A Twisted Vengeance

by Candace Robb

  “She’d do anything for Robin. Thought he was special, been places, knew things. Promised to take her away.” Bran was craning his neck again.

  “Goodwife Hawise believes you will do all you can to find Nan and bring her home,” said Kate. “She trusts you. Shall I tell her what vermin you really are?”

  “I don’t know where to look.”

  “Useless.” Kate lifted her boot, brushed off her hands.

  Jennet gave his legs a kick before following after Kate, who was whistling as if calling the hounds. Bran scrambled to his feet and ran off over the staithe. Jennet nodded to several men taking a break, sitting on barrels they were unloading from a barge.

  “Routed the cutpurse maggot, eh?” one of them called out.

  “That’s me Jennet,” called another.

  “Never yours, Cam, never yours. But I’ll take credit for the other,” Jennet grinned as she hurried to catch up with Kate as she climbed back up to Ousegate.

  13

  UNEASY ALLIANCES

  Kate interrupted Jennet’s laughter about Bran’s hasty departure with a reminder that telling tales about the hounds was dangerous at the moment, that she could be playing into the hands of the soldiers who thought wolfhounds wasted in the city. But she waved off Jennet’s apology. “It worked with the pretty cutpurse, I admit.”

  As they headed toward home, Jennet asked why Kate had taken such a circuitous route. “Why didn’t we just turn up Hertergate from the staithes?”

  “That way we would pass the Martha House. I am not ready to face Dina with the news.”

  “Oh. Of course.”

  Kate was trying to sort all she had learned, not liking where it led. Worst of all would be delivering the news of Robin’s death to Dina, who would take full responsibility, no matter that Prior Norbert had said he’d also been badly beaten. And how to approach her mother about Griffin’s meetings with her uncle the dean?

  Berend greeted them as they reached the garden. “Muddy hems and damp clothes. Fishing in the rain?” He grinned.

  “Pour us ales and we’ll tell you a tale,” Kate said, calling to Lille and Ghent as she passed the open door of the hall. “They deserve a treat as well, though they were part of it only in spirit.” She ruffled the rough fur on their heads, leaning to whisper their praises, then settled on the bench tucked up beneath the eaves of the kitchen. Jennet offered to find a treat for the dogs.

  “The bone on the table,” said Berend.

  Jennet saw to them, then pulled up a stool in the kitchen doorway.

  Kate made short work of the first bowl of ale, recounting her conversation with Prior Norbert and their confrontation with Bran in between long drinks.

  Berend raked his three fingers through imaginary hair as he listened, straddling the bench beside her. “I agree. It feels as if there is more to this than the theft of holy books and golden idols—Hans’s death, Nan’s disappearance, petty thieves hired by soldiers. Robin was Fitch’s brother, you say? Might Lionel be involved?”

  “I mean to pay him a visit. But this does not smell like one of his schemes. Especially with the murder. Lionel is too much a coward for that. How are the sisters?”

  “Pleased with the Franciscan. You will find them smiling about their new confessor, Friar Gerald. At least Sister Brigida was when she came to give the girls their lessons. She said Gerald is a scholar, and holds Meister Eckhart in high esteem.”

  “Bless Jocasta. She listens and provides. Will you return to Toft Green after I’ve seen Lionel? Perhaps someone will have seen Thatcher. Or Griffin. I don’t like it that Griffin and Werner have separated.” She told him what Phillip had observed about Griffin and Dean Richard.

  “Which one do you distrust?” asked Berend. “Griffin or Werner?”

  “I don’t know. I’m worried about Nan. Bran had no news of her and no idea where to look. Surely he would know if she were involved in the attempted theft. And now Thatcher’s disappeared.”

  “He might intend to break away from his thieving friends.”

  “Because they failed at the Martha House?” Kate wondered. “They did bungle it badly.”

  Berend nodded. “Yes, I want to hear it for myself from the men at the green. But we’ll dine before I go to the camps.”

  Kate nodded. “I’ve invited the dean and Helen to dine with us tomorrow. He will send word in the morning. I pray he comes. Serve our strongest wine. I want him talking.” She rose. “I’ll spare the sisters the news of Robin’s death until after they’ve had their meal. First I’ll see Lionel.”

  “Shall I accompany you?” Jennet asked.

  “No. I’ll take Lille and Ghent.”

  Walking up Coppergate to Fossgate, Kate encountered Dame Jocasta and took the opportunity to ask her to spread the word that she was worried for Nan and would be grateful for any news of her. Thatcher as well.

  “Fair hair, peg leg?” Jocasta nodded. “I will do so.” In turn, she told Kate more about Friar Gerald—he had studied in Paris with several teachers who had known Meister Eckhart. “He was as excited to meet the sisters as they were to meet him.” Dame Jocasta stroked Lille’s back.

  “Thank you for bringing them together.”

  “I take much joy in it. In truth, I predict that in time all will thank Dame Eleanor for her generosity in bringing the beguines to York. Learned women eager to teach the girls, a gifted sempster with—I sense a depth of spiritual awakening in Sister Dina unlike anything I have encountered before, Katherine. Have you noticed it?”

  “I sense a good woman in much pain. My gifts do not extend to loftier realizations.”

  As they paused in front of Dame Jocasta’s house, she asked where Kate was headed.

  “Lionel Neville’s, to tell his man Fitch of his brother Robin’s death.”

  “Brothers? I never would have guessed. May Robin rest in the peace of God’s grace.” Jocasta crossed herself. “Then I will not keep you. It is best to arrive before he sits down to dinner.” As Jocasta was turning, she paused. “Your mother carries a terrible burden. I cannot guess what causes her suffering, but I pray that Friar Gerald will draw her out. I do not believe she is called to a life of service among the sisters, but for now they are a comfort to her.” She patted Kate’s arm. “Be patient with Dame Eleanor. You are everything to her.”

  “You gleaned this in one brief encounter?”

  “Some I have gleaned from you. God go with you, my friend.”

  As Kate continued down Fossgate she puzzled over the sting she had felt in Jocasta’s comments regarding her mother. Be patient. She tried, but with lives in the balance she found it difficult to accept her mother’s secrecy. You are everything to her. Kate was all that survived of her mother’s marriage to David Clifford. But how much of that was her mother’s doing? She paused on the bridge, startled by that question. Is that what she thought? Did she blame her mother for her family’s troubles? Her brothers’ deaths? Walter’s death, yes, but Roland’s? Geoff’s? Of course not.

  Father challenged Mother about everything, Geoff said in her mind. He taught us to doubt her.

  Kate had forgotten. We were to check with him before doing what she asked. Is that why she took Ulrich as a lover?

  You would be a better judge of that, Kate.

  Kate stared out over the Foss, the brown waters calmly flowing down to join the Ouse. Dame Jocasta had given her much to ponder. She shook herself, remembering her mission. Once across the bridge, she must set her mind to how to give her brother-in-law the impression that her sole purpose in visiting was to bring the news of Robin’s death to his brother, when of course that was but a small part of her mission. Her mother’s landlord. She must tread softly.

  Maud Neville, Lionel’s eldest daughter, answered her knock and surprised Kate with an enthusiastic embrace. When Simon was alive, Kate had spent many happy hours with Winifrith Neville and her children. She was fond of them all, save Lionel. “You never come! And you never, ever bring Lille and Ghent! Welcome! Mot
her would like to see them. She is abed. The babe is coming any day now. They can climb stairs, can’t they?”

  “Yes, of course. But are you certain she will welcome them in her lying-in chamber?”

  “She talks of the countryside, you know how much she misses it. A horse would be even better, but lacking that, dogs are the best I can imagine. They will cheer her.”

  Of course Winifrith would need cheering. She had borne so many children, the house was bursting, and she’d come close to death bearing the last baby. Blessed Mother, bring Winifrith through this birth with grace.

  Without giving Kate a chance to state the reason for her visit, Maud escorted her and the hounds up the outer stairway to the solar. Lille and Ghent hesitated on the threshold of Winifrith’s chamber, the room hushed and stifling, the windows shuttered and a smoky brazier adding to the misery. But seeing them in the doorway, Winifrith called out in delight, urging Kate to bring the hounds to her. Their training overruled their unease.

  The expectant mother’s usually bony face was swollen and damp, as were the hands that reached out to stroke Lille and Ghent. Kate wanted to fling open the shutters and put out the fire, but it was not her place.

  “I would so much rather be lying in somewhere far from the city, in the peace of the countryside, with my own hounds lying at my feet. Bless you for this moment, Katherine, the pleasure of stroking them, remembering my own. Though I suppose you are here to see my husband?”

  “His manservant.” Kate told her about Fitch’s brother and the heavy news she bore for him.

  Winifrith waved a swollen hand. “Half brothers, or so they believed. I doubt their mother, the strumpet, knew who had fathered them. But that is no matter. My discomfort makes me spiteful. I am sorry for him. Maud, help me sit up.” Winifrith reached out to the dogs.

  Kate motioned for Lille and Ghent to put their front paws on the bed so that Winifrith might scratch their necks.

  The woman cooed to them as she worked their necks and their ears, taking her time with them, drinking them in. At last, visibly weary, she nodded to her daughter that she’d had enough. “You will find Lionel in the hall. I will make sure he sees to the burial for Fitch’s brother. It is the least we can do for his long service in this challenging household.”

  “Bless you,” said Kate, calling Lille and Ghent to her. “Have you a midwife you trust, Winifrith?” Sister Clara was an experienced midwife, though she had not put herself forward as such in the city, fearful lest she antagonize those already caring for the women of York.

  “Are you offering one of your mother’s beguines? To irk Lionel?” Winifrith sighed. “I weary of his constant battle with all and sundry. The man lost all humor when Simon died. His adored elder brother. He blames you, though in truth I should think it was that whore in Calais who exhausted him. So many unnecessary journeys.”

  Kate tried to ignore the prick, but it was difficult. “Would you prefer to tell Fitch?”

  “No, no. And thank you, but no beguines in this house. I would never be at peace with that man.” With a great sigh Winifrith closed her eyes.

  Kate could not escape from the stifling chamber fast enough. At the bottom of the stairs she paused, indecisive—find a servant to announce her, or simply enter the hall? She decided on the latter when, through the slightly opened door, she heard Sir Elric’s ringing tones. Elric and Lionel. How convenient.

  Pushing the door wide, she startled Fitch, who was hovering at the edge of the hall, ready to jump at his master’s command.

  “Just the man I came to see,” Kate said quietly.

  The man squirmed in his master’s old clothes, always slightly too large for him and absurdly fussy for a servant. He backed away from Lille and Ghent, having experienced their strength once in an unfortunate encounter. “Me? Who is telling tales on me?”

  Kate caught both hounds’ collars, keeping them by her side. “No one, Fitch. I saw Prior Norbert this morning, and I thought you should know that your brother Robin has died.”

  A hand to the heart and his pained look were all Kate needed to see. He had heard.

  “May he rest in peace,” she said, and began to step past him toward Sir Elric and Lionel, who were talking quietly now, their backs to Kate and Fitch. But she paused. “Might I ask who told you about your brother?”

  “His friend Carter called this morning. Said Robin had passed at the priory, shriven. I was grateful.”

  “Had you known he was there, that he’d been injured?”

  Fitch glanced toward the hounds. “I might have heard it in the wind, mistress. Not much happens in the city doesn’t become gossip.”

  “Of course. Your mistress assures me that she and Master Lionel will see to your brother’s burial.”

  A frown, sharp shake of the head. “I would not ask for that.”

  “You need not. Dame Winifrith wishes to do it in respect for your long service. Fitch, your brother had a sweetheart. Nan. Did you know her?”

  He shook his head. “I knew little about his life.”

  By now they had been noticed.

  “Dame Katherine!” Sir Elric’s voice rang out across the room. “I was just speaking of you. Come. Join us.”

  She bit back a smile at Lionel’s sour reaction, wrinkling his nose and waving toward Lille and Ghent. “If you would permit Fitch to watch them by the door.”

  The poor manservant looked to Kate for help. She gestured for Lille and Ghent to stay, whispering to Fitch that he would be fine so long as he ignored them.

  “We have just been to see Dame Winifrith,” said Kate as she approached the two men. “She is so fond of animals, is she not?”

  Lionel grunted.

  “As the two of you are here, I would like to ask what you think of my neighbor John Paris. Is he trustworthy?”

  Lionel’s long face tightened with suspicion, an expression that brought his close-set eyes even closer, making him seem cross-eyed. Sir Elric merely tucked his hands behind his back and fixed his gaze on the floor.

  “Why ask me?” Lionel inquired.

  “You are his landlord, are you not? And employ him as a courier from time to time?”

  Lionel squirmed. “Of course. Of course. I’ve no complaints about the man.”

  She glanced at Sir Elric, but he continued to study the floor. It was enough that he knew she knew John Paris had a connection with him. “He was mentioned in connection with Fitch’s brother, Robin, and who might see to his burial.”

  Lionel straightened, glancing toward Fitch. “Your brother is dead?”

  “He died of injuries suffered in a brawl with soldiers,” said Kate. She saw no need to make Fitch tell the tale. “They did him the kindness of taking him to the Dominican friary. Prior Norbert asked me who might see to his burial. John Paris employed Robin at one time. But then I learned of the connection.” She glanced back at Fitch with an encouraging nod. “And Winifrith has assured me you will see to his burial. After all, you were so good to recommend him to John Paris.” It was a wild reach, but if she had learned anything from her mother, it was that speaking quickly and making connections that challenged the listener to keep up often resulted in responses of refreshing honesty—spoken in haste to silence her, regretted at leisure long after the damage was done.

  “Yes, yes, well, I thought it best to set Robin an honest task, and Paris was happy to oblige. Winifrith promised, did she? Well,” a glance at Sir Elric, who now seemed quite interested in the conversation, “of course. Anything to keep the peace, eh?”

  It was far more than Kate had hoped. “So. Trustworthy?”

  Again Lionel glanced at Sir Elric. “Well, if you have spoken to John Paris, you will know that I did him no favor recommending Fitch’s half brother. He’s a thief. Was.” He crossed himself. “But Paris is a satisfactory tenant.”

  “Why do you ask?” asked Sir Elric. “Are you considering some trade with him, Dame Katherine? Or using him as a courier?”

  “I have from time to time con
sidered some arrangement about his warehouse.”

  “Business is good?” Lionel asked with interest.

  “Not at present, with the soldiers on the roads, the king’s men on our ships, but when the royal cousins resolve their differences . . .” She shrugged. “I plan for better times.”

  “So do we all.” Lionel tried to smile, a disturbing business.

  Clearing his throat, Elric said he must take his leave. “Remember what I have told you,” he said to Lionel, who sniffed as if insulted but nodded, nevertheless.

  Kate had noticed that Elric was dressed for hot weather travel, a linen shirt beneath a short, sleeveless leather jacket and leather riding breeches. He might have dressed so to ride into the city, but it was possible the earl had summoned him, and, if so, this might be her last chance to find out what he knew about the troubles at the Martha House. She declared herself ready to depart as well, telling Lionel she wished Winifrith a safe delivery.

  As they stepped out into the warmth of midday, Elric said, “Why have you taken such an interest in John Paris?”

  “I’m more interested in Fitch’s late brother, Robin.”

  “Ah. And why is that?”

  She gave a little laugh, glancing at him to see whether he was aware of what a ridiculous question that was. But he feigned confusion. Glancing round, gauging they were far enough away from the windows and there was no one about who might overhear, she said, “You ask why I am interested in the man who stabbed your man Kevin? The man whom Sister Dina surprised in the kitchen? You insult my intelligence.”

  As they approached a stone archway into the main yard, Kate signaled the hounds to block Elric’s way. When he stepped toward them, Lille growled.

  “What is this?” Elric looked at Kate. “You do not want to challenge me.”

  “Oh, but I do. I want to know why you lied to me the morning after Kevin’s wounding.”

  “I did—”

  “You said you’d not yet talked to your men, yet you went straight to St. Mary’s Abbey, where your man Kevin lay in the infirmary.”