A Murdered Peace

9 Confederates

Before Kate left for the York Tavern she took Jennet aside. “Any thoughts about where Jon Horner might have spent the night, who he might have been with?”

“Who might be a poisoner?” Jennet shook her head. “What I’ve learned of him so far, he took advantage of folk down on their luck. That sort has many enemies.”

“I would think this would be someone he trusted enough to eat and drink with. How else might he have been poisoned?”

“Someone who sold him a meat pie, or a pint of ale?”

“Anyone in particular?”

“No. None of his victims have been in such trades. I will keep looking.”

With a nod, Kate took the hounds’ leads firmly in hand and headed off to the tavern, her mind busy considering the players in the game so far – Merek, dead; Jon Horner, dead; Lionel, badly injured; Berend, hiding; Margery and Carl – how were they connected to this? She hoped that Bess Merchet would tell her what she knew about Jon Horner and with whom he dined; indeed, Kate would be grateful for anything the old taverner cared to share. And her visit might come to naught, the woman had no cause to trust Kate. In that case, she might at least leave word that she had information for Elric. She wanted to discuss Lionel’s tale with him, Berend’s part in it, and, perhaps most important, that Merek had been killed at the other side of the Shambles from where he had been attacked by Horner.

Bess Merchet stood in the middle of the public room, hands on hips, a challenge in her eyes as she watched Kate settle Lille and Ghent just inside the open door, one on each side. Colin Merchet assured Kate he would keep an eye on them, which made her smile wondering why he thought they might obey him.

“They will keep an eye on themselves, Colin. But thank you.” She hesitated, remembering the poisoned meat. “Fetch me at once if anyone shows more than a passing interest in them.”

He promised to do so.

“You took your time,” Bess said loudly, interrupting them. “Come along.” She gestured for Kate to follow her to her lair between the public room and the kitchen. Pointing to a chair, she ordered Kate to sit. “You look as if you would welcome a sip of brandywine.”

“I would indeed.” Kate perched tentatively on an embroidered cushion. “You are kind to offer.”

“It has nothing to do with kindness.” Kate marveled at the illusion the woman created around her, a large presence, though she was in fact short enough that she stood on a small stool to reach a shelf that would be no stretch for Kate. She brought down a cobalt blue Italian glass bottle, then matching goblets, and lastly a pewter plate with roasted nuts. In steely silence Bess poured a goodly amount in each goblet, setting one in front of Kate, and then took a seat across from her in a high-backed, well-padded chair. Lifting her own goblet, the elderly taverner said, “Let us drink to the health of good friends,” and sipped.

An odd toast. But Kate gladly sipped. A fine brandywine.

Bess nodded, as if the drink signaled the beginning of their meeting. “Why did you wish to see me?”

Taking her cue from the woman’s blunt question, Kate said, “I need your help.” And waited.

Thick white brows drew together over eyes slightly milky with age yet fierce. The taverner’s rosy complexion was surprisingly unlined, and strands of copper hair mixed in with the white escaped her snowy, beribboned cap.

“Regarding?” Her tone sharp, as if warning Kate not to waste her time.

“Jon Horner. I understand he took his meals here. I hoped you might tell me what you know of him. If anyone ever joined him, particularly the spice seller found dead last night.”

Old Bess sniffed and sipped her wine, her eyes still locked on Kate, who was beginning to wonder whether she was wasting precious time.

“Horner.” Another sniff. “I paid him little heed.” With that, Bess sat awhile studying Kate, so long a while that the brandywine, which she sipped, and the homely sounds from the kitchen and the public room, began to lull Kate. She was startled when the elderly woman said, “Horner ate alone most days, though that shifty-eyed spice seller joined him on occasion.” As Kate opened her mouth to ask a question, Bess said, “I do not listen to customers’ conversations unbidden.”

Unbidden. An interesting qualifier.

“Did he dine with anyone else?” Kate asked.

Bess tapped the table with a broad finger, rough from a life of hard work, the joints swollen with age. She appeared to be a woman of rich complexities, powerful in her own right, with an income sufficient to afford her the luxury of brandywine in old age, yet with no apparent desire to take advantage of her grandson’s presence to sit back and take her ease. Kate thought she might like the taverner, given a chance.

“John Paris.” Bess spoke the name as if testing it, and on hearing it, nodded. “He is an occasional customer, so I might not have remembered but that he seemed uneasy when he dined with Horner one day, kept glancing round as if expecting trouble. A man of so little significance in the city, what did he fear? It had me wondering. I did not connect it with Horner at the time, but now …”

Paris’s discomfort while dining with Horner interested Kate. A warehouse he managed for the merchant Thomas Graa stood next to her mother’s Martha House, and Paris himself lived close by. He was also a customer of Kate’s guesthouse, though he had not been there for a while, and she’d had a mind to refuse him in future for she’d had trouble with him the past summer, though related to her mother, not the guesthouse.

“When was this?” Kate asked.

“Perhaps a week past, a little more.” Bess looked at something beyond Kate. A parade of days? “Just about a week ago.”

Kate thanked her. She would pay Paris a visit. “Anyone else?”

“Now and then. No one of note. The sort I would turn away if they were on their own, the ones who never seem to have the coin to pay for what they drink.”

Possibly useful. “Is there anything else you can tell me about Horner? Or Merek?”

Bess shifted slightly in her chair, as if getting comfortable. Had Kate passed some test?

“I know what you are about, Dame Katherine. You seek information that will convince the sheriffs that Berend did not murder Merek. Or Horner. I commend your loyalty. Berend is no murderer. Not now.”

Bess knew that Berend was in the city? Because of Peter Trimlow’s accusation? Or was there more? Kate chose her words with care. “I was not aware that you knew Berend.”

“No?” The hint of a smile. “He lodged here when he first came to York. In the large room, sharing with the others. He was well-liked, trusted. He told me about his childhood in a tavern, and I was about to fire my indifferent cook and hire Berend when he told me he had found employment. With you.”

Berend had never mentioned lodging at the York Tavern. “I did not know.” And it hurt.

“No one is ever entirely forthcoming, are they?” Bess gave her a knowing, but not unfriendly smile. “He is a man who seeks redemption. He’d not risk his soul for such petty criminals.”

“Then I can count on you as an ally?”

A tilt of the head, the ribbons on her cap touching her broad shoulders, the wise old eyes searching Kate’s face with some amusement. “So Berend is in the city?”

Caught. Kate wanted Bess on her side; she would be a formidable enemy.

“You say that as if you’d heard, but did not believe,” said Kate.

A chuckle. “Once checkmated, it is customary to accept with grace. Do you play chess?”

“I did with my late husband. It has been a while.”

“You are Simon Neville’s widow, yes. I doubt he was a challenging opponent. A handsome rake with no head for money.”

Kate gave a startled laugh. “That sums him up neatly.”

“You will do better. I did the second time round.”

“You certainly seem far more comfortable than I was on being widowed.”

“But you have persevered, and gained the respect of the wealthiest merchants in York.” Bess studied Kate over the rim of her cup as she sipped. “I would be your friend, Dame Katherine. But I do not like secrets. Trimlow the baker said he’d seen Berend, but he has been known to see far odder things in his cups.”

“He drinks here?”

“He does. Are you choosing what to share and what to keep to yourself? As I said, secrets make a lie of a friendship.”

“Even if they were entrusted to me and no one else?”

“Ah.” Bess looked down into her goblet. “That is entirely different.” She was quiet a moment. “I count on you and Sir Elric to make certain that Berend is cleared of all suspicion. See that you succeed. Come to me in the morning if you have not yet found him, and the murderer. I will keep my ears pricked.”

Kate wondered whether Old Bess’s ears were similar to Jennet’s.

“Is there anyone else?” Bess asked.

“Lionel Neville. Did he ever meet Horner here?”

A roll of the eyes. “That man. He is no stranger to the tavern, but he never sat with Horner. I assure you, I would have made note of that. Why do you ask?” Bess gave her a warning look when Kate hesitated. “I cannot believe you would protect his secrets.”

Neither could Kate. But his ordeal warranted discretion.

How can Old Bess help you if you keep so much from her? Geoff asked in Kate’s head.

Should I trust her with it, Geoff? Do you firmly believe that?

I do.

“Do you have a while?” Kate asked. “I have quite a tale to tell.”

A slight grin and a nod. “There is enough brandywine for it.” Bess set down her empty cup and began to rise just as Ghent gave a bark from the tavern yard, followed closely by Lille.

Kate jumped to her feet. “Those are warnings.”

“I have been selfish,” said Bess. “I would not have your hounds come to harm. Sir Elric tells me they sit quietly at your feet, awaiting your command. If that is so, bring them in I pray you.”

Kate gave her a cursory bow and hurried out, too anxious to see what was wrong to note Bess’s change of heart.

Colin stood at the door watching Lille and Ghent stride back and forth between the door and toward the street to the extent their leads permitted, sniffing the air and growling.

“I don’t know what they sense, Mistress Clifford. I’ve seen nothing awry.”

“They often smell or hear what we cannot.” Kate bent to untie the hounds’ leads, whispering for them to show her. Sniffing the ground beneath the eaves just outside the door, they led her along the tavern building toward the square. The ground close to the house was bare of snow except for quickly melting clumps outlining two pairs of footprints. Parr and Sawyer? Seeing her dogs outside the tavern, had they paused here, hoping to overhear something? And then Lille and Ghent had raised the hue and cry.

“Track,” she ordered.

The hounds turned right in the square, leading her past the apothecary and the large Ferriby home, then round the corner onto Davygate. There they were, Parr and Sawyer, trying to push past a cart piled high with barrels. Good. The barking had frightened them off. Keeping hold of the hounds’ leads – they were ready to chase the men down – Kate was about to turn back when she noticed a boy calling to the pair. Skulker, a ne’er-do-well who hung around the warehouses near the staithes, working as an errand boy. Once, when Kate had noticed him at Paris’s warehouse next door to her former home, she had thought to use him, but Jennet had warned her to avoid him unless she wanted the wrong folk to know her business.

Had the two men hired Skulker? If so, she wanted to see where he was taking them. Down Davygate they hurried, Kate maintaining just enough distance that she did not raise alarms – the hounds did attract attention. For once Kate was grateful for the crowded streets, especially the noisy street barkers calling out their wares, covering the greetings called out to her as she passed. Skulker’s path led down alleyways and round the market, gathering speed as he crossed into Castlegate.

Kate felt a sudden twinge of foreboding. Castlegate was home to her mother and her beguines as well as to Thomas Holme, and it led not just to the staithes but also the warehouse John Paris managed, Skulker’s favorite haunts. She urged Lille and Ghent to a trot.

John Paris stood on the street in front of the warehouse, shaking his head dejectedly as he caught sight of Skulker and the two men. Parr and Sawyer broke out into a run, shouting something at Paris, who shrugged and gestured toward York Castle.

Hoping one of the beguines might know what had happened at the warehouse to draw Parr and Sawyer, Kate slipped into the little school Sister Brigida had fixed up in the small building that fronted her mother’s Martha House. She touched Lille and Ghent to let them know to be quiet and stay at her side. Brigida glanced up from her observation of two girls who were biting their tongues as they struggled to master styluses and wax tablets. As soon as the girls caught sight of Lille and Ghent they jumped up.

“Can we ride them?” a tow-headed girl cried.

“Can we?” echoed her freckled companion.

Lille and Ghent each took a step backward, their ears registering their alarm.

“They are hounds, not ponies,” Sister Brigida told the girls. Tall, long-limbed, Brigida was well able to reach out and grasp the girls by their shoulders and draw them back to their bench while quietly but firmly enjoining them to sit down and behave. “This is part of your education, learning not to startle any of God’s creatures.”

The freckled imp was having none of that, and whispered to Lille, “Come, pup.”

Brigida squeezed her shoulders. “Be still and silent, or you will pay with additional copying,” she warned.

Kate was glad her girls were at home. They would have posed a larger problem, insisting on following her.

Once the girls settled, Brigida apologized to Kate and asked what she might do for her.

“You have heard no shouting at the warehouse next door?”

The tow-head glanced up. “We did! And we saw the sheriffs’ constables rush in.”

“And then I ordered them to sit down,” said Brigida. “Do you know what’s amiss?”

“No. Did you see anyone come out with them?” Kate asked.

“No. I am sorry. But you might ask Sister Dina. She is up above, trying to complete her work on a gown that was promised by this evening.”

Ordering Lille and Ghent to sit by the door, Kate lifted her skirts and climbed up the steep ladder-like steps to the small solar above. Sister Dina, her round, sweet face furrowed in frowns as she bent to her needlework, did not even look up. Kate cleared her throat, then walked over to her. One hand came up, signaling that she would greet Kate in a moment. A few more stitches, a satisfied nod, and Dina tucked the needle in the fabric and pushed the work aside.

“Dame Katherine. Welcome.”

“Did you perchance glance out the window when the sheriffs’ men arrived at John Paris’s warehouse just now?”

“Is that who they were?” She nodded. “I did. But I am not certain about what I thought I–” she looked up, searching for the English “–witnessed?”

“Yes, that is the word.” Dina had found English difficult at first, but had been rapidly catching up with her companions, Brigida and Clara. “What did you think you witnessed?” Kate asked.

“I saw our friend Berend. He was led away like a–” Dina bit her lip, frowned, brought her hands together as if tied.

“Prisoner?” Kate guessed.

“Yes. Yes. I would worry, but I must be–” Dina shook her head, “in error? He is not in the city, I think?”

Kate silently cursed herself for not realizing the warehouse was somewhere Berend might hide. When they had lived next door to it, he had often taken leftover food to the workers there. They loved him for it and might very well hide him. But they might not think to have a care when Skulker was about.

“Did John Paris witness what happened?”

A nod.

Kate would ruin Paris for giving Berend up to the sheriffs. His infirm wife had died in late autumn, so she would feel no guilt in depriving him of income.

“Berend was away,” she said, “but he returned recently. I believe that you did see him.”

Dina crossed herself, her eyes filling with tears. “Why would they take him? He is a good man.”

“They are mistaken.” Kate would say no more to Sister Dina, who had endured her own ordeal in the summer, the attack in which Kevin had been injured rescuing her. “Was there anyone else with him?”

Dina frowned up at her. “You ask if he was only prisoner?” She nodded. “Only him.”

Kate peered out the window, saw no one outside the Castlegate end of the warehouse, but she did spot John Paris strolling out the back, down Hertergate toward his home. Alone.

Thanking Dina, Kate picked her way back down the steps.

“Was she able to help?” asked Brigida.

“She was. Forgive my interruption. I will leave you to your students.”

“You are always welcome, Dame Katherine.”

The girls whispered good-byes to Lille and Ghent, their voices sad with lost opportunity.

Signaling the dogs, Kate stepped out and went round the side of the warehouse to the rear, then down the alley into Hertergate. John Paris had not stopped at his house, but was still walking in the direction of the river. Heading to the staithes? She slipped the leads from the hounds’ collars and motioned for them to halt Paris, taking her time following. Let his fear of them work to her benefit. For a man as terrified of Lille and Ghent as she knew him to be, it would be an event out of his nightmares to have them appear out of nowhere and crowd close. It should render him eager to tell her anything in exchange for calling them off.

“Foiled, were you?” she said when she reached him. “How much had the liveried men offered you to give Berend over?”

“I– It was not like that! I sent for the sheriffs, not those men.” Paris was shivering and trying to shrink himself into something so tiny Lille and Ghent might forget about him. “I– It was my duty to Thomas Graa, who owns the warehouse. Berend is wanted for the murder of Merek the spice seller. It matters not a whit whether or not you or I believe him guilty. If the sheriffs discovered that I harbored a murderer in Graa’s warehouse, which he entrusts to me, I would be ruined. I sent word to the castle. But Skulker – he brought those other men, the little bastard. I’ve warned him to stay away, and my workers know to keep him out of the warehouse.”

Kate was seething, she’d seen his shoulders slump when he spied Parr and Sawyer, but she needed information. “Where are Skulker and the two men now?”

“Gone. They wanted to go in, search, but I told them the sheriffs’ men had taken everything.”

“Did they?”

“I did not see them take anything. Just Berend. But the two men looked like trouble. Faith, anyone in Skulker’s company is trouble.”

“You did not see where they went?”

“I did not watch.”

“How did you learn Berend was there?” Berend would have known to stay out of sight of Paris, knowing he was untrustworthy.

“Could you call off your dogs?” Paris whined, the sweat darkening the hair sticking out of his hat.

“I will when I believe you have told me all you know. How did you discover that Berend was in your warehouse?”

“I smelled cooked meat, well spiced, when I went into the warehouse after dinner today. A little thing, but I had heard of the search for Berend, and I remember such a scent coming from the kitchen when you lived near. So I waited. I saw him sneaking in the back, and I sent for the sheriffs’ men.”

Clever. She would not have believed it of him. “Was Berend injured?”

“By the constables? I do not believe he was.”

“Before they came?”

Paris began to shake his head but stopped, as if fearing the dogs would take it as a signal. “I caught only a glimpse of him. Enough to recognize him, that is all.”

“So you would not be able to say whether he’d been injured when he returned to the warehouse?”

Another slight shake of his head, eyeing the dogs with terror.

“The men Skulker brought here, had they been here before?”

“I had not seen them before. But my men would be better able to tell you.”

“They are well dressed. Why would you think them trouble?”

“I told you, anyone who would arrive with Skulker …”

“I don’t believe you. I think they’ve come to you before. Shall I tell the sheriffs you are protecting them?”

“Why would the sheriffs care about them?”

“You thought they were trouble,” said Kate. “The sheriffs might agree.”

Paris dropped his head. “They might have come to my home, asked me whether I knew him.”

“Go home,” she said. “I will think what to do about you.”

“What? Dame Katherine! I was only–”

She signaled the hounds to herd him back toward his house.

“I had to raise the hue and cry!” he shouted over his shoulder as he stumbled toward his house.

Once he had slammed the door behind him, Kate called Lille and Ghent back to her, commending them as she led them back to the warehouse. There the workers talked over each other, apologizing, assuring her they had done their best to keep Berend’s presence a secret. One of them offered to show her where Berend had slept. But Lille and Ghent beat them there, prowling round a quiet spot behind stacked barrels, ears perked, as they sniffed at a pack sitting atop a stack of blankets.

Kate recognized Berend’s traveling pack, old, worn leather with bright new buckles Jennet had sewn on for him as a Christmas gift. The girls loved to slip little gifts into it when it sat by the door, awaiting his departure. Blessed Mother, may they have the chance to do that again. Calling Lille and Ghent to her side, Kate opened the pack: a shirt, leggings, a leather vest, a pouch of the salve for his scars, especially his ruined ear, a twist of spices, a small cook pot, wooden spoon, and, wrapped in leather, a good skinning knife. Her breath caught in her throat as she touched these pieces of Berend’s life. The shirt carried his scent. It had been worn. That it was not bloody gave her hope. She closed up the pack, nodded to the blankets.

“Were these Berend’s?” she asked the men, who had followed her.

“No. They’re ours. We let him use ’em,” said one.

She signaled the hounds to rest while she questioned the men. She wanted no distractions. “Have you seen Berend with anyone?”

They had not. “Quiet, he was. For the first day he just slept,” said one. “We kept watch that no one bothered him.”

“Did he ask for anything to clean a wound?”

All the men shook their heads. One mentioned his limp, and the cut beneath his eye. “But it was already healing when he arrived.”

Nothing new. “Bless you for giving him sanctuary,” she said.

“He’s a good man,” said the one who had offered to show her Berend’s spot.

“Skulker is a dead lad,” muttered one of the others.

Kate imagined so, either Berend’s friends in York or Parr and Sawyer would see to that. The lad would be smart to run away.

“The pair Skulker brought – have they been here before?”

Nods. “A few days past. Claimed they’d come on Merek’s behalf to collect what he had stored here. We’d never seen them before so we told them to return with proof Merek had given them the authority.”

“I commend you.”

A shrug. “There was little left. Merek had sold most of the spices and such. He was moving on, he told us.”

Moving on, now Berend had returned? “And you thought it odd they were here to collect his wares?”

“We had a laugh about it. For all their livery and fine speech, they were easy to foil.”

Or they like people to think so, catch them off guard.

“Can you show me where Merek stored his wares?”

They led her to a shelf that held a sack, a few jugs. Certainly nothing the two men would have gone out of their way for. “This is it?”

A nod.

“I see why you found it amusing. Did you see the direction they took?”

“Back down Castlegate, toward the city.”

She signaled to Lille and Ghent to rise from where they had been resting and gave them a good whiff of Berend’s pack, then told them to look about. Just in case.

“We might’ve done better,” said one of the men. “Bloody Paris.”

“How did he find Berend?” Kate asked.

“Had a barrel got loose, Berend was helping us get it in hand and Paris saw him. Ran out into the street screeching like he’d seen the dead rise up.”

“Why didn’t Berend run?”

All the men shrugged. “He seemed to just give up,” said one.

“Paris tells a different story about how he discovered Berend.” She told them what he’d said.

They exchanged guilty glances. “We did ask for one of his stews.”

“Course he smelled it. That’s why he came in when he did and caught him.”

“We’re as guilty as Skulker.”

“No. You did make a mistake, but so did Berend. He was grateful, wanted to repay you, and he forgot that the scent would linger.”

They hung their heads. Their friend had been taken, and they realized they were, in part, to blame.

Going in search of the hounds, Kate found them sniffing round a crate tucked in a dark corner. She called for some light. The dogs circled, ears pricked, sniffing, then Lille stood on her hind legs, paws on the top of the crate, licking her lips and glancing back at Kate. Ghent also rose, then leaped up atop it, pawing at it. The men, one of them holding up a lantern, began to argue about what was stored there.

Signaling the hounds to come sit, Kate rubbed their backs as she listened to the men, learning that Berend had borrowed a tool and disappeared in this direction in the early morning, shortly after they had relieved the man on night duty.

When she had heard enough, she asked for a tool that would open the crate, preferring not to reveal the battle axe in her skirt.

One of the men unhooked a long iron bar from his belt and handed it over. She considered its heft, balance. It would do. As she turned back toward the crate, she kicked something that went skittering. “Bring the lantern closer.” Several bent nails lay where they must have fallen when someone else opened the crate.

“Two of you, watch the doors,” she said. “Call out if anyone approaches.”

She fell to, prying up a corner.

“The earl’s knight approaches,” one of the watchers called out. “He is with the one who saved Sister Dina.”

Elric and Kevin. Damnable timing.

That is habit, Kate, Geoff whispered in her mind. You need Elric to help Berend.

But will he?

He said he would. And you seemed to believe him then.

Habit. Of course it was. He seemed sincere about helping. Pray God he did not blame Berend when he learned she’d hidden Margery all this while. “Bring them to me.”

She went back to work, prying another corner loose, and had just engaged the one who had stayed with her in lending a hand to pull it open when Elric and Kevin reached them.

“Can we help?” Elric asked.

She motioned to her companion and they both backed away. Elric and Kevin finished the task with ease.

“What do you see?” Kate asked as they peered in.

The man with the lantern stepped closer, shining it inside. “Jars of oil, those are.”

“Large jars, standing upright, cushioned by straw,” said Elric.

“Looks like one has been removed,” said Kevin. “Just a pile of loose straw in that far corner.”

Kate poked at the straw with the tool she had borrowed, raking some of it away until she saw what looked to be leather. “Something’s hidden beneath the straw.”

“If you will permit me.” Elric lifted out a pouch. It was small, but clearly heavy. “There is a box of some sort inside.” He set it on a barrel near them and stepped back.

Kate untied the leather thong holding the pouch closed and drew out a small carved wood traveling casket secured with leather straps, the sort used to carry valuables.

Elric leaned close and whispered, “I don’t know what has happened here, but this might be something the warehouse workers should not see?”

Kate looked round at the men who had been such a help. “I need you to guard the doors. We do not want to be surprised.”

As they dispersed, she unbuckled the straps. The casket was secured with a small but strong lock. “I should have brought Jennet.”

“I knew her lessons would be of benefit someday,” said Kevin. “Might I try?”

He drew a small pick out of his scrip, and, leaning close, one ear to the lock, he worked it. In but a few moments he stepped back with a proud grin.

“Your time in Dame Katherine’s household was well spent,” Elric said softly. “I pray you, Dame Katherine, do not keep us in suspense.”

Hoping against hope that it was nothing incriminating – a bloody dagger, a blood-soaked shirt – she held her breath as she lifted the heavy lid. “Holy Mary, Mother of God,” she breathed. “A treasure.”

She lifted up a gold ring set with rubies and diamonds, a chain on which hung an exquisite pearl swan with sapphire eyes. The casket was filled with such jewels. She lifted out a small pack, opened it, “Gold and silver coins.”

“A hoard,” said Elric.

What was Berend doing with this? Geoff whispered in her head.

Or was it Merek’s hoard? Kate prayed God it was.

“How did you find this?” asked Elric. “To whom does it belong?”

She told him how the hounds had sniffed it out. “Berend must have been the one to open and then secure the crate,” she said. “His scent must have been all over it for Lille and Ghent to lead me to it. He hid this in the crate. But whose hoard it is, and why he had it, why he would hide it here, in this warehouse …” She shook her head. It made no sense to her.

“Someone will be back to search for this,” said Elric. “We must not linger here.”

Closing the casket, Kate wrapped it in the leather pouch. “One of you must carry this, and Berend’s pack. I have the hounds.”

“Your remarkable hounds,” said Elric. “Did the warehousemen know of this?”

“No.”

Elric slung Berend’s pack over his shoulder and handed the pouch to Kevin, and the five of them made their way to the door opening onto Castlegate. The light was fading. Late afternoon.

“Was it anything of use?” one of the warehousemen asked.

“It might help us discover why Merek was murdered,” said Kate. She thanked them once more, promising to send word of Berend, then followed Elric and Kevin out into the gathering shadows.

Once outside, in the cold, Lille and Ghent shook themselves as if shaking off the dust of the warehouse. Blessed, blessed companions, Kate thought.

“How did you happen to come to the warehouse?” she asked Elric.

“I had heard about the sheriffs being called to it,” said Elric. “How did you happen to be there?”

“I was following Sawyer and Parr – I will tell you the whole tale. Come with me.”

“Perhaps Kevin should escort you and I should go straight to the castle. I would rather Berend did not spend the night in their dungeon.”

She would as well, but there was much Elric needed to know in order to ask Berend, and the sheriffs, the correct questions. “First come to the York Tavern with me. I prefer to tell the tale to you and Bess at the same time.”

“Bess Merchet?” said Kevin. “Why would you share this with her?”

“She believes in Berend’s innocence.”

“I had heard you were there,” said Elric.

“Oh?” Kevin seemed surprised.

“I found her leaning on her cane awaiting your return,” Elric told Kate. “I had just sat down with an ale when Kevin came for me.”

Kevin nodded. “The men watching Horner’s house were called away. They’d been told that the sheriffs’ men were headed to Graa’s warehouse to apprehend the murderer.”

Foolishly confident, Geoff whispered in Kate’s mind.

Agreed.

“Kevin, would you mind watching Horner’s house?” Kate asked. “I would like to see who takes the opportunity to search it. Do you agree?” she asked Elric.

He nodded. “If someone is anxious to retrieve anything, they will have been awaiting this chance. Do you have anyone in mind?”

“I wish I did,” said Kate.

Looking disappointed, Kevin handed Elric the pouch with the casket and took his leave of them, heading up Coppergate toward Davygate.

“Whose jewels?” Elric wondered as he weighed the casket in his hands. “And what is Berend’s connection to them?”

“Or Merek’s,” said Kate. “He might have had the casket hidden in the warehouse. But Lille and Ghent would not have marked it had Berend’s scent not been on it.”

And the discovery bode ill for his release. A man with Berend’s history in possession of such a treasure? Had Salisbury entrusted it to him?

The slush was hardening as the gathering twilight drew in the chill from the river. She had not worn her warmest cloak, not expecting to traipse across the city, and her feet were cold in her boots.

“Where will they put him in the castle?” she asked.

“Accused of murder and of being a traitor to the crown, with no lord to protect him?” Elric shook his head. “I warrant they’ll put him in the dungeons. That is why I need to talk to the sheriffs, offer the protection of the earl.”

“You would do that for him?”

“Did I not promise I would?”

They were walking through the market and Kate paused for a moment to look into her companion’s eyes, check the sincerity. His cheeks flushed with the cold, his blue eyes brighter than ever, and steady as they met her gaze.

“Are you ready to trust me, Katherine?”

She felt a slight lightening of her burden. His cooperation could only be to her benefit. As long as she had a care to protect her heart. “I am,” she said. But only so far as she would any man. And not yet with Margery’s secret.

He proffered his free arm, but she had a lead in each hand.

“Perhaps one of these days you might train me to hold one of those,” he suggested.

She smiled, but thought it unlikely.

Bess sat on a high-backed chair by the door to the public room, hands on the carved wolf’s head atop her cane, her eyes snapping. “I do not like the grim looks on both your faces. Who was lurking outside the tavern?” she asked Kate.

“Parr and Sawyer, the men who came to York wearing Lancastrian livery and claiming to be on a mission for the king.”

“Ah. I’ve heard about them. How did the hounds know to warn you?”

“As I said, I have quite a tale to tell.”

“And your grim faces?”

Kate told her what she had learned from Sister Dina and at the warehouse, adding Lille and Ghent’s part in finding something that might provide a motivation for the crimes, patting the pouch Elric carried.

“Skulker, curse that vermin,” Bess growled. “My grandson was foolhardy enough to hire him. Lasted one day. All ears and mouth, no work. The dockworkers will see to him. No place for sneaks. His young bones will wash up with the tide.” Bess rose with a grunt, shrugging off Elric’s proffered assistance with a shake of her beribboned cap. “I am not yet so old that I cannot rise from a chair on my own two legs.”

Bess leaned on her cane and cast an eye on Lille, then Ghent. “They have proved themselves to be beings I would do well to befriend.” The old woman took a deep breath, as if to fortify herself. “Come along to my ‘parlor’,” she said, motioning for Kate and the hounds to enter first. “And Sir Elric is to join us?”

“If it please you,” said Kate.

A nod.

Elric settled at the end of the table, and Bess took her usual seat.

“Well then, let us resume,” said Bess. “The tavern is about to fill up for the evening.”

When Kate and the hounds had settled, Bess called for a kitchen maid to bring Lille and Ghent a bowl of water.

“Begin your tale, I pray you, Dame Katherine,” said Bess as she poured brandywine. “I do not wish Berend to spend any more time in that dank, soulless place than necessary.”

Kate took a few sips of the wine while she gathered her thoughts, reviewing what she had learned, trying to separate what seemed most likely true from her speculations and those of others regarding all that had happened. She felt the responsibility of it, how much was at stake.

“I do not yet see it as a whole, how it all fits together. I depend on you to help me to sift through it all, find the patterns.” Kate settled back in the chair, closing her eyes for a moment, then began.

With but a few interruptions from her companions, she told them all she had gleaned – or most of it. She gave a general description of Berend’s visit, including the fact that he knew Merek and did not admit to traveling with Lady Kirkby, nor did he seem to know Parr and Sawyer, or, at least, did not know why they would be in York. She gave a more detailed account of their nighttime intrusion in her home, as well as what she had seen at Jon Horner’s house – how they had found him, the evidence of a room turned upside down in search of something – leaving out the glove and the mysterious clump of something possibly herbal – and her conversations with Old Cob and Coffey the smith. Lastly, she recounted in full her visit with Lionel, what Sister Dina had observed of Berend’s capture, her conversation with Paris, and what she had learned from the men in the warehouse. She opened Berend’s pack, showing them that there was no blood on his clothing.

“Nor did the warehousemen notice any new injuries.”

“That is something,” Elric muttered.

She omitted Carl’s murder lest she slip and suggest she had seen him earlier, or mention Lady Margery.

“If Parr and Sawyer are after the jewels, Berend’s capture might propel them to take risks in searching for them,” said Bess.

“Which was why I wanted Horner’s home watched,” said Kate. “And Merek’s lodgings. Do you have someone at Merek’s?” she asked Elric.

He was not certain. He would see to it.

“I know the woman who keeps his lodgings,” said Bess. “Goodwife Mary will cooperate with you. She likes life tidy and lawful. I will send word that she tell you of anyone attempting to trespass.”

All three fell silent. Lille and Ghent shifted beneath the table, settling deeper into their slumber. It had been a long day for them.

“Berend was seen with Merek earlier in the evening, then intervened on his behalf when he found Horner attacking him,” Elric said softly, as if to himself, as he helped himself to more brandywine. “Why then would he return to slit his throat?” Settling back, he said, “I will send to Sheriff Hutton for more men. We need to scour York for Parr and Sawyer. That Jennet’s tribe has been unable to sniff them out makes me uneasy.”

“Who killed Merek, that is what we need to know,” said Bess. “And Horner. We need to prove Berend’s innocence.”

“The fact that no one has noticed blood on Berend’s clothing is not proof that he is innocent,” said Elric. “I need to examine him, see whether he is so well bandaged it does not show.”

Kate agreed. Berend might have rid himself of his bloody clothing. And what of the casket of jewels and gold that sat at Elric’s elbow?

As if he could hear her thoughts, Elric drew the casket from the leather pouch and set it on the table. “We also need to know what Berend was doing with this.”

Bess reached out to touch the casket. “You have opened this?” Elric nodded. “Berend had this?”

“I cannot otherwise explain how the hounds tracked it,” said Kate.

As Elric was describing how it had been placed in a large crate tucked back in a corner of the warehouse, out of the way, he lifted the lid, revealing the contents.

“Mary and all the saints,” Bess whispered. “I never took him to be a thief.”

“What of Merek?” asked Elric. “Is it possible that Berend found it in Merek’s belongings and hid it?”

“And the warehousemen had not noticed it?” Bess looked at him askance. “He took a risk with the men. And John Paris.”

Kate thought it time they saw exactly what was in the casket. “Is it safe to examine the contents here, with your servants coming past?” They sat in an alcove opened to the passage between the kitchen and the public room.

The old woman lifted her cane and pointed toward a folded wooden screen leaning against the far wall. “I use that to afford myself privacy when I am doing the accounts and do not wish to be disturbed. It is sufficient to hide us from prying eyes. Sir Elric?”

He had already risen, and with Kate’s help, they drew it across the opening while Bess used one lamp to light two others.

“Now,” she said, her expression one of gleeful anticipation as she plucked a cloth from a nearby shelf and shook it out, laying it on the table, smoothing it. “Let us see what we have.”

Kate, still standing, began to lift items from the casket and place them on the cloth. A gold ring, several gold chains, including the one with the swan pendant, a jeweled crispinette – diamonds, a small pouch of pearls, the bag of coins, both gold and silver, from various countries, and a small pouch bearing a crest, a trio of red diamonds quartered with green eagles.

“Salisbury’s coat of arms,” said Elric, shaking his head. “I am sorry to see this.”

So was Kate. She fumbled with the knotted leather tie, finally tipping the contents out onto the cloth. A signet ring with the initials JM, and a delicate gold ring with a ruby in a heart-shaped setting.

“A posey ring?” Kate wondered, lifting the ruby ring and holding it close to the light to read the inscription encircling it. “C’est mon désir.” She glanced up.

Bess asked if she might see the posey ring, squinting at it as she turned it this way and that, light glinting off its many facets. “A man’s ring, and his wife’s? Why would Berend have possession of these?”

Elric frowned over the coat of arms and the signet ring. “JM for John Montagu, Earl of Salisbury. He entrusts one of his men to hide a treasure that will support him in exile. It is a common practice. The posey is a love token. Included to remember his beloved while they are apart?”

“And you believe this was Berend’s mission?” asked Kate. “To hold this treasure for his lord’s son?”

“It would explain part of his travels,” said Elric. “Not all. How he managed to protect this … Fortune was on his side.”

“No longer,” Bess whispered. “This looks ill for our friend.”

Indeed it did. Kate collected the rings and pouch and put them aside, reaching for a leather bag that lay beneath the hoard. Inside was yet another pouch, this one of silk, holding …

“Lady Margery’s jewels,” she whispered, recognizing the necklaces, a ring, a bracelet, a gold circlet, two crispinettes, one gold with diamonds, one silver with sapphires. All items she remembered her friend wearing. “What are they doing here?”

“You said Berend denied being with Lady Margery?” Elric asked Kate.

“He did not admit to it.”

“He did not wish to lie to you.” Elric looked Kate in the eye.

As she disliked lying to Elric. Remorse choked her. A casket with jewels belonging to Lady Margery and to the Earl of Salisbury. What could it signify but that she or Lord Kirkby had joined the rebels? And Kate was hiding her. God have mercy. And somehow Merek and Horner discovered it?

“Is it possible that this is what Merek and Horner died for?” she asked. “The wealth in this casket, and what it might reveal?”

“People have been murdered for far less,” said Elric. “Or Salisbury might have entrusted Merek with this, to hand over to Berend, and when it came to that, he was reluctant …”

All three pairs of eyes met over the sparkling hoard. Mystified. Saddened. Frightened.

“No,” said Kate. “No. The Berend I know would not murder Merek and Horner to silence them about this.”

“Of course not,” Bess said, sounding far more certain than Kate. “We’ve no time for riddles. Sir Elric will confront Berend, find out how he came to possess this. But first we must hide it. Somewhere safe. I certainly do not want it under my roof.”

“Katherine?” Elric looked at her.

She knew of one woman adept at hiding gold – her mother. But would she agree? Even more to the point, would moving it to the Martha House endanger her mother and the beguines?

“What about the house of your cousin, soon to be mayor?” Bess asked quietly, so as not to be overheard. “They say his home is a fortress, guarded night and day, and surely he has a place where he hides the jewels Isabella so loves to flaunt.”

“I must think.” Kate put Margery’s jewels back in the silk pouch, tucked that into the leather pouch, and returned it to the casket, layering the rest on top. She closed the lid and slipped the casket into the leather pouch Elric held open.

“I will escort you home,” he said.

“My house is not far from here. And I have Lille and Ghent. You have a more pressing task – you must go to the castle, talk to Berend. He might be able to explain.”

“They will permit you to see him, won’t they?” asked Bess. “Westmoreland’s captain in the city?”

“They would not risk either the king’s or my earl’s ire by denying me,” Elric assured them. “I pray I find some answers. And no open wounds on Berend.”

“Amen,” Kate whispered.

“Find out who has murdered two men and pointed the finger at Berend,” said Bess. “And God help you if you fail, Elric of Bigod,” she growled. To Kate, she said, “Trust Sir Elric. You need his help.” With a nod, she rose, cautious not to disturb Lille and Ghent. “I would not have believed it had I not witnessed it myself. You trained them well.”

Kate bowed to her. “They know a friend when they meet one.”

The taverner touched Kate’s forearm. “We will save him, the three of us.” A sad smile. “I will call on my neighbor, Gwenllian Ferriby. Apothecaries hear much in their shops. The smallest detail might provide the clue we need to connect all these troubles.”

“I met Gwenllian at Lionel’s,” said Kate. “She is seeing to his wounds.”

“Good,” said Bess. “I will not feel guilty bringing her into this as she is already involved.”

“Would you ask her if I might talk to her? If I described Jon Horner – how he looked, smelled – she might have an idea what the poison was, how it might have been given to him. Perhaps she might examine the room, if it’s not already cleaned.”

Bess looked uncertain. “Her mother would have gladly assisted you, but Gwenllian might be hesitant. I will see what I might do.”

Kate thanked her.

“I do it for Berend,” said Bess.

“As do I.”

As Kate led the hounds through the public room, which was filling up, the patrons made much of them being permitted in the tavern.

“Do not for a moment think you all may bring your dogs in here,” Bess bellowed from the doorway. “Lille and Ghent are privileged guests.”

Already stepping out into the yard, Elric turned to Kate. “If someone in that tavern recognizes the bag, they will follow you. The wolfhounds or no, I am escorting you home.”

Glancing back at the curious faces, Kate could not but agree. “No need to lead anyone into temptation,” she laughed at his surprise as she handed him the bag. She quietly thanked him as she separated the hounds’ leads, one in each hand.

“I am honored.”

Would he be so honored if he knew what she hid from him? She averted her eyes, making a study of the Ferriby house as they passed it. An uncommonly fine home for an apothecary, but then Gwenllian’s husband Tom Ferriby was a prominent mercer, like his father, and his maternal grandfather had been a knight. So had Gwenllian’s maternal grandfather, though her mother had been an apothecary – a knight’s daughter becoming an apothecary, there was a story in that, she’d wager. She had knights on the mind, or one in particular, tall, strong, handsome, with a way of carrying himself that set her thinking about the best chamber in her guesthouse and what they might do there. But it would never happen. Too many lies and half-truths. How she regretted that.

They were a quiet pair as they walked, nodding to folk hurrying home as night closed in over the city and the streets grew treacherous, the shadows deepening beneath the jutting overhangs, the slush refreezing underfoot. Lille barked at a clerk who ventured too close as he swept the area in front of a shop, making him give way.

“Imperious,” Elric said with a laugh.

Kate smiled. She liked his laugh. It began in his chest, a deep, rich sound.

Upon reaching the door to her hall Kate stopped, suddenly awkward.

Elric saved the moment. He bowed and kissed her hand. “I will come straight to you with an account of my mission to the castle.”

“I will be waiting,” she said.

He handed her the casket and Berend’s pack. “Keep them safe!”

She held up the pack. “Perhaps he could use the extra clothing?”

“Better that I leave it with you for now, see where they are holding him.”

“Of course. Godspeed!”

You are more than a little fond of your knight, Geoff said in Kate’s mind as she watched Elric stride off down the street.

He’s not– She caught herself evading her own realization. I am. More’s the pity.

He is a good man.

So you keep telling me.

I would give much to travel in his mind for this meeting, Geoff said as Kate made her way round the house to the kitchen.

I would as well, Geoff. But more than that, I wish I could be the one to go to Berend. I need to know whether I’ve been a fool to hide Margery.

Better that he break his silence with Elric, man to man. And then you will hear all that he told Elric.

Perhaps. If he confides in him. Why should he?

Then it will be your turn.