A Murdered Peace

by Candace Robb

  “And Carl?”

  She told him of Carl’s fate. “I have seen to his burial.”

  Berend bowed his head, crossed himself. “She put you at such risk.”

  “You took a risk going to Pontefract,” she said.

  “I have lost the knack of going unnoticed.”

  “I did not mean that. Why, Berend, why did you answer Salisbury’s summons? Elric left out the heart of the story, what drove you to take such a risk.” She joined him on the bed and handed him the pouch.

  He took a breath as if to prepare himself. “Elric mentioned this. I’d had no time to examine the contents of the casket.”

  “Open it.”

  His thick fingers seemed stiff from the cold, but he managed to open it, dropping the two rings in his left palm.

  “I presume JM is the earl himself,” said Kate. “And the posey ring belongs to?”

  “I remember him giving it to her. Why she is not wearing it—” Berend shook his head.

  “Tell me about her.”

  She watched the emotions play over his scarred face as he told her of Rosamund Lacy. He might have wed her. Fickle woman, or merely wanting the best for her child? Berend’s child? Now Merek’s part fell into place.

  “I understand. I do.”

  “Thank you, Katherine.”

  “My dear friend.” Gently she took the rings from his warm palm, returned them to the pouch, closed it. “What will you do?”

  “Ensure that Rosamund has the means to bring him up in safety and comfort.”

  “In Scotland.”

  “Yes. He told you that?”

  “Margery did. She seems intent to accompany you.”

  “She wants a purpose. You say she is safe?”

  “For now. Will you stay with them?”

  Berend shook his head. “How can I know? Rosamund will not know me. I was whole when we were together.”

  “She will come to see you are more than you were then.”

  He looked doubtful.

  “And if his age proves he cannot be your son? If it was all a ploy to turn you to their purpose?”

  “The point is that he might have been. The way I left—” He crossed himself. “And I owe Salisbury’s father a debt. For his unwavering belief in me. He would believe I would protect his grandson.”

  “His bastard grandson.”

  “Does that matter? Should I do any less for him than you’ve done for Simon’s children?”

  “Oh Berend,” Kate whispered, but she could not find the words.

  “I will miss the children,” he said. “All of you.”

  “Surely there was another way to help, without being marked a traitor?”

  “If there was, I did not think of it. Katherine, I owe it to Rosamund’s child, and to the man who helped me climb back out of the darkness.”

  What could she say to that?

  “I took many lives,” he said. “My atonement was never going to be easy. I believe God is testing my resolve.” With a remarkably steady hand, Berend poured ale, passed the bowl to her.

  Taking a small drink, she handed it back to him. “Drink up. And eat the bread and cheese. I need you strong, and ready to move. Margery is safe, but not for long.” She told him about Skulker, how he had noticed the guards about the house in which she was hiding. “I will find a way to get the two of you out of York as soon as possible. With the casket.”

  “You will do that?”

  “Of course I will. I have faith in you, and I am certain you did not murder Merek.”

  “Who did?”

  “Do you care? He was no friend to you.”

  “He was Rosamund’s brother. She will want to know. And he did stay in York, even added to what Salisbury had sent, sharing with her what he made on his spices.”

  “He told you that?”

  “Bragged about it. Said the people of York are easily separated from their money.”

  “Griselde said you’d warned her to avoid him. Were his spices truly unique?”

  “Not at all. And folk did not return after trying them. It was his potions that brought in the coin. Valerian powder and whatever else was not selling at present, mixed into watered wine. So. Have you discovered his murderer?”

  “Perhaps.” She told him what Skulker had told her.

  “Jon Horner.” Berend ran a hand over his bald pate. “But why?”

  Kate told him about the stolen brooch.

  “So Merek had tricked him and he felt a fool? I can understand his wanting some revenge, but such a savage assault, and returning to murder him? Then drinking poison? All because he was embarrassed to have purchased a stolen brooch?” Berend looked at Kate askance. “Horner was a coward. He would fear God’s wrath if he took his own life.”

  “But not if he took another’s?” asked Kate.

  “He would have time to repent.”

  “Whatever you think of his courage, he did attack Merek and Lionel.”

  “No one could have been more surprised than I was when I recognized him.”

  “I agree that something is missing. Or someone,” said Kate. “I cannot make sense of it. But the sheriffs were eager to call it solved. And now, they will be even happier to learn that it’s mostly likely that Merek’s murderer is dead. Everything points to Horner. Tidy.”

  “You will sort this out,” said Berend. “I would like to know who murdered Merek, in case I ever succeed in taking the casket to Rosamund and John.”

  “When you deliver it to them.”

  He met her confidence with raised eyebrows and a grin. “I would not like to be the sheriffs when they discover me gone.” Then he grew serious. “Parr and Sawyer. What will happen to them?”

  She told him that she was about to question them at the York Tavern. As she talked, she felt her yearning that he might be there with her at the tavern. This time with him had reminded her how much she trusted his insights. Damn him for making himself so important to her.

  “You and Bess Merchet.” His old, familiar grin. “A formidable pair. I can believe anything might happen.”

  She patted his hand and rose. “I should go.” She waited as Lille and Ghent padded over to Berend to say their farewells.

  He bent to them, stroking their heads. “I will be ready.”

  “I pray you find the peace you seek,” she said. Calling the hounds to her, she began to walk to the door as it sank in that this might be the last time they would speak.

  “I pray you do as well, Katherine.” Such sadness in his voice.

  She waited until she was at the door to ask the most important question, as if it were a mere curiosity on her part. “What really happened in Cirencester?”

  Berend had the cup of ale halfway to his mouth. Now he set it down. “What do you mean?”

  “Two coincidences—you and Thomas at the abbey, you running for your life and finding the very barn in which Lady Margery was hiding.”

  “I did not question it. I saw it as God’s plan.”

  “God is not so cooperative.”

  “You do not believe that he is testing me?”

  There was a falseness in his injured expression. God might be testing him, but there was something in the coincidences that was of man’s agency.

  “Well, we will see when we hear from Abbot John,” she said.

  He looked dumbfounded. “You have sent a messenger to Cirencester?”

  “To John Leckhampton, abbot of St. Mary’s Cirencester.”

  He avoided her eyes. “God in heaven, why?”

  So the abbot was the key. “Why not? Lady Margery said you were old friends. Would he not wish to help you?”

  Berend tried to shrug it off, but he was troubled.

  Quietly, she opened the door, letting Lille and Ghent slip through as she whispered a farewell.

  Elric had been leaning against the opposite wall. He must have read something in her posture, or her face, and crossed to her in one long stride, catching her shoulders, looking into her eyes.<
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  “I lied. I told him we’d sent someone to the abbey.”

  “And?”

  “The news worried him a great deal.”

  “Which you interpret as meaning he was never at the abbey?”

  She studied the chiseled face of the man she had once despised and mistrusted. Now, she saw the lines of concern, felt how gently he held her, and how much she appreciated his presence and support. “He was there. But he does not want us to know something about it. The identity of the man with whom he arrived?”

  “Whom he escorted,” said Elric.

  “And still hopes to protect. He is protecting something or someone.”

  Elric gently pressed her shoulders. “Wulf will escort Skulker to Sheriff Hutton, secure a new mount and a companion, and head to Cirencester.”

  “Even though we mean to have Berend and Margery away before he can possibly complete the journey and deliver the abbot’s report?”

  “I want to understand Berend.”

  “In case he returns to York?”

  Elric tilted his head, as if to ask whether he had heard rightly. “In case? Have you any doubt of that?”

  “I am no longer certain which Berend I knew. The man behind that door, or a man I conjured.”

  A little bow. “It will be done. Shall we return to the York Tavern?”

  “First I would have a word with my mother. Her Martha House is on the way.”

  “Of course.”

  “But I am concerned that Sir Peter might have put someone on our trail,” she said. “I do not want the household disturbed. My girls are there.”

  “I will watch.”

  She thought better of that. “No, that is not necessary. Lille and Ghent will stay outside. Dame Eleanor might have some useful information. The sisters go about the city. They hear much.”

  Another little bow. “I will listen with care.” His voice was cool, as were his eyes.

  That moment of tenderness when she had first stepped into the corridor, had she caught him off guard? He’d smelled of anise, damp wool, ale, and a spicy, tangy scent she associated with him. She’d felt steadied, warmed, supported—understood. Is that what she might have enjoyed had she trusted him from the beginning?

  14

  THE FEAST OF CANDLEMAS

  Candlemas Eve

  Lille and Ghent sat up on alert outside the kitchen door of the Martha House while Marie and Petra questioned Kate about Berend. She did not lie to them, but there was little she dare say until Berend and Margery were safely away, and she did not believe it her right to tell them personal tales of his past. That would be up to him, if he should return to the household. When Sister Dina came to fetch the girls for their fittings, they bid farewell with sad faces.

  “We will soon cheer them,” Sister Brigida reassured Kate as she bundled them out the door. “They will forget the moment they see the dresses.”

  “They know there is much you have not told them,” said Dame Eleanor when the door had closed behind the children. She’d quietly observed Sir Elric while Kate spoke to the children, her silks whispering as she shifted on her seat to turn toward him though he was not the one speaking. Matchmaking, or just curious?

  “They understand much of the world,” said Kate, “but I do my best to protect them.”

  “You have done well,” said Eleanor. “Petra tells me she wore clothes more suitable for a lad until you took her in, and that she was not happy about wearing a skirt at first. Look at her now, preening in the mirror.”

  Although Kate might have chosen other changes to celebrate, she thanked her mother for the compliment.

  “So now that the children are not with us, will you share more with me?” asked Eleanor.

  “I will when it is safe to do so,” said Kate.

  Eleanor made a face. “You do not trust me.”

  Not a safe topic. “I do have a question for you, about Philippa Atterby. Do you recall the name of the suitor she was so desperate to avoid?”

  Eleanor perked up. “Is this pertinent to the murders?”

  “Perhaps.” It was best to give her mother something. “I trust you to keep this between us.”

  “Of course, my dear. But I am afraid she never said, though she did mention a suitor her family had sent away in no uncertain terms.”

  “Jon Horner?” asked Kate.

  “Oh, you knew.” Eleanor sighed. “The very man.”

  “Had she cared for him?”

  “I think not. Only in that encouraging him irritated her overbearing father. Surely you do not think she poisoned him? Philippa is a gentle, pious young woman.”

  “Yet not pious enough to join the sisters.”

  “We did not fault her sincere devotion, only her—” Eleanor frowned down at her hands. “We all believed that she would regret her decision as soon as she knew the suitor she so disliked was safely married to another. Impetuous youth. And now she is betrothed to a man she believes will make her quite content.”

  “You have spoken to her?”

  “She visits often, joining us in morning or evening prayers. In fact she will be with us tomorrow in the Candlemas procession. You will meet her.”

  Now that was a piece of good fortune. “She need know nothing of this conversation,” said Kate.

  “Of course!” Eleanor’s eyes shone as she asked in a conspiratorial whisper, “So Jon Horner did not poison himself? Do you believe Merek’s murderer came after him as well? The girls would tell me nothing.”

  Kate bristled at the picture of her mother plying the children with questions when she knew they would have been instructed to say nothing. But she was a fool to be surprised. Best to tell her mother what it was safe for her to know and prevent another attempt.

  “Might I tell her what we learned today?” she asked Elric, more to warn him than because she felt she needed his permission.

  “I think it advisable,” he said, bowing to Eleanor. “You and your beguines go about the city seeing to the elderly and the infirm, you might have heard something you did not know to be of importance.”

  Choosing with care just how much she shared with her mother, Kate repeated Skulker’s account of the night of Merek’s murder.

  Eleanor listened with interest. “And Trimlow the baker? Did this lad see him out and about that night?”

  Kate explained why she thought it quite unlikely that Trimlow witnessed anything at all.

  “To lie about Berend, such a good man! I hope my nephew sees that Trimlow is run out of the city when he is mayor. But how did you learn of that?”

  Kate explained how Bess Merchet had helped them.

  Eleanor’s eyes had widened with surprise at the name. “Bess Merchet. Now there is a woman I would not wish to cross. Well, if she has seen through Trimlow, she will make certain that he never forgets his transgression.” A satisfied sniff. “So Jon Horner murdered Merek and then went home and took poison?” She sat back, frowning. “Do you believe that, either of you? It does not seem likely to me, a man who took great care with his appearance. Would he have taken his life so that he would be discovered in such a disgusting condition, the contents of his stomach soiling his face, his clothes . . .”

  “How did you hear such detail?” Kate asked.

  “Goodwife Tibby told Sister Clara. She delivered Tibby’s sister’s baby. You see? You should make it a point to confer with me on such matters. We hear much. But why are you so keen about all this, Katherine? Now that you can clear Berend’s name, what is the purpose?”

  Well might she ask. It was a sense of unease. Merek and Horner dead, Lionel so badly injured, and someone still on the loose, someone who had silenced Horner. Would he seek to silence Lionel as well? “There is a murderer at large in the city, and the sheriffs are happy to call Horner’s death self-inflicted and be done with it.”

  “Until someone else is poisoned,” said Elric.

  “Ah.” Eleanor straightened. “If I hear anything else I think might be of help, I will send word.”
She rose to check the pot she had been watching, then saw them to the door, thanking them for their patience, the kitchen being the least comfortable place in the house.

  “Not at all,” said Elric. “It is warm and fragrant.”

  “Oh, yes, it is a pleasing scent, the rosemary mash for a cough, though some find it overwhelming.”

  “I remember you packing my chest with that when I was a child,” said Kate. “You said it is your maidservant who is ill?”

  “Yes, poor dear.”

  Now that was something her mother would never have done in the past, take it upon herself to nurse a servant.

  Jennet poured bowls of ale for herself and Kate, and sat down beside her near the kitchen fire. “You look weary. Did Parr and Sawyer give you trouble?”

  “No.” By the time Kate and Elric sat down in the unheated shed to question the prisoners, they were so cold and hungry they were far more docile than she had expected. She had deferred to Elric, guessing that they would be more likely to talk to him.

  At first they had tried to lie.

  “We chose to leave Salisbury’s household,” said Sawyer. “When he was caught up in Chester Castle with King Richard we joined up with all the others riding for King Henry.” He nodded toward the jacket with the Lancastrian arms.

  “Those are, at best, stolen, and, more likely, you murdered a pair of the king’s men to steal their clothing,” said Elric.

  Kate had moved to one side, crouching between the hounds, watching Elric with interest. He stood with ease, speaking in a conversational tone, his expression pleasant. She noticed how Parr and Sawyer kept glancing at him, as if expecting that expression to change.

  “We stole them while they were bathing,” said Sawyer. “Left them ours.” A shrug.

  “Why?” asked Elric.

  “Like he said. To join up with the others riding for King Henry,” said Parr.

  Elric was shaking his head. “I will tell you why,” he said. “You knew that Salisbury entrusted to Merek Lacy, the spice seller, a casket of valuables, and you followed him here to steal it, slime that you are.”

  Parr opened his mouth, but thought better of whatever he’d been about to say. Shrugged.