by Candace Robb
I am sorry you were reminded of that awful discovery, Kate, Geoff whispered in her mind.
Peace, Geoff. This has nothing to do with you.
Kate drew out her ebony and ivory rosary beads and distracted herself with prayer until Jocasta should return. But the warmth of the fire, the ease of her dogs, and the strength of the brandywine lulled her into a doze. She was awakened by a soft touch on her forearm and the young servant’s announcement that he heard his mistress’s cart in the courtyard.
Kate followed him, standing to one side as he opened the door. Winter dusk had settled, the courtyard lit by several hanging lanterns. A procession of women, some of them carrying lanterns, escorted Jocasta and her cart. Lying atop the covering was a woman’s body. Alice Hatten. Kate crossed herself.
As Jocasta guided the cart into the courtyard, her companions fanned out, then flowed through the archway. Jocasta stepped away from the cart, and, turning to the women, lifted her arms and her voice in a hymn of evening and departures. The women joined in, singing as they lifted Alice Hatten’s body and carried her past Kate and the servant into the hall and through to the buttery, where they lay her on a stone table. Jocasta nodded to Kate as she followed. A few quiet orders and two serving maids hurried off. Still singing, Jocasta lit candles round the room. When the servants returned with herbs, oils, a sewing basket, a comb, and clean linens, Jocasta plucked a pair of scissors from the basket and began to cut at the hem of Alice’s sodden, bloodstained gown.
Kate stepped closer, watching as one of the other women took a comb and began to work on the tangles and debris in Alice’s pale hair. The dead woman’s face was badly bruised and her jaw hung open to reveal the horrible emptiness within.
A memory. Kate hiding in one of the stable stalls, listening to her brothers speaking in hushed voices about the mutilation of her friend Maud.
“Can you imagine the pain of someone forcing open your mouth until your jaw breaks?” Roland’s voice broke.
“Why’d they do that?” Geoff. It was Geoff asking, the little brother, his voice shaky.
“So they could use the scissors or the sharp knife to cut out her tongue. How do you think they managed that otherwise?” said Walter. Kate guessed that Geoff must be getting sick imagining it. “They had to pull her tongue out as far as possible, you see.” Walter, trying to sound like a wise eldest brother.
“How she must have suffered,” Roland sobbed. “Damn the Cavertons. Damn them all to hell.”
Solemnly the brothers swore to avenge Maud’s rape, torture, and murder.
“They must be shown they cannot commit such acts and live,” said Walter.
I did not get sick.
No, you did not, Geoff. But Walter need not have spoken so.
It was to stir us to action.
Kate could still feel her fear, how her heart had raced. She had feared she might be next.
She shook off the memory, forcing her attention back to her concern for Phillip. Where was he? Was he in danger?
“Dame Katherine, come, sit by the fire.” Jocasta took Kate’s arm and escorted her back to the cushioned chair near the fire. The young servant appeared at his mistress’s elbow to pour brandywine. “Take a sip of your wine, my dear. You are white as the snow.”
Kate realized she still held her prayer beads. “May God receive her into his loving embrace.” She crossed herself and slipped the beads into her scrip so she might drink.
“It was difficult for you to watch?” Jocasta asked. “Forgive me, I had not thought how it might affect you.”
“No, it is not that. I have seen mutilated bodies before. It is my ward. He is out on the streets, somewhere. I fear for him.”
“My dear. Tell me. Perhaps I can help.”
The concern in the woman’s expression eased Kate’s sense of guilt for interrupting her preparations for Alice’s burial. She told Jocasta about Phillip’s disappearances, and Lionel’s report. “And now, seeing that poor woman, knowing he is out on the streets somewhere . . .”
“I will have my friends watch out for him and keep him from harm, Katherine. You have my word. You say this stonemason’s name is Connor?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
Jocasta looked into the fire. “A slip of memory. Gone now. Perhaps as we talk it will return.”
“How did you learn of Alice’s death?”
“From one of the men to whom I have given aid. Well, he is still begging, and sometimes tries to poach from the King’s Fishpond. As he was doing when he noticed Alice in the reeds, raised the hue and cry, and then came to me. Word spread. By the time the sheriffs’ men had arrived to pull Alice’s body from the water several women from Joan del Bek’s were there, offering to prepare her body for burial and keep the vigil.”
“How did the beggar know to come to you?”
“I take care of the women no one claims. See that they are prayed over, watched over. So naturally he brought her here, though he did not know what she meant to me.” Jocasta closed her eyes.
“You knew Alice Hatten well?”
“She was like a daughter to me. But I did not know she was here in the city. What drew her from Beverley with the roads so treacherous I have no idea. Was she here to seek my help, but never made it so far?” Jocasta’s proud face twisted in grief. She bowed her head and was quiet a long while, until Lady Gray scrambled up onto her lap, nudging her chin. “Dear one,” Jocasta whispered, stroking the terrier’s back until she settled.
Kate asked if she would prefer to be alone.
“Not at all. Did you know Alice?”
Kate shook her head. In truth she had known her only as William and Isabella’s victim. “I know that she once served in my cousin’s household. William Frost.”
“She did indeed. I took Alice in when your cousin’s wife Isabella put her out on the street. I assisted at the birth of her son, and arranged for his adoption by her married sister.”
“A son.” Kate sat up. William and Isabella had only a daughter, Hazel, an invalid. Her cousin was devoted to his daughter, but yearned for a son. “I did not know of your part in her story.”
“No one knew I cared for her here. I put out a rumor that Joan del Bek had taken Alice in. It is what everyone wanted to believe, and so they did. Alice served me for several years. She was a good companion for my youngest daughter. I thought she had put the past behind her. Not so. Eventually her heart betrayed her. She let William know she was still here, and that he had a son.”
Kate wondered whether Dean Richard had known what she might learn here. “How is it that William did not adopt the boy?”
“I made certain he could not, not without going to great expense, which would alert his wife. He would not want that. Even if he did wish to pursue custody, Alice’s sister, Tessa, swears he will never win it.”
Had this something to do with all that had happened?
“I am sorry if I sound as if I blame your cousin,” Jocasta said. “He has done much good for the city. In his relationship with Alice he was no different from many other men.”
Kate did not trust herself to speak wisely about her cousin at the moment. “God smiled on Alice to provide you as her protector.”
“God guided me in this. I take no credit for it.” Jocasta gestured to the servant to refill their goblets. She noticed Kate put a hand over hers. “You are wise. Have you any knowledge of how it was between Alice and William of late? Might he have summoned her to the city?”
God forgive me for my lies and silences with this good woman. “I had not realized they were still entangled. He did not speak of her to me. I assumed it was William who provided her with the house in Beverley. But was it you?”
“No, it was your cousin’s largesse, an attempt to ease his guilt. And, I believe, he hoped that he might visit his son there.”
“That is where her sister lives?”
“No. They live just downriver from Bishopthorpe. A cousin lives in Beverley, so Alice had a connection with
the community. And it is my understanding that the child often visits her on market day, with her sister.”
“Someone must tell Tessa and the cousin of Alice’s death.”
“I shall speak with one of the friars who assists me in my work. I think he will be willing to take word to Alice’s sister and her cousin. And I will see to her burial, of course. Her kin might bide with me to attend the requiem.”
“They will come?”
“If the snow continues, I doubt the cousin will, but her sister will come if her husband agrees to it.”
“He was not fond of Alice?”
“He considered her an embarrassment to the family. As so many who manage to climb to some level of comfort, he is fiercely protective of his respectability. He worked hard to afford a small holding and fears that a connection with a fallen woman will cause him to lose everything.” Jocasta excused herself, rising to address the women now filing out of the buttery. “Go to the kitchen, where there is ale and food for you. I leave it for you to decide among yourselves who will sit with Alice tonight.” As she turned back, she passed the leather-bound trunk holding the clothing Kate had brought. Lifting the items one by one, she fingered the cloth, shook out the clothes to examine the tailoring. Returning, she smiled and kissed Kate’s hand. “Bless you. I know several men who will benefit from those fine garments. They are your late husband’s clothes?”
“Some. The ones I hid from his brother Lionel. There are other pieces I will save for Phillip, things that can be cut down to fit his smaller frame.”
“The Nevilles. I have little to do with them. But your late husband was not quite like the rest of his family. He was generous to the poor, and was often at church. My husband was fond of him. As of course you know.” Her glance was suddenly sly.
By that Kate guessed her hostess meant to acknowledge that her husband patronized the guesthouse on High Petergate. Kate felt suddenly awkward, unsure how to respond.
Jocasta leaned to touch Kate’s cheek. “Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you discomfort. When God called me to this life of ministry, I assured Edmund that he was free to see to his needs, asking only that his affairs be ones of mutual consent, with widows of his own class, if possible. I did not wish him to harm a young woman, as did your cousin.”
“We are alike in that.” Kate put aside the brandywine. So much to take in, so much to consider. “I will inform my cousin about Alice’s murder,” she said, meeting Jocasta’s steady gaze. “And I will attend the requiem.”
“Oh, my lovely Katherine, yes, I welcome your company. God put us in each other’s path for a reason today.”
Kate rose. “I should be at home in case anyone has news of Phillip.”
“My people will watch out for him, Katherine. I pray he will soon be returned to you, safe and sound.”
As Jocasta rose to embrace Kate, the courtyard door opened, spilling in cold air.
“My dear Jocasta, is it true? Has that poor unfortunate Hatten woman been murdered?” Edmund took a step back as Kate and Jocasta separated.
Jocasta nodded gravely. “Alice has come back to us for burial, husband. You know Katherine Clifford, I think?”
He nodded gruffly, searching Kate’s face.
“I brought some of Simon’s warm clothes for the poor,” Kate explained. “And now I must hurry away and see to my household.”
“Ah.” Hand to heart, he bowed to her. “My wife will see that they are given to those in need, Dame Katherine. You are most generous.”
“She is,” said Jocasta.
“The sun has set,” Edmund added. “Do you need an escort?”
Kate thanked him for his concern, but she assured him that Lille and Ghent would be sufficient escorts for so short a journey.
“I prefer to see you safely home. It will be my pleasure.”
The portly man, already red-faced from the walk from his warehouse near the river, clearly imagined her a helpless woman. As she called to Lille and Ghent and secured their leashes, Kate smiled to herself, imagining Sharp’s surprise if he witnessed her drawing out her axe to defend herself against an assailant. She guessed she was far more able to defend herself than he was. But she appreciated the gesture, and guessed that it had more to do with wanting to ask her just what she had told his wife about the guesthouse.
Jocasta accompanied them out onto the cobbles, embracing Kate in farewell. As soon as Kate stepped away, Lille and Ghent each barked once, straining at their leashes. Familiar barks. She searched the twilight until she spotted Berend leaning against the small gateway into the courtyard.
“It seems I have an escort.” She indicated Berend to assure Edmund he had nothing to worry about.
“Ah,” he nodded, flustered. “Well then, God go with you, Dame Katherine.”
“And with you, Master Sharp.”
The night sky was clear, the stars coming sharply into focus. No snow for now, but the cold penetrated Kate’s thick leather boots. “You might have come within to get warm,” she said as she joined Berend.
He shrugged as he leaned down to greet the dogs.
“Has Phillip come home?”
As he straightened, the light from the lantern illuminated the worry etched on Berend’s scarred face, answering for him. She told him what Jocasta had promised.
“That is good news. Such a wide net might just catch Phillip before he falls.” Berend proffered Kate his arm as she stepped out onto the street. “I understand Alice was brought here.”
Kate nodded.
“You saw her?” Berend whispered.
Another nod.
“Phillip’s disappearance likely has nothing to do with Alice’s murder, Dame Katherine.”
“We cannot know that until we find him.”
“I know.”
“Somewhere there is a great deal of blood,” Kate said, remembering how Maud’s blood soaked the ground. “Perhaps someone will notice. We must keep our ears pricked for such news.”
“You can be certain that whoever murdered her did not do so where he is sheltering.”
“No, but we might find something there, or someone might have seen someone enter.”
Berend nodded.
“Any other news?”
“None. I stayed out here in case Bale came to see where his prey had been taken. No sign of him.”
As they headed down past All Saints Church, Kate told Berend of Lille and Ghent’s behavior when she approached the Sharp residence.
“You are armed?”
“Well armed,” she assured him.
They fell silent, watchful. The earlier melt had refrozen. She kept a tight rein on Lille and Ghent so they did not unbalance her. They pulled on their leashes to follow Berend as he stepped aside to investigate any movement in the shadows. Each time he returned she glanced up to see him shake his head. Nothing.
As they turned into Castlegate, a night watchman hailed them from several houses away, ordering them to take the dogs off the street as night fell. When he grew close and recognized Kate he apologized. “Forgive me, Dame Katherine. I know your hounds are trained well. We are all overcautious after seeing what someone did to Alice Hatten.”
“All the more reason for a woman to have her dogs to guard her when caught away from home after dark,” she noted. “But we are almost there now, and I will have a care to keep them on my property tonight, ever watchful.”
“Be assured we will be walking the streets, mistress, keeping you safe.” He bobbed his head and moved on.
“Useless clerks, the watchmen,” Berend muttered. “Have they ever caught a miscreant in the act?”
“Other than escorting drunkards to their homes? If so, I have not heard about it. But folk find them reassuring.”
As they neared the house Kate returned to praying that Phillip had dressed warmly, that he had kept his wits about him, that he was among people who would look out for him. His truancy made her question her decision to encourage his interest in stonemasonry. She resolved to insi
st that he work only under Hugh Grantham’s guidance from now on. Please, God, let there be a from now on.
In the hall, she halted in confusion as Matt rose from a seat by the fire to come take her cloak and offer her something warm to drink. He looked well, though he steadied himself with a crutch tucked beneath one arm.
“Forgive me, mistress,” Berend hastened to explain. “I brought Matt here to sleep in the hall, for protection. We do not know when Sam will return.”
“Good. I am glad you thought of it, Berend.” Kate greeted Matt warmly as she handed Berend her cloak. “Are you in any pain?” She boldly lifted the hair that fell over his forehead, exclaiming at the dark bruise.
“It looks far worse than it feels,” Matt assured her. “Same for the other cuts and scrapes. I am ready to work. I thought I might go mad sitting about.”
She relieved him of the cup of mulled wine he had been holding in his free hand, though she set it aside after one sip to pull off her boots and stand near the hearth to warm her toes and dry the hem of her skirt. Sam. She had forgotten about him, going off to Beverley after she had told him to wait.
“I will find someone to send a message to Jocasta in the morning, asking the friar who is taking word to Alice’s sister to watch out for Sam on the road.” She saw the doubt in Berend’s expression. “I know how unlikely it is that he will happen upon Sam, but what if he does?” She told the two of them she would like them all to eat in the hall. She would welcome the company.
