by Candace Robb
“As for you and I, our ship is expected soon,” said Holme, smiling. “As soon as all the fuss of the mayor’s feast is past, we will be busy. You will examine the shipment with me?”
“Of course.” She took pride in her eye for quality. Her partners appreciated it.
“I do have a proposal.” He cleared his throat. “My nephew Leif is a personable young man, has managed my warehouses, and my late brother’s, for almost a decade. Honest, hardworking. I believe we would be all the better for employing him as our clerk for sales.”
“You no longer need him as a manager?”
“He would continue in that capacity as well. The truth of it is, Leif has a mind to marry.”
“I had not considered him,” said Kate. Leif Holme was a comely man, in his early thirties, she reckoned, with a good reputation and a pleasant manner. He just might do. “Who is the woman?”
“Cecily Wheeldon.” Holme nodded. “I see that frown. He knows he must bide his time, she is so recently widowed. Christmastide, was it not?”
“Forgive me, I should not judge. I do not know her well.”
Thomas peered at her. “But?”
With her partner, she could be honest. “There is something sly about her. Too curious, too many questions about the guesthouse.” Ever a concern, but more so at present. “I am not at ease in her company.”
“Oh?” Thomas and his mistress were regular patrons of Kate’s guesthouse. “Hm. I have my concerns as well. And I wondered—You have assured me in the past that you are well acquainted with the financial health of your clients, ensuring that no one has cause to betray a fellow they might encounter at the guesthouse.”
Kate, Jennet, and Matt did indeed investigate potential clients. “You wish me to look into the widow Wheeldon? Something in particular?”
“I am concerned that she uses Jon Horner as a sort of factor, representing her in financial matters, but not precisely an accountant. I do not trust the man.”
“Did he play that role when her husband was yet alive?”
“I don’t believe so. I might be mistaken.”
Jon Horner. Kate remembered the incident in the market, Horner and Merek. “I will see what I can learn.”
“You are a good friend, Katherine.”
“And if you do not like what you hear?”
“I will warn Leif. He might have his choice of young women in the city, being a Holme.” A shrug. “I cannot tell whether he is in love with her, or merely keen to make his mark and settle down.”
“He sounds an excellent candidate for us. Will he be comfortable coaxing money out of customers? He seems of a generous nature.”
“Oh, he has a way with him, Leif does. He will enjoy it. And we want no one too greedy, eh?”
“That we do not.” Kate smiled. “I believe we have a new clerk.”
They shook on it and parted on that satisfied note.
With a firm hold on the hounds’ leads, Kate picked her way down the poorly cleared path from Thomas Holme’s house to Castlegate, avoiding the deeper drifts of snow. For a moment she enjoyed a sense of satisfaction. She liked working with Thomas Holme, and he clearly meant to continue the partnership.
“Katherine. What a pleasant surprise!” Her mother, Eleanor.
How did she know her daughter was next door? It was possible she might see Kate from her own kitchen doorway—had it been open. But on the morning after a heavy snowfall, with the wind still brisk?
Wrapped in a costly fur-lined cloak, Eleanor waved to her from across the fence. “Rose and Nan have swept a path for you. Come along!”
A passing whim to wave gaily and hurry on gave way to the practical. Sisters Agnes, Brigida, Clara, and Dina, lay sisters in the tradition of the beguines of Strasbourg who comprised her mother’s Martha House, worked among the common folk in the city. In the course of a day they heard all the gossip. If anyone had heard about Lady Margery’s presence, or that of her serving man, they would have. Though it was early in the day for them to have been out and returned. Still, her mother expected her now, and so she played the obedient daughter.
A fire blazed in the hearth and lamps lit up the well-proportioned hall, Kate’s hall since shortly after she and Simon were wed until Michaelmas, just months ago. How she missed it. She watched Lille and Ghent take up their customary spot by the fire.
“You had business with Thomas Holme so early?” Eleanor asked as they settled on facing benches. “Or are you searching for the woman your knight’s men seek? Lady Kirkby?”
A thrust to the heart of her troubles. Her mother had an uncanny aim. But of course Elric’s men would inquire at a Martha House, an establishment that might take in a woman in peril. Even more so one founded by the mother of someone known to be Margery’s friend.
“He is not my knight.”
“As you wish.” A little smile. “I see you know something of this,” said Eleanor.
“Sir Elric did mention that Lady Kirkby might be in York.”
“This is the lady who gave Marie and Petra the brooches?”
“How did you know that?” Delicate gold filigree nests with jets in the shapes of eggs tucked inside.
“Oh, Marie talks of her all the time, Lady Margery said this, wore that, she is beautiful, witty, kind, and loved Marie best of all.” Eleanor smiled fondly. “Petra scowls every time, which is just what Marie intends. I am sorry that such a friend is in trouble. Would she seek you out?”
Was it a graver sin than usual to lie to the founder of a house of beguines? “Too dangerous. Too many know we are friends.”
“Do you believe she is part of the rebellion?”
“I find it difficult to imagine either Lady Kirkby or her husband plotting to murder the king and his sons.”
“But not impossible.”
Escaping her mother’s close regard, Kate rose and crossed the room as if to admire the statue of the Blessed Mother on the lady altar. “I cannot imagine the circumstances that would so change them from ambassadors of peace to murderers. Has a traveler come seeking sanctuary, Mother?”
“No,” said Eleanor as she joined Kate, putting an arm round her. “But if she should, would you advise that we take her in?” she asked softly.
Kate met her mother’s steady gaze. “If she should appear on your doorstep, get word to me at once.”
“And keep her here until you arrive?”
“Yes.”
“Would you then give her up to your—Sir Elric?”
“I would hear Margery’s story before I decided. But that is not why I came,” said Kate. “I hear a little from Sister Brigida, but I wished to see you. It has been too long.”
“And so you see me.” Eleanor gave her an affectionate shake. “We are comfortable here. I pray we can look forward to a long lease?”
“I am happy with the arrangement,” said Kate. Though she wondered whether her mother would still prefer a more central location, such as the house on Low Petergate. Might they swap? She turned and took her mother’s hands, smiling into her startlingly green eyes. “I have some news. As I’ve just informed Thomas Holme, I have paid off the last of Simon’s debts.”
Her mother’s face lit up. “By the saints, you have done it, Katherine. I bow to you.”
Kate impulsively embraced her mother.
“Well, well,” Eleanor murmured as she patted her daughter’s back, then withdrew her arms. “Now what? Will you wed? Now that your cousin William is to be mayor you will have your pick of the eligible men in the city—faith, in the shire.”
“I am content as I am at present.”
“What of Sir Elric?”
Hoping to hide the flush as she remembered the warmth of his hands around hers the previous evening, Kate moved on to examine a new tapestry hanging on the wall. “He is not quite as irritating as he was, but ours is not that sort of relationship, Mother.”
“You may be the only person in York who does not see how he looks on you. But if you do not feel the same, well
. What of Berend? Any word of him?”
“None.”
“I am sorry.” Spoken softly, her expression sincere.
Kate glanced away, fighting tears. “This is French?” she asked, fingering the heavy silk of the tapestry.
“It is. I saw it in a shop on the bridge and I could not resist. The colors are so lively, and the Virgin and Christ child so regal, yet tender.”
“And I trust you haggled over the price until the shopkeeper sold it to you for half its worth?”
“Well, there are imperfections. Notice the angel’s toes, and that thing that might have been intended to be a tree in the background?”
Kate laughed. “I do see. But is this behavior suitable to a beguine?”
“We work hard for our money.”
“You are a wealthy widow, Mother.”
“Founding a Martha House is costly. And you charge us a considerable rent.”
Kate embraced her mother. “I tease you. I am glad to see the sparkle in your eyes. You seem content in this life.”
“It suits me. I feel blessed.” Eleanor pecked Kate on the cheek, then held her at arms’ length. “So what is next? Will you still have some trade with Thomas Holme?”
“We expect one of our ships any day. Silks and spices. A contract I signed in my own name. Free and clear.”
“Will your brother-in-law see it so?”
“I ensured that Lionel would have a separate contract with Thomas, though it is of short duration.”
“Sufficient to appease him.”
“For now.”
“Clever. But what of this woman, Lady Kirkby? Can she harm you? You will not play the fool for her and risk everything, Katherine?”
Yes, yes, Mother, I am doing just that, she thought. Could she read Kate’s heart? After all, she had carried in her womb the twin who lived on in Kate so long after his death, why doubt that she had some uncanny powers?
“Katherine?”
“Sir Elric vows to keep Lady Kirkby safe, unharmed, until he delivers her up to the king’s men.”
“Your voice quieted with those last words. You do not trust what will happen to her then.”
“It is said that King Henry knows his reign will not be secure until Richard is dead, and that he sent one of his henchmen to Pontefract to see to it. The French king believes Richard is already dead. If King Henry has so little care for his cousin’s life, I cannot think he would blink at ordering Lady Kirkby’s death. Her husband was executed without trial.”
“What did he do?”
Kate repeated what Elric had told her.
“Mon Dieu,” Eleanor exclaimed. “He was executed for committing an act of mercy?”
Kate knew the look in her mother’s eyes, the sideways glance, the frown. A test, to prove to herself that her mother did not read her mind. “You will tell me if she comes to you, Mother?”
“Do you promise to follow your conscience?”
“In faith, Mother, I find I trip myself up if I attempt to go against what I know is right.” Her mother’s approving nod seemed a benediction. For a moment she felt good about hiding Margery.
A nod. “I will send you word, Katherine.”
Kate thanked her mother and bent to slip the hounds’ leads through their collars while she struggled with the urge to confide in Eleanor.
“I must say, I would very much like to meet this Margery.”
Kate glanced up in time to catch her mother’s sly smile and asked the question before her mother could ask it of her. “She is not already here?”
“No. I am not so cunning as that. I leave that to you.”
Kate studied her mother’s face, but saw no challenge. God be thanked.
As Kate walked back out onto Castlegate the sun broke through the clouds, turning the gardens across the way into a dazzling world of diamond-encrusted trees, shimmering in the updrafts from the river below. She was tempted to let the hounds romp in the snow, but she was anxious to talk to Griselde and Jennet, see whether they’d had any news of Carl, or rumors of Lady Margery’s presence. And Berend. Where was he?
She was beset with questions and disturbing possibilities. Had Margery somehow drawn Berend into another plot dreamed up by her too-trusting husband? May he rest in peace. No, Berend would not be so foolish. Or would he? Even if he felt a debt to his former lord’s heir? Whether Petra’s insight came from something overheard or was truly a glimpse through the Sight, the “duty bound” was far more likely to have drawn Berend. God help him.
He is a seasoned warrior, her twin Geoff said in her mind. You have trusted him with your life and those of your children. Why doubt him now?
I don’t doubt him, I fear for him, Geoff.
And?
And I’m angry. She felt her twin’s nod. I feel betrayed. He hid all this from me, his connection with Montagu, the gift of land. That is no small gesture from his former lord. Did he not trust me?
I will be curious to hear how he explains himself.
If he returns.
Too restless to enjoy the snowy gardens, she headed back toward the center of the city.
On Coney Street, just beyond the Ouse Bridge, Ghent startled her with a bark. Lille followed suit. Their eyes were trained on a man standing at the corner of the church of St. Michael, beneath the eaves, in a shadow so dark Kate might never have noticed him without their warning. Something about him was familiar, and when he carefully raised a three-fingered hand to his mouth, Kate caught her breath. It was Berend, gesturing to the hounds to be quiet. They obeyed, looking away. Her heart raced. Berend, alive and well enough to be standing there, to respond quickly to what must have been an unexpected encounter. But why silence the hounds’ greetings? And why was Berend now slowly backing round the corner of the church? Ah, he was not looking at her, but across the street as he disappeared.
Whispering a command to the hounds to continue walking, but slowly, Kate studied the passersby, then looked across the street. Two men in travel-stained clothes tensely watching the crowd, their eyes darting back and forth. She guided Lille and Ghent diagonally so they wound up close to them. She nodded to one as he doffed his hat and bowed to her.
Lancastrian livery. King’s men, Geoff whispered in her head.
I noticed.
The second man bobbed his head, but was clearly impatient to be moving on, edgy. King’s men tracking Berend and they’d lost the scent?
“Fine hunting dogs,” said the more courteous one. “Unusual to see such fine beasts in the city.”
Kate nodded. “I take pride in them. I trained them myself.”
“But not here, I warrant. I hear the North in your speech.”
“This is the North,” she said. “Good day to you. God speed.”
He was bowing when she moved off, Lille and Ghent obediently trotting on either side, though she sensed their confusion, which only echoed her own. Why had Berend been lurking just there? Was he observing the king’s men? Or was she wrong about the connection? Perhaps they were simply passing through the city on some business related to the Lancastrian properties. Or searching for Lady Margery, not Berend. As she crossed into St. Helen’s Square, Kate paused, considering the York Tavern. The yard was empty at the moment. The quiet before the bustle of the midday diners. She might catch Sir Elric, find out whether he knew anything about the two men she had encountered. As she skirted round the cemetery in the middle of the square and crossed into the yard, she was busy fabricating a story about why the men made her uneasy without mentioning Berend. But it was simple—he would want to know.
The taverner Colin Merchet welcomed Kate as she stepped through the doorway into the public room, but shook his head at the hounds. “Forgive me, Mistress Clifford, but we permit no dogs on the premises. My granddam will not have them.” He was a pleasant-faced man, short, muscular, with the beginnings of a prosperous belly. Fair hair curled round his face, damp beneath a felt cap, a contrast to his dark eyes and ruddy complexion.
“Then woul
d you kindly ask Sir Elric to come out to the yard?” asked Kate. “I will wait there.”
“I would, but he is not here,” said Colin with an apologetic shrug.
“Ah. Then if you will tell him I wish to speak to him.”
Colin was about to answer when he glanced at someone who had just come up behind Kate and said, “And just like that, he appears.”
Turning, she found herself face to face with Sir Elric, who smiled as he greeted her with warmth, then crouched to greet the hounds. There was a time not so long in the past when they would have growled at him as they had the king’s man, baring their teeth, sensing Kate’s distrust. But as she’d grown more trusting of the knight, so had they. They sniffed his face, the hands he rested on his thighs, and then Ghent nudged him with his head.
“Do give their ears a rub. They sense Colin Merchet’s disapproval and could use some affection.”
“It’s not I who disapproves,” Colin protested.
Elric glanced up at the taverner. “Disapproval? Merchet, how can you look on this fine pair and not admire them? What problem do you foresee?” He rubbed Ghent’s ears, then Lille’s.
“They are dogs,” Colin said with a shrug.
“They are indeed. Your point?”
“We do not allow dogs in the tavern. Dame Bess’s orders.”
“No wonder the stable lad is so busy chasing rats,” Elric muttered. After one more affectionate rub for each, praising Lille and Ghent as both brave and gentle, Elric rose and turned to Colin. “I vouch for these noble hounds, Merchet. They are better trained, better behaved than most humans, and are worthy guests of your tavern.”
“I pray you forgive me, Sir Elric, but my granddam has never permitted dogs in here.”
“If you turn them away, you turn me away, for Mistress Clifford is my dear friend.”
His dear friend, Geoff repeated in her head with a chuckle.
You may be amused, but his friendship has proven useful, she noted to Geoff.
“My granddam will have my head,” said Colin, shaking his head at Elric.
“Then you have little to lose, for she will either way. You might recall that Dame Bess was eager for my patronage. She will not be so sanguine when I ask her to give me the bill. But so be it.” Elric shrugged and turned to Kate, his back to Colin, his eyes laughing. “You had suggested an alternative lodging in the city. Is it still available?” Clearly he expected to win this.