The Service of the Dead

by Candace Robb

  “Tell him to tell the others to watch out for the child. Perhaps our intruder has a helper. Or the child might have noticed something. We need all the help we can get. And ask Odo if he recalls a youth hanging around. Then join me in the undercroft.”

  Lady Margery was hastening down the outer steps from the solar when Kate stepped out of the hall. “When you see Lionel Neville, tell him to call on me this evening.”

  Kate frowned up at her guest. “You have changed your mind?”

  “I should like to know what his cousins are thinking about the king and the duke.”

  “You should not expect him to be honest with you.”

  Margery chuckled. “I am quite aware of that. But how he lies might reveal quite a lot.”

  “Why now?”

  “Have you not wondered whether your late husband’s family is behind all that has happened? Nothing deters a Neville from his ambition—or hers, I daresay. My husband warned me that their loyalty will shift from moment to moment. If I have the misfortune to be perceived as in their way, well, I may learn something from him.”

  Had Sam seen his service as to the Neville family, not simply to her late husband? Kate nodded. “I shall tell him.”

  “I know that your uncle Sir Thomas Clifford has served as Warden of the West March with Sir Ralph Neville, now Earl of Westmoreland, and I might think I insult you by questioning the honor of that family. But you seem to have no love for them.”

  “I feel much the same as you. And so does my uncle Sir Thomas.”

  “There was a time when Sir Ralph, the head of the family, mind you, supported King Richard. But as his second wife is a Lancaster . . .”

  Kate shrugged. “At present I suspect the Nevilles cannot fathom that someone could be loyal to the king without being an enemy of the duke.”

  “Precisely,” said Margery. “This man who was murdered here, with letters of introduction from both the king and the duke, reeks of Neville.”

  Dean Richard was certainly keeping Margery informed. All for the best, it seemed to Kate. Lady Margery’s suggestion, that Simon’s family was behind all the recent trouble, warranted consideration.

  “Come first thing tomorrow,” said Lady Margery. “I will tell you all I observed. And Katherine, have a care when you meet Lionel today. If he has been sent by his powerful cousins . . .”

  “Jennet is accompanying me. We will both be armed.”

  Lady Margery raised her eyebrows. “I did not mean that, but—you are a woman of many talents.” She kissed Kate’s cheek. “I wish my sons were not so young. I should welcome such a daughter-in-law into my family.”

  “I pray you, do not sour our friendship by matchmaking.” Kate pressed her hand and excused herself.

  In the undercroft, Clement and Berend sat at a table piled high with ledgers, stacks of counters, and weights. A clerk stood at the ready to hand them the caskets, barrels, packs of spices.

  Kate told the clerk to step out into the alleyway for a moment while she had a word with Clement. As the man hustled out, Berend rose, giving her his seat, and began to leave. “No, stay. You should hear this.” She told Clement what Griselde had said about Sam—the barrel of wine, her impression of him.

  “Tell me all that you know about Sam.”

  Jennet appeared in the doorway. Kate nodded to her, returned her attention to Clement.

  His eyes were bright with interest. “Do you think he meddled with the wine? Is that why we slept so soundly?”

  Clement’s body might be broken, but his mind was still sharp. “He had the opportunity,” said Kate. “And the bowl Griselde found, could it not be where he mixed something, poured it back in?”

  Closing his eyes, Clement slowly shook his head, his jowls swinging. “You never know about folk, do you? Not really.”

  “Tell me about Sam.”

  He scratched his head, looked down at his shoes. “He was loyal to Master Simon. No question. Never spoke a word against him. He liked traveling with the master, always ready to jump to his orders. But he was a tattler when it came to his fellow servants and those of us above him in the household. We all knew to go quiet when he was slithering about. More than one of us paid him for silence.”

  “Paid him?”

  “I am shamed to say so, but we did.”

  “What sort of secrets?” Jennet asked.

  “I am not a tattler, Jennet. Never have been. I will tell Mistress Clifford what she needs to know, but that is as far as I go.”

  “Why did you not warn me about Sam when Simon died?” Kate asked.

  “I expected you knew, that you would have heard the servants talking. Women have the ear for whispered conversations, it seems to me.”

  Apparently Kate did not. “Anything else I should know about him?”

  “Of course he knew of Mistress Anne and the children in Calais. But I am not surprised he would not speak of that with you.”

  She left him with the request to tell Berend whatever else he might recall.

  “Bring home anything you find in here today that does not seem to belong,” she told Berend. “Anything.”

  Connor’s pack they left with him as well. No need to scurry about with it.

  By the time Kate and Jennet reached the King’s Staithe, clouds hid the sun and a sharp breeze snapped the sails of a ship at anchor. Many of the dockworkers greeted her, some expressing their outrage that her ship had been boarded by the king’s men in Hull—“That would never happen here,” one bragged, “I wouldn’t let them past me, Mistress Clifford”—and some asking after young Phillip, poor lad, finding Connor hanging in the minster. One asked whether it was true Connor had killed Alice Hatten. She spoke the truth by saying she did not know who had killed Alice, but a terrible thing it was. They were quick to point out Sam’s brother Cam when she asked after him. She realized that she had met him once before, unloading one of her ships.

  He seemed oddly happy to see her, quickly explained by his asking, “Has my brother returned, Mistress Clifford?”

  Of course he would wonder. “I fear I have no news to give you, Cam. But I have just heard something that concerns me. Is it true that Sam works for Lionel Neville as well as for me?”

  “Lionel Neville.” Cam turned the name in his mouth as if it were spoiled fruit, then suggested they step aside so they might not be overheard. “I hope that my brother took my advice and stayed well away. He feels caught between the Nevilles and you. Master Lionel says my brother owes it to Master Simon’s memory to help him, tell him things.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “He would not say, but what else would it be but to round upon someone, give Neville something he can use against them? For the life of me I cannot think why he would choose Sam for that. What could Sam hear?”

  There was plenty Sam might tell Lionel. Had he? “Sam felt he could not refuse?”

  “He has no backbone, my brother. Do you think he got in trouble for something Master Lionel put him up to? Is that how he went missing?”

  “As far as I know he went off to Beverley for me. He left before Alice Hatten was found. He was to see whether she had simply gone home without telling anyone.”

  Cam looked doubtful. “I would not trust that Master Lionel had naught to do with my brother’s disappearance. He’s always nosing round in folks’ affairs. We all know to shut our mouths when word goes along the staithe that ‘the Lion’ is about. If he did that with someone powerful, and Sam was caught at it—” He cursed, then apologized.

  So Sam and Lionel were two of a kind, though Kate could see Cam was blind to his brother’s faults. She thanked him. “One thing more.” She described Hubert Bale as best she could. “Did you ever see your brother with such a man?”

  “I did.” He looked pleased with himself.

  “Can you remember when you saw him?”

  “Not so long ago.” He scratched his chin, then nodded. “Just before ‘the Lion’ came sailing in complaining of being boarded by the king�
��s men downriver. I remember thinking you might do well to hire that bull to guard your ships. Will you?”

  “Do you think it would discourage the king’s men?”

  Cam laughed. “No. Once they put on the livery you would think they were first knight, all of them.”

  She thanked him again and promised she would get word to him the moment they had any news of his brother.

  Jennet had disappeared while Kate talked to Cam. Off hunting for information in her own manner, Kate guessed. She made her way back through the crowd of workers, pausing here and there to respond to their queries and concerns. She was proud of how they greeted her. When she had reached the bridge, she looked round, and not seeing her servant, she started across. Jennet joined her halfway, as Kate paused at a shop stall to admire a display of silk thread in jewel colors. The cushions in the deanery had inspired her to brighten her own home.

  “Several men reported seeing Lionel and Sam together, and recently,” Jennet quietly reported. “And perhaps Sam with Hubert Bale as well.”

  Together they continued on.

  “Cam thought he had seen his brother with Bale, so I would guess that is true,” said Kate. She told Jennet the rest. “To think that I laughed at Lionel’s poor choice in servants when we caught Fitch. It seems I may have made an even poorer choice. Perhaps Fitch truly was hoping to see Sam, but not because they are friends.”

  “I could gut him,” Jennet said.

  “Sam or Lionel?”

  “Both!”

  “You warned me. You never trusted him.”

  “Nor Master Lionel, but you needed no warning about him.”

  They passed a crowd gathered round a juggling act and then glanced at some bows a man was hawking—good quality, most made from yew, but too ornate for Kate’s taste. She liked her bows simple, supple, just the right length and heft.

  The question that nagged Kate was whether Lady Margery was right, that Bale was the creature of Sir Ralph Neville. If so, had Lionel sent him to William? Had Sam been the go-between? If Jennet did not gut Lionel, Kate might do it herself.

  16

  THE KNIGHT

  The tavern Lionel had chosen was in the undercroft of a business fronting a substantial house on Micklegate. Private, no public rooms, an arrangement preferred by merchants doing business requiring discretion. Though Kate avoided the practice, preferring her fellow guild merchants to trust her, Simon had frequented the place, and the taverner greeted her warmly. He seemed excited as he informed her that her party had preceded her, quickly showing her into his best room. Cushioned chairs were drawn up to a table large enough to seat several merchants and their factors. Wall sconces and a brazier lit the windowless space, the latter made necessary by the stone floor and walls that glistened here and there with river damp and held in the winter chill.

  Handsomely dressed in a brown velvet houppelande and deep green leggings, a brown velvet hat with a swooping feather covering his thinning hair, Lionel had clearly dressed up to the standard of his surprise companion, Sir Elric, a retainer of the powerful Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmoreland. Not a good sign.

  “Sir Elric.” Kate bobbed her head, irked by a fleeting sense of relief that she, too, was dressed in finery, in honor of Alice and Connor, and that Jennet was as well, wearing the dress Kate had altered for her. Yes, he was a handsome man, but she needed a cool head. “My brother-in-law did not mention I would be dining with a knight in the service of the Earl of Westmoreland. It has been several years since we have met. You seem in good health.”

  He replied in kind, asking after the health of her wards, expressing concern about Phillip’s recent discovery in the chapter house. She assured him they were both well, the morning requiem a great comfort to Phillip.

  Elric was a retainer answering directly to Sir Ralph Neville, in residence at the earl’s castle of Sheriff Hutton in the Forest of Galtres. She had met him on numerous occasions when she and Simon attended feast day celebrations at the castle. Always Elric had dressed in fine velvets and silks, though he was clearly valued for his martial skill, demonstrating his swordplay as part of the entertainment out on the jousting field. A curious companion for this dinner. She suspected it was he who had called them together, and she wondered why.

  Once they were seated and served with wine and the fish course, Lionel expressed concern about the fire in the undercroft on High Petergate the previous evening. “I passed by this morning, heard workmen hammering, and the undercroft door swung wide, a man in the Kirkby livery standing guard out front. A passing neighbor said the fire had been down below. Of course I am concerned about the spices.”

  “You have no need to worry on that count,” said Kate. “The smoke was noticed at once, the fire doused before it did much damage.”

  “Was it your tenant who caused the fire?”

  “No. Someone had lit the pallet that recently appeared in the undercroft. Yours, Lionel?” She tasted the salmon. Quite good.

  “Mine?” He looked honestly surprised. “No. When I noticed it on my last visit, a week ago, I think, I reckoned you had someone guarding the undercroft while I was away. An excellent idea. I had found the lock undone on several occasions.”

  “And never informed me,” Kate noted, quietly, which took great effort. “It is clear we need to bury our differences and learn to work together, Lionel. We stand in danger of losing everything. For now, I may move the stores elsewhere once Clement and Berend complete the inventory.”

  “Inventory? When?”

  “Now. They began this morning.”

  She noticed sweat beading on his forehead. Good. And Sir Elric, who had seemed content to savor the fish, regarded Lionel with the hint of a smile before turning to Kate. “I am here seeking news of a comrade who came to York on a mission for the earl and seems to have vanished. A great bear of a man, Jon Underhill.” He described Hubert Bale.

  “You are the second person this day to describe him to me. I have just learned that a servant gone missing for several days was seen in this man’s company before he disappeared.”

  “Might it have been your cousin, William Frost, who mentioned this?” asked Sir Elric.

  “No, it was not. It was my servant’s brother and his fellows on the King’s Staithe. William knows this man?”

  She expected the knight to flinch at having said too much, but he merely shrugged. “When I last saw Underhill, he told me that your cousin William had some trouble with a man too curious about his family, a man who had frightened his daughter. Jon had offered to help your cousin resolve the matter.”

  Two could play this game of cool indifference. “Poor William. Well then surely you must ask my cousin about this man’s whereabouts.” She imagined poor William choking on his memory of Bale’s decomposing body.

  “I have. He tells me that he refused Underhill’s offer and sent him on his way.”

  “Ah. I am afraid I cannot help you there. But perhaps Lionel might. It has been brought to my attention that he and his servant Fitch have been often in the company of my missing servant, Sam. In fact some have come to believe Sam serves Lionel, not me, they are so often together. And Sam has been seen with this Underhill.” She shrugged. “In fact, Fitch was following Sam in the early hours of the day my servant disappeared. When I noticed Fitch behind Sam in the alley, he took off running. He shed his cloak, one of Lionel’s castoffs, in a passing cart as he went. Is that not odd, Sir Elric?”

  The knight sat back in his chair, regarding Lionel, who was grasping the edge of the table with his gloved hands. “Clearly it would be best that I see to this going forward, Lionel.”

  To Kate’s surprise, Lionel rose, bowed to Kate, to Elric, and made to depart.

  “One question before you depart, Lionel,” said Kate. “How is it that Jon Underhill approached my cousin William? Your doing?”

  It was Sir Elric who responded. “I will explain.”

  “Good. And Lionel, Lady Kirkby asks that you call on her at the guesthouse this eve
ning. She would hear you out.”

  Lionel expressed his surprise, and thanked her, bowing out.

  “And now, Sir Elric, I trust you will do me the courtesy of explaining yourself,” Kate said quietly, one hand on the dagger hidden in her skirts.

  “Forgive me for not having invited you to dine myself, but I did not know whether you would come. However, Lionel . . . Well, you have much to discuss with him, so I brazenly used him to lure you. I pray your forgiveness.”

  “It would seem you have lived so long among the Nevilles that you have adopted their bad habits. I much prefer someone who is direct.”

  “Direct I shall be. But first, would you be so kind as to serve us?” he asked Jennet.

  “Gladly, sir.” Jennet jumped to the task, serving all three of them the meat course that had been set out on the sideboard and refreshing their barely tasted goblets.

  Kate took a forkful of the meat. Venison. Delicately spiced. Elric and Jennet also tried a little.

  “So,” Elric began, “you are quite right about my lord’s kinsman. Lionel has interfered with your servant. I learned that only this morning, and have sent out men to search the road to Beverley. And other destinations, in case he had other plans.”

  “Other plans?”

  “If he was indeed working with Jon Underhill, or Hubert Bale as your servant Berend knew him—”

  She looked up sharply. So he knew about the two identities. And that Jon was the king’s man, Hubert the duke’s? She wondered. But clearly he thought Bale still alive.

  Elric was grinning at her surprise. “Yes, this man is known to the former assassin you call your cook. In any case, your man Sam, well, it is possible that Underhill offered him something more interesting than living out his years serving you.”

  “Because I am not a Neville?”

  A shrug. “He did prove willing to betray you. But to a point. I am quite certain that Lionel is as yet unaware of the clients you regularly host in the house on High Petergate. Sam did not choose to betray you about that.”