by Candace Robb
She shook her head and promised Eleanor she would return in a moment, after she had completed her mission.
“There is a lad searching for you,” said Eleanor as Kate moved into the crowd. “There he is.” Kate turned as Eleanor motioned to the lad to approach.
“Mistress Clifford,” he bobbed to her, and drew two strands of leather out of his jacket. “What would you offer me for these fine leads for your hounds?”
God be thanked, it was the signal that Berend was off downriver. As she reached for the leather, he slipped a folded parchment into her hands as well.
“A ha’penny,” she said.
“For this fine leather?” he feigned dismay.
Laughing with relief, she gave him a penny and shooed him off. Ignoring her mother’s gasp of disapproval, Kate moved on, gathering the children and delivering them to their friend.
While the children settled around Hazel in her large bedchamber, Kate withdrew to a seat beneath one of the large windows, the hounds at her feet, and read the parchment. On the outer sheet Berend addressed her, explaining that he could not with clear conscience permit either Kate or Elric to be punished for their selfless acts on his and Lady Kirkby’s behalf. When Sir Peter discovered the betrayal he should be given the enclosed document, in which Berend listed all the names he could remember from the Oxford gathering, and swore that he had merely ascertained that the former king was indeed imprisoned in Pontefract. That he had accepted that mission in exchange for information regarding his former mistress and his son. He swore that to his knowledge Lady Kirkby was not in York.
Kate smiled at the last part. Well he might swear, knowing that Lady Margery awaited him at Bishopthorpe. Folding the parchments, she tucked them in her scrip and left the children giggling as the frail Hazel, with her fiery cheeks and too-bright eyes, weakly exclaimed over the baubles and candies the children had brought her.
Down in the yard, her mother paced. “There you are, my dear. Who was that sweaty boy that you felt obliged to buy his shoddy bits of leather?”
“One of Dame Jocasta’s rescues, Mother. He is a good lad, carrying messages for her about the city and trying to learn a trade.”
Eleanor sniffed. “Well, I suppose. Now, do introduce me to this gentleman coming along.”
“John Wrawby, the sheriff? You have not met him?”
“Not in a social setting, my dear.”
Wrawby seemed quite uncomfortable as Kate introduced him and his wife. While Eleanor took Mistress Wrawby in hand, he whispered, “When will we know?”
“We do. All went as planned.”
“God be thanked.”
Indeed.
As Kate moved away from them, she crossed paths with Thomas Holme and his pretty wife. While sitting in Hazel’s chamber she’d had an idea.
“Might I borrow your husband for a moment, Catherine?” she asked.
A little nod, a dimpling smile. “Anything for you, cousin.” Indeed, she was a Frost, and, like her husband, patronized Kate’s guesthouse. Her lover was a cleric of independent means, a man who had won her heart long before she’d wed. “I will be listening to the lute-player,” she told Thomas, patting his hand.
“I have a plan that might shake Leif from his obsession,” Kate told Thomas when they were alone, “but I need your assistance. If you would make certain he is at your warehouse near the staithes tomorrow at midday. Dressed well. Tell him I wish to get to know him better, to see whether I agree with you about him suiting us as a factor. Dress is important.”
“Oh, indeed. But I thought we had already agreed—”
“All part of the plan, Thomas. And how are his accounting skills?”
“Excellent. But what—”
She smiled. “Trust me, you will be happy with the outcome.”
“Midday tomorrow.” He nodded and hurried off to his wife, who was eyeing Captain Crawford with interest.
Elric bowed to Dame Isabella and proceeded into the large hall, looking up and down the tables for Katherine. He found her, resplendent in red brocade, seated beside her cousin William. No one sat to her left, but Captain Crawford was fighting his way toward that tempting opening. Another time, Elric would concede the floor, let someone else play the fool for Katherine. But this was business. Pushing through the crowd, he watched with dismay as Crawford reached Katherine first. But she shook her head at the captain and, looking directly at Elric, beckoned for him to join her.
“So it is true. You are courting her?” Crawford asked as Elric stepped past him.
He almost denied it, then remembered himself. “Did Dame Katherine not tell you?” He feigned concern.
“I had not the wit to ask,” said Crawford, bobbing his head and continuing his search for a seat.
“Sir Elric. As promised,” said Katherine, patting the space between her and her mother, Dame Eleanor, who beamed at him.
As Elric straddled the bench, he received a warning growl from Lille, who lay beneath the table with Ghent. He had not anticipated they would attend the feast.
With a hand signal, Katherine ensured that he had sufficient room to place both feet next to them. “I kept them with me in case,” she whispered.
A servant appeared across the table, asking Elric whether he preferred wine or ale. He chose the wine. More fortifying.
“All went well, except for two casualties at the castle,” he whispered to Katherine, then loudly exclaimed on the magnificence of the affair.
William Frost leaned across his cousin, welcoming Elric and encouraging him to eat and drink hearty.
“I fully intend to,” Elric assured him.
When William was distracted by another guest, Katherine asked, “Dead?”
“No. But there will be consequences. We must talk later.”
A long while later, after too many courses and almost too much wine, he and Katherine managed to escape for a walk in the garden, which was quiet now, the outside entertainment having given up after sunset as a harsh wind arrived with wet, driving snow.
“Pray God they reached shelter for the night.” Katherine held her fur-lined hood close to her face to block the wind. Lille and Ghent trotted at her side.
“It is up to them now. Little we can do.” He had given her a detailed account of Berend’s departure.
“You have risked everything for my friends.”
“I have followed my conscience. If my lord condemns that, then I have learned a hard lesson. But I do not regret my actions. As far as Sir Peter—I saw him slumped over the table, so I’ve no concerns tonight. But on the morrow . . .”
He was silenced by Katherine’s sudden move to stand in front of him, her face close to his. She handed him something.
“You must deliver this to Sir Peter when he comes calling. A thank-you from Berend.”
He looked down at the folded parchment, up at her dark eyes. She smelled of wine, nutmeg, cinnamon. Christ, she was so close he might . . . He shook his head, coming to his senses.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A list of all the men he could indentify in Oxford. And a sworn statement that Lady Kirkby was not in York.” She smiled. “Sir Peter has little to complain of, with you delivering up Parr and Sawyer as well as this list.”
He felt a rush of relief. “But why? He was so adamant.”
“He wrote that you had helped them selflessly. He could not but do what he could to protect you from the king’s wrath.”
Lille gave a warning growl.
Elric drew his dagger.
A man approached, crunching through the freshly fallen snow over the icy remains of yesterday’s storm.
Katherine motioned the dogs in front of her.
Arms up, the man called softly, “It’s Harry!”
Elric relaxed.
“Forgive me for intruding.” Harry stopped well away, eyeing the hounds.
Katherine called them back to her side. “Come closer, so that you need not raise your voice against the wind.”
�
��All went as planned?” Elric asked.
“The crossing was rougher than expected and she was unwell, but he assured us he knew a farmhouse nearby where they would be welcome for the night.” Harry turned to Katherine. “Your wards are in your cousin’s hall, looking for you. Young Hazel has taken a turn and they were sent away.”
Elric assured Katherine that the two of them would escort her and the children home. She did not refuse him.
16
TO CATCH A MURDERER
Moments after Kate lay down, exhausted, Petra’s shriek rent the night. Stumbling in her weariness, Kate was opening the door when Marie rushed into her arms.
“She frightened me,” the girl sobbed, clinging to her.
Kate crouched down, taking her ward’s face in her hands. “You are safe, my love. Come, sleep in my bed and I will go to Petra. She sounds as terrified as you do.” She embraced the girl, rubbing her back, then invited her to climb under the covers. Marie needed no more persuasion.
Stepping into her shoes, Kate closed the door behind her.
Phillip stood outside his door wrapped in a blanket, rocking side to side for warmth. “Was that Petra?”
“Yes.” The dreams came far more frequently than they had before Phillip began his apprenticeship and moved to his master’s house. “We have grown accustomed.” Kate touched his cheek. “Go back to sleep. I will see to her.”
“She has the Sight, she said.”
“I begin to believe that is so.”
He retreated to his room, closing the door behind him.
Kate paused, looked out at the night sky, bright with stars, and prayed that this one time it might simply be a bad dream. She regretted that after putting the girls to bed she’d returned to the kitchen to tell Jennet and Matt all she had learned. After the long day and all the wine and ale she wanted only sleep.
Opening the shutter of the small lantern that hung on a hook outside the girls’ door, Kate stepped across the threshold and shined the light on the bed. Petra sat with her back against the wall, hugging her knees to her chin, whispering prayers.
“Oh, my poor love.” Kate set aside the lantern and climbed onto the bed, taking the child into her arms. “What is it?”
“He hunts them. He has archers with him.”
“Sir Peter?”
The child shook her head. “His captain.”
“Berend knows how to lose them,” Kate assured her. “Come. Let’s get under the covers and sleep.”
Up too late, and then awakened by Petra’s dream vision, the girls lay abed, emotionally and physically exhausted. No school for them this day, though Phillip had been up at dawn clamoring for some food before he returned to the stoneyard. Kate laughingly warned him that she had seen some of the stoneworkers draped over each other in the yard after the feast the previous night.
“Stay far from them when they are wielding tools today.”
Curfew had been lifted for the night, and it seemed as if all the city had taken advantage of it, for fun but also for darker deeds. Jennet had greeted her with the news of burglaries in aldermen’s homes during the evening. Her eyes and ears had been discomfited by the lawlessness. Drunk revelers daring one another to break into homes.
“And where were the servants?” Kate wondered, nursing her own aching head with some strong ale.
“Out drinking,” Matt had answered. “One of my old mates tried to drag me out. As if I would be such a fool.”
Cuddy, the new servant, looked less delighted about missing the festivities. “It might have been a lark, just this once.” But the walkways around the house had all been shoveled and swept clean before Kate awoke. He might do. If he chose to stay.
Kate walked Matt to the door. He was off to her cousin the mayor’s home for his morning report. She was anxious to hear of Sir Peter’s frame of mind. “And make certain to ask after Hazel. Remember, only if you manage to find a moment alone with my cousin should you tell him that Berend and Lady Kirkby departed as planned.” Matt nodded and reached for his cloak. Kate caught his arm. “What do you think about Cuddy?”
“I would not go trusting him just yet.”
Perhaps he would not work out. A cook is what they needed. Marie was too young to carry the burden of such duty, Jennet was an indifferent cook, and Griselde had enough to do at the guesthouse and caring for Clement.
Kate thanked Matt and saw him off, then gave Cuddy instructions for the morning, which would entail ensuring that Marie and Petra, once awake, made use of their day off by making a stew. The sharp blue eyes burned beneath the fair curls that kept falling into his eyes. He did not like the prospect of watching the girls. But Jennet had matters to put into motion before Kate’s midday meeting with Leif Holme.
Kate brushed the lad’s hair back and made a point of holding his gaze. “If my wards stray, I will hold you responsible. You do not want to cross me.”
“I will not, Mistress Clifford. But—young Marie seems difficult to guide.”
Kate relaxed. “She is. But I ask you only to give my instructions to the girls and then to watch the house, see that no strangers try to enter. Are you able to defend yourself?”
He fisted his hands and took a fighting stance. “I am.”
No weapon. Well, if he stayed, Matt could train him.
“Petra is a skilled fighter. If there is trouble, call her to assist you.” His eyes had gone wide. “Not that I anticipate such a need. I simply wanted you to know that you are not alone.”
Satisfied that Cuddy would make it through the day, Kate reached for the hounds’ leads. “I am off on errands,” she announced, nodding to Jennet.
Clouds hung low in the sky, threatening more snow. Already the streets were dotted with mounds of filthy, frozen slush that had carters cursing. The relief she had felt last night in the garden had been replaced by a dread of the reckoning ahead. The sheriffs would be more supportive if she found proof that Jon Horner had murdered Merek. And she would not rest until she knew who had poisoned Horner.
A flaxen-haired woman about Kate’s age answered her knock at the Ferriby house.
“The mistress is expecting you,” she said, eyeing the hounds with poorly concealed alarm.
“If you have some something I might dry them with, they will track in no more damp than I will,” Kate assured her. “As for discipline, they spent the entire mayor’s feast under the high table with nary a bark.”
The woman nodded and hurried away, returning quickly with two large rags—old table coverings, by the look of them. A household with such cloth to spare was rich indeed.
As Kate was rubbing down Ghent, Lille already standing by dry and fluffed, she was greeted by Gwenllian Ferriby with a babe in arms.
“Come through, I pray you.” Gwenllian told the maidservant to see to the damp rags.
The hall was bright from a wide window looking out to a large winter garden blanketed in snow. A long table held a jug of ale and two carved bowls. “Merchet ale,” said Gwenllian. “Shall I pour?”
After they were settled, Lille and Ghent curling up at Kate’s feet, Gwenllian apologized for not speaking out sooner. “I vowed I would never endanger my family as my parents had at times endangered us, so I turned a blind eye on—Well, Ross Wheeldon’s death, for instance, and how he did not want his wife to know he was consulting me.”
Watching the emotions playing across the woman’s face, Kate chose to say nothing, simply nodding as she sipped the ale.
Gwenllian turned her bowl round and round, the carvings of herons becoming a moving study of one heron taking flight. The room grew so quiet that the baby’s gurgling sigh and the stealthy approach of a curious cat drew Kate’s attention. The cat, a ginger female, stopped a short distance from Lille and Ghent and hissed. Kate quietly commanded the hounds to ignore her. With a sigh, Ghent lay his head back down on his forelegs. Lille turned her head away from the glaring feline.
“And though I am not in the habit of repeating rumors, I thought you should k
now that folk have wondered about a grand chapel in a church north of Easingwold being fitted out with grillwork by Coffey the blacksmith—for Ross Wheeldon. He’d been up measuring the space long before Ross’s death.”
Kate remembered her visit to Coffey’s workshop. “I saw a piece of the grillwork. Quite elaborate.”
“I would think nothing of it but for the fact that Ross was better. But why would Cecily risk so much? He left her wealthy. Could she not wait?”
“Why indeed? A troubling tale.”
They talked a while longer, sharing stories of their children, until one of the apprentices appeared at the garden door, begging a question. Kate thought it best to move on before the ale made her drowsy.
She rose, thanking Gwenllian for the information. “I will use it only to find out the truth. I will not share it. Nor will anyone know the source.”
“I trust you.” As Kate moved away, Gwenllian called out, “My girls are eager to see yours again soon.”
A welcome bonding.
Bess Merchet received Kate in a chamber that was clearly the elderly woman’s living quarters. Harry and Elric sat at a table making short work of a savory stew and hot bread. Hearty meal for first thing in the morning.
“We can talk while they eat,” said the taverner, smiling at the men’s appetites. “Here we’re safe from prying eyes and curious ears.”
Kate reported what she suspected of Cecily Wheeldon. “We need to find something to connect her to Jon Horner’s poisoning.”
“That would most likely be in her home,” said Elric. “No doubt you have a plan.”
He managed to make the comment sting.
“Rest easy, it does not involve you. Thomas Holme and Jennet are my conspirators. What is crucial is that we resolve this quickly, to appease the sheriffs. We need their support.”
They all turned at the sounds of an argument in the public room. Bess rose, opening the door just wide enough to hear Sir Peter loudly demanding to see Sir Elric.
Kate began to reach for his hand, stopping herself just in the nick of time. “Show him the list. He cannot scoff at such information. Swear to him that you saw Lady Kirkby neither arrive nor leave the city. You’ve sent your men home because Parr and Sawyer have been delivered, Lady Kirkby is nowhere to be found, and Berend provided the information the king wanted.”
