A Murdered Peace

by Candace Robb

  “As safe as we can make her. Colin Merchet took her on an errand to Bishopthorpe this morning, where she now awaits you, in Kevin’s company.” Elric considered Berend’s long skirt. “Walk back and forth in that, become familiar with it.”

  Berend covered the chamber in four long strides without tripping.

  “You would think he had lived in ’em.” The goodwife chuckled.

  “I once spent two seasons in monk’s robes—walking, running, riding, fighting at the end. Much the same,” said Berend.

  A story in that, Elric thought. “Ready?” he moved toward the door. Berend nodded, as did the midwife.

  Elric knocked softly in a rhythm his men recognized. As he opened the door, they framed it, waiting to bring up the back. All pulled scarves up to cover half of their faces. Elric led. Round the corner he came upon a lackey badgering one of the guards about some duty not being fair. The guard had been bought up, but the clerk . . . Elric was moving forward, drawing a knife, when Berend strode past him and startled everyone by grabbing the clerk and knocking his head against the stone wall. He slumped down, unconscious.

  “He will live,” Berend said.

  Pray God he knew what he was doing. “Do nothing to wake him until your fellows signal that we’re free,” Elric instructed the guard.

  With a nod and a shrug, he wished them well. “I’ll lose no sleep over him. God speed, Berend.”

  A round of steps and they were ready to exit into the yard. Stephen and Wulf hurried forward, jostling each other as they walked out into the yard, looking round, then began a loud, curse-strewn, slurred argument about a woman they had both bedded. As they moved toward the gate, Elric did not like the way one of the guards looked at them. Elric chided his men about their language in front of a lady, watching the guard as he did so.

  “She’s no lady,” Wulf protested, saw that his captain was not looking at him, and followed his gaze.

  As did Stephen.

  They moved closer, Berend whispering to Elric that he knew the guard, he was no friend of his.

  As the one they all now watched reached to ring a warning bell, Stephen threw his dagger, pinning the man’s arm to the door behind him. His mate covered the man’s mouth and hissed at the party to hurry.

  As they passed, Berend kneed the would-be betrayer in the groin.

  “Stupid,” Elric hissed as the man twisted and damaged his pinned wrist.

  As Stephen pulled out the dagger, Wulf knocked the man’s head, hard, against the door.

  “Open the bloody guardroom door,” Wulf hissed as the man’s fellow looked at a loss.

  He quickly did as ordered, and Wulf tossed the man inside.

  “My mate’s wife wanted to go to the mayor’s feast. He vouched for Ben, but . . .”

  Elric prayed no others had shared today’s plans. God help them, if they made it he could only conclude God truly watched over them.

  They pulled down their scarves as they moved out the gate. Now the lad took Berend’s hand, as if the large woman were his dam. They walked a little ahead of the other three, who quietly talked amongst themselves. Berend and the lad turned down Hertergate.

  “Goodwife Ann, is that you? I—” a woman stopped, stared at Berend and the lad, then hurried on past with a worried frown. Seeing Elric and his men, she stepped up to them. “That woman—she—that is not her child.”

  “I know,” said Elric. “The lad is escorting her home. She fell ill while out on errands. We are following along in case—he does not seem strong enough to assist her should she fall.”

  “Good lad. I’ve always said he’s a good one. Runs like the wind, he does, and some folk say he learned that from his cousin the cutpurse but I never credited that. God go with you, gentlemen.” She bustled off.

  “I thought we were done in by a fish wife,” said Stephen, breathlessly.

  “You smelled it as well?” said Wulf, making a face. “How can they bear it?”

  “Where are your heads?” Elric growled. “She was concerned about a lad not her own. Would you do as much?”

  “I meant her no ill,” said Wulf. “It was good of her. I meant how do they bear standing at their carts all day, as the fish begin to smell, eh?”

  They were nearing the King’s Staithe. Berend and the lad were already sidling up to Douglas and Harry, the latter sitting on an overturned coracle playing chess with one of the workers.

  “That is Cam,” said Elric. “He is beholden to Dame Katherine for saving his brother’s life.”

  Elric hurried forward. This was the crucial moment, getting the “old woman” onto the barge that awaited, with barrels arranged so that Berend might doff the apparel as he headed downriver with Harry and Douglas. Harry, young and inexperienced in such things, looked about to burst into laughter. There were few workers on the staithe, most were at the festivities on Micklegate, but there were some men not part of the mission and they must not have cause to examine Berend too closely. From afar he might pass for an uncommonly large woman, but not close up. Surely the goodwife they had encountered had noticed that.

  Cam stood up sharp as Berend approached, giving him a little bow and nodding to the lad. “If you would allow me to help your grandam aboard.” He proffered Berend his arm, then instructed “her” how to walk up the gangplank. “I have set a bench in a bit of a shelter. It’s a nasty wind coming down from the moors today.”

  Douglas and Harry rose, shaking out their legs, and followed the two onto the barge. The lad waved to them, then turned to Elric for the signal to run to Katherine, and his expression changed.

  “Sir,” he said softly. “There’s two of the sheriffs’ men coming toward us.”

  Looking around, Kate caught sight of Gwenllian Ferriby and was making her way toward her when Sir Peter’s companion, Captain Crawford, stepped in her path, smiling and bowing.

  God help us, does he know?

  He’s looking like a suitor, not an accuser, Geoff said.

  His smile was quite friendly, and his dark eyes shone with what seemed sincere admiration as he remarked on her fine hounds and the extravagance of her cousin, the new mayor. After she had given him a courteous response he grew solemn, expressing his condolences on the news of her widowhood. “I once met Simon Neville, an amiable man.”

  “And where were you when you made his acquaintance?”

  “In Calais.”

  “Ah, at the house of his mistress, perchance? Have you met their children? They are just over there by the puppeteer.” She bit her lip as she watched his handsome face spasm, uncertain how to respond. “Forgive me, Captain Crawford. My cousin might have warned you to avoid the topic of my former marriage.”

  “I did not know. I assure you I meant no insult.”

  She smiled as sweetly as she knew how while glancing round the yard hoping to see Elric, which would be a sign that all was well. “What is your impression of our fair city?”

  “The minster is magnificent, and the homes along Micklegate are very fine. But I prefer the countryside, the moors and dales.”

  “Ah. You are familiar with the North? I thought I detected a bit of it in your speech.”

  “Durham.” He bobbed his head. “Have you been there?”

  “No, I have not. Would I like it?”

  “I would need to know you better in order to answer that.” A dimple had appeared in his left cheek.

  How sweet. She had charmed him. Good. He might be less inclined to think ill of her.

  “Ah.” She spied Gwenllian Ferriby again and was about to excuse herself.

  “Your kinsman’s knight did us a favor this morning. I believe you will be comforted to hear that the men who so rudely intruded on you a few nights ago have been apprehended. Salisbury’s men, Parr and Sawyer.”

  She had been confused for a moment at the mention of her kinsman’s knight—so far removed from Ralph Neville, the earl of Westmoreland, had Elric become to her. But of course this man would think of her in relation to her late husba
nd’s family. “Oh indeed? I am relieved to hear of it.”

  “So you had not heard?”

  She dazzled him with her smile. “This morning my three wards woke early, wanting to be here before everything began. I’ve had little time to hear about more serious issues, Captain Crawford. When you have children, you will understand. Now, forgive me, but I must have a word with the apothecary.”

  He bowed and expressed his desire to know her better. She waved prettily, as she imagined Philippa Atterby might, and hurried after Gwenllian. Thinking about Cecily Wheeldon and the rumors Thomas Holme reported, Kate was curious. Spying her three wards, she caught them up and introduced them to Gwenllian and the two girls who moved in her wake. A boy suddenly appeared, her son. All six scurried off to watch the puppets.

  “Your niece looks so like you,” said Gwenllian. “I can see that all three are dear to you.”

  “They grace my life with joy every day,” said Kate.

  “How can I help?”

  “Forgive me, in the midst of the festivities I should not approach you with serious matters.”

  “I welcome it.”

  They had walked over to the edge of the crowd, beyond the pavilion.

  “I am interested in what you might know about the death of Ross Wheeldon.”

  “Ross?” Gwenllian looked startled. “What is your interest in him?”

  “My partner’s nephew hopes to wed his widow, and I am concerned. Her name arises in all my inquiries about Merek Lacy’s murder. She had business dealings with him and used Jon Horner as an accountant.”

  “Horner? Did she?” A flash of a smile. “Tell me more.”

  Kate described to her the odd ball she had found in Horner’s house, possibly a bezoar stone.

  “Ah, yes. Most likely the one his housekeeper purchased for him not long ago.”

  “Goodwife Tibby?”

  “She had quite a fancy for him, doted on him, though I suspect he had no idea. She did not like the arguments she overheard between him and his mistress, and she took it upon herself to protect him.”

  “His mistress?”

  “It was not my place to ask her name, though I was uneasy when I learned he had been poisoned—or poisoned himself. How has Goodwife Tibby taken the loss, do you know?”

  Kate cursed herself for not thinking to talk to the housekeeper. “I have not seen her since the morning of his death,” she confessed.

  “You might want to. She can be difficult to approach. If you say something kind about Jon Horner, she might be talkative. But you were asking about Ross Wheeldon’s death. I was stunned when I heard. He was doing well.”

  As they spoke, Cecily Wheeldon and Leif Holme strolled past.

  “We might speak further about Ross. But not here. Too many ears,” said Gwenllian.

  “Might I come to the apothecary after I take the girls to school in the morning?”

  “You will be feasting long into the night. Are you sure?”

  “The girls will be up, and so will I.”

  “Of course you will, as will I. Come to my home. I will have my apprentices see to the opening of the shop. We can talk without interruption.”

  “Sheriff Wrawby ordered us to search the barge before you depart.” The man stood with his forehead jutted out as if he meant to use it to butt Elric’s.

  Or was it to protect an unusually large nose? Elric, in turn, leaned even closer, close enough to smell the man’s sweat. “Search for what?”

  The man drew back. “Lady Kirkby, sir. He wants to ensure that she is not on the barge.”

  Something was wrong about this. Wrawby’s fear of Katherine exposing his patronage of her guesthouse had been real yesterday. Elric had no doubt the man meant to keep his word. So who sent these men? Cottesbrok? Should Katherine have threatened him as well? No, Elric could not believe she would be so careless, not where Berend’s safety was concerned. Had it been Elric in trouble, she might have . . . No, not even then.

  “I am in York on the orders of the Earl of Westmoreland,” said Elric, “my mission to find whether Lady Kirkby is hiding in the city and, if she is, to take her to Sheriff Hutton to await the king’s pleasure. Are you questioning my honor?” He used his quiet voice. His men usually found it menacing.

  “I—I just follow orders, sir.”

  “And these orders were?” With a strong grip on the man’s shoulder Elric prevented him from turning toward his companion. “You will answer me.”

  “We are the sheriffs’ men—”

  And they had been steered away from interfering in anything Elric and his men might do. So why were these two following him?

  “Wrawby and Cottesbrok know my mission. They would never give such orders. Who has bought you?”

  “It’s not like that—”

  The other man stepped forward. “Sir Peter Angle offered us a sovereign each to follow anyone we thought suspicious during the festivities. When we saw you following a woman, we—”

  Wulf started laughing. Elric joined in.

  “You fools,” he said. “Have you ever seen Lady Kirkby? She is fair, straight-backed, and graceful. You mistook the elderly goodwife for such a woman?”

  At that moment Harry led Berend into view on the barge. “Goodwife Sarah wishes to see the men who paid her such a compliment.”

  “Goodwife Sarah” made a clumsy curtsey, then limped back out of sight.

  Elric shook his head at his men, who looked fit to burst. Berend’s mime was amusing, but he doubted it would dissuade two men eager for their money. Yet by some miracle, it worked. Red-faced, the two men begged Elric’s pardon and headed back up Hertergate.

  God led me, Berend had declared. Was it true, then? Did God watch over Lady Kirkby?

  Boarding the barge, Elric quietly told Harry and Douglas where they and Kevin would find the horses to ride back to York. But they would not find their fellows in the city. “When those two discover their injured comrades, there will be hell to pay.” He would order Wulf and Stephen to round up the others and return to Sheriff Hutton. “Their work is finished. We delivered Parr and Sawyer, and are satisfied that Lady Kirkby is not in York.”

  “And Dame Katherine?” Berend asked.

  “I will offer reparations to the sheriffs, and stand up to Sir Peter,” said Elric, “make certain that he does not suspect Dame Katherine had a hand in your escape.”

  Berend nodded to him.

  “Do you all understand what you must do?” Elric asked his men, who assured him he could count on them. “Good. I will leave you then.” About to disembark, he thought better about that, and ducked behind the barrels to shake Berend’s hand. “I promise you Katherine will be safe.”

  “Both the king and the earl will condemn what you have done here.”

  “I do not regret following my conscience.”

  “And your heart?” Berend’s voice was quiet.

  “My heart? No. I was mistaken about that.”

  “Because she hid Lady Kirkby? How could she turn her away?”

  Elric had no time to argue. “Would you like me to carry a message to her?”

  “I have seen to that.” Without warning Berend rose and embraced Elric. “It has been an honor to know you, Sir Elric. I pray that the earl is a better judge of men than the new king.”

  “And you, Berend. May God watch over you, and may you find the peace you seek.”

  Stepping away, Elric turned and disembarked, signaling Cam and his mate to depart.

  The runner, who had waited patiently all this time, looked to Elric for the signal.

  “Go. Tell Dame Katherine it is done.” There was still much that could go wrong, but Elric had done what he could. Now it was up to Berend. Or God.

  “And you,” he said to Stephen and Wulf. “Well done. Now go, find your fellows and leave before the gates close at sunset.”

  “You are determined we should go?” asked Stephen. “I know I speak for both of us when I say we would prefer to stay.”

 
; Their loyalty was gratifying, but Elric did not want them arrested for accosting the men in the castle. “You have your orders. Now go.”

  Once they departed Elric sat down for a moment, looking round at the staithe. He was alone now, all the other workers having wandered off. Pray God none betrayed them. Cam had assured him they had no cause to do so, but Sir Peter might have a deep purse.

  As the chill of the afternoon began to penetrate his padded jacket, Elric rose, dusted off his clothes, and headed up to the Ouse Bridge. Time to join the festivities.

  The hounds grew restive and so did Kate. The boy should have been here by now. She had found the hostess, Isabella Frost, presiding over this excessive display from the hall doorway and inquired about her daughter, Hazel, whether she would permit Kate’s wards to join the invalid in her chambers. They wished to bring her some gifts from the festivities and keep her company for a while. Tell her all the wonders they had seen in the yard.

  The imperious Isabella startled Kate by giving a little sob as she sank onto a bench by the door.

  “What is it? Is it Hazel?” Kate asked, bending to her.

  “The children—how kind of them. I would be so grateful if they would keep her company. Hazel was so unhappy when the physician objected to our plans—a sedan chair, moving about the festivities. I had not thought her too weak for that, but he was adamant.”

  Since the birth of Hazel, their only child, William and Isabella had known that she might die any day, ever fearing the next fever would take her from them. Marie and Petra loved Hazel, and Phillip was kind to her, uneasy about the adoration in the girl’s eyes when she gazed on him, but knowing that he had a knack for making her laugh.

  Kate rose. “I will fetch them.”

  Isabella reached out to Kate and held her hand for a moment. “Bless you.”

  For this woman to make such gesture, express such gratitude—Kate felt shaken and heartsick as she stepped out into the yard.

  Her mother swooped down on her. “Katherine, you must introduce me to all those you know.” When Kate did not answer at once, searching the crowd for the children, Eleanor touched her arm. “What is it?”