

  Silently cursing, she called out to Matt to see who it was.

  Another knock. She glanced round and saw that the shutter was repaired. She was alone with the hounds, who sat up, ears pricked, awaiting her instructions.

  “Stay,” she commanded them as she rose, hoping that it was Sir Elric and Berend who interrupted her solitude. “Patience, I pray you!” she called out as the knocking became more insistent. Opening the door, she raised her eyebrows. Her cousin, William Frost, soon to be mayor of York and one of the last people she wished to see at present. But to deny him was to call attention to herself.

  “God be with you, cousin,” he raised his brows. “Might I come in?”

  “Of course.” She stepped aside.

  “I am relieved to find you at home.” Though William’s brow was furrowed in a deep frown his voice was soft, affectionate, and he gave her forearm a little squeeze as he passed her.

  She did not like that unaccustomed gesture of affection. It meant trouble for her.

  As he peeled off his gloves, he said, “I was on my way to the guesthouse when I heard about Berend’s trouble. We must talk.”

  “And leave Drusilla waiting?” He had long been a client with his mistress, the widow Seaton, Kate’s good friend and business partner. “She is not a patient woman.”

  “This is important, Katherine.”
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  Of course he would be one of the first to hear, for soon such events would be his headache as mayor. She motioned him to a chair by the hearth fire and went to the cupboard on the wall beside it where she kept a jug of ale and a flagon of wine.

  “A cup of wine?” Kate asked.

  Fussing with his rabbit-lined cloak, shaking it out, hanging it with care over two hooks beside the hearth, William rubbed his hands and said, “I would prefer ale if you have it.”

  “A reformed regimen as you don your mayoral robes?” He had always preferred wine, no matter the time of day. “What next? Are you here to tell me that you will no longer be a patron of my guesthouse?”

  “No, nothing like that. My physician believes ale is better than claret for my stiff joints.” A shrug.

  “Your physician? You are concerned for your health?”

  “Isabella is. To keep the peace, I bow to my wife’s loving concern.”

  Loving—that was not a word Kate would ever associate with Isabella Frost. “What inspired her concern?”

  “Since my return from Westminster she has noticed a change in my sleep. She finds me walking about our chamber talking nonsense. I have much on my mind, I told her. Participating in a parliament of such significance, a new king come to the throne in such wise—”

  “Turning the former king’s nobles against him, threatening civil war, yes, there must have been much to discuss in Westminster,” said Kate.

  “Have a care how you speak of King Henry’s accession, cousin. There are spies all about us.” He gave her a warning look as he settled down on the high-backed chair, adjusting his brocade jacket, flicking imaginary specks from his rich brown leggings. Elegantly garbed for an evening spent under silken bedclothes.

  “Royal spies, yes. I did wonder whether you will continue your trysts with Drusilla,” she said, goading him.

  He looked at her askance. “Of course I will, cousin. Why would I not? I have needs—”

  “Yes, you have often said. But as mayor, and as you owe it to King Henry’s favor, you must have a care. It is said His Grace is a pious man.”

  “He is. But he understands. He himself has a mistress.”

  “His Grace is, at the moment, a widower. Your wife is very much alive.”

  William was shaking his head. “You distract me from my purpose. I am here about the murder of the spice seller. And Horner. And Berend being taken into custody.”

  “Of course.” She handed him the cup of ale and settled across from him.

  He lifted the cup to her as if to toast. “You will not partake?”

  “I am still warm with Bess Merchet’s brandywine.”

  “Old Bess at the York Tavern? I did not know you were friends. But she is a good person to know in this part of the city.”

  Kate nodded. “About Berend.”

  “Yes. His situation is grave. He stands accused not only of the recent murders, but of joining the son of his former lord in the plot against the king. He was seen at Pontefract, and in Oxford, meeting with Salisbury. Pontefract, Katherine. Had he attempted to free the deposed king? Would Berend do such a thing?”

  “No, he would not.”

  “So say you. But the king believes otherwise. I have come to warn you, Katherine, for the sake of your name, and your wards, their futures, you must cut off all association with Berend.”

  He might as well tell you to cut off your right arm, Geoff mumbled in her head.

  “Is this not all rumor?” Kate asked.

  William sat back with an air of self-satisfaction, taking the time to cross one leg over the other. “I heard it from the king’s own men. Two of King Henry’s trusted retainers arrived today. I have invited them to bide in my home.”

  “Sawyer and Parr?”

  “Who? No. Sir Peter Angle and Captain Crawford, I’ve already forgotten the captain’s given name. Who are these others?”

  Kate waved away the question. “Why are they here?”

  “I am not privileged to say . . .”

  “Have they come in pursuit of Lady Kirkby?”

  A look of surprise. “Why—How did you know?”

  “Sir Elric.”

  “Ah. Westmoreland’s man. Yes, of course, he would be privy to such information.”

  “Is she in the city?”

  “They believe so, but they have yet to apprehend her.”

  God be thanked. But Kate’s hands had turned to ice. “And they told you about Berend?”

  “They overheard my man Roger informing me that the sheriffs had him in custody. When they heard his name they grew excited. They are convinced that it was Berend who had escorted Lady Kirkby here after their cohorts were caught and executed in Cirencester. Will you promise me to stay out of this? Let the sheriffs and the king’s men do their work?”

  As if she’d ever had a choice to do so. “The sheriffs have already bungled it, William. Sir Elric is at the castle as we speak, determined to find the real murderer, or murderers, and prevent any more violence in the city.”

  “Sir Elric? Why?”

  “He has been charged by Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmoreland, to keep the peace here.”

  “That is for the sheriffs and the mayor and council.”

  Kate almost laughed at William’s expression, righteous indignation, insult . . . But she restrained herself. “I thought that as well, but ever since the rift between the royal cousins the earl has kept a close watch on York, with Sir Elric as his lieutenant here. You will want to stay in Elric’s good graces.”

  “In his good graces,” William sputtered, his feathers now quite ruffled.

  She had best smooth them. This was not the time to let her cousin walk away in anger. She needed his cooperation. “I only meant, he is one of the earl’s favorites, and a knight, William. Though citizens of York see you as the highest dignitary, come Candlemas—or the day after, one such as the earl sees you as yet a commoner. You have the king’s support, but Earl Ralph sits at his right hand at feasts.”

  A shrug of concession. “It is true.” He sipped the ale and stared into the fire. “Back to the matter at hand,” he finally said, “I cannot have you rushing to rescue a traitor.”

  “Berend is no traitor. He condemned the plot against the king and his sons.”

  “Then what was his—” He looked up sharply. “You have already spoken to him?”

  “Briefly. Before the deaths of Merek and Horner.”

  “And you did not give him up?”

  “I said, before the deaths.”

  “Murders. Did you not know he was wanted for treason?”

  “Not at that time,” she lied.

  William leveled his gaze at her. “When I told you the king’s men were here you mentioned two names. Who are they?”

  “Parr and Sawyer?” Here was information he would find valuable, that she might offer as a concession. She told him what she knew of them, omitting their interest in Merek’s goods. She did not want the king’s men on a treasure hunt.

  He looked suitably concerned. “How dare they invade your home and threaten your guard dogs! I will inform His Grace’s men. They sought Berend and Lady Margery?”

  “Yes.”

  “They will be found and apprehended, I promise you.”

  She did not argue, merely nodded, as if grateful, soothing William’s pride.

  He murmured more reassurances as he lifted the cup to his lips. Finding it empty, he set it on the arm of the chair. Kate rose to fetch more, but he shook his head.

  “So. Will you promise to keep your distance from Berend?”

  “In truth, that depends on Sir Elric, what he learns at York Castle.”

  “Why should it depend on him?”

  “We have an agreement. Or rather, I have one with Westmoreland.”

  “Oh? You never said.”

  “And now I have. I—keep him informed of the mood in the city, amongst the merchants.”

  “Ah.”

  She could see him reviewing in his mind w
hat she might have reported about him.

  “You have no need for concern, cousin.”

  A little tweak at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps I will take a wee dram more.” He handed her his cup.

  She filled it, handed it back. “About my agreement with the earl. It would help me if you would keep me informed of what the king’s men do, where they go, to whom they speak. Sir Elric will want to know what they know. What they think they know.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “As I said, Earl Ralph has the king’s ear. When you wish a favor for the city . . .”

  William uncrossed his legs, adjusted his sleeves. “The day after Candlemas I will be entertaining all of York, Katherine, with a late dinner for the freemen of the city and their families. The following day I hold a feast for the council.”

  “Two feasts?”

  “Isabella’s idea. But you see I have much to do in a few days.”

  “And the king’s men. You would not exclude them?”

  “Well, no, of course not.”

  “I should think Sir Elric will also be invited to the first feast.”

  “I had not thought to invite him, but if he is in the city . . .”

  “Perhaps as my escort?”

  A hint of a smile as he nodded. “I begin to see the benefit. But how would I get word to you? I myself have not the time . . .”

  “I am looking for a groom, a lad to train up as a servant. Can you suggest one?”

  “What has this to do with what we’re discussing?”

  “I need someone to be here when Matt is at your house receiving his morning and afternoon report from your manservant Roger. Or from Tib, if you prefer.” A lesser servant in William’s household.

  “It would needs be Roger. I can trust him not to gossip.” He held out his cup once more. “I believe I need what remains in the jug you have on the cupboard.”

  Kate obliged him, handing him the ornate pewter tankard, though she teased him about too much ale being inadvisable before a night of lovemaking.