by Candace Robb
A knock, then Matt hobbled in.
“No need to knock, Matt, you are a member of the household,” said Kate.
Berend quickly fetched him a chair, but Matt shook his head. “I cannot stay. There is a guest in the hall, Dame Katherine. Master Frost?”
Good. He had come. Kate pressed her hands to her eyes, took a deep breath, then remembered her barely thawed feet, the soggy hose.
Marie jumped up. “I will fetch shoes and pattens for you, Dame Katherine.”
The girl was right about pattens. They made far more sense than her riding boots when navigating the waterways of the street. “On your way, tell my cousin I will be with him as soon as I have dry shoes.”
Marie nodded and was out the door before Kate could thank her.
“What happened to sweeten her mood?” Berend wondered aloud.
Kate told him about the invitation to bide with her brother at the deanery.
“Ah.” He smiled. “Good lad.”
“Where is Jennet?”
“She is out listening to the gossip about the deaths,” said Matt.
“Well done. We might learn something to our advantage.” She noticed how Matt leaned on his cane. “I would like you to stay here with Marie, keep her company and ensure that she does not wander off. Berend will bring wine and stay to witness my discussion with Master Frost.”
She saw that Berend understood. Make William uneasy. He rummaged in a corner and produced the cloak. Kate draped it over her arm.
Matt hobbled over to the fire, taking the seat Kate had vacated.
Berend poured him an ale and told him to ask Marie for some food. “Keep her busy.”
With a laugh, Matt said, “I am quite able to do that. She reminds me of my youngest brother, deep down a wounded sparrow.”
Kate liked Matt more and more.
As soon as Marie returned with dry shoes and pattens, and, bless the girl, dry hose, Kate had her hold up the cloak to screen her from view while she changed her hose. “Would you do me yet another favor? Will you keep Matt company here in the kitchen while Berend and I are talking to my cousin in the hall?” Marie quickly nodded, earnest in obedience so that her invitation to stay with her brother at the deanery was not rescinded. Kate felt a pang of sympathy for the child. “I will miss you while you are there,” she whispered.
Marie responded with a quick hug.
Kate was smiling as she called to Lille and Ghent, who were reluctant to give up their warm spaces by the fire.
William wore a fine squirrel-lined cloak and a matching fur hat. The hand that touched Kate’s face as he kissed her cheek in greeting was gloved in softest leather. “May God watch over all our loved ones,” he said. “I do not have much time, Katherine. I have an engagement in an hour.” He nodded toward the cloak draped across her arm. “You as well?”
“You have one foot out the door before we even begin, yet it was you who wished to speak to me.”
“I did wish to talk. At my home.”
She stifled a retort. “Come, have a seat by the fire. Berend has brought us brandywine.” She gestured to a high-backed chair. “I pray you, sit, cousin.”
Apparently mollified by her courtesy, the foolish man, William smiled as he removed his cloak and draped it across the back of the chair. Beneath he wore velvet and silk. “And you, Katherine?” He reached for the other high-backed chair.
She pulled up a backless stool. “I prefer this.” For freedom of movement—she imagined lunging for him of a sudden and strangling him. But of course she would not do that. At least she did not intend to do so. She draped the intruder’s cloak on a bench within easy reach, then signaled Lille and Ghent to either side of her cousin. It was an arrangement her father had taught her, a dog sitting so close on either side that the person found it difficult to move. And the dogs would shift to restrict his movement if he tried to rise. She found it satisfying to make use of their affection for him.
Berend set a small table at Kate’s side, poured the brandywine, handed a goblet to William, one to Kate, and then moved to stand behind their guest. Now her cousin was surrounded.
“I presume you want to hear what I learned about Alice Hatten, how her body was found floating in the King’s Fishpond, how she was murdered?” said Kate.
William’s smile dimmed. “How quickly you come to the point.”
“Is that not what you wished?”
Her cousin glanced back at Berend with a little frown. He had never trusted her cook. “Roger told me you were at the Sharp house last night, where Alice was taken.”
“Yes. I happened to have business with Jocasta, but when I arrived I learned of her sad mission.”
As on the morning in the guesthouse, William could not focus on any one thing but kept looking this way and that, restive, fearful, clearly uneasy. “I do not know what happened, Katherine. I never would have asked Alice—”
She waved him silent. “I do not care to hear your excuses, cousin. I want facts.”
“I thought you—you want facts from me? How would I know? Do you think I killed her, Katherine? Do you accuse me of drowning Alice? I loved her.”
“Did you?” She shrugged. “Then it was a timorous love. You could not bring yourself to defend her against your wife’s angry dismissal.”
“I grant you that. But I could never take Alice’s life.”
“I know that, William. I am not accusing you. But you are responsible for putting Alice in danger.”
“I had no way of knowing she would be in danger.” He gave her a look that suggested he had put the tragedy behind him, and so should she.
His smugness put her on the offensive. She wanted to shake him, wake him to the suffering he had caused. She took a deep breath, and then, in a quiet voice, described Alice’s mutilation, her broken jaw, her bruised face. “Can you imagine the pain of having your jaw broken as someone forces open your mouth, William?” He squirmed. Good. “You see, her assailant needed to do that in order to use the scissors or the sharp knife to cut out her tongue.” She paused to let that image sink in. “How do you think he managed that? Did he pull on her tongue to draw it out as far as possible—she would gag I should think, and then—one cut? Or several? Do you think she heard her torturer cursing with the effort? Or had she already, mercifully, fainted with the pain and the fear?”
“There is a darkness to you sometimes, cousin. . . .” William growled and tried to rise as an answering low rumble came from the dogs’ throats. They leaned in, and Berend put a hand on William’s shoulder to stay him.
Seeing the agony in her cousin’s eyes, Kate relented. “I pray you, sit. I have had a long, trying day, wakened early by Dean Richard’s servant.”
William shrugged Berend off and resettled. Lille and Ghent relaxed. “I had heard that young Phillip found the stonemason in the minster,” he said. “How is the lad?”
“Heartbroken. And weighed down by guilt that he could not cut him down in time. He admired Connor.”
“I am sorry for the lad. He has suffered so much loss. On the street they are saying the stonemason murdered Alice, then took his own life. Might it be true?”
“Knowing what you know, how can you ask that, William?”
“Passion can twist into hate.” He shrugged, but he looked embarrassed, averting his eyes while he took a long drink. He clutched the goblet with both hands as if he feared his hands would tremble.
“Three deaths, William. I need your help to catch the murderer. You can start by telling me who the dead man was, why he was there, and what Alice and Connor had to do with him.”
“Connor?”
“Do not try my patience, cousin. The stonemason murdered this morning. He was expected to join Alice at the guesthouse that night.”
“Murdered? I did not realize he had been murdered.”
“My uncle the dean rightly advised we keep that quiet so we might catch the murderer.”
“Hence the rumor. But of course she would have . . .” William ra
n a gloved hand down his face. “I gave her no time to let him know,” he whispered, as if to himself.
“Go on.”
“Perhaps it is still best I tell you as little as possible—”
“No, William. I need to know all that you know, or guess, if you want to help catch Alice’s murderer.” She waited to see whether she needed to remind him that he actually had no choice, that she could ruin him with one visit to Isabella. It need not even be a visit. She could greet her at market and whisper the name Drusilla Seaton. She had no doubt Isabella would jump to the correct conclusion. She found it difficult to trust. She had brought so much to the marriage. Her father’s elegant house, his money, his influence. Even his enemies? That was a possibility Kate had not considered. “Have John Gisburne’s enemies become your enemies, William?”
“It is a long story, Katherine.”
“Then it is best to begin.”
“Perhaps tomorrow. My engagement—”
“Alice bled to death, William. In agony from her jaw, then the cutting of the tongue, she bled to death in the presence of her executioner. Or alone. Perhaps he tossed her on the floor, or the ground, and left her to die. In the dark, alone, unshriven. Then he returned to bundle her up and carry her to the pond, tossing her in like a butchered animal. Imagine that, William. I want you to appreciate how her life ended.”
The bastards threatened to do that to you, Geoff said in her head. That was why—
Not now, she warned him.
“I did not mean for this to happen.” William’s voice broke.
“You put it in motion, as you did Alice’s earlier humiliation. For her sake I will not make it easy for you to forget that.”
“Why do you care so?”
Maud. It is Maud you are avenging, Geoff guessed.
“I cannot believe you need to ask. Is she any less precious in the eyes of God because she is not wealthy?”
William winced. “When did he—they—whoever did this—when did they take her?” he asked.
“Phillip saw her with Connor the morning after the murder in the guesthouse. And then it seems he was searching for her until he heard that she had been found.”
“How frightened she must have been.”
“Yes. A cruel death. And for what, William? What did she die for?”
William’s shoulders drooped in resignation. “Might I at least send my servant—” The young man who had accompanied William had been sent out to the kitchen.
“I will tell him to go on ahead,” Jennet said from the doorway.
Kate had felt the draft as the door opened and guessed, from Berend’s and the dogs’ lack of reaction, who it was. “Thank you, Jennet. Tell him to say a family matter delays his master.”
“Katherine, I pray you,” said William.
Kate nodded for Jennet to go on. Turning back to William, she asked how he had arranged to lure Alice to her death.
“I did nothing of the sort. I had no idea. He was just to—” He sucked in his breath, looked down as if thinking how to take back the words.
“This ‘he,’ what was his name?”
“Underhill. Jon Underhill.”
“He was just to do what?”
“It is a long story, Katherine.”
“As you said. But whoever is expecting you undoubtedly knows that your cousin’s ward found Connor in the chapter house this morning. By now all the city knows. He or she will understand and approve of your kindness to me. Now. From the beginning.” She smiled sweetly. “More brandywine?”
He sighed and held up his goblet. “Whose cloak is that, if I might inquire?”
“We will come to that.” She poured wine for both of them.
He took a sip. “I never imagined she would be in danger, Katherine, you must believe me. Underhill was just to set up Griselde and Clement as his spies for the king. They would inform him about Lady Kirkby’s guests, to whom she spoke, what she said, what they agreed. That was all.”
“That was all. You were setting up my servants as spies? In my guesthouse? Spying on my guest? That was all? William!” As Kate’s voice rose, Lille barked, Ghent growled.
“Mistress . . .” Berend whispered.
She took a deep breath, calmed the dogs. “No more outbursts. Go on, William. Tell me all of it. Why did you need Alice?”
His hands shook as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “She was there to make it look as if I were offering Underhill some entertainment.” William had the decency to wince at the detail. “He did not share with me how he hoped to accomplish his plan, how he would coerce Griselde and Clement. God help me.” He began to rise, felt Berend’s hand on his shoulder, and cursed as he settled back down on his seat. He drained his goblet. “Something went wrong that night, very wrong. The man is dead, and now Alice. And Connor?”
The dogs suddenly sat up, ears pricked, their attention on the street side of the hall. Within a moment, Jennet came bursting in from the garden, William’s servant following.
“I pray you forgive the interruption, mistress, Master Frost,” Jennet bobbed her head. “But you will want to know. I thought it wise to follow young Jenkins as he departed. He was just stepping out onto Castlegate when a man slipped up behind him—I had no time to notice whence he had come. When he reached out to take Jenkins’s arm, the young man cried out. I came forward as they were struggling. Then the attacker shouted and ran off, dodging carts and folk walking. I lost him. I thought you would want to know.”
Kate noticed the servant holding something behind his back. “Are you hurt, Jenkins?”
“No. I wounded him.” He brought his hand out to show the bloody knife.
Kate commended him. “Where should we look for the wound if we encounter him again?”
The young man looked to his master, back to Kate. “I believe it was his hand, perhaps his forearm. As he reached out for me. I should not have lashed out before I knew his intention. But he startled me. And with all the deaths . . .”
Kate crossed the hall to him, took his empty hand, looked him in the eyes. “You did well. Did you recognize the man?”
He shook his head. “He wore a hood.”
“All I could tell was that he was of middling height and very fleet of foot,” said Jennet.
“I think it best you wait for your master in the kitchen, eh?” said Kate. “Go now. A nip of brandywine might calm both of you.”
Kate turned to William as Jennet nodded and shepherded the lad out the door. “Clearly he should not rush off to make your apologies after such an experience.”
A tight shake of his head. “Of course not. Though I would ask you to leave it to me to order my servants about, Katherine. You do overstep.” He waited. She did not see the need to respond. Finally he said, “Jenkins and I will continue to Thomas Graa’s together, when I am finished here.”
Ah. The merchant Graa had once been Simon’s partner, almost as wealthy as Thomas Holme, and definitely a prominent citizen. “Good. Let us begin at the beginning.”
William groaned.
“The man you set up in my guesthouse, was he the king’s man?”
“Yes. Or so he said.”
“And his name was Jon Underhill?”
A nod. “He carried a letter with the king’s seal.”
“Did you examine the seal closely?” she asked.
“The seal? I have a vague recollection. The white hart perhaps? I cannot recall details.” He stared down into the goblet in his hands as if wishing he might see the letter once more. “I should have used more caution. He was secretive. Not what I had expected. Always before King Richard has sent men of a certain discretion and status. A merchant, a landowner.” He looked up, pleading. “I fear for my family, Katherine. Faith, it was fear for my family that brought this trouble. I meant you no harm. I swear.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No. Quite the contrary. He offered his services to keep my family safe.”
“From what?”
“Fo
r weeks I sensed I was being followed. Roger felt it, too. But whoever he was, he was adept at staying hidden.”
“Why would someone be following you?”
“At first I thought, perhaps, Duke Henry. My wife—you know that her father and the duke’s father were enemies. My wife had tried to remedy that with Duke Henry. I feared he had sent someone to follow me, see to whom I spoke. But to what end? I deal with merchants and landowners of all opinions. We are seeing to our lives, going about our business. We all wish we might forget the king’s feud. But we all know the danger of that.”
“Has a business transaction gone sour?”
“No. Nothing like that. Everything has been quiet.”
“No king’s men searching your ships?”
He shook his head. “I am known to be loyal.”
“But your wife is not. Curious that the king accepts your household’s divided loyalties.”
“Perhaps the king has set someone on me. But then why Underhill? God’s blood, I cannot see clearly.” William pressed a hand to his face.
Kate waited for him to calm. In a few moments he dropped his hand, stared at it for a moment, then turned it a little as if examining his signet ring.
“I heard about your ship being searched,” he said. “And that the king’s men stole some spice?”
“Lionel told you?”
A nod.
“Is the man reaching out for Jenkins the first time he has done more than shadow your household?” she asked. “If it is the same man.”
“No, not the first time. He frightened my wife and daughter.”
Kate did not try to hide her eagerness as she leaned forward. “Tell me.”
“Isabella and Hazel were shopping on Stonegate. A busy time of day. My daughter felt hands round her neck. She thought it her mother, but then noticed her several steps away. A man whispered, ‘A little twist and your neck snaps. Tell your father he is watched.’ She screamed. A man near her described someone in dark clothes, nothing distinguishable.”
“So bold,” Berend muttered. Both Kate and William glanced at him. “I am sorry for your daughter, Master Frost. That must have been terrifying for her.”
