by Candace Robb
Clearly the two had forgotten their fear of the dogs—until the deep-chested barks.
“The dogs—” Sawyer began.
“No bargaining,” said Kate, motioning the men to rise. “First, hand over all weapons to Jennet. I will have no incidents in my home. She will return them to you out on the street.”
“You already have my dagger,” Parr snapped.
“Not the one in your boot.” Jennet held out her hand, grinning at his surprise.
“Come now, both of you,” said Kate. “I’ll grow testy if you keep me up much longer.”
Once Jennet was satisfied that the men were unarmed, Kate told Matt to bring a lantern. She ordered Lille and Ghent to accompany Jennet behind the men, and Kate and Matt led the way out of the hall and up the steps, calling to the lagging men to follow them. Her room, the girls’ room, Phillip’s room.
“Where are the children?”
“Oh, do be serious. They are too young to commit treason, surely,” said Kate, shooing them back across the landing and down the steps, round the corner and back to the kitchen, where she invited them to peer down the barrels if they so pleased. Then, quickly, out into the garden and into the garden shed. “And our garderobe. Please, I pray you, peer in. You never know who might be squatting in there.”
And then they were out on the street.
“What about the shop front?” asked Sawyer.
“What about it?”
“It is never open.”
“It awaits two sempsters.” Jennet and Sister Dina—as soon as Kate found a replacement cook. “Shall I inform you when they are open for business? Purse makers—decorated alms purses. Are you in the market for some? When I have some to show you I’ll send you word at—where are your lodgings?”
Neither man responded. No matter, Jennet would have one of her helpers track them.
“Well, you might ask your host to recommend a good laundress for that stain on your jacket. If you let blood set it will destroy the brocade.” Kate bobbed her head at the pair. “Perhaps I owe you my thanks. I shall not find traitors on my doorstep now you’ve made a nuisance of yourselves. But if I find you on my property again, I’ll not restrain my hounds.” She waved them off, greeting the night watchman who was passing, warning him to keep an eye on the drunken knaves she’d found wandering in her garden.
Jennet slipped out into the shadows. So she meant to track them herself.
Back in the kitchen Kate slumped against the wall, catching her breath.
“Berend and Lady Margery. They know they are in the city.” She closed her eyes, whispering a prayer.
“They are no match for Berend,” said Matt, “or for us. I’m not worried.”
“Whether or not to worry depends upon who they really are,” said Kate, opening her eyes as Jennet returned.
“You do not look triumphant,” said Kate.
Matt gave a low whistle. “They managed to lose you?”
Jennet cursed. “It was clear from the start they aren’t as foolish as they pretended.”
“Nor are we,” said Kate. But she was so on edge that a noise at the door had her holding her breath, half expecting Berend to saunter into the kitchen. But it was only Lille and Ghent returning from a last check of the yard. “I had hoped they might at least lead you to Carl.”
“I believe he is dead,” Jennet said. “While we awaited the intruders one of my eyes and ears came to tell me of a body found in a ditch outside Micklegate Bar the morning after Carl disappeared. A bald man of no distinction. He’s been taken to a small chapel out past Ben Coffey’s blacksmith shop where the priest buries those found along the road. It might be anyone, but such a coincidence? I will go on the morrow.”
“No, I will go,” said Kate.
All three bowed their heads.
Kate sat up sharp, still on edge from the night watch despite a few hours of sleep. “What is it? What’s happened?”
Jennet sat on the edge of the bed. “Trouble. One of my lads says Merek’s been murdered.”
Berend’s summoner. “When? Where?”
“An alley near the market. Sounds as if it was about the time Parr and Sawyer were here, so if it was them they had a very busy night. The night watch were milling about, so my lad could not get too close. But he says there is a great deal of blood, and the men were saying the spice seller had been stabbed, and his throat slit.”
Kate looked toward the window while she thought. Parr was certainly bloodied, but could the pair be so cool as to murder a man, try to wash out the blood, and then come to annoy her? Dangerous enemies, if so. If not them, who? Lionel? Merek had been prying into his affairs. Horner? He had clearly been uneasy about something when he had met with Merek in the market. Berend? No, please no, not him. She saw soft gray light through the chinks in the shutters. Not yet dawn. “Merek seemed a man with no shortage of enemies.” She stepped onto the cold floor. “I want to see him. I doubt they will move him before sunrise.”
Down in the kitchen, she found Kevin sharing an ale with Matt. The latter was yawning and blinking to wake up, but Elric’s man looked as if he had been up a while.
“You’ve heard about Merek?” Kevin asked.
“Only what a passerby was able to overhear,” she said. “I think you might want to find Jon Horner.” She told him what she’d witnessed in the market the previous day.
“Jon Horner?” Kevin looked doubtful. “I would not have seen him as a man prone to violence. He seems a timid sort.”
She saw pain in his expression. Something he did not want to tell her. “What is it?”
“A witness, a baker who lives near where they found the body, says that he saw Merek and Berend earlier in the evening. They were arguing, and Berend seemed the aggressor. So folk will say it likely follows that he is the murderer.”
“No. No, I don’t believe it.”
“Do you think I do? But the sheriffs’ constables are searching for him.”
She was thinking about the market and the angry customer. Perhaps he’d overheard something or had seen what the two had exchanged. She wondered whether Merek told Horner to blame anything that happened on Berend.
“. . . wanted you to know before he comes,” Kevin was saying.
She shook her head at him. “I’m sorry, before who comes?”
“Sir Elric. He will be coming to talk to you. If you would—”
“I will say I heard it from Jennet. He will never know you were here.”
“Have you seen him? Berend?” Though Kate said nothing and tried not to change her expression, Kevin shook his head. “Have a care, Dame Katherine. Everyone is frightened, fearing what punishment God will rain down on a realm that discards the holy anointed king. I would not have you risk your life even to protect a friend.”
She would have preferred not to, but there was no turning back now. “Did you see Merek’s body?” she asked.
“Not closely. Sir Elric did.”
“He was about in the night?”
“Dame Bess woke him, said there was trouble, wanted him to find out what it was.”
“How did she know?”
Kevin shook his head. “She is as secretive as Jennet about her sources. Maybe Horner?”
“I want to see the body.”
“He’s already been moved. To prevent the murderer from coming back to snatch the body and hide it.” Kevin moved toward the door. “I must go. I will be missed.” He turned as Kate touched his arm.
“Thank you, Kevin. I will not forget this.”
He lifted Kate’s hand and kissed it. “For you, anything.” His eyes held hers for a moment, warming her.
“God help us,” Jennet muttered when he was gone. “I’ll not believe it of Berend. Never.”
“Nor I,” Matt declared.
“Then we need to prove him innocent,” said Kate.
“What of Lionel?” Matt said. “Merek’s been asking questions of him. Would Lionel have cause to attack Merek?”
“I though
t of that, and I would love to point the finger at him,” said Kate, “but who would believe it of that coward? He likes to attack, but whines and runs when his victim turns on him.”
“What if Sir Elric was told to take care of someone asking too many questions about Lionel, a Neville?” asked Jennet. “What if he murdered Merek? Would he step forward to save Berend?”
Would he? Could she trust him to do the honorable thing?
Matt looked relieved, as if the idea were the answer. “If Sir Elric had been obeying an order from the Earl of Westmoreland, the sheriffs and the council would likely express their irritation but do nothing.”
Kate rubbed her eyes. “Pour me some ale.”
7
PASSIONS AND POTIONS
Early in the morning, as a wan sunlight lit up the bare crown of the oak, Kate stepped out onto Petergate with Lille and Ghent. Calling out greetings to neighbors as she crossed the intersection with Stonegate, she headed toward the little school in the yard of the church across from the guesthouse. She had decided the girls were safer with her mother for a few more days. The schoolmaster clucked at her as she explained that they were away for the nonce. This was one of the blessings of children in the household, how they pulled her into the ordinary tasks—this morning, dealing with their quarrelsome schoolmaster.
“They missed an important reading yesterday, Dame Katherine. Would it not be better to bring them every day? Let them take their French lessons in the evenings?”
“What if I come to collect the reading at the end of the school day and see that they work with it?” she said.
Master Jonas recoiled. “Let my books leave the schoolroom?”
“My tutor had us copy out our readings.” Thankful for the memory. “You might consider that.”
“What of the cost of parchment and ink?”
Worried about the cost—not in lives, but in halfpennies. “They could use their wax tablets. They might at least copy out the most important passages.”
Jonas shook his head, his oversized felt hat wobbling comically from side to side, along with the wattles hanging from his chin.
How the children must poke fun at him. It would not be easy, teaching impertinent young scholars. But this morning she blessed him for lightening her heart ever so slightly, enough that she bit back a smile. “When the days lengthen I will consider how I might rearrange their schedule. But they are good students, are they not?”
“They are competent when they wish to be.” More comical head wagging. “It is not my place to tell you how to order your household, Dame Katherine.” He closed his eyes and sighed as a shriek sounded from the classroom. Bobbing his head in farewell, the schoolmaster shuffled into the classroom, shutting the door behind him.
“Are you wild beasts?” He roared so loudly Kate heard it through the heavy door.
As she turned away, she discovered Lille and Ghent eyeing Sir Elric, who stood near her, leaning against the wall of the school. His nearness brought back the memory of his touch the evening of Kevin’s celebration, the strong attraction. His blue eyes seemed to shift to a warmer tone when he looked on her and his smile dimpled his chiseled cheeks.
“All schoolmasters are burdened by a belief in the perfect classroom,” he said, gracefully pushing from the wall and lowering to a crouch so he might greet the hounds. Strong legs, strong back.
Kate was glad he was so busy with the hounds he did not see her blush at the pleasure she found in observing him. Lille and Ghent had grown fond of him. And she? She was more confused than she cared to admit to herself. Should she trust the hounds’ judgment? They’d never led her astray.
“I’ve no need to ask what brings you here on this frosty morning,” she said, pleased to hear the confident ring in her tone.
He straightened, the smile gone. “I should have guessed Jennet would have already told you.” He bowed and crooked his arm, inviting her hand. “Might we talk in your kitchen? I would welcome a few moments by the fire.”
They walked in quiet companionship until they neared Kate’s house, where Elric expressed sympathy for Matt, who was shoveling horse dung from the area near the front door.
“That was my morning and evening chore as a lad. I hated it,” he said.
“Not a task anyone could face with enthusiasm,” said Kate with a little laugh. She imagined a boy with bright blue eyes, itching to run in the fields or go riding, and in that moment she felt a fierce regret for her deception. “Do you mind if Matt joins our conversation?” she asked. When Elric seemed puzzled, she explained, “Jennet and Matt are more than servants, you know that.”
“And you trust them with everything we might say?”
“I do.”
A nod. Kate called to Matt to join them when he was finished.
Jennet had the kitchen door opened wide. As she looked up from the three-footed pot sitting in the hearth she called out to them, “Come in, come in. I welcome the company.”
“Ale for all of us,” said Kate. “Matt will be here in a moment.”
“Ah.” Jennet wrapped a cloth round the handle of the pot and moved it to the side of the fire, then went to fetch bowls and a pitcher of ale.
Sir Elric gazed around the room as he took the seat nearest the fire. “I’ve been up and out in the cold for hours.” He nodded as Matt came in, bringing a draft of cold air with him.
“About another servant,” said Matt as he lowered himself onto the bench beside Kate and stuffed his long legs beneath the table. “Seth says his youngest brother might work mornings.”
“We will discuss it later,” said Kate. “At the moment I want to hear what more Sir Elric knows about Merek’s murder.”
They all watched as the knight sat forward, elbows on the table. He was so near that Kate could smell the anise she had noticed both he and Kevin chewed. Calm stomachs, sweet breath.
“As you know, he was murdered sometime during the night. Peter Trimlow was on his way to his bake ovens when he came upon the body near Thursday Market. Maybe an hour before dawn, he said. I examined the body—several wounds on his chest, and a slit throat. The alley where he lay is awash in blood, the melting snow churned—mud, blood, it’s impossible to tell whether it was one attacker or many.”
“How did you first learn of it?” asked Kate.
“Old Bess had a servant wake me, knowing I would want to hear of it, and wanting to know more. How she heard . . .” He shrugged.
“I understand the sheriffs are searching for Berend,” said Kate, watching his expression.
Elric did not look away. “The same baker claims he saw Berend and Merek arguing earlier in the evening.”
“It was Trimlow who raised the hue and cry?”
Elric nodded. “And of course he is eager to point the finger at someone else, lest he be suspected. I did speak to his wife, who swears he was abed early. But I don’t believe Berend did it. Not such sloppy work. The multiple stab wounds—that is an act of passion, not the work of a former assassin. If it were simply the throat—” He sat back and took a long drink.
“So many wounds,” said Kate. “Did you find signs of a struggle?”
“It’s clear by the types of wounds and the condition of the alley that he struggled with his attacker. There was a knife in Merek’s hand, bloodied. His attacker must be injured.” A shrug. “If it is his knife.”
Kate told him of Parr’s soiled jacket the night before, the bandage peeking from his sleeve. Left sleeve. “Was the bloodied nose part of a ruse to explain the bloodstain? Or suffered during the attack?” she wondered aloud.
“That is a good question,” said Elric. “Clever. But not clever enough.”
Clever enough to elude Jennet, Kate thought. “Why do you question whether it’s his knife?” she asked.
“It’s a common ruse for the attacker to leave his knife in the hand of the victim.”
“Those two were up to something,” said Jennet.
Elric was shaking his head. “If they were king’s
men they would identify themselves to me, Westmoreland’s man. Perhaps not at once, but they would have quickly learned of my presence in York.”
“Indeed,” said Kate.
“I don’t like it,” said Elric. “Who are they? You must have a care, Dame Katherine.”
“We know that.”
“Forgive me. I know you are capable of defending yourself. But we don’t know of what they are capable.”
A fleeting regret that Kevin was no longer in their household unsettled Kate. Damn Elric for seeding doubt in her mind. But he had no idea how much trouble she harbored. She had made certain of that.
“Do not worry about us,” she said.
He looked down at his hands, as if at a loss for what to say.
Matt broke the sudden uneasy silence. “A noisy brawl in the quiet of the evening and no one looked out to see what was happening?”
“Odd, isn’t it?” said Jennet. “Only Trimlow has come forward?”
“My man Douglas saw Lionel with Merek outside a tavern on Fossgate, near St. Crux,” said Elric. “After sunset—probably after the meeting with Berend. Pity he did not think to follow him until curfew. I have Harry watching Merek’s house now.”
“Lionel.” That interested Kate. She told Elric what Thomas Holme had told her, how Merek was asking round about her brother-in-law.
“Lionel Neville, my earl’s bane,” Elric muttered. “God help me, if he’s involved I’ll—” He shook his head. “No, Lionel would not have had the courage or the strength to slit Merek’s throat. Which would mean an accomplice.”
She sensed no duplicity in his response. So Merek’s murder was as much a mystery to him as it was to her.
“A pity you and Lionel are not close,” he said to Kate.
For once Kate agreed. “Lionel stabbing wildly, then the accomplice slitting Merek’s throat. I can imagine it,” she said.
“You said whoever struggled with the spice seller was likely injured—if that was his knife. It should be simple to find out whether Master Lionel has been wounded,” said Jennet. “As Dame Katherine said, one of our intruders was. But would he be so bold as to come here after such a deed?”