A Murdered Peace

by Candace Robb

  No.

  That is why you stayed.

  Silence.

  And now you do not know how to leave? To go to your rest?

  Would you be rid of me?

  For myself, no. But for you . . .

  You have much to do.

  She did. Crossing to the gate that opened into the alley, still in shade, she hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. If she set aside Merek’s murder, her focus should be on clearing Berend’s name. She must get a message to St. Mary’s Abbey in Cirencester as soon as possible. The abbot could testify that Berend had not been in Salisbury’s company. Could she get a messenger there and back in time? Would that be enough? As for Margery, Kate could think of no way to prove that Thomas knew nothing of the plot against the king, or that he had not shared information with his wife. As Margery had said, there was no way to prove ignorance. Margery must remain hidden until a plan was in place, and she must know nothing about any such plan until the last moment. God knew what she might say or do.

  Kate must find a way to sneak them out of York. Her impression of Sir Peter, albeit brief, was that he would cling to his mission like a terrier its catch. She had no confidence that he could be dissuaded from taking Berend and Margery to the king. So they must slip away.

  Would Elric help? Westmoreland had ordered him to find Margery and take her to Sheriff Hutton. It was one thing to defend Berend, quite another to defy his lord.

  Bess Merchet might be the one to help her with Margery.

  Listen! Geoff whispered.

  Someone moved away from her down the alley, trying to do so in silence, but the melting snow and mud betrayed them. There. A shifting shadow along the wall of a house across the alley, beneath a deep overhang. She waited for them to reach the corner where they must step into the light of the back garden—or disappear round the corner. Her patience was rewarded. A skinny lad, tall—Skulker. Still spying for Parr and Sawyer, she presumed. Had he been listening at one of Jocasta’s windows? But how had he not been caught? He crouched low, slinking toward the next overhang.

  Taking care to stay out of sight, Kate slipped through the gate and followed. He knew his way along the back gardens and alleyways of the city. He was quick, and good at slipping through narrow places, requiring her to wrap her cloak close round her and suck in her breath a few times. Had she any more flesh on her she could not have kept up with him. Once, when she had struggled through a particularly tight spot, she thought she heard someone behind her, and stopped, waiting as long as she dared, holding her breath. It must have been a cat or a rat scuttling across the opening, for she heard it no more.

  The pause cost her. She stepped into the Shambles just as a carter shouted to stay clear, his cart rumbling toward her with little clearance on either side. Skulker slipped between two buildings across the way, eluding her. As she stepped back into a doorway to avoid the cart someone brushed her, darting across the street so close to the moving wagon the carter cried out and halted. “Did I hit him?”

  “No. Child made it across,” a woman shouted back. “Little fool.”

  As soon as the carter cleared the doorway in which Kate had huddled she crossed the street and considered another narrow, dark alley between two butcher shops, the odor of rotten meat assailing her. She almost abandoned the chase—Skulker would be long gone—but as long as there was a possibility, she would not give up. Lifting her skirts, she plunged into the darkness, placing one booted foot in front of the other, not pausing when she felt the slight weight of something running over it, moving forward, one hand on the wall to steady herself on the slippery ground. The alley opened onto back gardens so small, houses rising all round, that no sun reached them and the snow still crunched underfoot.

  A yelp. Human. Kate strained to hear more. Was that a whimper? She hurried across the snow and into another alley, not nearly so narrow as the last one, allowing some light to filter between the buildings.

  “I thought you would never come!”

  God in heaven, Kate knew that voice. “Petra?” Kate blinked in the dimness, making her way to where her niece appeared to be kneeling on something.

  “Bloody bitch,” Skulker moaned.

  “He’s pissed himself, the pig,” said Petra.

  How did her niece come to be . . . Kate had left the girl in the schoolroom. Safe, she had thought. Master Jonas would hear from her. Drawing her axe from her skirt, Kate placed her booted foot on the lad’s neck and told Petra to rise slowly and move away. “Steady now, Skulker,” Kate said as he began to reach for her niece. “I have a battle axe in my hand. You do not want to test my skill with it.” He went still. “Now I’m going to let you up, but if you try to run, I’ll throw the axe. And in this shadowy place I might miss and harm you more than I intend. Do you understand?” How she wished she had Lille and Ghent with her.

  “Bloody bitch,” he repeated.

  She increased the pressure on his neck. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” he cried.

  “Now. Do not stir.” She removed her foot. Of course he tried to roll away, but she had anticipated that and grabbed him by one arm, pulled him up, and propped him against the wall, holding him there with one arm and a foot on one of his feet. In her other arm she swung the axe. He reached for it and she kneed him.

  He moaned and tried to double over, but she held him upright.

  “Petra, what’s on the other side of this alley?” Kate asked.

  “An old shed,” she said without hesitation. “I once slept in it.” The child spoke of her time on the streets without emotion. It was fact, it had happened. The truth was, the girl took pride in what she had learned in that hard life before Kate even knew of her existence.

  “We’ll go there to talk.”

  Yanking Skulker by the shoulder, Kate pushed him ahead of her, Petra staying well ahead. As they stepped out into what seemed an abandoned yard between two dilapidated houses, the blade of a knife glinted in the girl’s hand. God help her, the girl carried a dagger to school?

  Inside the shed was an old bucket missing a slat. Petra turned it over and Kate shoved Skulker toward it.

  “Sit.”

  The boy rubbed his crotch, then sat down, gingerly, holding a hand to his mouth. As he sucked, a drop of blood rolled down his chin.

  “Where are Parr and Sawyer?”

  He dropped his hand to his lap. “Don’t know ’em.”

  “You led them to the warehouse on Castlegate yesterday.”

  “Oh, them.” A shrug. “I don’t know where they’d be.”

  “You were spying on me for them.”

  He spit just to her left. “Not today.”

  She took hold of his shirt and shook him. Not hard. “The men in that warehouse want you dead, do you know that? They are looking for you.”

  “Well, they won’t catch me, eh?”

  “My niece did.”

  Another spit. “Girls’ luck.”

  Kate glanced at Petra. The child grinned but said nothing.

  “You are going to take me to Parr and Sawyer.”

  “And then hand me over to those what mean to kill me? Hah.” He scratched his crotch.

  “Is there anything in here we could use to tie him up?” Kate asked Petra.

  “I’ll look.” The child began to search through the debris.

  “I don’t want tying up,” said Skulker, hiding his hands behind him.

  “What you want means nothing to me,” said Kate. “Unless you’re ready to talk.”

  “Why do you want them?” He sounded sullen, but tired. His tough façade was cracking, and she was keenly aware of the patched clothes and mismatched boots stuffed with hay for warmth.

  “I believe they are guilty of murder, and I know the king’s men will be interested in them.” They were Salisbury’s retainers, she would tell Sir Peter, and they might know much about the plot against the king. That should entice him.

  “What do you give me?”

  “Safe passage out of Yor
k?”

  “Never been nowhere else.”

  Of course he had not. He stayed where he knew his way, knew whom to fear, whom to trust. “If you’re very helpful, I’ll find a place where you can work for your keep.”

  “Don’t know how to do nothing.”

  “You are cunning. You’ve kept yourself alive. It takes far less skill to clean out stables, but you would need to be honest and obey orders.” She imagined Bess Merchet’s laugh.

  A shrug. The child’s stomach grumbled.

  “Hungry?”

  “Always.”

  “Where are Parr and Sawyer?”

  “You’ll help me?”

  “I told you, I will help you if you help me.”

  He gave an impish laugh. “Your knight, Sir Elric—his men have ’em.”

  Kate felt a frisson of excitement. Yet another surprise. “How do you know?”

  “Saw them being pulled from baker Trimlow’s shed back of his house.”

  “Their hiding place?”

  A nod.

  “You were with them?”

  “They let me sleep there some days, didn’t they? So’s I would spy round while they slept.”

  “So why were you sneaking through the alley near Dame Jocasta’s?”

  Petra returned from her search with several lengths of rope, filthy and frayed but still strong, enough to tie up the skinny lad.

  The boy shot up, ready to bolt.

  Kate caught him and pushed him down on the overturned bucket.

  He whined about she-devils and having rights, but he sat quietly. “I don’t want tying up.”

  “Did Parr and Sawyer have other helpers besides you?”

  “Two others. Younger. Squeaks, I call ’em, peepers. Just seeing who’s going where.”

  “Did any of you see what happened to Merek?”

  “The spice man?” He shrugged. “Those two you’re after, they found him stumbling along the Shambles, roughed him a bit and he fought back, but they ran when they heard someone.”

  “They did not slit his throat?”

  Skulker shook his head.

  “Who did?”

  “Don’t know. I followed them.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a bad feeling about what was going to happen.”

  Jennet said the children who learned to respect such feelings were the ones who survived on the streets.

  “Did you see who was approaching Merek?”

  A shrug. “Might have.”

  “Who?”

  “Dressed like a lord.”

  “Jon Horner the scrivener?” Was it that simple?

  “Don’t know ’im. I only saw a red jacket with shiny buttons when he passed a lit up window.”

  Kate thought back to Horner lying on his bed in a soiled crimson jacket with the shiny buttons to mark him as a man of means. She turned to Petra. “Go to Jennet. Tell her I need some clothes to disguise him. Then we’ll take him—somewhere. I need to think.” Where could he stay until one of the sheriffs’ men got his statement? Certainly not Jocasta’s.

  As Petra hurried off, Kate asked, “Why were you sneaking round the Sharp house?”

  “Of a sudden I couldn’t get close last night, could I? What’s she guarding in there? I’m thinking the king’s men would like to know.”

  Had he been watching the guesthouse? Saw Margery moved last night? “Too late. I’ve decided to take you off the streets.”

  “You’ll feed me?”

  “I will.” Or someone would. Her mother’s Martha House might be too far. “What about a man who was traveling with my cook Berend? Did Parr and Sawyer take him?”

  “Bald man?”

  “Yes.”

  “Took him off the street a night or two before the spice man was killed. Searched his pack and it was a woman’s things. Clothes. ‘Where are the jewels? Where’s the lady?’ They shook him and punched him and stomped on his hand and he never said a word. So they slit his throat and left him in the ditch right there outside Micklegate Bar.”

  “What were they doing there?”

  “They were hiding there a while. Old plague hut. I didn’t tell ’em what it was.” A snicker. “Then they found the baker. Didn’t want to be around when the dead man was found.”

  Jennet shook her head. “If I knew where she’d gone I would tell you, but I don’t. Last I knew she was headed to the York Tavern.”

  Elric cursed. “I don’t think anyone else can convince him to eat.” Kevin had reported that Berend was fasting. Penance. Said God was punishing him through all this and innocents were suffering for it. Not good. If Elric wanted to sneak Berend out of the castle he needed him sharp, limber.

  “Dame Jocasta’s?”

  “I went there. She’d gone.” He looked down at Lille and Ghent, napping by the fire. “I don’t like that she’s out there without them.”

  “She is armed, sir, you can be sure of that.”

  He turned round as a whirlwind rushed through the door, pushing him aside, stomping her foot at Jennet.

  “Where is she? Where’s Petra?”

  “At school. Where you should be, Marie. What is this about?”

  The girl’s pretty face screwed up in what looked more like fear than anger as she stumbled through a story about Petra going to relieve herself and never returning. In her distress Marie’s words were a mixture of her native French and her usually impeccable English.

  Elric crouched down to her. “Marie, tell me. Did anything happen earlier? Was something said? Something that might draw Petra away?” How better to get to Katherine than through these children so dear to her? But Parr and Sawyer were in his custody. Who, then?

  The gray eyes looked here and there as the girl thought back over the morning. She shook her head. “Nothing, sir knight. Dame Katherine saw us to school. We heard people whispering about soldiers, and our schoolmaster stepped out to speak with her after we were inside, but he was not long, and Petra was with me. Do you think the soldiers? She wanted to see them?”

  “They were with me in St. Helen’s Square. I would have noticed her, as would Dame Katherine.”

  A great tear coursed down her red cheek. “Something has happened to her!”

  “Who?” asked someone from the doorway.

  “Petra!” Marie squealed as she ran to her fellow ward and punched her shoulder. Not hard. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. I was humiliated.”

  Petra gave Marie a little punch. “So you missed me?” She crossed to Jennet, nodding to Elric. “Dame Katherine needs some clothes to disguise Skulker. Just long enough to get him to a safe place.”

  “Skulker?” Elric sat down on a bench and patted the space next to him. “While Jennet is finding what you need, I want to know what’s happened.”

  Petra looked to Jennet, who assured her he was trustworthy.

  He was gratified to hear that, listening closely as Petra described seeing the boy following them in the morning.

  “You didn’t tell me,” Marie said.

  “I didn’t know what to do about it. Dame Katherine would notice him, I told myself. But as I sat in the schoolroom I worried about how long before she noticed, and if he would hear or see too much before she did. So I left. She wasn’t at the tavern, so I thought of Dame Jocasta’s. This morning she said something about her to Jennet.”

  The walls had ears, at least where this child was concerned. Elric must remember that. “How did you know him?”

  “Before Dame Katherine took me in I was one of the homeless and knew the others in the city, who could be trusted, who couldn’t. I’d been warned to stay away from him.”

  She said he had been circling Jocasta Sharp’s house as if trying to find a way in.

  “Do you think he heard anything?”

  “He could not get near the doors or windows. Dame Jocasta’s watchers are not obvious to most folk passing by, but to someone glancing round hoping not to be seen, they find eyes everywhere.”

  Elric thanked God
he had trained the men when he did. Even so, they would soon be noticed. “Where does your aunt mean to take him?”

  “She is thinking about that.”

  “Why is she sheltering him?”

  Petra told him what Skulker had witnessed the night of Merek’s murder. “I think she means to find a safe place for him so he can tell the sheriffs’ men what he saw that night. And keep him from going to the king’s men with the news that you’ve caught Parr and Sawyer.”

  “He’s told her?”

  Petra nodded.

  “And then, after he’s talked to the sheriffs’ men?”

  A shrug.

  The stables at Sheriff Hutton could use a lad. “I will come with you, Petra.”

  “But you’ll be noticed.”

  “That cannot be helped.”

  The boy’s whining gave rhythm to Kate’s pacing. Her mind was a scramble. Petra’s daring was admirable, and had netted just the lad Kate needed. But the child might have been injured, or worse. And she must be disciplined for leaving the classroom. But how to do so when she had been of such help? God help her, Kate had not the heart or the gut to be a parent. She was also of two minds about Skulker. He knew far too much, and she could imagine him going about the city remarking on Jocasta’s house being a fortress, calling attention to it. But it was just chance that he was playing eyes and ears for men Kate considered criminals, it should not condemn him. What to do? She alternated curses and prayers, relief and worry. It was only a matter of time before Sir Peter caught on to the watch on Jocasta’s home. Lady Margery must be moved again. And Trimlow the baker—it was he who had pointed to Berend, the bastard. Had he truly seen him with Merek, or had he said what Parr and Sawyer told him to say? Was he protecting them? What did he know about Carl? Had he recognized him? He might have seen Carl when Lady Margery had visited the previous winter, but would Trimlow, a baker, have made the connection?

  “Bastards, bastards, bas—” she sucked in her breath as footsteps approached.

  Skulker jerked up. She put a finger to his lips. Two people, a child and an adult from the length of their strides.

  Petra appeared at the door, raising the sack of clothing over her head as she saw the axe. “It’s just me,” she said, “and Sir Elric.”