by Candace Robb
As she crossed Castlegate with Lille and Ghent for their morning run, Kate was hailed by her neighbor and partner, Thomas Holme.
“We had trespassers in the night, Dame Katherine. One of my servants saw a pair trying the doors of my outbuildings. He said they came down the alleyway. I mean to keep a lit lantern there for a while, to discourage them.”
“Lille and Ghent have been edgy several mornings. I thought it nothing, but now I wonder. Did your servant see them well enough to recognize them again?”
“No. He’d gone out to the midden without a light, the daft one. He guesses that one was a man and the other either a small woman or a child.”
That description suggested poor wayfarers seeking a warm place in which to sleep, nothing to do with her trouble. But Kate thanked Thomas for the warning, and for thinking of the lantern in the alley.
At the guesthouse on High Petergate she found Griselde anxiously discussing with her husband a fresh discovery: outside damage to one of the shutters in the window of the main bedchamber, and a piece of cloth caught in the splintered wood that she believed to be from the dress Alice had been wearing. Had Alice managed to escape out the window onto the landing? Or had there been a struggle out there?
“I slept through it all, Mistress Clifford. I cannot be trusted.”
“Beating your breast is of no help to me, Griselde. Now you understand why I have such clear rules. And I know that you require a manservant under your roof at night at all times.”
Griselde tucked a few loose strands of hair back in her white kerchief and smoothed down the skirt of her simple gown. “Yes, Mistress Clifford.” The housekeeper glanced over at her husband. “We both owe you everything.”
Kate knew Griselde was thinking of Clement’s part in hiding Simon’s financial troubles. But Kate had come to value both of them; indeed, it was Clement who had noticed the missing shipment of cinnamon. “I am not going to cast you out, Griselde. But I expect you to adhere to the rules of the house from now on unless I tell you to bend them.” She glanced round the hall. “What else? Surely we have more stools?”
Griselde sighed. “I meant to fetch the other two.”
Only two. “Send a few of Lady Kirkby’s servants with a cart to Castlegate when they arrive. I can part with a few benches for a fortnight. For now, I’ll collect what we have.”
“I will show you where they are, mistress,” said Sam from the hall door, curling his left hand as if catching something. Their signal.
While Griselde protested that it was her place to fetch the stools, Kate crossed the hall to her serving man.
“The stools are stacked just inside the lean-to behind the kitchen,” he said quietly. “But you will want to check the farther shed near the privy. Beneath the wheelbarrow. I left everything as I found it.”
Waving Griselde silent, Kate plucked her cloak from the bench near the door and followed the path young Seth had cleared out past the kitchen to the privy. Fortunately, he had cleared side paths to the kitchen, the lean-to, and the far shed as well; neither she nor Sam would leave an obvious trail. Within, she found the wheelbarrow upended, and beneath it a leather traveling pack. She shone the lantern round the room to see whether anything else seemed out of place. All but the barrow and a corner of a shelf near the door was silvered with frost. She pulled the pack out from beneath the barrow and set it down on top. Fine leather with a shiny brass buckle to secure the flap, at present opened. Inside, a man’s linen shirt, soiled, but of good quality, a pair of travel-stained breeches, a comb, a pair of dice in a small pouch, a pot of unguent, a pair of barely worn shoes, and a small pack that was a miniature of the larger one. This pack’s buckle was also undone, and it was empty but for a letter carrying the seal of the Duke of Lancaster—the title the exiled Henry claimed, which his cousin King Richard denied him. She held her breath as she brought the lantern close to read it. It was a letter of credence introducing a Hubert Bale as the duke’s envoy. An envoy. For what? Returning with an army to wrest his inheritance from his cousin the king? Or to take the throne? The letter was beginning to wear at the folds. A busy man, this Hubert.
Did this pack and the letter belong to her cousin’s guest, or to the murderer? Hubert Bale. Was he the dead man? She held up the breeches—they might have fit the man who had lain on the floor in the guest chamber. But so might they fit many men she knew.
An envoy would travel with money. But there was none in the pack. That might be why it had been unbuckled—someone had stolen the money. Alice? Certainly someone who did not appreciate the importance of the letter, someone who did not recognize the seal. Or they had left it as evidence. Perhaps the man had carried his money on his person, but Griselde had not mentioned a scrip that would hold money. Kate did not think the woman would be so bold as to keep it from her, not when she was already worried she had jeopardized her post.
Except for the letter, which Kate tucked into her own scrip, she left everything as she had found it. As she lifted the lantern, something on the ground near the door caught the light. A silver coin. Spilled from the pack, perhaps. Hers now. It joined the letter. She opened the door slowly, peering out, half expecting to find someone spying on her. But all was clear. Pulling the door shut behind her, she picked her way back along the swept path, taking deep breaths to steady herself. A man murdered in her guesthouse, either he or his murderer a traitor to the crown. Damn cousin William to hell for all eternity if he brings me down with his treachery. By the time she collected the pair of stools and returned to the hall, she had decided to put young Seth at the door and send Sam home with the letter.
“Find young Seth, then take this to Berend,” she quietly ordered Sam as she bent to shift the letter from her scrip to his boot. “And don’t let it get wet!”
Jennet had arrived, bringing order to the last bits of preparation. Kate took the opportunity to sit down with Griselde and Clement to discuss the night of the murder before they forgot some of the details. “Was Alice Hatten brought here by one of my cousin’s men?”
“She was,” said Clement. “We heard someone on the steps. Griselde found Master Frost’s man Roger, Alice Hatten, and Master Frost’s guest halfway up the steps.”
Griselde nodded. “I called to Master Frost’s man to come within so that we might review with him the rules. He told the other two to wait for him on the landing up above.”
“You recognized my cousin’s man?”
“I did,” said Clement. “I would know him anywhere, with that pale pate and those strange eyes.”
Roger was her cousin’s most trusted retainer, a former soldier. “Could it have been Roger you heard upstairs later in the evening, Griselde?”
“I do not believe so. No. Roger has a wheeze in his voice. This man spoke sharply. I am sorry I heard only the tone, not the matter, Mistress Clifford.”
“When did my cousin come to you with this arrangement?”
“We were cleaning up after the midday meal,” Griselde said, looking to her husband for confirmation. He nodded. “I would have sent Matt to you, but that was well after his accident, past midday.”
“That very day William sent word?”
Griselde nodded.
“And the stranger . . . Roger did not name him, or give you any other information?”
Griselde shook her head. “Master Frost had told us it would be so.”
The more she heard, the more uncomfortable Kate was with her cousin’s part in this. But there was no more time for questions. A shout from Seth alerted them of Lady Kirkby’s arrival.
Margery Kirkby entered the hall on the arm of Kate’s uncle, Richard Clifford, dean of York Minster, his somber robes providing a contrast to her Lincoln green cloak lined in pale gray rabbit fur. She slipped her arm from his to hurry to Kate, enfolding her in a heavily scented embrace.
“Benedicite, dear Katherine.” She kissed Kate’s cheek, then stood back to look her up and down. “It gladdens my heart to see you looking so well, and out of mourn
ing.” Margery kissed the other cheek, then stepped aside for Kate to introduce her to Clement, Griselde, and young Seth. Margery, in turn, introduced the small crowd pooling in the hall doorway. Two maidservants, a manservant, and four retainers. “And my two grooms will be along soon with the dogs. You must bring Lille and Ghent over every day to play with Troilus and Criseyde, dear Katherine. Have you heard Geoffrey Chaucer’s poem about the two lovers? Oh, you must. Perhaps we might have evenings of reading it aloud while I am here.”
Her banter continued up the stairs into the main bedchamber, which she declared perfect before asking her maidservants to leave them in peace for a moment.
Without an audience, Margery Kirkby turned to business. “I pray the rumors about my Thomas going over to the Lancastrian side are not going to cause trouble for you, Katherine.”
Of course they would. Hence the high fee for a fortnight’s stay. “A little more trouble will hardly be noticed,” Kate lied, being the gracious hostess she was. “But my uncle has promised his support.”
“My husband is not a traitor to King Richard, I want you to know, and I hope that by the time I depart all will know that he has gone to the continent to broker an agreement that will allow the exiled duke to return in peace and take up his position as Duke of Lancaster.”
“I do not hold out much hope for his success.”
Margery shrugged. “Thomas felt the need to try.”
“Then I hope you can bring the gossipmongers round to admiring his courage.”
“Bless you for saying that, Katherine. It is my hope that I will find supporters here who might use their influence on the king. And financial support for my husband’s efforts.”
“I pray my uncle has warned you how the citizens of York treasure and protect the autonomy King Richard granted them. Not that they worship him. He has taken advantage of their gratitude, extorting large loans and fines. But they protect themselves first.” And are wary of such foolish gambits, Kate added silently.
“He has warned me to tread softly.”
“Have you had much luck elsewhere?”
Margery bowed her head. “No. His Grace King Richard has alienated men of property. Not all. But those who still support him believe he can be safe only so long as Henry Bolingbroke remains in exile and deprived of the wealth and power of the duchy of Lancaster.”
Hence the rumored alienation of the Lancastrian inheritance. How unfortunate that Kate and Berend were so right in their assessment.
“What of your late husband’s family, the Nevilles?” Margery asked. “Might they be persuaded of the benefits of peace?”
A small laugh escaped Kate. “Only if it might win them more power, more land.”
“Ah.” Margery met Kate’s honesty with a wry smile. “Well, I can but try. I hope I will see much of you while I am here.”
“As much as you like.”
“And your wards. I should love to meet them. I miss my children. Marie and Phillip, I believe? Your uncle tells me they are most fortunate in their guardian.”
“That is kind of him. Marie will adore you. Now, I imagine you would like to refresh yourself after your journey?”
Once Kate and her uncle were out on the landing, she invited him into the second chamber and dismissed the servants who were filling it with traveling trunks. She had decided she was duty-bound to inform him of the murder. Richard Clifford listened without comment, his expression unreadable. When she was finished, she apologized for not telling him sooner.
“It would not have changed my plans, Katherine.” He fiddled with his sleeve. “What is William Frost up to?” He sighed. “My poor Katherine, you are cursed in your kinsmen. We bring you nothing but trouble. I can at least discreetly inquire about the woman. She may have sought sanctuary close by in the minster.”
“That would be helpful. And if you might, give my servant Sam a letter of introduction to the chapter at Beverley for their help in learning what he can about Alice Hatten?”
“Of course. He can come for it tomorrow morning.”
“Will you tell Margery of this?”
The dean walked over to the window, staring out for a long while. He rubbed his fingertips with his thumb on his right hand while he considered, the only outward sign of his concern. Kate glanced round at the trunks while she waited, wondering at the number. For a fortnight in York?
Finally her uncle turned. “I chided Margery for traveling with four retainers, but now I am glad of it. I think it best I do not mention what happened here. The fewer who know of it the better. I shall trust that her retainers will be on the alert. But what of you? Are you safe?”
“I have Berend, Jennet, Sam, and the hounds.”
The dean nodded. “You choose your servants as your father taught you. Good.”
“What of Archbishop Scrope? Are his spies likely to be sniffing about? Should I be worried they might discover my secret?”
“I do not believe so. His mentor was the exiled Archbishop Arundel—former archbishop, I should say—known to be advising Duke Henry, so Scrope is quite certain King Richard has a spy in his household. He dare not raise any alarms. Now, will you come dine at the deanery when Margery is dressed?”
Kate had been expecting the invitation, and accepted with the hope that she might hear more about King Richard’s plans and what Duke Henry was doing on the continent. Her uncle was not only dean of York Minster, but also King Richard’s Lord Privy Seal and, until recently, Keeper of the Wardrobe as well. His choice to come to York himself rather than name a proxy to the post suggested he was not in the king’s best graces at the moment. Or perhaps it was he who wished to distance himself from the king. Or, considering what he’d said about the archbishop, perhaps he was here to observe Scrope. That was a new twist.
In the event, she learned little that she had not already heard. Her uncle was maddeningly discreet, but at least she was clearer about the lay of the land, so that she might better separate wild rumors from those with some foundation in truth. None of it cheered her. King Richard had indeed decided to split up much of the Lancastrian holdings among those he trusted.
As they made their way back across the city, Kate told Jennet all that she had learned about the incident in the guesthouse, and of the pack and its letter.
“Whatever happened, Alice is in danger, Jennet. William expressed concern for her, but you know he and whoever else is involved will consider her expendable if they fear she might expose them. It’s up to us to help her.” Over time, Kate and her three servants—Berend, Jennet, and Matt—had honed their skills as a team investigating the backgrounds of landlords whose property she’d considered acquiring, inquiries requiring discretion and thoroughness. It was not always obvious who actually held the deed to a property. Kate was confident they could put those same skills to good use in searching for Alice.
“I will go a-hunting,” said Jennet. “This time I think I should be a lad. That way I can easily slip about.” With her slender frame and round, freckled face, Jennet could easily pass as a boy. As long as no one pulled off her hat. “I’ll see what I might discover about Alice’s habits and haunts, where she might seek sanctuary when in trouble. And I’ll keep my ears pricked for any mention of Hubert Bale.”
“For my part, I will call on William’s mistress in the morning. She might slip with some information.”
“Drusilla Seaton slip?” Jennet chuckled. “I would fain be present to witness that.”
“Miracles do happen.”
At the house, Berend greeted Kate with concern in his voice. “The letter—I have encountered this man, Hubert Bale.”
“But that is good!”
He shook his head. “When our paths crossed he was a cutthroat for hire. Unless he is much changed, he is not here seeking a peaceful solution.”
“Would you recognize him?”
Berend touched the scarred hole that now served as an ear. “We were of a kind. He might be much changed.”
“Would he recognize y
ou?”
A nod. “That is the good news. If he is alive, he will avoid me at all cost. And you, I pray.”
“God guided my heart the day I approached you, Berend.” She took a deep breath. “We will want to find the fresh grave and see just who William buried. Will you see to that?”
“I will see what I can do, Dame Katherine. Sam knows the servant who accompanied your cousin and his man Roger out into the Forest of Galtres. And if your cousin simply weighted the body down in the River Ouse?”
“I’ve grown soft and stupid in the city. I should have had Sam follow William, not guard the guesthouse.”
“Such regret is unhelpful.”
“I needed to say it aloud to spur myself forward. Let us pray William did not resort to the river. Meanwhile, Sam will return the letter to the pack. We have the information we need. Whoever tucked the pack beneath the barrow may return. Jennet and I will watch the next few nights. Can you describe what Bale looked like when you last saw him?”
“Why Jennet? Why not Sam? Or me?” Berend searched her face. “You and your twin itch to be the one to catch the murderer.”
Kate averted her eyes. “I do. So. Describe Bale for me.”
6
TRUANT
At first Kate blamed the clatter of a loose shutter banging against the house for her agitation upon waking. But after Jennet rose to secure it, Kate still could not settle, going over and over all the missed opportunities of the previous days. It was not merely her failure to have Sam follow William when he disposed of the corpse, but she’d also neglected to examine the body for additional wounds or identifying marks, or search the man’s belongings. They had the pack now, but had he anything on him, something now in William’s possession, or, even worse, something buried with the body? She should have taken Berend or Jennet with her. Since when had protecting her investments and her reputation blinded her to matters of actual survival? She disappointed herself.
