by Candace Robb
He took a step toward her. “Who—?”
Ghent growled as Lille blocked Elric with her body.
“A man is dead and a maidservant is missing, neither of which might have happened had you told me what you knew that morning. I’ve wasted precious time gaining the abbot’s trust, access to the infirmary—”
“And what have you held back from me?” Elric said. “Frost and Holme and their fellow members of the council sending money to Duke Henry—news I would have expected you to report to me. For the earl.”
“When we spoke, I only guessed they had some communication with the duke in Knaresborough. I knew no more than that. And then I hear you’ve gone to the abbey infirmary, and I find your men guarding Sister Dina at the maison dieu. By the time I learned about the funds for Henry I did not think I could trust you.” In truth, she had never yet felt she could trust him.
Elric bowed his head. “I see I was in error. I am sorry if—”
Kate shook her head to silence him as the door behind him opened, Maud Neville stepping out, a basket on her arm, a maidservant following on her heels.
“Oh, Sir Elric, did you annoy Dame Katherine? Mind the hounds!” Maud Neville giggled as she swept past.
Elric muttered a curse, but when Maud was gone he apologized for doubting Kate and any harm that might have come from it.
Kate nodded but did not call off the hounds.
“Do you believe the murder of your mother’s manservant is connected to the attempted theft?”
“I don’t know.”
“Perhaps this Robin had thought the man bided in the kitchen of the Martha House.”
That was a possibility she had not considered. And she quickly discarded it. Robin seemed to have been acting on information either willingly or unwittingly shared by Nan, who knew there were no men biding on the premises at the time. But Kate pretended to consider it. “Perhaps. In truth I have not yet found the link between the two.” Judging that she had made her point, Kate signaled Lille and Ghent to release Elric, and, as they walked out of Lionel’s yard, she told him what she knew of Nan’s disappearance.
“And your redoubtable Jennet has found no trace of her?” he asked.
She shook her head. “A favor. Could you ask your men to help search for her?”
“I will tell them to come to you with any information.” He proffered his arm.
“I cannot—I have two leashes to hold.” But she thanked him, and they proceeded toward the Foss Bridge. “You are dressed for travel. Are you going away?”
“Soon, yes.”
Halfway across the bridge, they both began to speak at once. He laughed, his usually chilly blue eyes warm, his chiseled features softer. Dangerously appealing. Kate looked away.
“Do you think Lionel put Fitch’s brother up to the theft? Is that what you hoped to learn?” Elric asked.
“I am not inclined to suspect Lionel of the deed. I was more interested in how much of what John Paris told me was the truth.”
“Are you satisfied?” he asked.
“For the most part. I was curious to find you in my brother-in-law’s hall.”
“The earl bid me warn Lionel that if he should stir up trouble in York during my absence, he will pay, and pay dearly. It seems the powerful men of the city have offered their support to Lancaster—now is the time for peaceful cooperation. As you know, Lionel has on occasion interfered with the earl’s”—a shrug—“spy work in the city. I was also to advise you to send a messenger to the earl at Raby if Lionel should transgress. It seems my lord still hopes to make you an ally.”
“You might have thought of that before lying to me.”
“Surely you cannot fault me for expecting either your partner Holme or your cousin Frost to inform you of their support for Duke Henry?”
He’s right, Geoff whispered in her mind. Even you were surprised. You cannot fault him there.
No, I cannot.
She sighed. “I should think I have proved I am your lord’s ally.”
“In matters you deem safe for your friends.” Elric raised a brow. “Am I wrong?”
Kate smiled.
They were back to their familiar sword dance. Soon he would ask about the letters he still suspected she held, incriminating the earl. But Kate was not entirely averse to his request to keep an eye on Lionel. It was in her own interest to keep him in line.
“Of course I will inform the earl if Lionel should transgress. And I am glad of the chance to thank you for keeping watch on the Martha House.”
He glanced at her. “It was Kevin’s doing. At first. And after that—I did not know whether you would find it annoying or helpful, but I’d heard about Hans, and that Griffin and Werner had disappeared, and thought you could use some additional eyes.”
My, he knew much about her affairs.
“I still hope to make amends for my part in your troubles this past winter,” Elric added. “And—”
Kate grinned. “Your lord would like his letters.”
The skin round Elric’s eyes crinkled in his tanned face when he laughed, and his eyes, his broad shoulders . . . Kate was glad of the crowd round them, forcing her to pay attention to where she was walking. She had been far too long without a man in her bed.
“What word of your man Kevin?” she asked.
“I am aware that Berend has talked to him.”
Kate nodded. “But have you more recent news?”
“He is healing well. In time, he may recover his strength and faculties. But Brother Martin warns his will be a long healing. I wondered. Might he find a temporary place in your household? So that he might be near the abbey infirmary? Sheriff Hutton is too far. Not at once. He is still confined to bed. But by Martinmas at the latest . . .”
“Of course. He has done much for the sisters. If not mine, I will find him a place in a good household.”
Elric thanked her. “And the letters?”
She laughed. “If I were in possession of them, I might be quite disposed to hand them over to you. But as it stands . . .”
“They are of no use to you.”
“Then all the better I do not have them.”
They had reached Coppergate. Sir Elric paused, turning to her, his eyes warmer than she had expected after that exchange. “My plan is to depart tomorrow. I will leave two men here in the city. Should Lionel cause trouble for you—”
“Where do I find your men?”
She was interested to learn that they were lodged but five houses from her guesthouse, on Stonegate, in the home of a goldsmith. Very near the property her uncle was deeding to her.
“They take their midday meal at the York Tavern, so you might always leave word there as well. And I will not forget to tell them about Nan.”
How he smiles at you. And you, him, Geoff whispered in Kate’s mind.
Be quiet.
Elric had begun to take his leave. “Before you go,” she said, “what can you tell me of Sir Alan Bennet and his fellows?”
“Ah. A puzzle that intrigues me. No livery. Even those he hosted in your home on Petergate were circumspect, saying only that he had the ear of barons close to King Richard, that he had been sent by them to see that those arriving to hold York for the king were welcomed and honored. Have you any more?”
“No. My uncle sent him to me, yet now vaguely claims he was recommended by friends.”
“Richard Clifford, the noble dean of York Minster.” Sir Elric clasped his hands behind his back and gazed down at the cobbles for a moment. “He is a slippery one. My lord would give much to know where his loyalties lie.”
“I would say with the king, whoever he might be, and with the Church.” Kate smiled at Elric’s expression, how pleased he seemed. “Yes. Cliffords, Nevilles, Frosts—Northerners all, seeing to family first. Why risk land and status when one royal cousin is much the same as another?”
“They disappoint you?” Elric asked.
“I agree with them, more’s the pity. Lives will be lost. And for what?” Bid
ding Elric good day, Kate clucked to Lille and Ghent and moved on, hoping she did not show her dismay. She had shared too much, let him see her too clearly.
Do you believe that about all such struggles? Do you think we died for nothing? Geoff whispered in her mind.
I wonder, Geoff. I do wonder. And I hate that it might be so.
Dinner sat heavy in Kate’s stomach as she took a seat near where Sister Dina sat, examining the swirling pattern on a deep blue brocade. Quietly, Kate told her that Kevin, her rescuer, was on the mend, but that Robin, her attacker, had died. The brocade slithered off Dina’s lap as she covered her mouth. She stopped breathing, her eyes registering the enormity of her deed. Kate touched her shoulder, spoke about the rough handling by the soldiers, by Kevin, how there was every reason to believe he would have recovered had he suffered only the wound she inflicted. Kate sensed the other sisters crowding behind her as she spoke, recognized her mother’s hand on her shoulder.
Brigida and Clara flowed round Kate and knelt to their friend, touching her, offering her soft words. Kate rose, genuflected at the lady altar, saying a prayer for Dina, Robin, Kevin, and all who were suffering, and then walked out into the sunny afternoon.
“What was the purpose of the intruders?” her mother asked.
Kate had not noticed her following. Turning, she was taken aback by the fear in her mother’s beautiful green eyes. “I do not believe they will be back.” She shared Bran’s account of their scheme, as well as Prior Norbert’s promise to see to Friar Adam. “Even Lionel Neville should be on his best behavior for the nonce. Rest easy, Mother.”
But Eleanor shook her head. “Someone wishes to discredit us.”
“Mother, I’ve just told you—”
“Of course Robin and his fellows would think it was a simple theft—why would those seeking to discredit me bother to explain that to such simpletons?”
Her mother seemed quite certain it was not over. “How would they discredit you? What is in the books?”
“Nothing but God’s word, Christ’s teaching. But the Church twists the lessons so that the people are humbled, fearful, so that we crawl on hands and knees to the priests begging for absolution and offer them all our wealth.”
What could Kate say? It was no more than what others thought but dared not say aloud. “Are you a Lollard, Mother? Do you renounce the authority of the pope and his priests?” She had heard sermons against the followers of the English theologian John Wycliffe, as well as much quiet agreement among her acquaintances.
“Lollards. Pah. I am merely a Christian who has heard Christ’s message of love. But what of Hans? And Nan’s disappearance? What did they have to do with the books and the Christ child?”
Good questions, all. Kate had been so busy trying to calm her mother she had forgotten how much remained unresolved. Particularly the murder of Hans. It was possible she was blinded by her insistence on seeking connections. These were troubled times, violence ever close to the surface. But so much coincidence? “I know you do not wish me to ask why you fled Strasbourg after Ulrich’s death, but—”
“I did not flee, Katherine. You make me sound like a criminal.”
Patience, Kate schooled herself. She touched her mother’s arm, gently, affectionately. “Forgive me, I did not mean it in that way. What I was suggesting is that you might share all that I have just told you with Griffin and Werner. It might help them in their investigation.”
Her mother said nothing.
“I trust that you have the items—the books, the Christ child—safely hidden? No longer in the chests that Nan told Robin about?” Kate asked.
“Do not worry. They are safe.”
Kate did not believe her. But challenging her would do no good. So she changed the subject. “Dean Richard is leaving the city. He believes he best serves the realm from Westminster during this—until the royal cousins resolve their differences. Did Griffin tell you? Dean Richard says he explained that to him.”
Now her mother turned. “What are you saying? Griffin met with Richard Clifford?”
“Did you not send him to my uncle to request his support?”
“No. What—” She shook her head, looked away. “Griffin seeks to protect me. But from whom?”
“If you would confide in me, I might help you.”
“No. No, I do not want this to touch you.”
For a moment Kate’s breath caught in her throat. An admission, however small and vague, that something was afoot. Gently she asked, “Is that why you will not tell me about Ulrich’s death—you fear for my safety?”
“Why do you think this is about his death?”
Because I see it in your eyes, Kate thought. She was certain of it now. But to say that would only push her mother away. “If it is not about what happened in Strasbourg, then what is it that you fear? What task have you set Griffin and Werner?”
Whispering to herself—a prayer? a vow?—Eleanor sat down on the bench outside the garden door and covered her face with her hands.
“Mother?” Kate sat down beside her. “Please, I could help if I knew what troubled you.”
With a sharp intake of breath, Eleanor straightened and patted Kate’s arm. “I see why you like Jocasta Sharp. She is so kind, so helpful. Friar Gerald will serve very well for us. Bless you, Katherine.”
Kate spent the time after dinner lazing in the river gardens, letting Lille and Ghent explore with Petra and Marie while she sat beneath a linden with Sister Clara. They began in silence, Kate listening to the life of the garden—the birds, a persistent woodpecker providing the rhythm beneath the songbirds’ melodies, with insects buzzing about in a wild counter-tempo. Her companion fingered beads, murmuring prayers. Petra and Marie addressed Lille and Ghent in French, dissolving into giggles whenever the hounds regarded them with their soulful eyes, as if asking for translation.
“Children, dogs, a garden, a river. God’s gifts for troubled hearts,” Sister Clara said, pausing in her prayer. Peering into Kate’s face, her own shadowed by her veil, the beguine whispered, “But not comforting enough for you, I see. Is it Hans’s death?”
“All that has happened weighs on me, but it is my mother’s silence that darkens this sweet moment.”
“Silence? Dame Eleanor?” Clara gave a little laugh, but quickly sobered. “I have noticed that she uses speech as if it weaves a protective shell round her. One cannot break through to what is truly in her heart.”
Well said. “She hides something that causes her pain. But it is that pain I must plumb to understand what is happening here—the murder, the intruder. I need to know what happened in Strasbourg so that I might prevent another death—perhaps hers.”
Clara placed a hand over Kate’s, pressing it gently. “I will pray for her heart to open to you. You are everything to her.”
“You are the second person who has told me that today. But we have ever been at war with each other.”
“Not war. I sense nothing but love. It is life that has come between you. If you put all that has happened aside when you come together, you will see only the love, the godhead, heart to heart, soul to soul.”
“Beautiful words. I have tried patience, stepping away, waiting—but I see no crack in the shell. She gives no hint of what happened.” Kate turned on the bench and took Clara’s hands, looking into the eyes that radiated such warmth. She could not imagine how someone could be so unguarded. “Would you speak to her as you just did to me?”
Clara blinked. “I would if I might speak so to her. With Dame Eleanor one must be less direct. I will think what readings might inspire her.”
Readings. Well, it had worked with Dina. Kate thanked her, and they resumed their former occupations, Clara praying, Kate worrying, both of them watching the girls, who were down by the water, picking flowers to adorn each other’s hair.
Petra and Marie still fought, yet it was clear that they also cared deeply for each other, Kate thought. Perhaps she should spend more time with them, discovering how they
managed to have such peaceful moments.
As the afternoon lengthened, Sister Clara rose to go about her duties, and Kate gathered the wanderers and led them home. Too much sitting. In late afternoon, the two great oaks in Thomas Holme’s yard cast long shadows across Kate’s garden—the perfect time to practice at the butt without being blinded by the sun’s glare. The archery might help Kate collect and order her thoughts. Petra and Marie wandered over as she was stringing her bow, fingering the arrows, asking whether it was Seth’s father who had fletched them.
“Many of them,” said Kate. “Would you like Seth to show you how to do it? I could take you to the guesthouse one afternoon.” After guests had departed and before they arrived for their evenings.
“I would prefer to learn how to shoot the arrows,” said Petra. “How old were you when you learned?”
“My father had a bow made for me when I was ten, so a little older than you. But my brother Walter—your father—let me play with his old bow long before that. Out in the fields, where Mother would not see. She wanted my hands soft and smooth for embroidery and weaving.”
“But you weave.”
“I do. And I did with Mother.”
“But your needlework is sloppy,” said Marie.
“Thank you, yes, it is, and ever will be,” said Kate. “So you disapprove of archery?”
“No! If Petra learns, so do I.”
“And your soft hands?”
“Matt’s cousin Bella has lotions that will keep even a gardener’s hands soft and smooth, she says. And you wear those hand and arm guards.” Marie plucked at the leather.
“Ah.” Kate smiled. Marie’s affection for Petra seemed to inspire more curiosity. A blessing. “Your first lesson, then, is stillness. Sit down and be as still as you can be.”
The girls, giggling, sank down in the grass just behind her.
Kate paused a moment, eyes closed, quieting her mind. It took longer than usual, but at last she felt the calm spreading out to surround her. She had just reached for an arrow from her quiver when the gate in the hedge swung wide and Eleanor swept through, bearing a bowl.
“Sugared almonds, my dears. Would you care for some?”
