A Twisted Vengeance

by Candace Robb

  Three younger children, two boys and a girl, rushed toward Lille and Ghent. Kate knelt to intercept them, explaining that they must keep their distance at first, let the dogs become accustomed to them. “They are here to protect me. Think how you feel after a fight. Still ready to pounce. So do they.”

  Round-eyed, the three backed away. Though the cloth of their clothes was old and worn in places, they were clean, healthy, and courteous. She promised each of them a sweet when this was all over.

  “Just now we must find the man who hurt Nan.”

  Three fair heads nodded.

  “My wrists and ankles burn,” Nan whimpered, tears running down her cheeks as she squirmed and scratched her head, crying out when she felt the knots and spiderweb.

  Alice snapped her fingers at the youngest boy. “Comb!” She stroked Nan’s forehead. “We will see to your sores and get the debris out of your hair. You are safe now. Kit, put some broth in a bowl, move sharp, child.”

  The girl, about Marie’s age, busied herself by the pot hanging to one side of the fire.

  Leaving her bow and quiver by the door and handing the hounds’ leads to Matt, Kate carried a small stool over to sit near Nan, taking the bowl of broth from Kit with thanks. As she helped Nan take a sip, Kate asked her when Griffin had last left her.

  “This morning. Still dark.” Nan took another sip. “He said sorry for leaving me there to die. But he locked me in.” Her bottom lip trembled.

  Alice clucked softly to her, smoothing her hair, as Kate helped her to another sip.

  “And Werner?” Kate asked.

  “I haven’t seen him.” Her breath was a painful wheeze.

  “Have you had any water, any food?” Kate asked.

  “A little water, but I tried to scream and bit him, hard. Then he gave me nothing. It’s been a day? More?”

  Griffin was injured. That might be of use. “Where did you bite him?”

  “His forearm. I think his right.”

  “Can you tell us anything more? Why did he take you?”

  “He told me he’d brought Robin there, and I was to nurse him back to health. But he was never there, was he?”

  “No, Nan.” Kate stroked her hair, offered her another sip of the broth.

  But Nan looked away. “He is dead?”

  “Robin received the best of care at the priory, but he died of his wounds.”

  “Dead,” Nan whispered, her breath catching.

  “I am sorry to tell you when you have already suffered so much. His friends Bran and Carter were with him. They are worried about you. Can you answer a few more questions?”

  “Anything to help you catch the bastard.”

  “Why did he want you silent? What did you know?”

  “I do not know! Maybe—I saw Griffin in the city when he said he was away in the country visiting an uncle. He was in High Petergate, coming from the house you lease to Sir Alan Bennet. In the early morning hours. Severen, the watchman, he said he often saw Griffin drinking with Sir Alan there.”

  “How did you recognize him? Surely he hid his red hair?”

  Nan looked away, and Kate thought she might be too weary to say more, but then she began to speak. “He wore a hat pulled low over his hair. But he is a man a woman notices.”

  “Did Griffin see you?”

  “I didn’t think so—And I told no one. Except Severen.”

  Severen. Kate glanced back at Berend, who nodded. He had heard.

  Nan began to cry and rub her forehead. “I trusted Severen. He said he cared for me.”

  “Best to lie back now, rest,” Alice said, nodding to Hugo to ease Nan down. “Let us wash your wrists and ankles and bandage them.”

  Kate rose to take Matt aside, commanding Lille and Ghent to sit quietly in the doorway. “Go back to the house, Matt. Let them all know that we have found Nan and she is safe, being cared for, but we’ve not found Griffin. Then go to the minster yard. Tell Phillip we’ve found Nan, and ask the stonemasons to keep a watch over him, quietly, so he does not suspect. Tell them where they might find Sir Elric’s men. Then go to Nan’s house—you know where Goodwife Hawise lives?” He nodded. “Tell her that her daughter is safe. Then return to the Martha House. I cannot predict what they might need.”

  “If Griffin comes there?”

  “You and Jennet will know what to do. I trust you, Matt.”

  No charming smile now. He nodded, took leave of his aunt, who had Hugo supporting Nan to sit while she combed through her hair.

  “She will be safe here,” said Alice. “Now go on with you.”

  Kate thanked Alice and Hugo, then assured Nan once more that she would be cared for. The children hovered near Berend, who stood at the door, waiting, with Lille and Ghent. The dogs were quiet now, watching the children calmly. Kate promised that she would return later, with the promised treats.

  “And them?” the youngest asked.

  “Lille and Ghent as well.”

  The three dark-haired sprites nodded solemnly.

  As Berend handed Kate the bow and quiver, she noticed that he’d tucked the stained ropes that had bound Nan’s arms and legs in his belt. “For Griffin?” A nod. As she followed him out the door, she asked, “Search for Griffin? Or go straight to Micklegate to meet Elric?”

  “To Micklegate,” said Berend. “Griffin told Nan he was leaving her. He has accomplished what he set out to do. He will follow Sir Alan and the dean.” His tone was flat. He would have made decisions like this in his former life.

  Kate did not often ask about his assassin days. Nor did she know in any detail what event had caused him to leave it behind. If ever he wished to tell her, it would be his decision. All she knew was that there were times like this when he became quiet and drew a wall round himself. But she needed him now. “What do you think might be Griffin’s purpose? Nan called him a traitor to Mother and all of us.”

  “The timing suggests that he, Sir Alan, and your uncle are all involved. A Clifford mission? Your mother hinted at that. Did she do something to call down their wrath?”

  “Would that I knew,” said Kate. “I cannot think what would warrant the murders of Ulrich and two of his servants. Nor can I imagine for whom Sir Alan is working—my cousin John, the current Baron Clifford, is but ten, younger than Phillip. Neither Dean Richard nor his brother have the means to support a knight as a retainer.”

  As they’d followed Matt to the house on the riverbank, Kate had told Berend of her mother’s cryptic comments.

  “But Griffin was also Ulrich’s man,” she said now.

  “For how long?” Berend wondered.

  Good. He was engaged. “Let us say it was a Clifford plot. How would a powerful family like the Cliffords plot revenge?”

  “You are thinking Griffin is an assassin.”

  “I begin to think so, yes.”

  Berend clenched his jaw, looked away. “They take their time, ensuring that it plays out as they wish it. I would guess the plan was to murder them all in Strasbourg, but your mother foiled them by taking flight. Griffin played along.”

  “A cuckoo in the nest. Someone played Ulrich for a fool, someone he trusted. As my uncle played me. But why would he wait all this time?”

  “That is the question. Dame Eleanor has not said how long Griffin served Ulrich?”

  “You know she’s told me nothing of her life with Smit.”

  That was the rub. Who was at fault in her mother’s reluctance to confide in Kate, she could not say. But now she dreaded the story. It could not help but be painful, a tale of betrayal, involving her family.

  Crossing over Ouse Bridge, Lille and Ghent were on high alert while Kate and Berend scoured the crowd for a shock of red hair. The need to concentrate helped Kate push back the unpleasant surprises of the day that clamored for her attention—Severen’s apparent betrayal of Nan, Sir Alan’s betrayal of Kate, Griffin’s betrayal of Dame Eleanor and all of them, including Werner and Hans, who had thought him one of them. Worst of all was that
her uncle had betrayed her, that all this might be the doing of the Cliffords. A movement caught her attention, and she turned just in time to notice the cutpurse Bran moving through the crowd. Whistling, she caught his eye and motioned for him to meet her at the far side of the bridge.

  “You have broken his cover, he’ll not help you,” said Berend.

  Kate thought he might if he were sufficiently worried about his cousin Nan. And there he came, though he halted when he saw Lille and Ghent flanking her. She lifted her hand in peace.

  “Nan is safe and sound,” she said.

  His wry face crumpled in tearful relief. “God have mercy, that is a blessing, mistress.”

  “Griffin, the red-haired Welshman who accompanied Dame Eleanor and the sisters to York, do you know him?”

  A wary nod.

  “Have you seen him this day?”

  Bran frowned down at his feet, peering surreptitiously at Lille, who watched him with an unwavering gaze he might interpret as hunger.

  “If I help you, will you call off the hounds? For good?”

  “If you help me and trespass no more on my properties or those of my kin, yes, Bran, I will.”

  “He wears a soft hat pulled down over that bright hair and sneaks about. He crossed the bridge early this morning. While the merchants were still setting up. Pack slung over his shoulder. Just beyond the bridge he gave a low whistle, and out hobbled Thatcher. I could not believe my eyes. We’ve fretted and searched and he’s been in hiding. He hobbled off up Micklegate with that Griffin fellow with nary a glance back.” An injured sniff.

  “That is helpful,” said Berend. “Did you notice any other folk moving along toward Micklegate Bar earlier than their custom?”

  “Dean of the minster and his comely housekeeper came trundling along with two ox-drawn carts this morning. A priest with his whore on a donkey came slowly past—she’s about to give birth, that one, on their way to a midwife, I reckon. And that knight Sir Alan with his men. All the knights and their companies are deserting the king, that is what folk are saying. Even the earl’s man, Sir Elric, came by with a small company not too long ago. They all came to hold York for good King Richard, but now Lancastrian gold has turned their heads round to their asses.” He winced. “Forgive my tongue, mistress.”

  “You have been helpful, Bran. Your aunt Hawise will hear of this,” said Kate.

  A bobbed thanks, and Bran disappeared back into the crowd on the bridge.

  “My uncle took advantage of my trust,” Kate muttered as they headed on up Micklegate. “Did he think to make amends with the house and horses?”

  “I never took him for a dishonest man,” said Berend. “He may not have known what was intended.”

  “But I doubt he was unaware that Sir Alan’s livery would have shown the blue and gold of the Clifford arms, had he and his men worn it. My uncle hid that from me. A small matter of family business. To what purpose? To prevent me from warning Mother? That is betrayal to my mind.” Kate kicked a pebble on the street, then was forced to plant a false smile on her face as an acquaintance approached. The woman merely nodded as she passed, not attempting to start up a conversation, which was fortunate, for Kate had no patience for courtesy at the moment.

  The bells of Micklegate Priory began ringing terce as they passed.

  “Midmorning,” Kate noted. “I feared it was later than that.” Though the rain had ceased, the sky remained overcast, lending a gloom to the day.

  “Helen said they were to rest the night at Bishopthorpe,” said Berend. “Perhaps they all mean to gather there. If we do not catch them before they reach the palace, will we confront them in the presence of the archbishop?”

  Kate had not thought that far. “Do you think they would dare reveal their connections to Archbishop Scrope? If he became curious, asked questions . . . He, too, is from an old, established family, but is it so common for families to hire an assassin?”

  “More common than you would care to know. But that Sir Alan Bennet is a Clifford retainer is all your uncle need say. And perhaps Griffin—well, Archbishop Scrope would not realize he was not in Sir Alan’s party.” He stopped, looking Kate in the eyes. “So. Will we confront them at the palace?”

  “We will do what we must.”

  A curt nod. “So be it.”

  Kate bent to rub the hounds’ ears and whisper a prayer for their protection before continuing on through Micklegate Bar. As they moved through, she listened and watched for signs of trouble or anything that might inform their search. But she heard nothing of use and noticed only one soldier, directly behind them, expounding on the waste of such fine war dogs on the streets of York. Berend silenced him with little more than a growl. Yet Kate felt the rub—she was taking Lille and Ghent into danger.

  They love it. They were trained to it, Geoff reminded her.

  But they have not been run of late. Might they misjudge how quickly they can move?

  “There he is,” said Berend. Sir Elric and four of his men waited for them just past the barbican. “Those are fine horses we’ll be riding.”

  “I am grateful that someone is true to their word,” said Kate.

  For once, she was glad of her Neville connections.

  16

  THE CHASE

  Kate listened to Elric’s report with interest. He, too, was aware of Griffin’s departure with Thatcher. He’d sent several of his men ahead, tracking both parties; Sir Alan and the dean had departed on horse, Griffin and Thatcher on foot.

  “Taking the peg leg.” Elric shook his head. “He will only slow him down.”

  “Unless he means to dispose of him outside the city walls,” said Berend. “He knows too much.”

  Elric nodded. “And what of the missing maidservant? Has she played a part in this? I saw no sign of her.”

  “We found her,” said Kate.

  “Did you?” Head bowed, Elric rubbed his mount’s mane as Kate recounted what they had learned from Nan. The possibility that the Cliffords were taking their revenge on Ulrich and his household had him studying her with his cool blue eyes. “They have departed without troubling Dame Eleanor. Revenge on all but his widow? Why is that? Because she is a Clifford widow?”

  “My mother has not been left unscathed. She will suffer long, I assure you.”

  “Of course she will. Forgive me.” He pressed his hand to his heart and bowed to her.

  She acknowledged the apology.

  “If you are right about their purpose, I am surprised the Cliffords have permitted any of the deaths within the walls of York,” said Elric. “They’ll want nothing to connect them—as well you know.” He said the last with a nod to Berend. “And why not Thatcher as well?”

  “He has nothing to do with Ulrich Smit,” said Berend. “If Dame Eleanor is right, the deaths of Hans and Werner are a point of honor. If members of the Clifford affinity are brought to law for them, they will defend themselves with a tale of betrayal—of family and the realm. No matter how personal in truth. Isn’t that what the Nevilles would do?” Elric glanced away with a wince of discomfort, signaling his reluctant agreement. “But Thatcher—he was a means to an end who now knows too much and so is a danger.”

  Kate stepped between them. “We waste time. I want to catch up to Griffin before we confront my uncle.”

  Elric looked to Berend, who nodded his agreement. “I thought that might be the case,” said the knight. “My man Arne returned shortly before you arrived with word that they have gone off the road not too far from here. Toward the river. They are moving slowly. The Welshman is staying off tracks, paths, which makes it difficult for Thatcher.”

  “Then let us be off,” said Kate.

  “The hounds will keep up with the horses if we are caught in a chase?” asked Elric.

  “They will, I assure you. They were trained to chase large prey and bring them down.” Though they had not done so for a long while.

  Elric motioned to his squire, who brought forward one of the horses. “I chose
one for you that has some experience with hounds.” She was impressed that he’d considered Lille and Ghent. But then he would be accustomed to hunting with hounds for sport, and was also perhaps accustomed to working with war dogs. “But you’ll need to ride astride,” he said. “He’s not trained to a lady’s saddle.”

  “Astride is preferable,” she said. “Thank you for your care in choosing a mount for me. Are all the horses accustomed to dogs?”

  “I cannot vouch for three of them.”

  “They should take up the rear. I don’t want them to take fright.”

  He ordered three of his men to the rear.

  Kate accepted the assistance of Harry, Elric’s squire, in mounting. Once astride, she gazed round with a sense of coming home. It had been a long time since she’d sat astride such a fine horse. It felt good. She signaled to Lille and Ghent to stay with her, clear of the other horses, and nodded to Berend to ride close. He said nothing, merely seeing to his own mount. Elric had managed to worsen his already dark mood.

  “It is long past time you confided in your daughter,” said Dame Jocasta. “Now she rides out to confront them without an understanding of the gravity of Ulrich’s betrayal. I pray God watches over her.”

  Eleanor had stood in the window, her back to Jocasta, all through the telling. She’d sought the woman’s advice but now dreaded to see the judgment on her expressive face. “How do I mend the rift between us? How do I win back my daughter’s trust and her love?” That is what she had asked. She was disappointed in Jocasta’s response. Should not have, should have—all in the past, and unhelpful. Katherine was riding out to challenge her uncle and Sir Alan, and she would learn all. From them. From the family Ulrich had betrayed. Jocasta was right, it would have been far better coming from Eleanor. “How will she ever forgive me?” It burst from Eleanor as a sob. She covered her face and wept.

  Soundlessly, Jocasta rose and embraced her, whispering of God’s compassion, his limitless love and forgiveness.

  All very sweet, but Eleanor already had faith in God’s forgiveness; it was Katherine’s of which she despaired.