A Twisted Vengeance

by Candace Robb

  Nan sat off to one side casting wounded glances toward Eleanor and anxious glances toward the gate in the hedgerow, as if she was expecting someone. Sister Agnes had already gone to sit the evening with Nan’s ailing mother, so she had no cause to worry on Hawise’s account. Did she dread more trouble? A visitor? Matt kindly tried to engage Nan in conversation, but he was met with silence. Glancing at Kate with a shrug, he abandoned his effort and settled himself near the girls.

  At Kate’s request, Griffin had taken his food into Eleanor’s hall, where he could watch Elric’s guards at their post in front of the Martha House and follow them when they moved on. Satisfied that everyone was in their place, Kate eased herself down onto the bench beneath the kitchen eaves.

  “Better now?” Berend asked as he handed her a bowl of ale and motioned to a serving of stew and bread sitting on the bench beside her.

  “My shoulders ache with a good ache, and I am otherwise much restored.” She smiled as Lille and Ghent rose from where they had sat beside Berend and resettled at her feet. All was well. For the moment. Though clearly everyone was tensed for trouble.

  Marie and Petra managed to lighten the mood for a moment with a song Sister Brigida had taught them earlier, and then Marie regaled them with the wonders of Hazel Frost’s wardrobe, the colorful embroidered cushions piled on her bed, and ribbons of every hue for her pretty brown hair. Petra groaned and crawled over to sit by the hounds.

  Eleanor, unusually quiet and withdrawn, picked at her food and occasionally pressed a cloth soaked in rosemary to the welts on her cheek. Kate felt a twinge of remorse for urging her mother to visit Sister Dina, though she was grateful for her efforts. At least Dina had responded. She was not completely lost in the past.

  Shamed, bloodied, cursed. No grave can hold him. He came for me. Whatever had happened, for Dina it was a repeat of something in the past. Kate wondered whether they would ever make any sense of her account. And for all their efforts, they knew little that pointed to an explanation for the intruder.

  While she ate, Kate turned over in her mind all that had happened since she’d awakened to the hounds’ barks. She kept returning to Elric’s silence regarding Dina’s ordeal despite having already set guards to watch over her—or to ensure that she did not escape. In either case, he had chosen to lie to her, to say nothing of what he knew, or suspected. Something of import. Why else assign two men to such specific duty when Elric’s chief mission was to spy on the soldiers crowding the city? The other bothersome item was the incident with the hounds.

  She had taken a break from her archery practice when she heard Matt, Jennet, and Berend talking in the kitchen. After listening to their frustrating investigations she told them of her mother’s experience with Dina and the foiled attempt to catch Lille and Ghent.

  “You say you thought they were soldiers hoping to impress their superior with war dogs,” said Jennet. “So they wore livery?”

  “No. I saw none.”

  “Then why soldiers?” Jennet persisted.

  “From their bearing,” said Kate, “and their clothes—fine but made for ease of movement.”

  Berend mentioned his encounter just beyond Bootham Bar, the comments about the dogs. “I’ve worried someone would try to command you to loan them Lille and Ghent.”

  “If so, they have little understanding of the loyalty of trained wolfhounds,” said Kate.

  “And I’d wager they’d not encountered a woman warrior before,” said Matt. “Not of Dame Katherine’s skill and courage.”

  “Still,” said Berend, “we should pay heed to anyone eyeing Lille and Ghent with too much interest when we’re about.”

  “What if they were not after the grand hounds for war dogs?” Jennet said in the tone of one trying out an idea. “What if their aim was to quiet them tonight?”

  “A bold, desperate act,” said Berend. “Are you thinking whoever it was will return?”

  “Sister Dina caught someone who wanted something at that house,” said Jennet. “Now someone might mean to finish what last night’s intruder meant to do.”

  “But what did they want?” asked Kate. “Or who?”

  No one had come up with an answer to that. Who were those men? Was Jennet right, that they had hoped to silence Lille and Ghent so they might finish the task they had bungled last night?

  As the light faded in the garden, the diners grew quiet. Kate imagined they were all wondering whether the intruder would return.

  Berend rose and stretched out his arms, shook out his legs. “I must see to my evening chores before drowsiness overcomes me.”

  Kate told Marie and Petra to go up to bed. “You woke early. It has been a long day. Jennet will come with you. And Matt will be down in the hall.” Though they dragged their feet, the two obeyed, which was unusual for Marie, as was her silence for most of the evening. She seemed to understand that it was not a night to defy Kate.

  In the kitchen, bowls and spoons clattered softly in the tub of water Berend bent over. Kate stepped in, shutting the door behind her.

  Berend paused, still stooped over the tub, studying her. “You told the girls that Jennet would join them soon, and Matt would be in the hall. What of you? Where are you sleeping tonight?”

  “You listen too closely.” Kate smiled. “If Griffin has gone off to follow Elric’s men, I thought to sit in the doorway of the hall at the Martha House so that I can watch both the house and the kitchen until he returns.”

  Berend paused, regarding her with a frown. “You will, of course, be armed.”

  “Always.”

  “And then he will take your place in the doorway?” Berend shook his head. “The sisters might object.”

  “We shall see.” Kate fully expected that she would be sleeping in her mother’s hall. She would tell him that when the time came. He worried about her, despite his claim to be confident in her ability to defend herself.

  As I do, Geoff said in her mind.

  As he would a comrade-in-arms. I do understand.

  “What about Lille and Ghent?” said Berend. “Why not take them with you?”

  “Sister Clara fears them. And, truth be told, I would rather they were in the main house, protecting the girls.”

  “I will be listening.”

  “I depend on that. Geoff, too, will be alert.”

  “A ghost sharing the watch.” Berend shook his head. “Only you.”

  Out in the summer night Kate paused, gazing up at the stars.

  I wonder what it means that he is able to sense my presence?

  I don’t know, Geoff. Now quiet. We are on watch.

  She moved through the hedgerow gate with care in the darkening evening, peering into the shadows, checking the kitchen and Dina’s—now Griffin’s—small room. All was peaceful. Across the garden she picked up a three-legged milking stool, idly wondering if the garden had once been home to a goat or a cow. Or perhaps the stool was someone else’s castoff, gratefully reused. She placed it in the doorway and sat to begin her watch. From the hall came the soft murmur of the sisters and her mother at their evening prayers. Their voices were tense, their prayers halting. Then Sister Brigida began to read a meditation on the Mother’s love, and how that love was God, was the source of all creation, and held all in natural grace. Sin was but a forgetting. A soul need only remember, and return to love. After the reading, the voices rose again in prayer, calm now, strengthened by the remembering.

  Kate might envy them the solace they drew from their devotions if they also took steps toward learning to defend themselves. She had never witnessed a heavenly avenger appearing to protect the pious, despite all their orisons.

  After a while, Griffin strolled into the yard. Kate stepped out but left the hall door ajar so that she might hear the women’s voices. She drew Griffin just inside the kitchen so that they would not disturb them.

  “Well?” she asked. “Did you find Elric’s men?”

  A nod. “Two of their comrades relieved them. I followed th
e two now off the watch to Toft Green.”

  “They are camping with the other soldiers?”

  “I think not. They were asking about, looking for three men who might have returned in the early hours this past morning, one of them bleeding from the neck and the stomach.”

  “They know so much?” Damn Elric and his silence. What is his part in this? She stared out at the starry night. “So Dina’s intruder was a soldier?”

  Griffin shrugged. “They were not greeted warmly, and were soon in a brawl. I chose to leave. But I will be watching here tonight.”

  “Three. And soldiers. I wonder whether we met two of them today, hoping to silence Lille and Ghent so they might return and complete their mission?”

  “I wondered that as well. I did not spy the ones we’d encountered, but the camp is crowded and I saw but a small part of it.”

  “I should sleep in my mother’s hall tonight. If three come calling, you’ll need help.”

  “Why not have Jennet stand watch in the hall?”

  “She is already abed.”

  “Berend?”

  “He will be listening for trouble, never fear.” She went to collect what she would need for the night.

  Back in her own kitchen, Kate shared a bowl of ale with Berend while she told him Griffin’s news.

  “Soldiers. I knew there would be trouble. Why would they think your mother’s kitchen worth robbing, if that’s what they were about?” Berend scratched his scarred ear as he stretched out his legs. “And Sir Elric’s men—did they witness it? Why would he not tell you?” He cursed under his breath.

  “That worries me. But it’s clear we need to do our own sleuthing.” She told him her plan.

  “Sleeping in your mother’s hall?” Berend shook his head. “Send Jennet.”

  Griffin, too, thought of Jennet rather than Matt. They both underestimated him. “Jennet went to bed a while ago.”

  “She will wake when you go up. Send her.”

  “Why? Are you thinking she might like Griffin?”

  “Is he sleeping in the hall as well?”

  They laughed, dispelling some of the tension.

  “No, the kitchen,” said Kate.

  Still grinning, Berend shrugged. “I will not argue.”

  Kate grew serious. “You’ve discussed me with Griffin.”

  “I’ve warned him. In case he thought he might dissemble with you. I thought to keep the peace between our two houses.”

  “Ah.” She was leaning back with her eyes closed but could hear the grin in his voice.

  They were quiet awhile. A moment’s respite.

  “How did Sir Alan discover you had a house to lease?” Berend suddenly asked.

  “My uncle sent him to me.” Richard Clifford was dean of York Minster as well as King Richard’s Lord Privy Seal. He also happened to be one of the few people Kate had come to trust implicitly. She prayed he had not misled her. But when the king he served was in danger, might he not choose to protect him, even if it meant betraying her? “I don’t recall his telling me how Sir Alan happened to approach him.” She sat forward, curious about the change of topic. “Why?”

  Berend raised his uneven brows and shrugged. “I do not mean to question Dean Richard’s integrity, but it might be worth asking him about Sir Alan. What do the knight and his men know of all this? We know they have spies moving about the city. Yet they behaved as if they knew nothing, could offer nothing.”

  “Except to ask you about the abbey.”

  “A question for me, yes. So, your uncle the dean?”

  “I cannot expect him to put my welfare before that of the king he serves, or his archbishop.” Archbishop Scrope’s loyalties were the subject of much conjecture in the city. His mentor was the former archbishop, Thomas Arundel, now one of Henry of Lancaster’s closest advisors. On the other hand, King Richard and his court had attended Scrope’s enthronement as Bishop of Lichfield shortly before he was promoted to Archbishop of York. He was an enigma. “I will go to the deanery in the morning. No matter his purpose, I trust my uncle will tell me what he can once I tell him what has happened this day.”

  “I pray he does not disappoint you.”

  “As he did Mother?” Dame Eleanor had asked the dean to be the confessor for her beguines. Richard had declined, saying that his time was not his own, as he could never predict when he would be summoned to Westminster. Eleanor had felt snubbed; she believed that he wished to distance himself from the foreign sisters. Kate thought it more likely he was wary of becoming too involved in her mother’s scheme.

  “He is fond of you. I pray he knows something of use.”

  Kate closed her eyes for a moment, thinking, appreciating the peace of Berend’s kitchen, a place of sanctuary. His presence made it so.

  “Perhaps he might speak to the abbot of St. Mary’s on my behalf, asking that the infirmarian talk to us.” She opened her eyes and sat up before she grew too comfortable and abandoned her plan.

  Berend nodded. “That would be helpful. We need something. I see no clear direction, and that worries me.”

  “I know. We’re grasping at anything and everything.” She tried to mask a yawn, but it escaped her. “If only I could corner Elric and demand that he tell me all he knows.”

  Berend grinned. “Sic the hounds on him?”

  “Why not?” Her laugh lacked mirth.

  He sighed. “We need sleep. Perhaps we will see more clearly in the morning.”

  Kate rubbed her eyes, flexed her shoulders and arms. “I need a month in the countryside with my bow, a horse, and the dogs.”

  “I am sorry Duke Henry prevents you from such refuge.” Berend shifted, drinking down the dregs in their bowl. “What make you of Griffin?” he asked. There was an edge to his voice. “Do you think he might be of use to us?”

  “He was helpful today,” she said. “But I wonder how it is that he managed to appear just as he might be useful. He was sent by Mother, but he came from the wrong direction.”

  Berend shook his head. “I don’t think he’s fool enough to toy with us. But he has his secrets.”

  “As do you,” Kate said softly, rubbing Berend’s shoulder affectionately. She rose with reluctance, wishing she might stay. But she should be in her mother’s hall. Stepping out into the garden she turned, feeling Berend’s presence in the doorway. They smiled to each other.

  He is a good friend.

  He is, Geoff. I trust him with my life.

  Across the hedgerow, up in the solar, Eleanor lay in bed, rubbing a salve into the scratches on her face. Her tears had washed away what she had earlier applied and the salt burned on the open wounds.

  Why do you forsake me, my Lord? Why do you reject my offering? Am I not sufficiently humbled? Is my Martha House an abomination to you? How may I serve you? How may I make amends? Is there no path of grace for me?

  She had so wanted the peace she’d found in the company of the beguines. To forgive. To forget. To begin again. Perhaps that had been too selfish. The blame she saw in Katherine’s eyes was fair. Eleanor was to blame for Walter’s death, her last surviving son, her eldest. Encouraging him to seek out his child, Petra, never thinking how that might reignite all the hate between her family and that of Petra’s dead mother, the Cavertons. She would do anything to take back that letter. Too much blood had been spilt between the Cavertons and the Cliffords for the families to ever come together in peace. Their enmity had long ago gone beyond that between the Scots and the English, the border raids. For Eleanor Petra was both a precious gift and a painful reminder of Katherine’s childhood, of her three sons—all killed by the Cavertons, and of her husband, whom she had betrayed. The pain is too much, Holy Mother. It comes out in angry words.

  And now she might lose the house in which the beguines had begun to make their home. How brave and selfless Sister Clara was, to suggest returning to the maison dieu, living for the nonce under Magistra Matilda’s rules, which meant, among other changes, that they might be forbidden t
o work for pay, depending only upon the largess of Thomas Holme and other benefactors. They would lose income, their independence further from reach than ever.

  I pray for grace, my Lord. Am I so unworthy of your gift? Why does everything I touch turn to ashes?

  Or is your quarrel with my beguines and their message of love, compassion, finding you within themselves? Is it possible you forsake them? That those who condemn the beguines for their message of love as arrogance speak for you?

  She could not believe that. Would not believe that. Did not God say, “I am the light of the world, and whoever follows me will no longer walk in the dark, and he will find and have the light of life”? Surely the gospels did not lie.

  Breathing slowly and deeply, Eleanor tried to quiet her mind. She’d begun to drift off when she heard two sounds, one here in the room, one down in the hall. In the near darkness, one of the women rose from the pallets near her door, stumbling with a soft thud. A muttered curse. Nan. Rose never cursed. And someone was down below in the hall, Eleanor was certain of it. Griffin? He would enter only if he had cause, to follow an intruder. Eleanor lay still, moving her attention back and forth between the near sounds of Nan dressing and the far sounds of someone moving about in the hall. What to do? Let Nan discover the intruder? Or was she expecting him? Eleanor held her breath, waiting for Nan to step through the doorway. Then she would follow.