by June Francis
Owain shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But I doubt Sir Roger would have told him where the coin was hidden. Besides, Sir Thomas has too much to lose to betray the King.’
Kate could only agree. ‘Most likely the friar would know…and the Comte perhaps.’
‘Naturally. There is one other person who would have known about them…and that’s the Lady Catherine. She might have even had one of her servants take one and hide it away.’
Kate stared at him in astonishment. ‘I never considered her doing such a thing. Surely she would have mentioned it to Mother or myself if she had.’ She gave Epona a final pat and made for the gate.
Owain followed her. ‘Someone might have put the idea into her head. I presume she gave you no hint of such a thing when she was dying, although you must have discussed what the other would do if one of you were to die? She had no husband, children or kin.’
Kate froze in her tracks. When she spoke her voice was husky with emotion. ‘We have spoken of this before. I’m certain she made a will before she left England, although she made no mention of it until she was dying. Even then I was unsure whether I heard her aright.’
‘What did she say?’
Kate dragged her gaze away from his and looked down at the ground. ‘She was too sick to speak clearly. Her mind wandered in her fever. There were odd snatches of lucidity when I managed to understand her. If I am right, then she left her will with the rector at Walton-on-the-Hill.’ Kate sighed. ‘But what does it matter now? The King has laid claim to Merebury, so it is unlikely her wishes will be met.’
‘They won’t be if you’re not prepared to claim what is yours, Kate.’
Kate felt the colour rush to her cheeks and lifting her head, she gazed at him. ‘You have seen the will?’
He nodded. ‘Who else would she leave her property to but her faithful companion? No doubt Sir Thomas’s lawyer will be in touch with the rector when I write to him about this.’
‘No doubt Sir Thomas will accuse me of murdering my Lady as soon as he knows I am her main beneficiary,’ she said bitterly.
Owain frowned. ‘Calm yourself, Kate. You do both Sir Thomas and myself a discourtesy. My message will inform him that the Lady Catherine is buried in the graveyard at Villafranca. If there are those who would accuse you of murder, then he will send someone to verify your word.’
She flushed. ‘You truly believe that he will do that for me?’
‘I would not write to him otherwise,’ he said patiently.
Her temper flared and her eyes sparkled with anger. ‘I don’t know why you have to send word to him at all! I suppose you’ve already written to him and told him that you suspect my mother and brother are alive?’
He nodded. ‘Part of the task appointed to me was to find the Fletchers. Once my father’s funeral is over then you will take me to them.’
I will not, thought Kate rebelliously. She did not have his faith in Sir Thomas and was determined to speak to her mother and Diccon alone before making any decisions that could endanger their lives. Tomorrow she would attend the requiem mass, but, during the funeral meal, she would pretend to have a megrim and leave the hall. She would go on horseback and as she would be travelling alone, would wear her pilgrim’s garb, and hope to pass unnoticed.
Chapter Ten
Kate urged the dappled grey mare through the Northgate of Chester. An autumnal nip was in the air, but at least the rain held off during her journey, which had passed without incident. All she had to do now was find the quickest route to her uncle’s house, which she had not visited in years. She called to a boy carrying a basket of rushes and asked the way to the street of the shoemakers. He directed her to the abbey and along East Gate Street. Not far from the city wall, overlooking the river, was Souters Lane.
In no time at all, she came to a lane plunging steeply towards the Dee. She dismounted and led the horse between the open fronts of houses where shoemakers laboured. Some were cutting out leather, others sat cross-legged, stitching soles to uppers or mending shoes on lasts. Suddenly she recognised a face and pounced on a youth brushing up offcuts of leather and thread into the street. ‘Diccon!’ she cried in delight.
‘Gerroff!’ The brown-haired youth pushed her away.
‘Diccon, it’s me, Kate!’ she cried.
He dropped the besom and stared at her in disbelief. ‘You can’t be Kate. You’re dead.’
She laughed. ‘I can understand you deeming that so…but here I am alive and well.’
His hazel eyes washed over her. ‘What happened to your hair?’
‘Never mind that now.’ She hugged him. ‘Where is Mother?’
‘She is off some place with our aunt,’ he said, freeing himself from Kate’s embrace, flushing red with embarrassment to the tips of his ears. ‘They’ll probably swoon when they see you.’ Diccon stared at her as if he still could not believe she was there in front of him. ‘You look…older.’
She laughed. ‘I am older…and I could say the same about you. You’ve grown up.’
He grimaced. ‘You wouldn’t believe it—the way our uncle treats me. But forget him for now. What of the Lady Catherine? Is she well?’
Kate’s expression altered and her eyes were sad. ‘She died of a fever.’
His freckled face fell. ‘Mother will be upset.’
‘It was a great sadness to me, but there was little I could do to help her. All the spirit went out of her after we were attacked in the mountains by brigands. We lost all that we possessed and she cut off my hair so men would believe me to be a youth. She wouldn’t eat, and travelling on foot with little respite exhausted her.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘It is a great pity. She and her father were good to our family.’
Kate agreed with a sigh. ‘It was difficult for me to continue after she died, but I made her a promise. It’s a long tale and I’d rather tell you and Mother together. Suffice to say that I met someone, whose home is less than half a day’s journey from here. He gave me permission to ride this mare.’ She patted the horse’s neck. ‘Epona is her name.’
Diccon’s lips twitched as he stared at the horse. ‘There’s little of the goddess about her.’
Kate put her hands over the horse’s ears and said in mock reproof, ‘I’ll not have you hurting her feelings. She is the perfect horse for a lady.’
Diccon raised his eyebrows. ‘You—a lady?’
Kate raised her chin and assumed a haughty expression. ‘On Master Owain ap Rowan’s manor they believe me to be the Lady Catherine Miles.’
He gaped. ‘You jest?’
She shook her head. ‘He mistook me for her whilst we were in Spain.’
Diccon’s eyes narrowed. ‘What have you been up to, sister? I want to hear all.’
‘Later I will tell you everything. Mother—she is well?’ asked Kate, her eyes filled with concern.
Diccon said glumly, ‘She’s not happy here and neither am I—but where can we go? I would return to Merebury, but Mother says it is too risky.’
‘Master Owain ap Rowan’s manor,’ said Kate without a second thought.
Before Diccon could reply, a man came out of the house behind him and growled, ‘Stop wasting time with that lad and get on with your work, boy.’ He clouted Diccon across the head, causing him to drop the besom.
Kate was indignant and would have voiced her feelings. But as Diccon bent to pick up the besom, he whispered, ‘Don’t let Uncle know it’s you.’ As he straightened, his expression was sullen as he looked at his uncle. ‘He was asking if I could recommend a tavern for his master and mistress, who have not visited Chester before. I told him to try the Falcon on Bridge Street, not far from the Friar’s Gate. He’ll need to turn left at the top of the lane and carry on in that direction.’ Diccon jerked his head at Kate.
She mumbled her thanks and led Epona back up the lane, puzzled by her brother’s behaviour. But, by the time she reached the top of the lane, she concluded that he meant her to go to the Falcon with the intention of meet
ing her there later. On the way to the inn, she gazed about her, hoping to catch sight of her mother, but with so many people thronging the streets that proved impossible. She found the inn without difficulty and prayed that she would not have to wait long before Beth and Diccon joined her. She thought with longing of Owain and wondered if he had missed her yet.
Owain’s head throbbed. What with the noise, the smoke from the fire, the wine and ale, he’d had his fill of people and longed for them all to go. At least Gwendolyn was still abed, so he was not plagued by her dark stares, complaints and threats. He wondered if she’d had second thoughts about her daughter, but he was more concerned about Kate. He had not seen her since she had excused herself, saying she felt a megrim coming on and needed fresh air. His need to attend his guests had made it difficult for him to accompany her, although at the time he had seen no reason to doubt that she did indeed have a megrim. Even so, he wanted to find her. She had scarcely spoken to him since their conversation yesterday. He wished he could have been completely honest with her, but it would have meant breaking his word. He must find her and assure her that she and her family were in no danger from Sir Thomas and that it was vital that he spoke with her mother. He signalled to Davy to take his place and left the hall.
Kate was not in the gardens and neither was she in her bedchamber, where he found the gown she had worn that day on the bed. Where was she? Could she have gone, alone, in search of her mother and brother? Apprehension seized him and he ran down the backstairs and hurried to the stables. As he crossed the yard, one of the stable lads hailed him. ‘Master Owain, here is a strange thing, Epona is missing. I could understand if one of the other horses had been stolen, but—’
‘Saddle Merlin,’ ordered Owain, convinced that Kate had taken the horse. But where was her destination? He thought deeply as he checked his pouch for coin and remembered her asking if she could accompany him to Chester the morning after his father had died. It was only a slender lead, but it was all he had. It suddenly occurred to him that, if she had gone there and could not find her family, she might seek shelter at the abbey lodging house—a building frequented by the friar. He prayed for her safety and, once in the saddle, headed at a gallop across the fields in the direction of Chester, knowing he had to get there before the gates closed at sundown.
Kate was anxious and restless. She had been waiting an age for her brother and mother before it occurred to her that the friar could be staying in Chester and might recognise her. She was seriously considering returning to the house of her aunt and uncle when she caught sight of Diccon and Beth approaching from the direction of Souters Lane. Her mother wore a russet gown and a grey cloak, the hood of which concealed most of her soft brown hair, but Kate would have known her walk anywhere. Her worries evaporated and she hurried towards them.
Tears brimmed in Beth Fletcher’s eyes, spilling over and trickling down her slender cheeks. She stopped a foot or so away from Kate and exclaimed, ‘Your hair! No wonder your uncle mistook you for a lad. But it is you, daughter…and I never gave up hope of you returning, even when it appeared that I was a fool to carry on believing you would.’
Oblivious to the stares of passers-by, Kate flung herself into Beth’s arms and wept. When there were no more tears left, she lifted her head. ‘I have so much to tell you, Mother. Some of it good and some bad. But let us get away from here. Friar Stephen stays here at the abbey lodging house and we might be seen.’
Beth paled, darting glances at the faces of those nearby, but fortunately there was no sign of the friar. ‘How do you know this?’ she asked her daughter, watching as she handed the horse’s reins to Diccon.
Kate slipped an arm through her mother’s and urged her in the direction of the river. ‘I will explain when I reach that part of my tale.’
‘Diccon told me of Lady Catherine’s death. My heart is sore with grief for she was like a daughter to me,’ said Beth, her voice quivering.
‘I also grieve…but at least I fulfilled the promise I made to her.’
‘What promise was that?’ asked Beth, her face blotchy with weeping.
‘To pray for her soul at the tomb of St James.’
Beth’s eyes brightened. ‘Praise the Holy Trinity! Was it wonderful in the city of the saint?’
Kate told her mother about the shrine and the cathedral and the celebration. When she finished, Beth said enviously, ‘How I wish that I could have been there. But explain to me, daughter, how you came to be mistaken for the Lady Catherine? This Master ap Rowan…where did you meet him?’
Kate schooled her features to show little emotion. ‘Whilst in Spain. At first I believed Owain to be an enemy…and it is true that he was sent by Sir Thomas Stanley to find us and Lady Catherine.’
‘So it is as I feared. Our flight has caused him to believe we are guilty of Sir Roger’s death.’ Beth’s face was pinched and drawn.
‘Owain denies that, although he has admitted that his commission is to find those responsible for Sir Roger’s murder. He is acting on the King’s orders.’
‘The King is sick in his mind,’ said Diccon, who had been listening intently. ‘Prayers are being said daily in the Abbey for his recovery and the well-being of his son, Prince Edward, Earl of Chester.’
Kate turned to him. ‘Owain told me that the Duke of York is Protectorate of England because of the King’s illness.’
‘Aye, and he immediately removed Edmund Beaufort, the Duke of Somerset, from his lucrative position as Captain of Calais and placed him in the Tower, claiming the post for himself,’ said Diccon with a laugh. ‘Who can blame him when the King favours others above him?’
‘How do you know this?’ asked Kate, surprised that he should be so well informed.
‘The Beaufort lords visited Chester when the Earl of Richmond was here. We feared there might be trouble here in the north.’
‘The Earl of Richmond was here?’ cried Kate.
Diccon rolled his eyes. ‘I tell you, sister, I’ve seen more of the King’s relatives here in Chester than I ever did at home.’
‘You distract Kate from her tale,’ said Beth, drawing her cloak closer about her as a breeze from the river set it billowing. ‘She has yet to tell us how she was mistaken for Lady Catherine.’
Kate hesitated. ‘It was no mistake, Mother. I decided it was safer for me to pretend to be her. I was alone in a foreign land and decided I would be treated with respect if I claimed to be a Lady.’ In her mind’s eye Kate pictured herself facing Owain dressed in the new gown he had given to her. Her pulse beat rapidly as she remembered the expression in his eyes as he had stared at her, recalled the feel of his fingers on her neck as he had combed her hair.
Beth nudged her daughter with an elbow. ‘Don’t stop now. Was your virtue in danger?’
Kate collected herself. ‘That is why my hair was hacked off. Master ap Rowan believed me to be Diccon at first.’
Beth groaned. ‘And now he believes you are a lady dressed the way you are…and with that hair?’
Kate pressed her mother’s arm. ‘I told him the truth when we were in France and now he is certain you and Diccon are alive and wants to meet you.’ She added in soothing tones, ‘I don’t think he suspects us of murdering Sir Roger any more.’
Her mother moaned. ‘Easy to say that. What else did you tell him, Kate?’
She glanced at her brother. ‘I have not told him what we saw the day our father died.’
Beth looked relieved. ‘At least in that you have behaved wisely.’
‘But it is a reason for the friar and the Comte wanting us dead,’ said Kate.
Beth crossed herself. ‘Praise the Saints that neither has crossed our path since.’
‘Comte d’Azay is believed to be Owain’s stepmother’s lover and the friar is her uncle. He persuaded Owain’s father to give him money.’
Beth put a hand to her head. ‘Are you saying this Owain, this Master ap Rowan, is acquainted with both these men?’
Kate nodded.
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br /> ‘I can’t believe it,’ wailed Beth, clutched her cloak. ‘And you told this man that we are alive?’
A flush darkened Kate’s cheeks and she shook her head. ‘Don’t fret, Mother. He loathes them both. Now let me tell you some good news.’
Beth sighed. ‘There is some.’
Kate smiled and squeezed her mother’s arm. ‘The Lady Catherine made a will and left it in the care of the rector at Walton-on-the-Hill. She has left Merebury to me. If I had perished, then it would have come to you. Whatever, it does not matter because I survived and where my home is there will be yours also.’
Beth stared at her as if she could not believe her. ‘It is indeed a great gift, but what chance have we of taking possession of it?’ she said gloomily.
‘Owain believes that Sir Thomas will help me,’ said Kate firmly.
‘Owain! Owain! I tire of hearing this man’s name. You are besotted with him and he would lead us into a trap,’ said Beth, shaking her head.
Kate’s colour deepened. ‘I believe it is not in his interest to lead us into a trap. I have trusted him with my life and he has shown me kindness. Merebury is mine and I will fight for it. So what is it to be, Mother? Are you willing to meet Owain ap Rowan? If so, we must leave now before night falls.’
Beth fixed her with a stare. ‘No doubt if I refuse to go with you then you will go alone.’
‘I have travelled far to get here, Mother. I love you and do not wish to be parted from you so soon,’ said Kate in a low voice.
‘Then give me time to think, daughter. Let me sleep on it. You have yet to explain, if this man knows you are Kate Fletcher, why those on his manor believe you to be Lady Catherine.’
Kate hesitated, knowing she was going to have difficulty explaining what had happened. There was silence, except for the dull plod of the horse’s hooves on the path of beaten earth and the sound of the rising wind whipping the surface of the river.
‘I’m waiting,’ said Beth.
