A Murdered Peace

12 Ordeals

When Kate returned, Marie was giving Petra a cooking lesson, with much rolling of the eyes and sighing.

Jennet sat by the door keeping her hands busy with a distaff and spindle, creating a fine wool thread. Without pausing in her work, she invited Kate to sit beside her. “The girls are too busy arguing to overhear if we speak softly.”

“I called on Dame Jocasta.”

“And?”

“She was sorry Griselde found the maidservant lacking and went to fetch her.”

Jennet grinned down at the spindle. “That is a relief.”

“Yes and no. I did not mean to involve her.”

“She might have refused.”

Kate sighed as Lille settled at her feet, warming them.

“I had a visitor,” said Jennet with a glint of excitement in her eyes.

“Elric? Berend?”

“No, sorry, one of my eyes and ears, the scrivener I’ve befriended. He’s discovered more about Jon Horner.”

A good source, eager to make trouble for a man who gave those in his profession a bad name. Horner had set himself up as a scrivener to prey on the desperate, threatening to reveal their bad debts and illegal trades if they did not pay for his discretion – charging a fee more than double the customary.

“Anything to explain his relationship with Merek?” Kate asked.

“No. I think there is something in this. Maybe Petra’s dreams have me heeding my feelings.” Jennet paused to attend to a knot in the wool. “There. So. It seems Horner pried into the business dealings of elderly, infirm men with young wives, which included four now dead – Alan Barker, John Atterby, Adam Nottingham, and Ross Wheeldon. He’d also noted Dame Eleanor’s evident wealth, and newly widowed with no husband to guide her.”

“Mother?” Kate sat back, aghast.

Jennet nodded. “That was disturbing, but I was more interested in the other widows I mentioned. Might whatever Merek handed Horner have been a gift for one of them? Was he seeking a wealthy wife? The lady’s glove in his room, the one you have not shown Sir Elric, might it belong to one of these women? Who then poisoned him?” She bent to another snag. “Two of them are betrothed – Alyse Nottingham and Mary Barker. But Philippa Atterby and Cecily Wheeldon are not. I thought it odd, that he was keeping notes on Wheeldon, considering he’d worked for her.”

“Was there anything of interest in his business with her?”

“Only that my friend could find no records of it.”

“None?”

Jennet shook her head. “Do you think that’s why he dressed like a peacock? Thinking women would flock to him, like peahens?”

“Heaven help any woman who pecked at his feet,” Kate said, grinning. “What does it mean, that he found no records?”

“Possibly the widow keeps them close. As you do.”

Kate searched her memory about Philippa Atterby. Someone had mentioned her recently. An interesting story. Ah, it came back to her. “Not long ago – perhaps a fortnight? – Philippa Atterby spoke to Mother about joining her Martha House. Her family was pushing her into a marriage she did not want and she hoped to escape it by withdrawing into a holy life.”

“Do you think her family would have pushed Jon Horner?” asked Jennet.

Kate thought of Philippa’s parents. Her grandfather had once been mayor, her father both bailiff and sheriff. “I doubt it.”

Jennet leaned closer. “What did Dame Eleanor decide?”

“She explained the sisters’ day – all the prayer and work, and asked her whether that was what she truly wanted. When Philippa hesitated, Dame Eleanor offered to speak to her family about her own wishes. Philippa left in some anger.” Kate empathized with Philippa as well as with her mother. She knew the lengths a young widow with an overbearing family might go to avoid their interference. “It might be worth speaking to Dame Eleanor about both Philippa Atterby and Jon Horner.”

“We seem to go farther from the point with every piece of information,” Jennet grumbled.

Kate agreed. If they did not find a pattern that pointed to the murderer … “We need a plan for plucking Berend out of the castle and helping him slip away.”

“Where would he go?”

“His land?”

They were interrupted by Marie, who flopped down beside Kate with a dramatic sigh. “I despair. She will never be a cook.”

Petra remained at the worktable frowning at the watery dough dripping from her hands.

Biting back a smile, Kate turned to Jennet. “I will visit Jocasta and Eleanor in the morning.” She pressed Jennet’s arm. “Thank you. I do not know what I would do without you.”

Jennet ducked her head. “You give me the questions. All I do is pass them on and then wait for some answers. But I will think about the last item.”

Berend’s escape. Kate nodded.

Marie poked Kate’s arm. “Did Sir Elric forget us?”

Kate drew her close and kissed her forehead, smiling up at Petra, who stood perplexed over her failure. “The waiting is difficult, I know.” And it was hardest for the girls, it seemed. “We need movement, eh? Come, let’s go to the hall.” Rising, Kate asked Jennet to see what she might do with the dough.

Out in the hall, where there was space, Kate led Petra and Marie through a set of exercises that strengthened their arms for archery, then made a game out of seeing who could stand still the longest. When at last Elric and Matt arrived, without Berend, the girls were exhausted, their disappointment expressed with long faces and teary eyes, but no melodrama. They each took one of Elric’s hands as they led him to a chair by the fire, begging him for information. He looked exhausted, his eyes shadowed, his movements heavy as he settled into the chair. Kate sent Matt to the kitchen to fetch Jennet with some refreshment.

“I saw Berend moved to far more comfortable quarters, and Sisters Clara and Agnes from the Martha House are seeing to the sores from the shackles and ensuring that he has food that will speed his healing,” Elric assured Marie and Petra. “Until we have something that will satisfy the king’s men, he is safest at the castle.”

“Is he? Is he really?” asked Petra.

“I believe that to be so in the circumstances,” he said.

She gave him a solemn nod.

“Might we visit him there?” asked Marie.

“No. That would be unwise,” said Elric.

The child kicked a stool, but did not whine.

Kate touched his shoulder. “Jennet will bring you food and drink while I see the girls to bed,” she told him.

She coaxed Marie and Petra out the door and up the steps, promising that she would tell them all she could in the morning.

“Do you trust that he is safe?” Marie asked when they were settled in bed.

As safe as Elric can make him, Kate thought. But to them she merely said, “I do,” then hugged them both before blowing out the lamp near the door. “Now try to sleep. You want to give those muscles a good rest after all that effort, eh?”

She tiptoed out, pausing on the landing with a warm sense of gratitude for the small rituals involving the children. Her touchstones, they steadied her. As she moved down the steps she whispered prayers that she was about to hear nothing that she might not share with the girls in the morning. But the guardedness of Elric’s gaze as she entered the hall warned her that those particular prayers would not be answered this night.

As Kate listened to Elric’s account, his respect for Berend strengthened her resolve to tell him about her part in Margery’s flight. He already knew that she was in the city, Berend had made that plain. But as she, Jennet, and Matt posed questions, particularly regarding Berend’s decision to go to Pontefract, her ease dissolved.

“You were satisfied despite his lack of explanation?”

“I left out the parts he prefers you hear from him, not me.”

“Because?”

“He saw how it pained you to have learned so much about his past from me.”

And from Bess, she thought. “I will go to him in the morning.”

Jennet was the first to rise, excusing herself to go check the kitchen and the yard even though Lille and Ghent had sat by the door all the while, listening for signs of intruders. Then Matt rose, offering to fetch more ale. Kate thanked him.

Alone but for the hounds, Kate studied Elric, staring into the fire with haunted eyes. She was moved by how deeply he felt Berend’s pain, having heard in his tone whispers of Berend himself.

“I am sorry I came away without him,” he said.

“No. You accomplished more than I had hoped. I am grateful.”

“He curses himself, but I see him as an honorable man. Many of us look back with horror and vow to redeem ourselves. But he has embraced that vow with all his being.”

“How did this redeem him? He’d already condemned the plot.”

“You will see.”

She was quiet a while, retracing Berend’s journey, his betrayal by either the abbot or Salisbury’s kinsman.

“So much suffering,” she said, “and for what? Another king who sees enemies in every corner?”

“How can King Henry be otherwise? A thief knows he has no right to what he’s taken. He can never be secure.” Elric had begun to tap his thigh with the felt hat he had taken off when he grew warm by the fire, beginning slowly, gradually speeding it up, until he tossed it from him with a curse. “We seem incapable of learning from our mistakes. Think of what happened when Richard’s great grandfather was put aside.”

“The last King Edward proved a far better king than his father.”

“It was not the son who struck down his father, but his mother and her lover,” said Elric. “They proved to be tyrants.”

This was a change, to speak treason so bluntly to her. Berend’s suffering seemed to have pushed back the mask, revealing the man beneath the façade of the great earl’s captain of Sheriff Hutton Castle. Not so long ago – could it be but a year? – she had thought him a heartless, self-satisfied instrument of Westmoreland. No longer. About to share what she had learned about Horner, and then steel herself to tell him about Margery – if he could see Berend’s pain, surely he could see Margery’s – she hesitated as he suddenly rose up and paced over to the fire. When he turned to face her, he had that old expression, cold eyes, stiff, soldierly stance.

“I trust you have told Lady Margery her jewels are safe?”

Startled, Kate said, “Told her?”

“You could not bring yourself to trust me?”

“Who is withholding information from whom?” This was not how she had meant to broach the subject, damn him.

“I promised Berend.”

“I promised Lady Margery. It was not my secret to share.” Had one of his men seen Jocasta at the guesthouse, arriving alone, departing with Margery? And deduced so much? Had they followed Kate?

Just tell him, tell him everything, Geoff urged.

Now, when he is angry?

“Where is she?” Elric asked so coldly Kate wanted to spit at him.

But she needed his help. Holy Mary, Mother of God, help me find the words he can hear.

“Sit down, I pray you,” she said. “I have much to tell you. So much I’ve wanted to tell you.”

“But you did not trust me with it?”

“Why would I, when you–” She stopped. This would not serve her purpose. Softening her voice, she said, “I did not know who I might trust. Her manservant came to me for help, and I gave it before I knew the enormity of what I’d undertaken, the danger I had brought to my family.”

“When?”

“The night before our celebration. I pray you, Elric, sit. Standing there, looking down on me, judging me – I cannot think clearly.” He did not move. Mulish man. “I cannot begin to understand her suffering.” Kate disliked that his nearness had her whispering. “To witness her husband’s attack, to hold his severed head, Elric. And then to have the king condemn her for wanting to bury Thomas. You have heard the tale from Berend, how it sickened him. How can Ralph Neville condone this?”

“I cannot divine my lord’s private thoughts. We have communicated through messengers, careful to say as little as possible. But he would say it is not for him to judge his lord.”

“You do not know his heart?”

“I have prided myself in my honor, my unquestioning obedience to my lord. But of late …” A slow shake of the head, as if waking himself. “It is clear I do not know your heart.”

Her heart? “Please. Sit beside me and I will tell you all.”

At last he came to perch beside her, at the edge of his chair. All the while she spoke, he kept his eyes on the fire, never looking her way.

She told him of Carl’s disappearance and murder. Her fear, her doubts about Margery’s account. “Berend’s tale of how they came to be traveling together – Margery did not tell me. Did he explain how her jewels came to be in the case?”

A part of her enjoyed witnessing Elric’s discomfort as he realized he had forgotten to ask about that.

“No matter. I shall ask him in the morning,” she said. “Or Margery.”

“She is at the guesthouse now?”

“Do you still vow to keep her safe?”

Elric shot Kate an angry look. “I am a man of my word.”

“I will hold you to that.” Kate explained how she had sent Jocasta Sharp to fetch her. “The Sharp home is always open to those in need. No one will mark a maidservant arriving there.”

“Not in ordinary times. But Sir Peter and Captain Crawford, Parr and Sawyer – I have sent for more men from Sheriff Hutton. I will put a guard on her home.”

Kate looked at him, surprised. “You will do this for me?”

That did not provoke a look. To the fire, he said, “Not for you. For Lady Margery, and for Berend.” He made an exasperated sound. “God’s blood, woman, Carl’s murder– You curse Lady Margery for her dishonesty? Look to yourself.” Now he faced her, shaking his head.

“Had it been you, a friend in need, with the gates about to close and shut them out in the cold for the night, would you have turned them away?”

“No! What do you take me for? In God’s name, woman, look at all I have done for you.”

He was right. She felt the full weight of her deception. She had betrayed the one person who had done nothing but help her in this crisis.

“I wish I could go back to that night at the guesthouse, when we talked after your men had gone. I wish that the moment you spoke her name I had said, ‘She is here. Will you help?’”

“Do you?” He looked doubtful.

“With all my heart.”

He grunted and looked away.

“There is more you need to know.” She told him what Jennet had discovered about Jon Horner.

“To catch a widow while yet in mourning, while she is most vulnerable. Cur,” Elric growled. “Cecily Wheeldon, you said?”

At least he was listening. “Yes. Why?”

“I found her arguing with Kevin outside Horner’s house. She said she wanted to comfort the housekeeper, but what if she wanted–” He sat back, raking a hand through his hair. “What?”

“She wanted to find her missing glove?” Kate whispered, determined to tell him all.

“Glove?”

She crossed the hall to fetch the scrip in which she had hidden away the things she had found in Horner’s chamber. She handed him the elegant leather item.

He held it out toward the light of the fire, turning it over, back. “It is the sort of thing she would wear.”

“The woman who owned the glove might have helped Horner back to his room when he fell ill,” said Kate, “dropping the glove as she struggled to get him into bed, then, when she stepped out into the cold morning and realized she had only one, did not care to return. To be there as he struggled to live.”

“You think she poisoned him?” He touched the mysterious herbal ball in her hands. “May I see that?” She handed it to him. He sniffed it, felt it, then loosened a small piece of it with his nail and lifted it to his mouth.

“What if it’s poison!” Kate cried, plucking the ball from his hands.

“It is a bezoar stone. Used to protect oneself from poison, or lessen the effect.”

Interesting. Horner had been protecting himself. “I have heard of them, but I have never seen one.”

“Ah.” He smirked. “Now you have.”

She wanted to slap him. Controlling the impulse, she returned to the point. “So Horner feared he was being poisoned, or might be. He knew he courted danger. But we don’t know the glove is Cecily Wheeldon’s.”

“Nor do we know that it belongs to his poisoner. But it would be worthwhile speaking to her.”

“I will think of a way.”

He nodded.

“I suppose you won’t believe that I had resolved to share all of this with you tonight.”

“No, I don’t.”

They were sitting in uneasy silence when Matt returned with ale, serving them both, then withdrawing.

“Did you tell Berend that Lady Margery was safe?” Elric asked when they were once more alone.

“Yes. Just that. Did he tell you?”

“No. He did not betray you.” The words were meant to wound. They did. He put his bowl aside, slapped his thighs. “I need to find Parr and Sawyer.”

Kate rose, calling the hounds to her. As she walked out of the hall with Elric and the dogs, a man of the night watch hailed them from the street. “If the sheriffs wish to speak to folk about Berend’s honor, I am at your service, Mistress Clifford.”

“I will remember that,” she said. “Bless you.”

Elric nodded to the man, then strode off into the night without a word.

In the kitchen, Kate slumped down onto a stool by the fire, reaching her hands out to the warmth. “Elric knows everything,” she said to Jennet.

“Good. He is a good man.”

“Is this from your eyes and ears?”

A nod as Jennet handed Kate a cup of something spicy and almost too hot to hold, then bent to plump the pillows on the pallet she had arranged for herself near the fire.

“You will need a man, by and by,” said Jennet.

“Hand me the heated stone so I can warm my bed, eh?”

Kate had not the heart to speak of her despair. But apparently it was obvious.

“He did not take it well, coming so late?” Jennet asked.

Kate shook her head and rose, clutching the stone.

Up in the solar Kate wrapped the stone she had brought from the kitchen and placed it beneath the mound of blankets so that it might begin warming the bedclothes while she undressed. Usually she loved the moment when she finally stretched out on her back beneath the bedclothes, the strain of the day draining away. Jennet had found a laundress who scented the bedding with rosewater and lavender blossoms, and the fragrance rose round her as the stone and her body heated the cloth. This was sweetness, the warmth lulling her to sleep.

But not tonight. Her mind raced, and her heart lurched between fear, anger, remorse. There was more to Berend’s story, something he felt the need to explain to her. Was everything she had believed about him a lie? And Margery. Why were her jewels nestled with those of the Earl of Salisbury? What was her connection to the uprising?

She cursed herself. As soon as she had learned of Margery’s possible complicity in the plot she should have confided in Elric. Stupid stupid woman. No, coward. That is what she was, a coward. Once she had set foot on the path of deception she had been afraid to step off and trust Elric. Now she had lost him. Lost a friend, a comrade in arms, a potential lover. Yes, she admitted to herself that she had hoped to lead him there. Bloody fool. All for the sake of a friend who had not told her the whole truth about how she came to be hunted.

She pushed those thoughts away. Save the anger until she knew all there was to know.

Worry took over. Was Berend warm enough? How were his wounds? Could she trust Cottesbrok and Wrawby to protect him? Elric trusted them.

Damn Elric. She turned on her side, hoping a new position would bring on more relaxation.

But her mind would not still. Had it been only two days ago that she had paid off the last of Simon’s debt? Two days ago she had been so– No, she was forgetting Petra’s unhappiness. Berend’s disappearance. Kevin’s return to the earl’s service.

She stirred herself to remember how it had felt when she’d realized the extent of Simon’s debt. An impossible amount. She’d felt betrayed, robbed, angry – so angry. It had been her anger that had driven her to put all her strength in digging out from under it. She had accomplished it without help, certainly without resorting to something that would put her at the same risk – marriage. Standing on her own two feet, independent, self-sufficient, that had been her goal over these past three years. And she had succeeded.

She waited for the surge of joy, or at least satisfaction. Nothing. Only a yawning emptiness. And a rising fear of what more Berend was about to reveal to her.

Seeing Marie and Petra to school, Kate shrugged at their complaints about the unseasonably warm morning. Yesterday it had been too cold. Tomorrow the sun would be too bright. Mornings were difficult for both girls at the moment. Neither slept well, Petra because of her nightmares, the Sight, whatever it was, and Marie– Kate was not certain why she was wakeful, her queries met with stony silence. Marie’s pride might prevent her from admitting that she feared Petra’s whimpers and accounts of disturbing or prescient dreams. But when Kate had offered to move Marie to a separate bedchamber, the child would not hear of it. So every morning was a struggle.

Still, Kate disliked how the warmth of the rising sun caused a fog as it touched the moisture-laden chill of the ice- and snow-clad houses and streets. Even more troubling were the clusters of people here and there, their heads together, whispering excitedly. Only something serious would draw them out in such numbers to stand about chilled to the bone by the heavy mist that quickly penetrated all but the finest woolens and furs. She regretted leaving Lille and Ghent in the kitchen. She had not felt comfortable leaving Jennet alone while seeing to the morning chores. Matt had left early for her cousin William’s house. If all went well he would return soon with the new servant, Cuddy, and news of the king’s men. But she’d thought it best to leave the hounds with Jennet, worried about the jewels and coins, a treasure.

“Soldiers, they are talking about soldiers.” Marie grabbed Kate’s hand. “Are we under siege?”

Kate squeezed her ward’s hand and assured her that was not the case, that the soldiers were most likely Sir Elric’s men. He had sent for them to help search for the murderer.

But Kate was uneasy. She would have expected Elric to do all he could to avoid the trouble such a show of force might stir up. Bedlam, as in Cirencester. Berend’s tale should have reminded him of the danger of rumor, how stoking people’s fears might spark violence.

She breathed more easily once the girls had been bustled into the classroom by their schoolmaster, relieved that he had shut the door against the fog with naught but a nod to Kate. She was in no mood for a lecture this morning. But as she turned to leave, she heard the door open behind her, then felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Forgive me for my discourtesy,” said Master Jonas, “but I did not want my pupils to overhear.” With worried eyes the schoolmaster asked if she knew anything about the company of soldiers that had earlier swarmed down Petergate and up Stonegate.

Even he.

“I expect they were the Earl of Westmoreland’s men,” said Kate. “Come to help restore the peace.”

“Restore it? They have disturbed it.”

“They are here to solve the murders of Merek and Horner.”

“Sow trouble, reap trouble.” He wagged his head as if speaking of unruly children. “I see no need for an armed invasion. In any case, I thought the sheriffs had taken your cook into custody. Did they arrest him in error? Mind you, I do not believe Berend would do such a thing unless he did it for the good of the city. But murder is a crime. Not to mention a grave sin.”

Quite a speech from the schoolmaster, and it challenged Kate to listen with equanimity. “Of course Berend did not murder those men. Sir Elric and I agree that they arrested him in haste. As to the armed invasion, I did not witness their arrival. A pity that they inspired fear rather than reassurance.”

“Indeed. Well. I wish them success. Benedicite, Mistress Clifford.”

“Benedicite,” said Kate just in time before Master Jonas opened the door only so wide as to slip inside, as if fearful lest he let a child loose into the streets. He closed it softly behind him, and she waited for his usual loud tirade. But she was distracted by a sense of someone watching her. She felt rather than saw something in the mist, slipping back round the side of the building. Drawing her knife from her skirt, she concealed it beneath her cloak as she stole along the side of the building to Petergate and peered round the corner. No one. But out in the street someone slipped on the cobbles, cursed. Kate hurried forward, but she saw no one until she reached the intersection with Stonegate. There the sun shone down, thinning the mist, illuminating a crowd of folk congregating.

“Soldiers in the yard of the York Tavern,” a neighbor said as she joined him. “A great company.”

Elric’s men had indeed arrived.

As she passed the shop of Pendleton, the silversmith, she paused, remembering the jeweled girdle she had glimpsed on the shelf in his office, and her sense that Lady Margery did not wish her to know how it came to be there. She knocked on the door.

A young servant answered, the dust in his hair sparkling with traces of silver.

“We are not prepared to receive customers so early, Mistress.”

“Would you ask your master if I might speak with him? It is important. Tell him it’s Katherine Clifford.”

A man shoveled slushy snow away from the front of the shop next door, pausing for a moment to ask if she had seen the soldiers.

“Not as yet.”

“I thought we were well rid of them, drunk and rowdy, picking fights with us working folk.”

He shivered beneath his much-patched tunic, a skinny man, more bone than flesh. She was searching for a response when the door behind her opened.

“Dame Katherine, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?” Roland Pendleton’s hearty voice rang out, turning heads on the street.

“Might we talk inside?”

A glance at the sweeper, and another clerk across the way pretending to be checking one of the storefront’s latches, and Pendleton stepped aside, welcoming her in. In the shop the lamps were lit, the lad who had answered the door and another busily assembling materials for the day’s work.

“Is it about the soldiers? They’re from Sir Elric’s garrison, are they not? Sheriff Hutton?”

The lads looked up, eager to hear any news.

“Yes. But that is not why I have come.”

“Ah. Well then,” he gestured toward his office behind the workshop.

As Kate took a seat, she glanced at the shelf on which she had glimpsed the dymysent. But all she could see were records in a neat stack. “I will not keep you long. I noticed an item on your shelf the other day, a jeweled girdle, that I know to belong to Lady Margery Kirkby.” She saw by his expression that he had not known of the connection to Lady Kirkby. So Kate was right, her friend had not brought it here for repair. “Might I ask how you came to have it? A man’s life may depend on your answer.”

Roland nervously cleared his throat. “A jeweled girdle? Are you certain? I cannot recall–”

“Was it the spice seller Merek who brought it to you?”

“Merek? The man who was murdered?” Roland crossed himself and shook his head. “Lord have mercy.” He hesitated. “Why would you think that?”

“Or was it my cook Berend who brought it?”

“Berend?” He blinked, as if caught without an answer. “Is it true what they say? That he has been accused of murdering Merek and Jon Horner? And took part in the rebellion?”

“He has been taken to York Castle. I am trying to prove his innocence.”

“I swore.” A sigh that deepened to a groan. “But this changes everything.” A long pause. “Yes, Berend brought it to me to raise some money. For a lady in need, he said. I thought a lady friend in the family way, though I should have wondered. A cook courting a woman who could afford such a piece? But it was Berend – we all trust him. I had no idea it was– Her husband was executed for treason, was he not?”

For a lady in need. Margery? Damn the woman. “When was this?”

“Several days ago. It is a fine piece. I paid him well. I did not know it was the property of a traitor, or that he was so accused. And then the murders– God help me. Dame Katherine, I pray you …”

“Berend brought it to you. Did he tell you anything about the lady, where she was, what trouble she faced?”

Roland shook his head. “Nothing. He did advise me to go elsewhere to sell it. I thought a summer fair … What should I do with it?”

“Keep it hidden.”

“I paid good money–”

“Patience, I pray you. All may yet be well. But say nothing.”

“I swear.”

“See to it.”

“God be thanked I am not always so easily led astray. I was offered another piece and, well …”

“Yes?”

“Stolen goods.”

“Do you have the piece?”

The man did not meet her eyes as he shook his head. “I expect a client any moment …”

She touched his arm. “Master Roland, I pray you. Two people are dead, another badly injured. Sir Elric and I are doing all we can to find the murderer before there is more tragedy. Who showed you a stolen item?”

“Sir Elric, you say? The earl’s man?” The silversmith searched her face. “You are asking for him?”

It rankled to play Elric’s subservient, but if it put Roland at ease … “Yes.”

He hesitated a moment, then sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “It was Jon Horner, God rest his soul. He brought in a gold brooch. Fine work, very fine. He wanted to know its worth, whether he had been charged a fair price. He had indeed.” He raked a hand through his hair. “But I told him there was nothing fair about his having been offered it for purchase. You see, I recognized the piece. It belongs to my sister-in-law. Stolen weeks ago.”

So not from the casket. “What did he do?”

“Plucked it from my hands and rushed out of the shop. My servant tried to stop him, but he moved too fast.”

“When was this?”

“The day before yesterday. We were just closing up. I meant to report it to the sheriff in the morning, but then I heard Horner was found dead in his room. Is it true that he took his own life? Surely not over a piece of stolen jewelry? Or was he murdered?”

“I do not know,” said Kate. She thanked him. “You can be certain that Sir Elric will appreciate your cooperation. And, for now, your silence.”

“I swear, Dame Katherine. But I mean to report the stolen brooch.”

“Describe it to me and I will search Horner’s house for it.”

“Why should I wait–” He breathed out. “Forgive me. I am not accustomed to such troubles. I was not thinking. Of course.” He described a golden feather caught in a bare branch. A delicate piece, exquisitely fashioned, with a small piece of coral on the reverse, said to prevent a flux of blood when warmed by her body. “A gift from her aunt for her first lying in. She treasures the piece and has grieved the loss of it, particularly now, as she is again with child.”

Kate assured him she would search for it, and they departed with vows of good faith.

Once out the door she let herself feel the full flush of anger. She had given Lady Margery the gift of sanctuary and the woman lied to her face. Why? Why should Kate trust her? What was Berend’s task? Gathering a sum of money to arrange for Lady Margery’s passage. And his? Damn them. She offered them help and they repaid her with deceit? She thought of the small pouch with the two rings from Salisbury’s hoard. She had tucked it in her scrip, thinking to force Berend into addressing its significance. Raising funds for someone dear to Salisbury as well?

Time to confront him, Geoff whispered in her mind.

Yes. But she might need an escort, someone who had permission to visit Berend.

The arrangement of the buildings around the graveyard in St. Helen’s Square allowed sufficient morning light for Kate to make out a dozen men in the livery of Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmoreland. They stood in groups of four, one in the tavern yard, two in the square, Douglas, Wulf, and Stephen presiding. Elric and Kevin stood near the door of the tavern, in heated discussion with an elderly nobleman who had the bearing of a seasoned soldier. A younger man in the king’s livery stood to one side, shifting his weight from foot to foot as if impatient to move on. Sir Peter Angle and Captain Crawford, Kate presumed. She took her time walking toward them, straining to hear the matter of their disagreement. Bess Merchet leaned on her cane in the doorway. Noticing Kate, she nodded her head in greeting, but quickly returned her attention to the men. She, too, was listening.

“I should hope you would have already sounded the alarm, Sir Elric,” the elderly knight was saying, “encouraged the citizens of York to inform you of any strangers, questionable behavior, treasonous speech.”

“They are already uneasy,” Elric said, his gloved hands in fists behind his back, his words clipped. “Look how they’ve congregated at the edge of the square. They have heard what happened in other towns, the mobs taking it upon themselves to execute those rumored to be traitors. None of us want a repeat of that lawless violence.”

“It was effective,” said the old knight’s impatient companion.

“Your captain lacks experience, Sir Peter. I will not entrust my men to him,” said Elric.

“Then I must continue my investigations without your assistance.” The old knight bowed stiffly.

Kate did not linger, slipping past them, glad she had not brought the hounds and called attention to herself.

Old Bess motioned her into the tavern and waved her through to her quiet space.

“I thought Sir Elric would be discrete about the additional men,” Kate said.

“That was Wulf’s mistake,” said Bess. “Sir Elric’s orders had been to have the men arrive a few at a time, without fuss. But they all descended upon the tavern shortly after dawn. Before Sir Elric had returned. We’ve had all we can do to feed them. Heaven knows where they will all sleep tonight. I’ve not the rooms to spare.”

“Sir Elric was about so early? Before the men arrived?”

“Early? No. Late. He was out all the night.”

“Where?”

“He would not say.” The elderly woman busied herself folding some bedding. “He trusts me with what he learned from Berend but not that.” She shook out a partially folded sheet with a loud snap. Kate judged it best not to offer assistance. “Leaving Berend in the castle.” Snap. “Fearful lest Sir Elric and all his men are not enough against the king’s men? Have you seen Sir Peter? Rheumatic wheezing, a shoulder that barely moves. Pah.”

“He sounded eager to cause a riot.”

“So he’s a fool as well?” Snap.

“Did Sir Elric seem rested when he appeared this morning?”

“Rested?” A shake of her head, her ribbons bouncing. “No more than you do.” Bess looked Kate up and down. “Perhaps not quite so wilted as you. Who kept you awake?”

“I did.”

A nod. “I trust you were not doubting Berend’s innocence?”

“No. But at present we have only his word. We have no proof. To convince the sheriffs and Sir Peter we need more.”

An impatient sniff. “Wulf should be the one in chains.”

“Sir Elric assures me that Berend is no longer in chains,” said Kate.

“Small comfort.”

“I agree.” Kate settled into a chair. “I need to find out from Berend what Sir Elric left out of his account.”

Bess frowned at her. “You do not trust that Elric told you all?”

“I know that he did not, at Berend’s request.”

“Ah. You will tell me what you learn?”

“Of course.” Kate told her about her conversation with Pendleton.

“It is time you speak with Berend.”

Kate agreed. “Might Elric have spent the night guarding Berend?”

“Only if Berend is sleeping out in the snow. Sir Elric’s leggings were soaked and his cloak heavy with damp.”

“It is a long walk from the castle.”

The taverner slapped a folded blanket onto the table.

Kate let it be, but she did wonder where Elric had spent the night. Was it possible he had stood watch on Jocasta’s house? Or hers?

“He might have warned me so many were coming, but men, they never consider such things.” Bess set her work aside and reached for Kate’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Forgive my temper. I see how all this weighs on you. I want to help, but there is little I can do. You must permit Sir Elric to bear the burden of protecting Berend and Lady Kirkby.”

“They are my friends.”

“Of course. But he meant to prove himself in this. Still does.”

“Has he told you …?”

“That you have hidden her all this while?” A nod. “Your distrust cut him deep.” Hands on hips, Bess shook her head at Kate. “Do not pretend you were not aware of his feelings for you. That he should choose such a means of wooing might well amuse you – it does me. My Tom would be shaking his head and assuring me that I have it all wrong. What man would woo a woman in such wise, he would ask. But mark me, I have walked this earth a good long while and I know a man in love when I see one. You let Sir Elric help, and I thought you understood. But what you kept from him – you fettered him from the start. And me.”

“It was not my secret to share.”

“And then it was.”

“Because I need his help.”

“By the rood, I am wasting time talking to myself.” Bess bent to her work, dismissing Kate.