A Twisted Vengeance

by Candace Robb

  “There are rumors that Duke Henry is already in Knaresborough, and he’s making promises that only a king has the power to keep. What of that?” a man said to his companion as he passed. His companion hushed him.

  Knaresborough again. “Have you heard that rumor, Thomas?” When he feigned confusion, she repeated what she’d just overheard.

  “Juicy gossip, that is all it is. Meant to impress his companion.”

  That is not how it had seemed in the guildhall when his companions had whispered among themselves at mention of Knaresborough. “Perhaps it is time to move our business south, eh?” she teased, patting Thomas’s arm. She took care to appear confident and at ease, even with her partners. Few knew the enormity of the debt she’d discovered on Simon’s death, and she meant to keep it secret.

  “Trading through London, eh? I pray it does not come to that.”

  She tried a different tactic. Thomas had a troubled history with King Richard; a member of Parliament when it moved against the king years ago, he had been pardoned, yet the king retaliated still with fines and the searching of Thomas’s ships. “We might all be better off to welcome Duke Henry, truth be told.”

  Thomas grunted. “I might agree but that I fear what fate would befall our king if Duke Henry takes the crown. I do not wish him dead, merely chastised. A near victory that frightens him into a more reasonable sovereignty. Ah, look—in the shade of the tree outside the gate.” He motioned with his head. “Your knight awaits you, Katherine.”

  Just a trick to change the subject? She shaded her eyes against the glare of the mid-morning sun. No, it was true, Sir Elric stood just outside the gate, his eyes on the departing throng. Sir Elric was captain of the company of retainers stationed at Sheriff Hutton Castle, one of the properties of Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmoreland. It lay north of York in the Forest of Galtres; the earl used it as a base from which to keep an eye on York and the temper of the citizens. The earl had set Sir Elric on Kate for two reasons—to engage her as a spy among the York merchants, and to retrieve certain letters he believed to be in her possession, letters incriminating him as supporting both King Richard and Henry of Lancaster, a double deceit. Ralph Neville called on her as kin—he was the patriarch of her late husband’s family. Regarding the spying, she obliged him, though only so far, careful what she shared about her fellow merchants. But as for the letters, she had never admitted to possessing them. A lie of omission. They had fallen into her possession as a result of his treasonous manipulations, and should he ever dare threaten her or her family, she would use them to ruin him. “My knight. Hardly!”

  Thomas chuckled. “My wife envies you his attentions. She tells me that not only is Sir Elric most pleasing to the eye, but as he is one of Ralph Neville’s favorite retainers, he will go far—even farther if the Earl of Westmoreland chooses the right side in this conflict. And as you are the widow of a Neville . . .”

  “God’s blood, she has played out the wooing all the way to my becoming a lady?” Kate laughed. “She would be disappointed to hear our conversations. We are swordsmen on the field, dancing round each other, waiting to see who attacks first. A mutual distrust.”

  “I’ve no doubt. But she believes the king holds court like Arthur of old, and that every knight is noble and pure.” He bent over to stroke Ghent’s proud head. Thomas had a great affection for the wolfhounds. But at the moment the petting was a ruse to lean close and whisper, “Look how Sir Elric studies the crowd. I pray he is not after information about your trading partners. Or your customers.” Thomas was a regular client at Kate’s guesthouse on High Petergate.

  “You need not worry on either count.” Sir Elric knew how she used the house when it was not occupied by important visitors to the minster, but he had no interest in exposing either Kate or her clients. The wealthy lovers of York were safe with him. Or so he said. So far. “But why he stands there, waiting, I cannot guess.”

  “Perhaps he wishes to ask you about the knights Sir Alan Bennet is gathering in your house on High Petergate? Or your mother’s sudden return from Strasbourg?”

  “I pray it is neither.”

  Thomas seemed deaf to her distress. “Considering what we have just discussed in the hall, who could fault him? How do we know that Sir Alan is not bringing in comrades hostile to King Richard?”

  Would Elric care about that? Kate wondered. She believed his lord to be ready to support Duke Henry. Thomas, too, truth be told. And the cronies with whom he had chosen to sit at the meeting, all current or former aldermen of York as well as past mayors. She wondered about the current mayor.

  “No one is to be trusted, or so it seems to me,” Thomas continued, chattering on as if relieving a pent-up need to express himself. “And we’ve no idea whether Duke Henry had connections in Strasbourg, but as you recall the king’s men searched all ships known to be carrying cargo from that fair city. Sir Elric might wonder whether your mother is here on Duke Henry’s behalf.”

  If that were so, Elric would likely consider Dame Eleanor an ally. But he had given no sign of that. “Nonsense,” said Kate, pretending a confidence she lacked. For she still had no idea why her mother was in York. When she’d departed the city six years earlier to begin life anew in Strasbourg with her second husband, Ulrich Smit, Eleanor had sworn never to return, that she was finished with the land of her birth. That, too, had been done in haste—Kate’s father, David, was only a few months buried. But seeing them together, Kate had guessed that her mother and Ulrich had been lovers a long while. He’d been one of her father’s trading partners and a frequent guest in their home in Northumberland, on the border with Scotland. When Eleanor returned in April, a widow once more, her plans had been made in such haste that she arrived before the letter announcing her return. Again, her husband was only a few months buried. A pattern, and one that raised questions in everyone’s minds.

  Eleanor had brushed off all Kate’s questions about her hasty return, saying she had been inspired to found a beguine house, or Martha House, to serve the poor, the ill, and educate young women in York. No matter that there were already a number of small houses serving the poor and ill in York, as well as grammar schools that accepted girls; Eleanor claimed that the beguine houses of Strasbourg were a step above what York offered, both for the women and the community. Her mother had no talent for diplomacy. But she was exceptionally skilled at evading questions.

  Though Kate assured Thomas that he had nothing to fear from Sir Elric, she did not trust the knight. And she very much dreaded his appearance at this particular moment. His men watched her home, as if Elric knew not to trust that she kept him informed of all she knew. What might he make of last night’s misadventure? How might he twist it to further his earl’s interests? “Might I be of use concerning Sister Dina?” Thomas asked. “Perhaps speak with Magistra Matilda about what she might know?”

  “Bless you. She would be more willing to speak with you, her benefactor, than she is with me.”

  “Dame Katherine, Master Thomas.” Sir Elric joined Kate and her partner as they passed through the gate.

  “Good day to you, Sir Elric, Katherine.” Thomas Holme nodded to each in turn. He leaned over to scratch the hounds once more behind their ears, then strode away down the street, hastening to join Thomas Graa and, to Kate’s surprise, her cousin William Frost, who had not attended the meeting. How she would love to follow, see where they were headed. The council chambers on Ouse Bridge? Something appeared to be brewing among the ruling elite of York. But they would notice her trailing them no doubt, and lead her astray. And, of course, she now had Sir Elric in tow.

  “The hounds are accustomed to him,” Sir Elric noted.

  “They are grateful for the run of Thomas’s river gardens.” Kate laughed at the knight’s expression. “Never underestimate the intelligence of a wolfhound.”

  “I will remember that, Dame Katherine.”

  “You would be wise to do so.”

  “Such grim faces exiting the guildhall. I
s there trouble?”

  “Just the small matter of the Duke of York’s orders to hold the city against Henry of Lancaster. The effect this turmoil will have on trade. The influx of armed strangers into the city. By the saints, the exile’s return affects us all.” She softened her irritated response with a quick, false smile. “You waited patiently for us to adjourn. Your mission must be important?”

  “You are right, of course. Duke Henry’s movements are uppermost in all our minds. In truth, I was curious about this meeting.”

  “I applaud your honesty. And now you know all. Forgive me, but I must be off—I was to meet with Griselde and Clement this morning, and this meeting went on so long. I despaired at the long-windedness of my fellows. It takes a great deal of hot air to dance around responsibility for the city’s safety.”

  “Might I walk with you?”

  She hesitated, distrusting his intent. He had searched her room for the incriminating letters when her family was in crisis, and she hated him for that. But it was a mark of her ambivalence about him, a grudging respect, that she did not think it at all likely that last night’s intruder was one of his men. And he might be useful. She might learn something more about Knaresborough and Duke Henry’s movements. “Of course.”

  She snapped her fingers at Lille and Ghent, who had settled in the shade at her feet.

  As the four set off up Fossgate, a group of soldiers made way for them. There were more and more of Elric’s kind on the streets, swords and daggers bristling. The people of York already had enough of them, drinking, brawling, crowding the city, many encamped on Toft Green across the river, beside the Dominican friary.

  Across the river. Kate thought about the small boat Berend had noticed, left on the bank just opposite the staithe.

  Another group of soldiers veered to the left of Lille.

  “I am glad you go about with the wolfhounds,” said Elric. “A man would be a fool to bother a woman flanked by them.”

  She smiled to herself. “They are good companions.” And for the fools, she had a dagger and, occasionally, a small battle-axe concealed in her skirts. She overheard one of the men as he glanced back, “War hounds. Should be handed over to those defending the city.”

  Elric stopped, turned, called out to the man to watch himself.

  “Do not antagonize them,” Kate hissed. She tightened her hold on the leads and hurried on. Another worry, though she could not quite imagine how anyone would take Lille and Ghent by surprise. They were too well-trained and experienced. Still, she would tell the household of the man’s comments so they knew to be on their guard.

  “Has the duke come to claim his Lancastrian inheritance, or the crown?” she asked to distract herself when Elric fell in beside her again.

  “In truth, I would not be so bold as to try to fathom his purpose,” he said.

  Sensing Lille’s discomfort with the knight’s nearness, Kate stroked her to reassure her.

  “Dame Katherine,” an acquaintance called, stepping past a group of soldiers slowly walking past Kate, eyeing the hounds. “How glad you must be to have your mother returned to York after her journey north. With soldiers on the road, you must have worried for her.” Her mother had traveled to Northumberland to meet with the steward of the family estate and hold a formal requiem for her son Walter, Kate’s eldest brother, Petra’s father. Kate had told no one of her mother’s journey, yet everyone in the city seemed to know of it. He turned a knowing glance at the armed men, then leaned close to say, “Your knight watches over you, I see.” And they all noticed the knight who shadowed Kate as well.

  She followed his gaze and saw Sir Elric had his hand on the hilt of his sword. Like Thomas’s wife, this man would have the two of them wed within hours. A widow with three wards, surely she would happily give her hand to such a fine knight.

  “Yes, I am most grateful for Dame Eleanor’s safe return,” she said. “As for Sir Elric, I cannot guess what is in his mind, for clearly you had already come to my assistance.”

  The compliment quieted the gossip in the man, and he moved on, no doubt shaping the tale of his heroism for his friends at the tavern.

  She noticed how people greeted her, but hurried on without returning Elric’s nods. It was no wonder. In the cause of holding York for King Richard, the citizens bore the strain of hosting an unruly lot. The sheriffs could not very well challenge the soldiers on carrying arms in the city when they were there to defend it. She cursed both the king and his belligerent cousin for bringing such danger to these shores. Ahead, another small clutch of soldiers gathered round two young women who were prettily gesturing about something. How lighthearted they seemed, so free of all cares, though both were older than Kate had been when she married Simon. She could not recall ever feeling so free. From childhood she had been taught to be vigilant, ever ready for trouble. She wondered what it must be like to be them.

  “Were you ever so unguarded?” Elric asked, startling her. He was regarding her with interest.

  “Growing up on the border? No. Never.” She shrugged and changed the topic. “Are your men part of the force defending York for the king?”

  “My earl’s interests are farther north. Raby.”

  “Not Knaresborough?” she teased, immediately regretting it for fear he would take her tone as flirtatious.

  But he walked on in silence.

  Near the Shambles, the dogs grew restive, the stench of the butcher shops a fascination. She often indulged Lille and Ghent with a detour. It was rare that one of the butchers did not offer them a treat. But on this summer morning the odor was too unpleasant, moving her to take a perfumed cloth from her scrip and hold it to her nose.

  Still Elric said nothing. What had been his purpose in joining her? His men might have witnessed whatever happened to Dina. Then why did he not mention it? Might he be spying on her for someone else?

  As they passed into Colliergate, he bent to retrieve a package dropped by a young woman who was all giggles and smiles and gushing gratitude. No wonder—he was a handsome man, broad-shouldered, with a face that might be beautiful were it not a mirror for his self-delight. But perhaps most enticing on first meeting was a sense of coiled danger that had at first excited Kate, but now, with familiarity, worried her. He knew so much about her—her brother-in-law Lionel would have shared with him the content of Simon’s will and the extent of his debts; he could so easily ruin her. Still, if her life had been different, she might have been the one flirting with him for the thrill of catching his eye, inspiring a smile. He bowed to the woman, who blushed prettily as she bobbed her head at Elric, then Kate, and hurried on.

  “Do you envy the city bred—pampered, protected, growing up so innocent of the shadows?” Elric asked.

  Now twice he had read her mind. “I prefer to face life with my eyes wide open.”

  He grinned. “I like that about you.”

  She laughed to hide her confusion. They moved on.

  Kate wished she knew where his spies in the city lodged. Watching her house as they did on their rounds, one of them might have seen someone stealing about the area in the early morning, might provide some clue as to who had intruded, and why. For it was quite likely that Sister Dina would be unable to identify the intruder—in the dark, in her fear, knowing so few people in York.

  Unless someone had followed the group from Strasbourg? Kate shook that thought away.

  The street had narrowed into Low Petergate, and the traffic thickened. Up ahead Kate noticed Drusilla Seaton approaching, a confidante, a widow who frequented the guesthouse with Kate’s cousin William Frost. Eyeing Sir Elric with apparent amusement, the widow Seaton nodded to him as she greeted Kate with a kiss and a hug, whispering, “Is anything amiss that you are in the company of Westmoreland’s creature? Shall I fetch Berend? I saw him calling on the knights in your lease on High Petergate.”

  That was good to know. Kate smiled and assured her that they merely happened to be walking in the same direction.

  �
�I trust you attended the guild meeting? Was anything decided?” The widow fanned herself with an embroidered cloth that perfumed the air with lavender while she stole glances at Elric.

  “In their wisdom, the merchants chose to leave the defense of the city in the hands of the knights and their men. Or perhaps they simply could not bear sitting in that stifling hall one more moment,” said Kate.

  “No surprises then. Ah me.” Drusilla nodded to Sir Elric, scratched Lille’s ear, then Ghent’s, and strolled off.

  “I feared this would come to pass,” Kate said, “that Henry would take advantage of the king’s ill-advised departure for Ireland with his army. Either way, to claim the duchy of Lancaster as his inheritance or the crown of England, the duke is inciting civil war. We will all suffer.”

  “You will be safe within the walls of the city,” Elric assured her.

  “The Duke of York is not so sanguine about our safety.”

  Elric paused just before the crossing with Stonegate, clearing his throat. “I believe the threat of a siege is past. For now.”

  “Then it is true Duke Henry is already in Knaresborough?”

  “Please, Katherine, take no risks. And keep the wolfhounds with you at all times.”

  That comes from the heart, her twin whispered in her mind. Beware.

  Quiet, Geoff.

  She met Elric’s gaze for a moment, seeing in his eyes more warmth than usual. Far more warmth. “Have you spoken with your men this morning? The ones who watch my house at night?”

  “No. I came straight to the guildhall. Why? Was there trouble?”

  Was that a slight flinch? She could not be sure. “One of the beguines . . . It must have been a bad dream.”

  He bowed to her.

  “Have a care, Elric.”

  He reached out as she began to move on, a strong grip on her arm. “About the letters . . .”

  She laughed with relief. Back to their usual tussle.