A Murdered Peace

by Candace Robb

  “Elric?”

  He bowed through the low doorway. “I came looking for you, Dame Katherine. I need you to come with me to the castle.”

  “First we must get Skulker to a safe place. Then, yes, the castle.”

  Elric nodded to the boy who eyed him with curiosity. “Sheriff Hutton Castle up north, in the forest. We could use a lad in the stables.”

  “First he must give one of the sheriffs’ men an account of what he witnessed the night of Merek’s death.”

  “If I go with you, will you feed me?” Skulker demanded of Elric.

  “We’ll do more than that. Clean you and clothe you and if you prove yourself teachable who knows? You might learn to be a groom, or a manservant to a soldier.”

  “Learn to fight?”

  “I’ve no doubt you already know something of that. But we will see.”

  “Let me see to this,” Kate hissed at Elric. He shrugged. Insolent know-it-all.

  “They’re not the king’s men, the two you caught,” said Skulker. “They killed two men to steal their livery. They did not want folk to remember them as once serving one of the lords taken down at Cirencester.”

  “What brought them to York?” Kate asked.

  “A treasure, held for their earl’s cunt and her bastard child.”

  The posey ring was for his mistress?

  “They came here to snatch it. That’s what they thought the bald man carried?” Skulker shook his head. “Poor sod.”

  Had the mere presence of a knight loosened the lad’s tongue? Or the promise of a position at Sheriff Hutton? Damn Elric’s impertinence, but bless him if this was the result. “That is helpful,” she told Skulker. “Anything else to report?”

  “Parr’s bedded Trimlow’s daughter.”

  God help the young woman.

  “How is it you were not there when Sir Elric’s men came for them, but you witnessed it?” asked Kate.

  “They did not dare move about the city today, with the soldiers milling about and Sir Peter putting on a show. They wouldn’t need me till dusk, but they told me to keep guard, warn them about trouble.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Looking out for myself.”

  Elric touched Kate’s arm. “Would Petra be safe with him for a moment while we step outside?”

  Kate asked Petra, who said she’d be pleased to keep an eye on Skulker.

  “A boot as well, if need be.”

  Elric led Kate far enough across the small yard that the lad would not hear them. “I could take the boy to the York Tavern and send for one of the sheriffs’ men. After they’ve spoken, Wulf will take him to Sheriff Hutton, his punishment for disobeying my orders and frightening the folk of York. All of my men arriving at once—I could wring his neck.”

  “A fitting punishment,” she agreed. “But I would prefer more men on such a mission. Skulker is slippery. And he’s witnessed a murder.” She told him what the boy had said about Carl’s capture, beating, death.

  “Even better to get him out of the city. Two of my men? Wulf and Stephen?”

  “That is better. The forest is never a safe place, worse so of late, with all the men who were armed and ready for a battle that never happened. But you know that.”

  “I am more concerned about the city, with Sir Peter eager to stir up the citizens about Lady Kirkby and Berend.”

  Berend. She had forgotten his comment. “You said I was needed at the castle. Has Berend asked for me? Has something happened?”

  “Berend is fasting. Penance for his sins, for which he fears Lady Kirkby is paying. I cannot have him starving himself. I want him sharp, ready to move as soon as we have a plan.”

  That was nothing, but Elric did not know. “He fasts often. He says it scours out his bad humors. I’ve never known him to do it so long that he weakens. He can wait, surely, while we see to Skulker and question Parr and Sawyer. How did you find them?”

  “Bess Merchet following a suspicion about Trimlow the baker. Three of my men fresh from Sheriff Hutton found the pair napping, knocked them out, and carted them to a shack in the yard of the York Tavern as if they were sacks of flour.”

  “Bless Bess Merchet,” said Kate. “We need to talk about Lady Margery’s account of how she and Berend came to meet in Cirencester.”

  “You have her permission to trust me with it?”

  She ignored that. “But first I want to speak with Berend.”

  “First Parr and Sawyer,” said Elric. “We need to know what they have to say before Sir Peter finds them. He’s heard they’re Salisbury’s men and he means to deliver them up to King Henry along with Lady Margery and Berend.”

  “Even if we prove Berend’s innocence?”

  “Should Berend be cleared of the murders, Sir Peter has ordered the sheriffs to hand him over. The king will want to question him about the uprising.”

  “God help us.”

  “Are we agreed, then? I’ll take Skulker to the York Tavern?”

  “Bess Merchet might not be pleased, but yes, do. And one thing.” Kate told him about Berend’s encounter with John of Leckhampton, the abbot of St. Mary’s, Cirencester. “We need the abbot’s testimony that Berend had come neither with them nor with Thomas Kirkby.”

  Elric was shaking his head. “Had we known a few days ago, but now? Even if I had a man to spare, he would never return with the abbot’s witness in time to make a difference.”

  “We can try.”

  “No, Katherine. I will not spare one of my men on a hopeless mission.”

  Stubborn man. “I will find a messenger.”

  He reached out to her, taking hold of her arm. “I am not the enemy, Katherine. I never was.”

  “Even after my confession?”

  “That did not alter my belief in what is right.”

  “Then help me save him.” She saw how he tightened his jaw. He would not send anyone to the abbot. Damnable man.

  After the midday meal Kate and the hounds headed down Stonegate for the York Tavern, collecting a small crowd all asking after Berend, offering food, prayers, inquiring whether there was anything they might do. She assured them all that their prayers were appreciated and urged them to give the sheriffs any information about the night Merek was murdered, anything anyone saw on or around the Shambles. Their support lifted Kate’s spirits, which had taken a downward turn when she’d heard Matt’s news from the Frost residence.

  “Sir Peter hopes the city will turn on Berend, the bastard,” Matt had said. “He’s searching for Parr and Sawyer as well. He’s heard that they were likely in the service of the Earl of Salisbury, thinks they might know who else rode in the company of the earl. And he says they came here chasing some treasure Salisbury sent to York for safekeeping, which Sir Peter claims is the king’s by right. All the rebels’ wealth is forfeit. Master William forbade him to interfere with the city’s search for the murderers of Merek and Horner, but the knight and his captain claim the king’s safety is the higher good.”

  Higher good. Pah. And now there he was. Sir Peter stood by the steps to the cemetery in St. Helen’s Square, watching her as she moved away from Berend’s supporters with a benedicite. Arrogant bastard. But better that he serve as a warning. Had she not seen him she might have led him straight to Parr and Sawyer. She turned onto Davygate, heading toward the castle.

  She not gone far when Lille growled, alerting her that the knight followed. Glancing over her shoulder, Kate warned the old knight to keep his distance. “She does not know you and considers you a threat to me.”

  “Might we talk, Dame Katherine? I will not keep you long.”

  She called the hounds to heel.

  Sir Peter bowed and introduced himself. With just that brief walk he was quite out of breath. Frail for such a mission. Did the king not realize?

  “Ah, yes,” she said. “My cousin’s guest.”

  “I ask for your cooperation, Dame Katherine. I have been told you are trusted by Lady Kirkby, who is said to have come
to York. And her escort from Cirencester is late of your household. One Berend Osgood. Formerly of the Earl of Salisbury’s household?”

  “Berend? No, he did not serve in the earl’s household, but that of the late earl’s father, Baron Montagu. Years ago.”

  “That may be true, but he answered the earl’s summons.”

  “About that I know only what Sir Elric has told me.” She felt herself trying to breathe for the man.

  “If you would simply tell me whether you know who is harboring Lady Kirkby?”

  “Then she is in York? I thought it a rumor.” Kate assured him that she would be listening for any news of Lady Kirkby.

  “And you will inform me if you hear anything?”

  “I should think you would hear first. But if someone thinks to tell me, I will of course send word to your host, my cousin William Frost.”

  “I would be most grateful. As to Berend Osgood, you have not spoken to him?”

  “I know only what Sir Elric shared about his conversation with Berend at the castle. But I am on my way to speak with him now.” And do, by all means, follow, she thought. It would keep him away from the York Tavern.

  “If you should learn anything . . .” said Sir Peter.

  “I would not presume to do your job for you,” she said. “I merely wish to deliver greetings from my wards, who are fond of Berend.”

  The knight reached out a hand to Lille, receiving a bark from Ghent and a threatening growl from Lille.

  “I warned you.”

  “An unusual choice of pet for the city.”

  “I have not always lived in York, Sir Peter. I brought them with me from the North. Is there anything else you wished to ask me?”

  A formal bow. “No. That will be all. For now. I pray that you see your way to assisting me in my search for Lady Kirkby.”

  “Do you doubt my word?” Kate asked, with a teasing smile.

  The pale, drawn face colored. Ah yes, the man was susceptible. That was useful information.

  As Kate walked on, she regretted telling Sir Peter where she was headed. She had thought to collect one of the beguines at her mother’s Martha House. They had permission to visit Berend. But if Sir Peter’s man chose to follow her to Dame Eleanor’s house and decided to intrude, it would ruin a special treat for Marie and Petra.

  Matt would be escorting the girls to the house on Castlegate in a little while. They were to have their final fittings for the white Candlemas dresses Sister Dina was making for them. Tonight, they would hear from the sisters the story of the Blessed Mother’s purification in the temple forty days after giving birth to Jesus. And how all new mothers now went to the church on the fortieth day to give thanks for surviving the ordeal of childbirth. The girls were to stay the night with Eleanor and the beguines, and, in the morning, take part in the candlelit procession to St. Mary’s Church across Castlegate. It was meant to be a sweet interlude in a difficult time. The girls had been excited to be invited by Sisters Clara, Dina, Brigida, and Agnes. It was also the day on which households brought candles to be blessed, to be used in the sickroom during the coming year. Dame Eleanor, guessing correctly that Kate had forgotten to set aside a stock of candles for the ceremony, would provide the girls with a dozen for the occasion. Kate did not want the event ruined by Berend’s and Margery’s troubles. She had even put off disciplining Petra for slipping out of the schoolroom and risking her life. Time for that later.

  But surely whatever happened this afternoon would be outshone by the warmth of her mother’s beguines and the beauty of the ceremony. They were resilient children. Despite the upset of the morning, they had remembered Berend. In Kate’s scrip were gifts for him—two freshly baked pandemain rolls from Marie and a chunk of cheese that Petra particularly loved.

  Just as she and the hounds passed the Ouse Bridge and turned up Castlegate, Ghent gave a bark of greeting, and Lille followed. Kate turned to see who approached.

  “I commend your quick thinking,” said Elric. “Smart to continue on toward the castle when you saw Sir Peter in the square outside the tavern.”

  “I am not a fool. Nor was I when I asked you to send someone to the abbot in Cirencester.”

  “It is—”

  “Too late. Yes, I know you have decided that.”

  She hurried on. He kept up. At the castle, he made himself useful by arranging for her admission, then escorted her to Berend’s chamber.

  “I will stay out here, in the corridor, ensuring you are not interrupted,” he said.

  His kindness confused her.

  Berend was standing by the one window in the tower room when Kate entered. A fire burned in a brazier, a jug of ale and a cup sat on a table, several blankets were folded at the foot of a narrow bed and the pillow was plump and clean. Even from behind she could see that Berend no longer looked as if he had been sleeping along the roads for weeks.

  “Have you no welcome for me?” she asked.

  Berend turned, his expression quiet, perhaps a little sorrowful. “Dame Katherine, forgive me.”

  For not welcoming her? Or for leaving, and all that had happened since? She did not ask, but instead released Lille and Ghent from their leads so they might go to him. “You do not look as bad as I feared you would,” she said. He looked unhealthy, tired, his eyes sunken, the lines in his face deeper than she remembered. But uninjured, and alert.

  He knelt to the hounds, resting his large, scarred hands on their backs, visibly moved by their affectionate greetings. “How is it that of all I have encountered since returning, these two make me feel most human?”

  She crossed the room to the window and gave him a moment to collect himself. When she heard his knees creak as he rose, she turned back to him. “Are you eating?” She’d seen no sign of food in the castle chamber.

  “I asked the sisters to offer today’s meals to the poor. Tomorrow, Candlemas, I will take communion.”

  He proffered the jug of ale, but she shook her head and settled on a bench beneath the high window. Lille and Ghent padded over to sit at her feet.

  “You will be permitted to attend mass?” That was an unexpected courtesy.

  “In the castle chapel. Sister Clara has arranged for a priest—one of the friars.”

  “If she promised, it will be so.” Although Kate’s mother was the founder of the small group of beguines on Castlegate, Sister Clara was their spiritual guide, and adept at the art of accomplishing her goals by wearing down her naysayers with stubborn persistence. “After communion, you will break your fast?”

  He bowed his head.

  “Berend, I need you strong and ready to do what must be done. And I’ve something to tempt you.” She opened her scrip and took out the food, wrapped in parchment. “The girls sent gifts. Marie’s pandemain rolls, Petra’s favorite cheese.”

  A smile creased his face as he accepted the gift, laying the package on the table beside the ale. “You are right. Already I weaken in my resolve. Marie’s bread should be eaten this very day. No later than after mass in the morning.”

  “They have always known how to coax you from a mood.”

  He sank down on the bed opposite her. “My greatest regret is disappointing them.”

  Not me? she thought, and felt foolish. She had never known him to be so ill at ease with her. Even when he had come to her the other day he had seemed more the Berend she knew. He was on alert, guarded. She needed to let him talk for a little while, get to know him now. “Tell me about Pontefract. Did you see the royal prisoner?”

  “Pontefract? Why do you ask?”

  “I am curious. What did you do there?”

  “I went to an old friend who works in the castle gardens. A modest job, he welcomed the money I offered. His grandson, just a lad, is a serving boy in the castle. He enjoyed giving me much detail. Apart from having none of his supporters or friends with him, Richard might have been quite comfortable.”

  Kate settled back on the bench. “The boy described his lodgings? Just like that?�
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  “As I said, his grandfather is an old friend.”

  “A gardener at Pontefract Castle?”

  A sad smile. “That is not a tale for today. But, yes, the lad thought nothing of it. Neither the steward nor the captain of the guard seem aware that servants have eyes and ears, and mouths once outside.”

  “So Richard’s prison is comfortable?”

  “As much as a prison can be so. The steward gave his own lodgings to him, near the gatehouse, a large apartment over the bread ovens, so it is well heated, with windows facing into the inner ward. Old tapestries on the wall, faded and a bit dirty. There is even a garderobe, a warm one—right next to one of the bread ovens.” Berend paused. “Rumor has it that the king is now refusing food.”

  “Like you.”

  “Mine is a penance. One day.”

  “His is not?”

  “I do not presume to know his mind.” Berend rubbed his injured leg. “But it strikes me as a cruel place to fast, in a chamber directly over the brew house and baking ovens. The aroma.” He rubbed harder. “I would find it difficult.”

  He was sounding more himself. “Is your leg no better?”

  “Much better. Just habit now.” Straightening, he studied her a moment. “Why do you want to know all this?”

  Careful, careful. You are doing well, Geoff warned.

  “According to Margery, Thomas Kirkby felt Richard was poorly treated. He railed at the steward and guards about Richard’s treatment.”

  “Lady Margery told me.” A shrug. “I can speak only of what I heard from the grandson of a man I trust. A difference in rank? The lad lives with his large family in a small house.” He paused, frowning. “Lady Margery. Did she come to you?”

  “She did.”

  He cursed under his breath. “I told her to go to the widow Seaton or Dame Jocasta. I would not so endanger you and the children.”

  “Bless you for that.”

  “We had gone our separate ways by then. She must have felt safer with you. Did she come to the house?”

  “No, God be thanked.” She told him how Carl had waited outside the guesthouse. “I could not in good conscience turn her away, leave her stranded outside the gates on a snowy night. I have done my best to keep her safe.”